Dillierama

Smaller

We started using our fireplace this fall, after 2 years living in this apartment, cursing the fireplace and it's uselessness and bemoaning the huge chunk of space it takes up in our tiny living room, and one day I looked at it and thought, huh, maybe we should USE it.  Even though we've always had a fireplace, we haven't used one since Alex was a tiny baby (when I nearly burned the house down).  We had 2 beautiful fireplaces in our old house and never used either one.

We didn't even bother bringing a fireplace screen or tools with us when we moved here, even though we had 2 sets, I don't know if we just didn't remember we had a fireplace or what, but we had to re-buy them a couple of weeks ago.  I'm kinda glad though, the screen we ended up with is very pretty and very sturdy and opens up in the front so we can get into the fireplace without having to move the whole thing.  I LOVE it and the best part was we picked it up at the Goodwill along with a set of fireplace tools for a fraction of what they would have cost new!

A nice warm fire crackling in the fireplace gives our apartment a much cozier feel nd makes me ridiculously happy.  Until recently I've treated this apartment as our temporary housing until we could move into a bigger place, but lately we've finally been settling in and feeling more and more at home here. It's strange that it took me two full years to feel like this apartment was home, I suppose selling the Utah house (2 years and 17 days after we left it) had a lot to do with it. It aso took that long to get used to living smaller.  Moving from 3000 sqft to 1000 sqft meant we had to give up a lot of our stuff and utilize every square inch of our apartment. We live in every inch of our home, no corner is wasted.  The old house had tons of space we didn't use, whole empty closets and rooms we never went in.  What a waste.

Also helping to increase the liveability of our home we got rid of our huge corner couch and replaced it with a small sofa (with hideabed - instant guest room!), chair and ottoman (another Goodwill find, $60 for both sofa and chair! The ottoman we bought new for $50).

We rented a tiny little storage unit and were able to clear out a lot of stuff we don't need easy access to and that freed up some space in both of our closets allowing me to put the boy's dressers in their closet giving them more space for toys and playing.  

Going through our closets also prompted us to get rid of more stuff we dragged up here and didn't need.  I thought we did a great job of purging uneeded/unnecessary stuff when we left Utah, but we'd still been holding on to so much stuff we'll never need or use again. When space is at a premium, suddenly all that stuff is less valuable than the space it can free up.

We're not just downsizing our living space though, when we moved here we only had the one car, the Dilliermobile, our beloved minivan.  But a few months after we moved I had to get a job and with both of us working, one car wasn't cutting it, so we bought a used VW Jetta.  Well I'm not working anymore and it turns out we can get around just fine in the little Jetta and don't need all the space in the minivan, so the Dilliermobile is probably going to go too.

Smaller.  Everything is getting smaller, closer, tighter, more manageable. Learning how to give up conveinience, cool new stuff, getting less, spending less, having less, doing less even.  We may have been forced into this small and frugal life, but the longer we live this way, the more I like it. The more I realize how the things I do have are wonderful.  The more I appreciate every little thing I have.  Two years ago a fire in the fireplace wouldn't have given me nearly the amount of joy it does today. 

Human cloning

I ask John if it weirds him out at all to look at Max and see a 3 year old version of himself. 

He says "I don't see it. I don't think he looks much like me"

...Are you BLIND????

This kid couldn't be more Dillier!  It's as if John simply cloned himself, my DNA was tossed aside.

School Boy

That boy right there, yeah he's my son. My six year old Kindergartener.

What a handsome little boy we have.  Or, "medium boy" as Alex likes to refer to himself because Max is a "little boy" and Dad is a "big boy".

He's not just a pretty face either, he's smart and talented.  Our first parent / teacher conference was yesterday and we met with his teacher about how he's doing so far in school.  He's doing fantastic actually.  He started school with a good understanding of the alphabet (sounds and letter recognition), some writing, and reading skills, numbers and math and he's been able to expand on that with leaps and bounds in the few weeks he's been in school.  He loves doing the work, he loves his teacher, and the other students, school has been a very positive experience for him so far. 

The teacher commented that he is very good with scissors and coloring, which is to be expected because he's been an avid cutter and colorer for years now.  She says he's the best in the class and one of his cutting projects (circles) was nearly as good as her example project.  Naturally we're bragging about it every chance we get :)

She said that when she asked him who his friends were, he said Addie and Robert.  Addie is a little girl, and Alex has always been quite the ladies man, so I was not surprised.  Robert is a little boy with Downs Syndrome in his class.  His teacher said that when kids like Alex are kind and friendly to Robert, it helps him to adjust and makes school a better experience.  Alex talks about Robert a lot, says he doesn't or can't talk, has trouble writing etc.  I am proud that Alex has been able to befriend someone different from himself.  He notices the differences between them but rather than be afraid of them he has chosen to focus on the fact that they are both little boys and they are both 6 years old and they are both in Kindergarten and they both like cars.  I know this is easier for little kids, and as he gets older it might be harder to see past differences in his peers.  For now though, people are just people, everyone is different and the same and everyone is worthy of kindness.  I hope he will continue to think this way...forever.

Starting school has proven to be just as exciting as when he was a baby.  New experiences almost every day, new milestones and so many things to look forward to.  In fact, this age might even be funner than when he was a baby because back then only John and I got to keep the memories.  His first smile, his first words, his first steps, his first poop on Daddy...  Now he's making memories for himself too. 

Happy (Late) Birthday Alex!

 
 
Alex turned six on September 25th, but Typepad and IE were not getting along and I was having trouble posting about it.  They seem to be on a truce right now, so I can FINALLY wish my first boy an offical Blog Happy Birthday.  Since this blog is basically his baby book, it must be done.

 

 Alex started begging for a birthday party in the Spring, he didn't get a birthday party when he turned 5 because we didn't really know many people here yet and with John and I both working it just seemed impossible to plan a party on a day when both John and I would be home.  But this year Alex has made a lot of new friends and had been invited to a lot of parties and there was just no way we were going to avoid it, kid wanted (and deserved) a birthday bash.

He immediately decided he had to have a Hot Wheels theme, but the artist in him didn't want to buy Hot Wheels stuff, he wanted to make it himself.  So he set about designing his invitation, and with some help from me, we came up with this:

 

We held his party at a local pizza parlor that has a big play area inside, we invited all of his local friends (he was very quick to correct me when I told him we invited all of his friends because Lily, Kennan and Caden were in Utah and couldn't come) and almost all of them showed up! We had about 16 kids and an equal number of parents and took over the restaurant. 

It was great and laid back.  The kids played their hearts out in the play area while the parents hung out and watched them through the big windows. We had pizza and sodas and juice boxes for the kids (ignoring the restaurant policy to not bring outside food).

 

I'd made cupcakes for everyone with the number 6 and terribly drawn cars out of icing, but at the last minute that morning Alex decided he REALLY needed a Hot Wheels cake, so with my left over batter I made him a wee little cake:

 

 

 

 

 

Then there were the presents.  He made out like a bandit.  So many cool toys and art supplies!  He loved each and every one of this gifts, and many of the presents have been unexpected fun for the whole family.

 

According to Alex, the most important part of any party is the goodie bags.  Sadly I forgot to take pictures of the ones we handed out, but Alex meticulously picked out the stuff to put inside and we found some really cool goodie boxes at a party store that looked like tool boxes with Hot Wheels cars on them.

Alex was thrilled with the party, it was exactly what he wanted, lots of friends, lots of cake, lots of pepperoni pizza, lots of playing, lots of presents and really cool goodie bags.

I love you my Alex Boy, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Alex started Kindergarten!

He's really loving it so far, he's excited to go every day. For me the transition from being the mother of a toddler/preschooler to school-aged child has been a little more difficult. It feels a bit unreal. Whenever I go to his school I have to remind myself I'm going as a PARENT not the kid.

10 Years Ago

10 years ago today I was all set to meet John for the first time. We had been emailing/chatting with each other for the last week or so and we had made a date to meet that evening.

At the time I was living with my dad because he was going through aggressive cancer treatments and needed someone to help him. I'd gotten off work early that day because we had an offsite "team building" activity, so I was home when Dad came back from the doctor that afternoon with news that the doctor was discontinuing his treatments and had told my dad to prepare to die. He estimated he had 3 more months to live. The hospice nurse would come by the house that evening to talk with us.

Even though my dad had been diagnosed with cancer several years before, Multiple Myeloma and Melanoma, I hadn't ever given much thought to the fact that he was going to die. I mean, he couldn't. This was my DAD, and I needed him. This news that we weren't going to be fighting the cancer anymore, we were just going to let it take him, shocked me.



I called John to tell him that I couldn't make it, that I was sorry, but something came up and we would have to reschedule our meeting. I'm sure he thought I was chickening out. I was reluctant to plan another meeting because I really didn't know what was going to happen.

We met with the nurse that evening. She told us she would be sending over a hospital bed for the living room, there would be a pastor coming by to talk to us (this was some kind of requirement with the hospice that both Dad and I, being athiests, felt was silly). We made calls to family, my sisters and grandmother would be arriving from California and Kansas soon to say their goodbyes...It was a pretty hellish day.

Later, unable to sleep, I got on the computer and no sooner had I logged in (on dial-up!) than I got a message from John who was also online. He asked me why I cancelled our meeting, I told him about my dad and how rotten I was feeling. He said he'd still really like to meet me if I wanted to tonight. It was 10:00 at night by then. I thought about my options. Sit at home wallowing in my misery or go meet someone and take my mind off of it for a while. We agreed to meet at a coffee shop located half way between our homes in a half-hour.

I didn't do much to get ready to meet him. My eyes and face were red and puffy from crying and beyond help. I just put on clean clothes and left. I took my dad's car because it had a panic button on the key fob, and I figured if this John guy who wants to meet me late at night decides to be a creep I could push the panic button and the car's alarm would go off and scare him away, or maybe attract some big strong dudes to come to my resuce and beat him up.

When I got there, John was waiting for me, sitting on a bench in the front of the coffee shop. If ever there was a guy who was "my type" it is John. I remember that day he was wearing glasses. He also had a full beard. He was wearing a t-shirt, shorts and flip flops. Despite having had a monumentally shitty day and feeling like I'd been through the emotional ringer, when I saw John, my heart did a little flip flop.

We had coffee and talked until September. I'm sure I looked terrible, and I wasn't really talking about typical "first date" fluff. I talked about my dad, and my divorce and my job. We talked about religion (he was a recovering Mormon) and his school (he was still finishig up his BA), eventually we talked about movies and he mentioned that I should watch Clerks. That if he thought I'd agree, he'd invite me back to his place to watch it. I didn't agree right away. We probably talked for another half hour or so before I looked at him and decided all of a sudden, with complete disregard for any common sense, that yes, I did want to go to his place and watch a Kevin Smith movie.

I followed him back to his place in my car, all the while thinking I must be insane. No one knew where I was or who I was with. What if this guy murdered me and buried my body in his backyard? Somehow I just didn't believe that John was the murdering type. And I suppose part of it was I really wanted to go somewhere other than home. Home where I'd have to watch my dad die. I really wanted to watch a funny movie with a cute guy and not think of my real life for a while.

So we did. We watched Clerks on his couch and John didn't so much as hold my hand. He loaned me a blanket to cuddle up in and we sat next to each other and by the end of the movie, I was pretty much ready to have him make a move. But he didn't. Not one. I left his house both thankful for the diversion and a little confused as to whether or not he liked me. Because honestly, it wouldn't have been too hard for him to take advantage of me that day. But, he didn't.

Over the next couple of weeks John and I started seeing each other more and more, I'd make sure someone could stay with my dad and I'd spend a night or a weekend with John. We watched news coverage of the 9/11 attacks together. He met my family when he came to pick me up for a date. We'd stay awake talking until the sun came up. And even though he was supposed to just be a diversion, a fling, and escape from what was going on in my life, we were beginning to care very much for each other.

On the morning of September 24th 2001, my dad died. The night before was rough, he'd been up and in pain and we had to call he nurse to bring morphine. Before he fell asleep I told him I loved him and I was proud to be his daughter. When I left for work the next morning, he was sleeping and his breathing was odd. As soon as I got to the office I began making preparations to take time off of work. I got a call from my mom saying she thought I should come home. I raced home, but when I walked up the steps and my mother and the social worker were on the porch. "He's gone isn't he?" I asked. They nodded. My mom hugged me. I waited a while to see him. I didn't want to look at him when he wasn't there. Eventually I went in. Everyone left me alone with him. I held his hand and it was still warm.

Waiting for the mortuary to pick him up, I called John. I didn't know what to do. I just needed to talk to someone else who wasn't grieving. I told him my dad died, and I know this wasn't part of our "agreement" but I needed to talk to someone. He just said "I'm coming over". He was at my side in 15 minutes. My dad's body was still in the living room.

John stayed with me that night. He held me while I cried and said all the right things when I told him how much I hated the thought of death being the end. He stayed with me every night for the next 4 nights.

The rest of our courtship happened quickly, but naturally. We fell crazy in love, we moved in together, we got married. I got pregnant and had a miscarraige. I got pregnant again and Alex was born September 25, 2005, four years and one day after my dad died. We gave him the middle name Richard for my father. 10 years later, Alex is about to start Kindergarten. And he's an artist, like my dad. Our family was complete when we had Max.



The loss of my dad and the beginning of my relationship with John are so twisted up together that I have a hard time separating them. Beng such an emotional wreck allowed me to trust John in ways I wouldn't have trusted anyone otherwise. John treated me with such kindness and care during that time, even though he'd just met me. He was exactly the person I needed in my life at that time. And before long he was the person I need and want in my life always.

I love you John Dillier. Thank you for being my husband, everything that title means and more.

On Tuesday I was complaining to one of my friends durng a playdate that Max just WOULD NOT give up diapers. That I was sure there was no way he'd be potty trained any time soon and we'd be lucky to have him in underpants by next year when he starts preschool.

By Thursday, Max was potty trained.

I have no idea what happend, but during that playdate Max came to me twice asking to use the potty. He was playing on the slip'n'slide with his friends, wearing a swim suit, I was having this conversation out of easrshot inside the house. And of his own accord he decided to come in and ask to use the potty instead of just letting it go outside (which is what I expected him to do).

We went home and I put him in underpants and he did great. Wednesday I put him in underpants when he woke up and he only had 2 accidents the whole day, and those 2 accidents were when we were away from home. Thursday he had no accidents at all and had stopped even telling me he had to pee, he just went in the bathroom and took care of buisness on his own. We went on a few errands and he stayed dry the whole time.

I'm just completely shocked! He just decided, well, I'm a big boy now, better not wear diapers anymore, and just like that, there's no baby left. This same kid argued with me on Monday with big fat tears running down his cheeks that he NEEDED diapers, he was a LITTLE BOY! Who'd have known just a few days later he'd grow up so fast?

I am super proud of him. I did nothing to facilitate this. It was all him. All I did was give him time to decide on his own that it was time and trust him when he said he didn't need diapers anymore.

GREAT JOB MAXIE!

Big Boy, Overreacting

I bought Alex some new shoes yesterday. Size 1. In BOY sizes, not toddler sizes. It took a while to figure this out, we were trying on shoe after shoe after shoe and they were all too small. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why we couldn't find a shoe big enough. 13s were too small, where were the 14s? Oh, hey Mom, there ARE no 14s! You have to go to the OTHER section. To the BOYS section. This was disappointing to both of us. To me because this is just one more sign that my baby, he's a growin' up. To Alex because he can't get those cool Lightening McQueen shoes he wanted so bad. Also disappointing to John because boy shoes cost twice as much as toddler shoes. AND they aren't nearly as cute. "Cute" is not a factor in designing boy shoes and I guess I'm just too old these days to recognize "cool" as it applies to the 6-12 set.

This shoe shopping trip was just one of the many outings we've been making over the last week preparing for Alex to start Kindergarten. We bought school supplies and a backpack and now shoes, next we'll be getting a couple of new school outfits and a haircut then, in theory anyway, he'll be ready to start school. I'm phrasing this wrong, HE's ready to start school, I am not ready for him to. I guess it's not surprising that Alex getting ready to start school is a bit hard on me. I've got all these conflicting feelings about it. Of course I'm excited for him to embark on this new part of his life, and he is over the moon excited to start Kindergarten, he talks about it non-stop. But he's still my innocent little boy. MY boy. And it feel sorta like this is the end of that. He's not really mine anymore. I'm sending him out into the world to learn and discover who he is. And yes, I do realize this is a bit dramatic seeing as how he'll be in school fewer hours than he was in preschool last year, but it just feels like such a huge monumental milestone that is going to change everything.

Preschool was always voluntary, optional. He could go or not go, we could pull him out if it wasn't working, of if we thought it would be fun to do something else for a while, it's was just school practice, he was still...a baby, really. Kindergarten is the beginning of his real, no-shit, school career. What if it's too hard? What if it's too easy? What if he has trouble making friends? What if he makes friends with kids I don't like? What if he turns into the kind of kid I don't like? What if...I'm not the most important person in his life anymore? I think that's what it is. Becoming a big boy means distancing himself from his mommy. Maybe that won't happen this year, but it is inevitable and it's already breaking my heart and IT HASN'T EVEN HAPPENED YET!

I'm kinda known for my overreacting, and it's a good thing I married John who barely reacts at all to things because it helps to keep me sane. Only John has left on a business trip to Ireland until the end of the month, which also happens to be the last three weeks before Alex starts school and there is no one here to tell me I'm overreacting, so I just keep on overreacting!

I try to ask myself, what would John say to me? Well, he'd probably ignore me for a while until I've really worked myself into a froth about the whole thing. Then he'd roll his eyes at me and say I'm acting like a crazy person. Then he'd tell me that he's not going to talk to me until I calm down. Then, eventually, he'll hug me and tell me that everything will be ok. Just like I freaked out in the weeks before Alex was born; What will it be like to have a baby? Will I be a good mom? Will he like me? Will our marraige change? We figured things out and life is even better now than it was before. We'll navigate these changes too.

Act of Kindness

Yesterday John and I took the boys to McDonald's in Hillsboro. They were going crazy at home, wrestling and running around and I was sure someone was going to end up with a nasty head wound if they kept it up. Despite the fact that there are about a dozen or more McD's between here and Hillsboro, the one out there has a cool outdoor playland (The boys call it "treehouse McDonalds") and I felt like they were too wild to be indoors, even at a McD's playplace. Also, the outdoors one doesn't smell like wet diapers.

Max hadn't had a nap. We're kind of in napping purgatory right now with Max. In between needing a daily nap and giving up a daily nap for good. He can go go go until about 5pm, at which point he passes out for several hours, waking just in time to have missed dinner and fuckup bedtime, but it's nearly impossible for him to go to sleep for a nap any sooner. Yesterday he'd fallen asleep in the car a few times, but only for 10 min or so, and it was 7PM. He was tired. And for Max, tired=grumpy and a grumpy Max, well, let's just say that there is a reason I call Max The Hulk.

He perked up when he got his Happy Meal. Chicken nuggets, apple slices and chocolate milk seemed to renew his energy and when we were done with dinner we took the boys outside to play. They were playing so well that John left us to browse at FYE and I got out my Kindle to read, but soon Max said he needed to poop, so I called Alex down from the treehouse, but by the time Alex came to me Max had disappeared up into the treehouse again. Then Alex said he had to poop, so I called Max down again, gathered up all our crap and the three of us schlepped back into the resturaunt to potty. Taking two young boys to a public restroom for a tandem poop is never fun, and this time was no exception. I don't know why my kids insist of narrating their bowel movements. I don't mind so much at home, but when in a public restroom, I wish they didn't say things like "WOW! That one made a big splash!" and "arrrgh! This poop is taking a long long time to come out of my butt!" or "My butt made a poop bubble!".

Back outside the kids resumed their play, but soon got into trouble. My kids, never content to just play the way the equipment was intedned, had shimmied their way inside of a piece of the playground equipment meant for balls. it's hard to describe, but imagine Max and Alex inside a Plinko game. Seriously kids, WHY? I left them there for a while, figuring, they got in, they can get out, but then the other kids at the playground started banging on the plastic screen that the boys were trapped behind. The other kids were just being kids, but the hard plastic screen, when banged on, was smacking my boys in the face, and, being trapped in a Plinko game, they couldn't really move to get away from the smacking. Alex shimmied his way out, but Max was pissed. He wasn't scared, or physically hurt really, just MAD. So he started screaming and crying. So I went over and told the other kids to go away while Max got out. He didn't want to. He wanted to scream about the atrocities that had happened to him and how his feelings were hurt! I finally coaxed him out, gave him a snuggle and suggested that maybe, had he not gone into the Plinko game to begin with, his nose wouldn't have gotten bopped by the screen. He agreed that he wouldn't go in there again, so I left him to play and went back to my table. No sooner had I sat down than Max launched his happy meal toy (a hard plastic Papa Smurf) at one of the kids who had been banging on the screen. Thankfully he didn't hit her, but he'd earned himself a timeout for the attempt.

Tired and with a bruised ego, Max did not go to timeout willingly. He fought. And bit. And struggled. And went boneless. And went rigid. And flailed. And hit. And basically acted like a rabid wolverine.

Max is a kid who is perfectly capbable of tantruming for HOURS, escalating until I'm sure the Earth will crack apart from the intensity of his anger. Under different conditions, I'd have thrown him in the car and we'd have left. But we were trapped. We'd driven a long way just to come here. Alex was being a perfect angel playing happily with the other kids and didn't deserve to leave just because his brother was pitching an epic shit-fit. Not only that, but John had left, taking the keys to the Dilliermobile with him. I couldn't call him to come back because I needed all of my arms and legs to hold on to Max, preventing him from running amok Tazmanian Devil style and bring down the entire playland.

It was at this moment, I was completely frazzled, trapped, sweaty, and desperately trying to keep my hold on a wild, biting, thrashing feral animal of a child that a woman gently touched my arm, and said "I just wanted to tell you I think you're a great mom"

I looked at her for a moment, then looked down at my screaming child, and figured she was surely being facetious. The last thing I appeared to be was a "great mom" at that moment. I said to her, while putting Max in a headlock and grabbing his hand that was smacking my face "Are you serious? Because I'm a little too busy for a mom-fight right now"

She smiled at me, very kindly. "I'm absolutely serious. Most parents would give up, just let their kid go and run around crazy and wild and get away with acting like a brat, but you're not letting him get away with it. I admire that and I think you are a really good mom."

I almost cried.

When I was feeling the most defeated, helpless and like a completely crappy mom (in fact, Max was screaming as much to me), another woman, a mom who clearly has been in my very position before, made a point to tell me that I was doing just fine.

Max calmed down after a while and I did let him go back to play, and as we were getting ready to leave, that same woman came back over to us and said again "Really, I want you to know I think you did great."

"Thank you." I told her.

So often moms watch each other and judge. "She's not doing it right". "I wouldn't do it that way". "No wonder her kids are so bratty if that's what she calls discipline"...It was wonderful and refreshing for someone to see another mom struggling, and instead of judging, offer words of encouragement. Thank you McDonald's-Playplace-in-Hillsboro-Lady. Thank you so much.

Hippiefication

I've started cooking recently, which is big news from someone who's always considered making Kraft Mac 'n' Cheese from the box cooking. It started with bread. I have a friend who told me how she made all her own bread, so I made it my mission to make an edible loaf of honey wheat bread. Admittedly, my first few attempts at actual cooking were more along the lines of Harto than Martha, but after five loaves and LOTS of advice from friends, I succeeded! I couldn't believe it. I went into my kitchen, mixed a bunch of stuff together and ended up with food! YUMMY food!

Since then I started making all kinds of stuff I usually buy. Pizza, cinnamon rolls, brownies, pasta sauces, tortillas, pancakes... sometimes I was successful (brownies!), sometimes I wasn't (tortillas), but it felt oddly satisfying to take these raw ingredients and make them into something my family would try to eat. For the last 3 weeks I've been cooking all of our meals from scratch (with the exception of John's jambalaya that comes from a boxed mix that he loves and doesn't want me messing around with). I've been surprised to find that I'm spending LESS at the grocery store just buying ingredients and my family is eating BETTER than we ever have.

This cooking thing fits in nicely with this underlying shift I've been feeling for a while now. I don't know if it's living in Oregon or frustration with my own health or my desperation to make sure my kids are healthy...I don't know, but I've been slowly moving in a...hippieish...direction as of late. I've recently tossed out the medicated ointments I'd been using for YEARS on Alex's skin in favor of coconut oil with, for me anyway, completely unexpected results. For the last six months Alex's skin has been nearly consumed with eczema breakouts of unknown origin. We'd been treating his skin aggressively with various medicated ointments, steroids, antibiotics, etc... I'd see results, then stop the treatment (most treatments you can only use for 2 weeks at a time because they are so strong) and it would come right back. Frustrated and feeling helpless to help my poor little boy's relentless itching and skin infections, I decided to try coconut oil, having read about it on AndreAnna's blog. It took a while, but it cleared Alex up AND I can use as much of it as I want for as long as I want because it's natural (it's also good in homemade bread!). He still has some patches on his chin and around his nose and mouth that are stubborn, but since I've been using coconut oil, they aren't getting infected and aren't getting worse. They're just dry patches. It's a goddamn miracle!

This coconut oil thing really just blew me away. If the hippies were right about this, what else are they right about??? I watched Food Inc. and Ingrediets and vowed to go to the Farmer's Market every week for all of my produce needs. I've vowed to HAVE produce needs in the future (we aren't really known for our consumption of fruits and veggies). The boys and I grew some dill and basil in little pots on our patio and I am planning to convert their old red wagon into a little herb garden. I told John I wanted to try to make my own laundry detergent, to which he said "You sound like a Pioneer". I decided against making my own soaps (though I have a friend who makes soap and I'm excited to try a batch of his coconut/avocado oil blend soon!) and ordered some hygiene and cleaning products from Melaleuca.

I'm not really a hippie, not by Portland standards anyway. But I am beginning to open my eyes and see the benefit of whole foods, natural products and in general being aware of where things come from.