Wednesday, December 29, 2010


Kole's 5, going on 6, months old right now.  That means for the last 5, going on 6 months, I've been worried about running the perfect life.  I've seen people do it or at least make it look like their doing it and I've though "Am I supposed to do that?"   I've put this ridiculous amount of stress on myself.  I've given it a name.  The Stress-Monger.  The stress-monger consisted of feeling like the house had to be spotless.  Trying to get Kole to sleep through the night.    Taking over the cooking.  Losing weight.  Giving service.  Fulfilling my calling.  Enhancing personal relationships.  Reading new books.  Teaching Kole- everything!  Keeping the hamper empty.   Writing blogs.  It was getting out of hand.  I felt like since I'm no longer financially contributing to our family I need to do everything else and do it perfectly and do it smiling.  I've never been that person before. I felt it all slipping away bit by bit. And then last night... it imploded.  Or exploded.  Or summited.  Or reared.  Something.
I got sick.
It's happened before.  When I hold Kole too much it hurts my back.  Yesterday a woman came to photograph our home for a new listing.  She was here for 40 minutes and I held Kole that whole time since we were going room to room.  I can't hold him for any extended period of time.  He's just too much weight.  (Not in a bad way Koley-Flower.  Mommy loves you.  You're my man.)  Last night my back hurt so bad it made me have to throw up.  I was laying awake in bed.  In pain.  In between puke sessions.  Listening to the stress-monger yell at me.  I was going though all this in my head and trying to rationalize everything.  I was mentally beating myself up.  It's been a routine thing.  I know.  Sadist.  It was 3:30 am.  I still hadn't gone to sleep.  I was still in crippling pain.  I decided to take a shower.  I was getting in the shower and said "Kole's going to be up in no time."  My normal response would have been something like "You didn't get any sleep." or "You wasted all night staring at the clock and complaining about your back." or "You should have taken a shower hours ago. Maybe then you could have slept."  I was deflated.  Beaten down.  Exhausted.  And then.....*cue pillar of light*  my self told myself, "So?"  I quit moving.  It was like someone else was talking.  "So what if Kole's going to get up soon.  You can still sleep for a bit.  Just take naps with him tomorrow.  Your back won't hurt as bad then."  And you know what? I smiled.  I don't know where that voice came from but I like her!  And I've listened to her all day today!  She can be a little sassy.  Get a little out of hand.  Get a little TOO relaxed if you know what I mean.  Like today- I had eaten a couple cookies already and she told me it would be fine to eat a few more.  She hasn't lead me wrong yet.
I'm feeling good. 
I've got a great life.  It's not picturesque.  I don't have any cool projects going on right now.  I don't have anything funny to talk about.  I haven't been extremely or even average-ly creative recently.  I weigh 167 pounds.  I eat a ton of food.  I'm tired a lot.  Me and Ken disagree on things.  I don't call my friends when I know I should. Kole wakes up and cries at night and during naps and sometimes just because he hasn't cried yet that day. It's not Pleasantville or Happy Town all day every day.


To: Patty From: Patty

It's so much healthier to look ahead at the end of the year...
    ...but I always look back.
There's no such thing as changing the past.  I don't even believe in regrets.  No mistake is that bad.  Nothing I've done is that unforgiving.  Looking back at the past year I can't change anything... but given the opportunity I would give myself some advice or tell myself some things that would have eased..... life.

"Stand up for yourself.  Stand up for yourself again.  Stand up for yourself however many times it takes."
"You should say 'I'm sorry' to him."
"Go slow.  No one is timing you."
"Just let it go."
"Lighten up on that eyeliner, babe."
"You should call yourself "babe" more.  You love that."
"Buy bigger.  Don't cut up your clothes to make them fit."
"It's temporary."
"Just let it go."
"You are that strong."
"Breathe.  Relax.  Cry.  It's okay."
"Do it!"
"You know you're doing the right thing.  Quit looking for validation."
"Just let it go."
"You should tell your doctor where to go.  Or where to stick it.  Or something to get the message through to her."
"Forget all natural.  You will succeed."
"Your son loves you.  Never second guess that."
"Just let it go."
"No one is mad at you.  Or judging you.  Or criticizing you."
"You look perfect.  Baby weight- schmaybe weight.  Ken thinks your spectacular."
"Stand up for him.  Stand up for him again.  Stand up for him however many times it takes."

"You lived a good year in 2010.  You were fair and honest.  And you learned."

I'm so smart.  And I'm kind to myself.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Christmas Morn

When we were little girls mom and dad would set a time for us to get up.  It was normally 7:30.  Going to bed was so hard.  We wanted to stay up to hear Santa's reindeer.  Krissy claims she saw Rudolph one year.  The whole room glowed red on Christmas Eve.  That's proof enough for me.  Dad always read the Christmas story.  Mom had this picture that was stained glass of an angel.  I feel like we read the story next to that angel.  When we woke up in the morning, whatever time it was, we would all meet on some one's bed.  I remember it being Vicky's bed a lot.  We'd sit there with the lights off and stare at the clock.  6:30.  6:35.  Every year someone claimed that they heard a puppy during the night.  6:50.  We'd giggle and laugh in red and white striped pajamas.  Nightgowns occasionally. 7:15.  We'd move into the hall and wait outside of mom and dad's door.  Julie would sneak in the bathroom and do her hair.  Andi would follow.  7:30.  It's time!  One of us would go in and get mom and dad up.  I never did.  We'd wait at the top of the steps and dad would go down to make sure Santa came.  He'd light the tree and put on some Christmas music.  Then, stand at the bottom of the stairs and announce, "He came.  Come one down."  The spread of present was always spectacular.  Piled under the tree. One year there was a bike.  One year there was a train set.  One year there was a camera, another year a watch. One year there was a Barbie house taller than we were.  Santa always knew what to get us.  After presents were stockings.  There was always special shampoo and an orange in the toe.  I'd get Pantene and Andi would get No More Tangles.  Mom would make a big breakfast, usually cinnamon rolls.  We'd be allowed to bring one present over to Grandma's house.  I've loved Christmas since I was a little girl.  Still do.
Ken makes them just as magical as when I was little.
It makes me excited for Kole.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010


There are a lot of things that Ken is good at.
Driving in reverse. Singing like Brad Paisley. Cooking anything I feel like. Hanging Kole upslidedown.  Paying the bills without complaining.  Shoveling snow super fast.  Growing a beard (it takes like... a day.)  Coming up with nicknames.  Giving talks using only an outline.  Mental Math.  Texting.  Summarizing books without giving away the ending, or the suspense.  Mailing things.  Cooking breakfast sausages.  Trimming toenails (our entire family (of 3) has lovely toenails thanks to Ken.)  Teaching without being preachy.  Starting a fire.  Casting a fly rod.  Finding the best song on the radio.  Picking out souvenirs.  Visualizing.  Doing electrical work.  Popping zits.  Memorizing things.  Ordering the best thing on the menu.  Listening without giving advice.  Telling jokes.  Cleaning the kitchen.  Dancing.  Microsoft Excel. Beating me at Phase 10.  Beating me at Sequence.  Beating me at Parcheesi.  Saying "no" without actually using that word.  Changing diapers... he's fast and thorough.  Saving.  Letting me know when I have something in my hair, on my face, or in my teeth.  Writing in cards.  Seeing something through to the end.  Providing for us.  Taking pictures.  Completely relaxing.  Drying off.  Making decisions.  Small talk.
Thinking of me.
Putting me first.
Loving me.

I've got a killer husband. 
I definitely married up.

Monday, December 13, 2010

A Tale of Two Patty's

1.  Parking and going right into the store.
2.  Sleeping.
3.  Staying silent while grocery shopping.
4.  Getting dressed.  Everyday.
5.  Knowing what I am doing.
6.  Ken as my husband and not Kole's Dad.
7.  Not being thirsty 24/7.
8.  Being able to read a whole book in a week.  Maybe 2.
9.  Dry clothes... especially in the chest area.
10.  Talking about things besides the baby.

1.  Having Kolester as my sidekick everywhere I go.
2.  Middle of the night snuggle sessions.
3.  Narrating each grocery aisle to Koler being sure to include my favorite and least favorite items.
4.  Switching from pajamas to sweats and counting that as "dressed."
5.  How everyday brings something new I've never tried before.
6.  Seeing Ken bond with Kole, even for just a couple days at a time.
7.  My cool new metal water bottle.  It keeps water SO cold.
8.  Reading to Kole every morning and every night.  And giving him my critique of his books.
9.  Being able to give my baby all the nutrients he needs... straight from my body to his.
10.  Talking exclusively about the baby.

Friday, December 10, 2010

A Retraction by Ken

Ken read my blog for the first time since I started it and did I get an earful about my statements (which were incorrect) regarding the book he read about The Panama Canal.  Which was called A Path Between the Seas not In Between The Seas.
A bit of what he said:
"26 out of every 100 people died in the first 3 years which worked out to about 1200 a month.  Leave the facts to people who read fact books.  Your statistics were erroneous.  26 people dying per month is not a staggering statistic.  It's a paltry sum.  Not even comparable.  AND it cost 324 million dollars, quite a sum.  Just don't toss around facts willy nilly like they don't mean anything.  Thousands of people died to make that canal and you can't even honor them by getting the facts right."

I'm thinking I might have to change my handle.  So he can't find me.

Comfort and Joy, No more

I sent Ken to the market (how green and snooty do I sound saying market) to get some nursing pads.  I was out and leaking ever. ee. where.  I asked for Lansinoh.  I said they were in a purple box and around $5.  This is what he brought home:
Not purple.  Not Lansinoh.  Not $5.  He got the nursing pads thing right.
I am one who sticks with a good thing.  If I like it I'm not changing.  I don't even want to try something else.  (Same policy applies at restaurant...get the Sticky Finger Salad at Winger's, Tampico Chicken at Garcia's, Pad Thai at the Thai House, The Henry's Fork at the SnakeBite, Chalupas at Taco Bell.... do you get the point?  I never waver.)  If it's working why look for something else, eh?  But given the fact that I was marinating my chest I decided to use what was given to me. Big mistake.
  A few things have struck me as odd about this particular product.  Numero Uno:  They are incredibly small.  The circumference might be 4 inches.  To you that might do the trick... but for Tits McGee over here... no way.  It's like trying to substitute something the size of a nickel when you need something the size of a CD.  Or a dinner plate.  I don't feel safe and protected wearing them.  I feel like I am about to spring a leak big enough to put out a burning building and all that stands between me and such a heroic feat is some itchy gauze.  I feel overly cautious... like a can't bend certain ways.  Perhaps this is because they have stickies that don't work.  The adhesive is smaller than one half of a postage stamp.  Numero Tres:  They have, what I call, nipple enhancers.  The inner layer of the pad has a little dent in it.  Perhaps a hint that this is where you should be centered.  But the outside (THE OUTSIDE) has a round nub that protrudes from the pad!  A nipple.  Just in case your lousy nursing bra does have some kind of extra coverage- this will take care of it and make sure you are always beaming.  I'm not kidding.  Or in case you don't have any nipples this will make it look like you do.  But nursing should would be tough if you're in that boat.
I only have 52 left.  That's about 7 weeks.  Maybe 8.  I guess I should be grateful.  Ken did save me a trip to the store after all.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Leaving the Nest

Koleson Poulsen has decided to spread his chubby wings.  The child has started his own blog.  Inspired by his cousin Greta, he's out publishing posts on a pretty regular basis.  I'm so proud.  *sniff, sniff* Last night I sent him to bed, went about tidying up the house,  and noticed it was unusually quiet in his room.  So I go in and there is Kole blogging in his crib!  Now, I encourage self expression and creativity but lights out is lights out! 
Check out his blog... it would make his day.

Hello My Pretties

Today I got an early Christmas present.  It's from my step-grandma-in-law.  "Sheri's Mom" is so much easier to say.  She has hated her washer and dryer since she bought them... a year ago.  Oer the weekend she decided to buy some she really wanted.  Which were the old top loader kinds.  She gave me her new/old ones. 

They are spectacular!  They are front loaders and she had this cool pedestal built so you don't have to bend over.  They are ultra quiet.  And the buttons (!!) So fun.  It tells you how long each cycle takes and let me tell you... none of them take very long.  I am washing all of Kole's clothes (another post) and one load on cold, slow spin, delicates takes 29 minutes!!  That's it!  Watch out Kelly Ripa, you've got competition.  My old washer which was Bob and Sheri's old washer before it was my old washer took about an hour and a half to wash any load.  It was thorough.... but slow. 
AND  extra bonus... I had the old washer and dryer taken to Northgate Appliance and...even though they had no use for the washer (they guessed it was about 18 years old) but gave me $60 for my dryer!  I'm rich!!

Monday, December 6, 2010


I was in Salt Lake this weekend with me inlaws, me hubby, and me baby.  We were in Dick's and I had to pee so bad.  It's all this water I drink to prevent me from being dehydrated and to improve my fair, fair complexion.  Kenner took the Koler and I bolted to the bathroom.  I was impressed by the size and cleanliness of the bathroom.  I went into a stall, locked the door, and released.  Ahhhhhh.  There was a little girl in the next stall.  She left.  I finished and got ready to leave.  I go to unlock the stall and um... it doesn't unlock.  The thing turns but the bar stays locked.  I click it back and forth.  Nothing.  I feel panic set it.  What should I do?  I decided to start with "Help?"  No one answers.  Surprise. 
No one is in the bathroom.  I think maybe I'll climb over the top.  I'm tall.  But what if I am halfway over and someone comes in? They won't be able to use the bathroom because I'll be perched up there.  I know I'll chicken out once I get up there.  They'll have to call a store manager and what... bring in a ladder?  Climbing over is out of the question.  I try the lock again.  Nothing.  I only have one choice.  Wiggle under.  The bathroom did seem clean.  I slid my purse under.  Got down on my knees... then my belly... and escaped.  It was.  Worth sharing.
And I felt really adventurous after.  Like I could escape from the jaws of Death.