I had a friend who once told me that because of her dad's habits in childhood, she'd always get a positive, warm and fuzzy feeling from smelling beer on a man's breath. And sure enough, she ended up partnered with a beer-drinker and in fact drank a lot herself. For entirely coincidental reasons I had years ago decided I didn't want my children to smell alcohol on my breath night after night as I kiss them to sleep. Alcohol riddles my childhood; I don't want to be a slave to or obsessed with the eradication of it in my life, but until I sort all that out I really don't want my children to either.

But lest you think this was a long, meandering post about my triumph over alcoholic tendencies, you're wrong. Because this is about what my children likely associate with Love-Mommy, and what Nels just commented on this morning when he told me my breath smelled good: Coffee. I like coffee. I drink coffee. CoffeeCoffeeCoffee. I'm sick, slavish to it. I could probably not go a roadtrip without it unless it was after 6 PM or so (when I'm ready to be done drinking it for the night). You know how smokers need that smoke break? I'm almost like that with coffee. I think about coffee. I treat myself to coffee. OK, I'm not a total fiend: I won't drink "bad" coffee - I won't bother with something from 7-11 or most diners. Living in Washington state though, it's easy to find good (or at least decent) cup of the stuff.

This morning Nels snuggles me a bit before I stick him in bed next to his sister; their fresh pancakes await in a warm oven, and in a moment I'm off to bath, breakfast, and a bit of yoga before the day truly begins.

I watched The Dark Knight last night. It was a great film and I plan to see it again. I put a film review up on a site I write for (hee hee, not linking to it, it's a secret) and in looking up some details of the film on on imdb I see a post: "Who else found the Joker sexy?" Yeah, OK, it needs to be said: the Joker was sexy (and scary. Those things can go together, you know). And this is why - he was extremely self-validated. Probably the biggest turn-on, ever. Well, for me at least.

Labels: childhood, coffee, film, FOO

It's noon and the van is packed, the kids have enough water (it's a hot day), and swaddled in my basket is a lunch of cheese on multigrain bread, roasted garbanzo beans (Nels calls them "grabanzo" beans), and carrot sticks in ice water. This morning I spent $7.34 for the food I brought my daughter's class (a weekly ritual), have exactly $21 for the tank of gas to the city and back( the trip will take every penny), and retain $2 to buy myself a coffee (with tip) on the road.

I'm tired of driving to Olympia and back. This is the third time in about a month for the kids' dentistry. After today, though, we will be done with sealants and fillings and the next trip won't be until their October checkups. If I had a few bucks to buy some lunch or visit Danger Room Comics or a fabric store I'd have looked forward to this trip. Or even better, if I had someone along with me to chat. As it is I am instantly thrilled to my bones with horrific boredom at the little stretch of highway I have to traverse. I've never enjoyed repetitive car trips and incline my head with respect to those who don't mind.

My daughter does well at the dentist's and doesn't even vomit later due to the nitrous gas administration (like she did last time). Driving back I'm impressed with my children; they are champs, not whining, not begging for McDonald's or ice cream or telling me they're bored. I have one earbud in (my iPod converter does not work) and the kids cope without DVD player or strenuous kiddie-music song recitation or even books, looking out the window and lost in their own thoughts. When we get home I give them something cold to drink and hug them and tell them I'm proud of them.

Labels: coffee, doldrums, Nels, roadtrip, Sophie

This weekend found us at my family's cabin* up near Shelton:


It was beautiful, cold and clear at Mason Lake (note: "Little Hoquiam" where my great-grandfather settled with friends!) for all three days.


My knitting + rustic decor. I also sewed Suse a pair of pants with a cute, but horrible-to-work-with, polyester woven I bought years ago.


A state of such permanency the label my grandmother made lives on and on. There's also a box marked, "Whiskers Nails & Armpits" (for razors, fingernail clippers, and deodorant, natch).


"Let's go to town, kids!" On Sunday we hit Olympia in part to take Ralph's guitar to Music 6000 for an expert opinion. At the Blue Heron Bakery we had a picnic of our own home-made sandwiches followed by cookies, coffee and tea from the shop. Let me tell you something: in my entire coffee-drinking career I have never taken a coffee back for being too bitter, but I had to in the case of the Heron's americano. I asked the barista if there was a mistake or ...? After coyly pouring a bit into his own wee cup the be-mustached, fey young man replied, "Yeah, that's pretty much what our espresso tastes like." Feeling like a puss, I switched out for a drip coffee which smelled faintly like hippie feet (I am not kidding nor exaggerating) but tasted fine enough. The cookies were great and the Garlic Kalamata Sourdough loaf was divine.


Sadly, during our lunch someone joked about eating the "top cookie" (that is, the cookie in the top of a package of five identical cookies) and the teasing was taken quite seriously by my son before we could convince him that yes, the "top cookie" was reserved for him.

As for the sweater: this is the least feminine thing Nels wears these days. His sister's a good sport, sharing her clothes with him.

Last weekend, my school friend Jodi visited along with her husband Doug and their children Cyan and India:


Sophie sat in the stroller and chronicled our gray stroll - down the highway and to a greasy spoon for soft-serve ice cream. Nothing but the best for our treasured guests!


Did I mention we in Hoquiam are sinking into the earth? Now I know why, growing up, people who met me out in the world would ask if I had webbed feet.


This was actually quite brilliant: the four children found a Connect Four game at the local coffee shop / popcorn factory and immediately began playing the game differently than intended. Without any noticeable communication (although children this age together can develop a monkey-language of their own) they'd fill up the board with alternating colors for each vertical row. Sophie, Cyan and Nels instinctively worked together at a high rate of speed while India (the youngest at 2) just did what the hell she wanted and the older children would either firmly grasp and re-direct her paw or, if she succeeded in dropping a color out of sequence, quickly retrieve the offending gamepiece and secure it. After a while the chore of catch-India-before-she-fucks-it-up got old and Cyan and Sophie started broadly hinting that maybe "someone" shouldn't play anymore.

* Built by my great-grandfather back in the day; shared by hordes of extended family now.

Labels: coffee, food, friends, knitting, Nels, Sophie, vacation, weather

Today we say goodbye to the yurt, to the park, to our little vacation town(s), the surf, the wildlife (I saw two snakes on my morning mile walk), the unexpected and dazzling sunshine. I sit in a cafe / roasteria in lower Long Beach - a coffee shop that, besides plenty of seating and free wi-fi seems oddly discourteous and annoying. My husband bought an americano here but I snuck next door to the Organic Market for their superior brew. And yes, to answer your unspoken question, much of this trip has been coffee-centered.

We have a few pictures I'll be uploading tonight - camera phone, unfortunately. Ralph is chomping at the bit - so sayonara, vacation!

Labels: coffee, goodbye, vacation

My son Nels loves to dress himself. But he puts everything on backwards. I mean everything, except shoes, which he attempts to put on the wrong feet. And I just can't bring myself to let him go out like that. So I either ask, wheedle, reason, cajole, or demand and wrestle him to the ground to fix his clothes. Of course he complains about all this; "Bad Mama!" Because he wants to do everything by himself. But if he gets stuck - like he is right now, trying to pull up his pants while simultaneously standing on them - he makes these crazy, help-me-grunts. Then when I help, the second he's decided I've helped enough, he starts in yelling again.

On the other hand, his fine and gross motor skills are quite impressive for his age. Yesterday he stole a basketball from a teenage boy shooting hoops at the playground.

Today:

The ONE day this week we don't have a dinner engagement! Oh, except we kind of do - we're off to swim lessons and Ralph and Nels have Playschool. Tomorrow: family of five coming over and I'm not sure what I'm going to make for dinner.

I'm about to chuck the kids in the bike trailer, head to my current favorite North End drive-through latte stand (Morning Fix Espresso), and go to my mom's and hope to get some lunch.

I'm just a little pathetic today.

Labels: coffee, FOO, Nels

My son is driving me nuts.

This morning for the third time in the last couple months he poured a bottle of my perfume out - this time, on the kitchen table. I totally lost it - I was so pissed. I tanned his hide. I put him in his room. I cleaned the mess. I was practically crying. He has done this three times now.

But even as I threw heavily-scented kitchen towels in the washer it didn't take long for me to stop being mad at him. The damage was done; it was over. I went back to his room and he flung himself into my arms and sobbed and cried and said, "I'm sorry, Mama!" and yes, it was genuine on his part. I was sorry too and I told him so. Sophie hung back crying because in my fit of temper minutes before I'd told them I wasn't taking them to the Y. After some three-way discussion and cuddling I realized I still had it within me to get them dressed, ready, and pack my gym bag. So that's what I did.

But heck, even that is ancient history. Right now (post-gym and a lunch date just Nels and I at Billy's restaurant) he's making me crazy because he's in his room playing and talking instead of napping. There is just something more claustrophobic knowing they aren't napping, even if theoretically they are occupying themselves (making a mess) which again, theoretically gives you "free time" (P.S. likely time later you have to bust hump to help them clean messes).

I know I'm lucky to have 5- and 3-year old nappers. I'm spoiled. Not just for the break in the day (altho' that's the obvious bonus) but for the fact my children are most always well-rested and happy up until their rather-late bedtime. Oh, and I get a good sleep-in if I want it (I do). For now, my solution to Nels' happy squawking in his room is to put some headphones in as I go about chores.

I need a cup of coffee.

ETA - Overheard a few seconds ago as Ralph opens a care package mailed to us from a family member: "No, no, no! Don't touch that! It's broken glass!"

Labels: burnout, coffee, family life, Nels

I was up late last night. Anxious, upset, possibly my choice of a post-dinner cappucino wasn't a good choice. Who knows? I couldn't sleep and there was no one to keep me company. Eventually, yes, I even DID CHORES. Chores, hey - what I do every day, most of the day. And even late - 2 AM - I wasn't tired. I had two glasses of red wine and read and finally fell asleep in the bed next to my children at about 3:30. Only to wake up four hours later and get up, get the kids ready, cook breakfast, make up some food for a preschool party, blah blah, you get the drill.

Today I (sadly, very sadly) gave up coffee after 2 PM. I am now trying not to think about a drink. Instead I need water, natural, deep sleep, a calm book. I need to quit running my ass ragged. For now: a hot shower with Sophie, pajamas, blankets.

Labels: burnout, coffee, worries

The last two Fridays have seen the Hogabooms packing a dinner and hitting the road for a Family Swim Night. Two weeks ago it was the Bainbridge pool (lovely but, to my cold-blooded ass, chilly), and this last Friday was our more typical trip to Sequim's SARC.

Sophie is learning how to put her head underwater. Earlier in the day I picked her up a swim cap to assist in this goal. She was the cutest girl in the pool for her rather "formal" swim look, and I saw many fond smiles given her way from grandparents and childless adults alike. After a shower and change (in the locker room we split along gender lines - Nels with Daddy, Sophie with me) we hit our favorite Sequim coffee shop for refreshment. Luck was with me this night: the only ice cream I have ever favored or cared for in any way was in fact in stock - I think it's called Pistachio Cherry Chocolate Flake. Nels and Sophie immediately calmed down into intense, not-a-drop-wasted ice cream consumption. We watched teenagers take up seats holding hands and nursing a meager cup of coffee. Then a car ride home with quiet children looking out the window as Ralph and I discussed our family's future and our hopes and dreams.

I've had a sewing marathon of late which has left me, at the end of the day, inexplicably tired. I am all but done (buttons and buttonholes) with a winter coat for Sophie:


(Hers is a heathered brick). Next: pattern tracing for a friend, a coat for Nels.

Labels: coffee, family life

Vignettes from this morning's chapter in my quest for a kick-ass bod. Yeah, I've been working out. Did you notice? Check out the ass. Actually, I need more of an ass. This flat, yet broad, expanse of corduroy could use a little ghetto.

So anyway, a local gym is offering free membership for those willing to supervise their daycare mornings. My loverly friend Steph is taking advantage of this great deal and asks me along to her workout this morning. Excellent! I know the gym has a trial membership, but I'm not sure this trial will also include the daycare option... So... I'm a considerate woman (read: schmuck); this morning an hour before Steph picks me up, I call.

I get some pipsqueak on the other end, making powershakes or whatever. I can tell she doesn't "get" the daycare arrangement. She's acting vapid. I continue to press my point, thinking, For heaven's sake, I shouldn't have called! Finally, she breaks her slack-jawed silence: "Are you looking to get free daycare?" she accuses. Vomity little tart. I almost hang up. In a cold fury, I ask if there's someone else I can talk to. She puts a manager on and in two minutes I am off the phone, issue resolved ("Sure! Come on in!" the seemingly more sensible manager chirps).

[Sigh!] OK. Time to get The Girl out of bed (sleeping in, the little sodder), off to preschool, gym bag packed, hurry hurry. 8:45 AM, Obstacle #42 of the morning: I have no athletic shoes (the closest thing being my least butch pair of docs). Aha! The neighbor girl's Vans she left with me - at a 9 1/2, a full two sizes too large. Fuck it. Nothing, not rabid children or bitchy gym-counter girls or the fact I am wearing pajama bottoms, my hospital socks, and clown shoes - will keep me from pumping iron!

We get there. Throw the kids in the childcare room. Flaunt our "personal sweat towels" (Steph's old burp cloths) and my iPod. I do a little time on the elliptical machine. My ass screams in protest. I flail off to do some stretches so I won't be crippled tomorrow. I flop on the mat next to an older black man who is rolling an exercise ball into position. He is at least sixty pounds overweight yet I noted he spent over twently minutes on a stair machine kicking ass. Wearily he settles himself on the ball and picks up a large staff-like object across his shoulders. "Is that your Jedi saber?" I ask him. He sasses back, "More like Friar Tuck!" Giggle, giggle.

It's a good workout and we end up in the steam room (me and Steph, not me and the older dude). My towel is tiny and I am reminded of the locker room scene in Starsky and Hutch. A short shower and a kid pick up, then we're on the road for blessed, blessed coffee.

I feel great. I don't even hate my life for the rest of the day.

Labels: coffee, friends, i'm a hater, music, the bod