Happy Year!

Happy New Year and Happy Birthday Juliet! Not necessarily in that order. Many are confused by the fact that this onesie my sister bought me while I was pregnant was wishful thinking. My due date was December 31, 2010. She was hoping I would not have to carry Juliet beyond my due date and we were all relieved when she popped out at 7:11 p.m. on New Years Eve last year.


So this year New Years Eve was twice the celebration and we could not have brought the new year in any better as we were with friends at a cabin in the mountains of north Georgia. This year I actually stayed up to wince at Dick Clark and kiss my man. Last year Jimmy and I turned out the lights in our hospital room at 11:45 p.m. and went to sleep.



We have been very busy getting back to normal. Today we began school again and I was reminded what home school and normal for me means...Having to call the Dr. because your 4 year old stuck a Q tip too far in her ear and it's been bleeding for 2 days. Having to insert the ear drops. Having your husbands car act weird. Having to deal with mail and papers. Having to do these and many other things simultaneously. We had a successful day and I even took some one year photos of Juliet. (I posted some on my Julie Alley Photography facebook.)


It is definitely bittersweet, the first birthday. My precious angel is getting so big. The end of babyhood forever for me is rearing it's toddler-like head. But to see how much she's grown, how blessed she has been with good health...it is a celebration indeed. Happy Birthday Juliet!

Merry Christmas 2011

Merry Christmas to all who read the J Train. Hope you had a wonderful Christmas and have a Happy New Year!

Three Black Things

I'd like to write about three black things in my life today.

1. My bag lady sweater. I'm actually on the third...it seems every two years or so I get a new warm black sweater that I wear constantly in the winter. They begin to look worn and prickly and I wear them long after their life. But it is cold. I cannot remove it. Not even to take a picture of it. And I'm certainly not taking a picture of myself wearing it.

2. Burnt toast. A pan full for the family at dinner. I rarely let this happen. I am still getting used to my radioactive oven. The broiling is even crazier than the baking. Though burnt toast is always a disappointment, it was quite a beautiful black color.

3. This drawing I found when I cleaned out the van today. Done by Libby. Is there anything better than the way you feel when you find a black sharpie? She must have been so excited to find one to use in her sketchbook in the van that she drew this picture. There is nothing more to be said about these wonderful pens and this amazing drawing (by an amazing artist) conveying true love for them.


I love you black sweater. I love you, burnt toast. It's not your fault. I love you, Sharpie. I love you Libby. Thanks for making my day.

Mommy McGyver

One of my many jobs as a wife, mom, and home manager is to keep track of things around here. I wish I could tell you that I'm one of those people that throws every small loose item away. I'm not. I keep things, knowing that if I throw it away, I will surely need it within 24 hours. It is one of the many points in Murphy's Law of Home Economics.

I am often confiscating things or finding things that are too small and thus a choking hazard. Or maybe it's a small item I don't want to lose. It could be something that seems important but I have no idea what it is. Does anyone else have these items? I have a lot of them. And they do have a home, because though my house does not always appear to be neat or tidy, most of the time I know exactly where everything is. (Except shoes. But that is another post.)

Where is my home for small unclaimed, choke-able, or important (so must be kept away from the children) items?

I'll tell you.

It's the kitchen window sill above my sink.

Why there? Because no one can reach them, of course! And also they seem to go unnoticed there somehow.

Behind my sink is a treasure trove of random thing-a-majigs. Sometimes I can't stand it and I have to clean it off. But most of the time I stare at these things every time I wash my hands and as an artist I feel it is an installation piece representing what's gone on around here since the last time I cleaned it off. Also, I am like a savant, using my sky-high IQ to memorize each and every item so if anyone asks where the chain that came off the fan is, I can retrieve it and thus feel as though I did my job as home manager over and above the call of duty.

As I write, some of the things in my window are: two toenail clippers, two candles, blue hair spray, fake vampire blood, infant Tylenol, a light bulb, disinfecting wipes, a paintbrush, two keys (don't know what they open), some loose change, bobby pins, a comb and hairbrush, soda can pop tops, and a flashlight.

I'm sure MacGyver could power a small town with the items found on my kitchen windowsill on any given day. Or at least make a pretty decent bomb.

Just one more way I can do my job. Because you never know when the power might go out and I will have to pretend to be MacGyver and I'll need some stuff to generate a little electricity. Hey, no food's going to spoil here, I'm collecting some junk in my kitchen window.

The Same Thing Happens Every Night

In case you haven't read my blog before, I'm a Bill Cosby fan.

Almost every night after dinner I think about his performance in "Bill Cosby as Himself." The part when he talks about the antics of his five children and wife after dinner every night. I used to play the record and listen to it lying on the living room couch. Little did I know I would one day have five kids of my own and go through the nightly routine myself.

Here are some things that happen (almost) every night at my house.

1. Dinner. This includes me asking everyone repeatedly to stop interrupting each other and "please can one person talk at a time!"

2. Someone spills something. You can set your watch by it.

3. Homework. (Not from home school, only the public school kid has to endure it.)

4. Some sort of performance or musical endeavor. Tonight it was freeze dance.

5. The baby crawls around and gets really dirty.

6. Washing. Dishes, people, laundry...it's always at least one of these or all three.

7. Books.

8. Crying. Someone. Every night. If it's not the kids, it's me. On the inside.

9. Me checking to make sure I have ice cream in the freezer for after bedtime. (I actually never have to check. I always know exactly how much I have.)

10. Phone ringing. Usually multiple times.

11. Yelling. I admit it. It happens. Every night.

12. Rocking the baby. Tucking in and bedtime prayers.

13. Someone fools around instead of lying in bed.

14. The clenched teeth threatening. (If no obedience, as Cosby would say, the beatings begin.)

15. Sleep. This does happen every night. I know. I go in there and look at all five of them every night. They sleep. It is like a deep breath. To begin again.

I am thankful that the same thing happens every night. It is the working gears of a family. In the daily routine you build something. But that fleshed out is pretty ugly much of the time.

Thank you Bill, for going before me. For doing the nightly routine and living to joke about it.

"Think I carried you in my body for nine months so you can roll your little eyes at me? I'll roll that little head of yours down on the floor!" -Bill Cosby

Here is a link to the classic bit The Same Thing Happens Every Night.

"Calgon, take me away!"

A few weeks ago my bathtub was clean. This is not the norm, so I decided to take a bath.

I really enjoyed it. Mostly, the sound of the water slowly dripping from the faucet into the water. There was something soothing about it. But I think the best part about a shower or bath is that unless your house catches fire or someone needs a trip to the ER, whatever the problem is has to wait until you are dry and dressed.

I remembered the Calgon bubble bath commercials from my childhood. The familiar slogan "Calgon, take me away!" that the woman would yell. So I looked up the old commercial on line. It was sort of like that, but not really at all. I do use my time in the shower to escape from it all sometimes, but I don't have my hair bundled at the top of my head 80's style with ringlets cascading down my face. I don't point my toe and slowly lift it out of the bubbles to wash my ankle. I don't have bubbles up to my neck in a bathtub that looks like it belongs in a double wide. I don't "lose myself in luxury" by having soft skin when I get out.

But I understand where they are coming from. Sometimes, when you have so many demands placed on you, being able to close and lock the door in the name of a bath, shower, or even a trip to the toilet is the only escape you have in your day.

Sometimes I have trouble prioritizing. If I have a minute to do something, I look around and feel paralyzed by all there is to do. Do I plan dinner? Do I clean up my room? Do I pick up the 3,468 odds and ends around the house? Do I do laundry? Do I forget it all and rock the baby? Read books? Do I write a blog about the old Calgon commercial?

I think what I'm realizing is that it doesn't matter. It will all get done, then it will all get undone. Then, it will get done again, and then undone. Clothes you wash will be soiled again. Floors you mop will get dirty again. Food you eat will make your toilets dirty and diapers gross. But in the middle of it all you might get to take a bath and come out feeling a little more like you can handle it all. But I don't want to miss much. So Calgon, take me away, but bring me back soon because I have messes to make and clean up. And make again. And clean up. And make again. And clean up...

Eleven Eleven Eleven

I just wanted to post because it is the date that it is. I don't have something specific to say. I tried to do it at 11:11 p.m. but I missed it. I was tucking my children into bed.

They just keep growing and I can't make it stop.

I wonder. Have I kept enough of their sweet notes to me? Did I put them in my special papers file? I don't want to forget that they once were little and would bring me random papers that said I love you mommy.

I wonder. When will I stop tucking them in?

I wonder. Is it possible to forget their soft hair and how it smells after a bath? Oh, I hope not.

I wonder. Am I doing enough to show them I love them? Oh, I hope so.

I wonder. Will we be good friends when they grow up? Oh, I hope so.

It happens so gradually but so quickly at the same time. I have always loved children. I am so blessed to have my own to love. And I do love them.

On 11/11/11, but also on every day of every year at every time of day. Did you hear that kids? Even when I'm asking you to stop touching me, or talking to me, or bothering me, I'm totally in love with you. You are even better than a cool day like 11/11/11.

Haus and Hook

I'd like to tell you about two additions to our family.

1) a dog named Haus (German word for house)


2) a pinball machine named Hook



As if I don't have enough going on in my life. As if I need one more thing to feed and toilet and bathe. As if I need one more thing to break. Or remember to turn off. Or take turns with.



But you know what? I can fight it, and be the wife and mother who complains and whines and lists 100 reasons why we don't need a dog or a pinball machine.



Or I can roll with it and learn to photograph two new things. Pets and pinball machines. I've decided to expand my photographic abilities. And it hasn't been half bad. This is my first attempt at capturing a back glass and I didn't spend much time on it but hey, it's something new. You know...families, kids, babies, weddings, pregnant women, animals, real estate, and pinball machines. There are worse things to take pictures of.


Haus came to us by way of my parent's neighbors...who had other dogs and work during the day and thought Haus would benefit from affection and air conditioning. He is big. A breeding stud with all the right equipment. If he were in high school, he'd be the dumb jock. But who doesn't love the dumb jock? Sometimes the center of the football team can do a little more than throw his weight around. He usually has a gentle heart inside.


Hook came to us for Penelope's birthday this past weekend...not as a gift to her, but on loan for her birthday party, which was a letter P theme. My dad has been collecting pinball machines for about a year now. The kids love to play it of course. Hey, it's good for their reflexes. It is based on the movie Hook, a Steven Spielberg film from 1991. I was a mere 9th grader. Enjoying my year at the top of Junior High. Wearing cheerleading uniforms and taking cello lessons. But I digress.

Just wanted to post what was new around here. Haus and Hook. As the machine says, "What would life be like without Captain Hook?" (...and Haus.) Life would be a little less chaotic but I've never been afraid of chaos. Or Captain Hook. We're not going to grow up around here.

Costumes 2011

It's that time of year again. October 31st is upon us and bringing with it a desire in my children to acquire candy, candy, and candy. I rarely eat candy. I rarely let my kids eat candy. Yet I go to a lot of effort to outfit my children so that they can get some. Something about that doesn't add up.

Yet it does. It's because I love them. And what mother doesn't like dressing up her kids? Although 24 hours ago I had no idea what two of them would be and only a wig for the other, we somehow pulled it together this afternoon.


Thanks to my sister and nephew Jake for the Einstein idea. Jake was Einstein a few years back.



Thanks to the internet for the jellyfish idea. And to Libby for looking really cute as a stinging invertebrate.


And I do not thank you, Weird Al, for your CD ending up at a garage sale and then into my five year old's bedroom, into his night time music play list, and thus into his mind to dress up as you this year. But I have vowed to not squelch their creative sides, so I let him be Weird Al. (After the photos were taken Jimmy made him a name tag that said "Hi my name is Weird Al" to aid him in answering questions.)


And thank you God, for sending a miracle my way and allowing me to capture Penelope smiling naturally. It almost never happens.


Lastly, thank you Juliet, for being on the exterior of my womb this year, for being such a good baby, and for sitting quietly in your high chair while I photographed everyone outside, then smiling at me like this when I came in. I love all of you!