Trip to Ocean Shores

The beauty of going on vacation with young kids is they only remember the fun times, the good parts. The days running around the beach, digging in the sand, and splashing in the ocean. The nights staying up too late giggling in the hotel bed as we tell them repeatedly to go to sleep. The kids said it was the best vacation ever. Makes it totally worth it even if The Finn and I disagree. Las Vegas is the best trip ever, just ask The Finn.

We took the kids to Ocean Shores for Labor Day weekend. We decided last minute to get out of town, so our choices for lodging were slim. While the Finn and I would not stay at this particular hotel again, the kids adored it. It had an observatory deck to see the ocean and mountains (with filthy windows you couldn’t see out), an indoor swimming pool (with half of the ceiling above the pool covered in tarps because it was under construction and possibly leaking into the pool) and easy access to the beach (with drunks wondering aimlessly along the path and cars honking and driving recklessly right outside the hotel parking lot.)

 

For some reason, I thought a beach vacation would be relaxing. Why do I always forget that any vacation with young kids, no matter where you go, isn’t relaxing? It’s work. Being on vacation doesn’t change my kids’ internal alarm clocks from waking up at 5:30am. Our hotel didn’t start serving microwaved scrambled eggs, undercooked sausage and heavily processed cereals until 7am. So, our kids watched their iPads for 1.5 hours and ate Pirate Booty at the crack of dawn because we needed to prevent them from screaming and waking the neighbors. The Finn and I took turns reminding Niko to use his inside voice which doesn’t exist. He has two volumes- loud and louder.

We bounced from breakfast, to the “tiny” hotel room as the kids called it (Because the last hotel room we stayed in was an extended stay, so it was larger. Spoiled!) to get dressed for the beach, schlepped all our stuff to the car, drove to the beach, unpacked everything, sunblock applied, and toys scattered about. We’re there ten minutes when one kid has to poop. So, we pack everything back up and head back to the room. Then repeat the unpacking process again when we head back to the beach after kid uses the bathroom.

While it was exhausting for us, the kids had a positive outlook. It reminded me that life is all about how I perceive things. While the Finn and I saw the never-ending bags of toys, snacks, and towels we needed for a measly hour trip to the beach, the kids saw a playground with sand, water, puddles and endless ways to use their imaginations. They buried toys and chased seagulls with squirt guns (Niko’s favorite activity) while we explained what a tide was and how it works. We hunted for crabs, saw jellyfish on the beach, and witnessed a fish being pecked to death by a seagull (or as Niko calls them- eagles.) I also had to explain what marijuana was to my 8 year old since someone was vaping it on the beach and she was appalled by the smell.

The kids took all the lessons in stride. They soaked up the information and kept asking questions. They were engaged and entertained by the outdoors, not electronics, which was so refreshing. I was happy to see them enjoy the ocean and all it has to offer. Or maybe I was stoned from the guy’s secondhand pot smoke? Either way, it made my heart happy.

We closed down our summer at Ocean Shores and I’m looking forward to fall and getting back into a routine with school. I’ll miss their thirst for knowledge and usually upbeat attitudes. But instead of being sad they’re gone (who am I kidding? Instead of sitting on my butt and catching up on Netflix while they’re at school), I’ll choose to see things in a positive light, like my kids do, and make this is a great remainder of the year for me. Stay tuned to see if I can book the classes and activities I hope to during my free time. I’ll also try to fill you in what I’ve been up to since the last time I posted.

Adrenal Fatigue

 

It’s been one year since we moved cross country. Hell, it’s been an excruciating, oh-so trying, dear God take me now kinda year since we packed up and left Cincinnati.

I’m still recovering. Before the move, I spent 34 days alone with two kids and two dogs packing and purging items from our house. I said goodbye to our friends and family alone since my husband wasn’t able to come back from his new job.  We lived in a Seattle hotel with for three weeks before our belongings arrived. We moved into a new house. I unpacked it. I found my daughter a new preschool, researched dentists and doctors, found local parks, etc etc. And I cried. Because I was overwhelmed and exhausted. All the time.

Everyday felt like I was knee-high in a pool of mud. I pushed my legs to keep going, my mind to keep trying, but the mud was never-ending and my thoughts became fuzzy. I had no energy, felt anxiety over trivial tasks, and my hair was falling out.

My naturopath diagnosed me with adrenal fatigue. I had rationalized away all my symptoms as simply part of being a mom. Us moms joke about pulling out our hair, but mine was falling out and clogging the shower drain. I convinced myself it was post-partum hair loss even though my son was two years old. How?!

I pulled back the reins and focused on myself without guilt. Fine, with some guilt. The kids will survive playing in the backyard with toys instead of being carted across town to the park. We’ll put together puzzles and color instead of driving to a daily play date. I’ll not get involved in every mom’s group and neighborhood event in an attempt to make friends. Friends will come with time. Right now, I need time to myself.

The most difficult part was admitting I couldn’t handle everything. I know moms who easily pack up a house with four kids and run off to somewhere new without breaking a sweat. But not me. I’m learning to be okay with it.

It’s been eight months since my diagnosis. I’m still taking supplements to help with adrenal fatigue, but I’m in a much better place. My hair is growing back, I have an increase in my energy and I’m less irritable. I also have a strict bedtime and refuse to over schedule myself or the kids.

I remind myself to have grace and focus on what’s most important in our lives. For now, I try to schedule only a few activities at a time, and try not to take on more than I can handle. I still struggle with learning my limits, but am working on it. Now I’m off to my daughter’s Girl Scout meeting. Did I mention I’m the troop leader for 18 kindergartners? Eh, I’m a work in progress, remember?

Wool Dryer Balls for the Win

I look quite similar to this during my workouts. I’ve been known to fall off gym equipment due to clumsiness.

I sweat. A lot. I come home from the gym smelling like a teenage boy. No, not because I’ve been making out with one at the gym, but because teenage boys are stinky. Geesh. Perverts.
I used to rely on scented detergents and dryer sheets to help clean and mask the smells that lingered in my gym shirts and mom-style yoga pants that come to my bellybutton to hold in my muffin top. But we haven’t used scented detergent since the Finn kids have sensitive skin. (The Lord blessed me with pale, pasty kids that require copious amounts of sunscreen AND super-duper sensitive skin.)
I’ve been meaning to give up dryer sheets, but missed the manufactured chemical-laden scent they gave my stanky clothes. Who doesn’t want to smell “Mountain Fresh” or like a “Spring Breeze”?
But as my crunchiness level has increased since my move to Seattle, I’m proud to say I’ve finally ditched those bad boys and found a new love. Meet my wool dryer balls! Who doesn’t love a fluffy, useful pair of balls?! (That’s what he said).

Wool dryer balls come in a variety of sizes.

I bought these balls, but there’s several varieties. (These jokes could go on and on.) I tried plastic dryer balls a few years ago, but they were noisy, got tangled in the sleeves of shirts or pant legs, and wore out quickly. But wool dryer balls are quieter, larger in size, and last for years. Best of all they’re all natural.

The dryer balls work by separating clothing, absorbing water from wet clothes, and increasing air circulation. They can cut drying time by 25%, which will save electricity and money.

Add a few drops of oil to the dryer balls before tossing them in the dryer. Everyone loves oily balls!

Who cares if the wool balls gets my clothes naturally soft if they still have the gym stank? To combat the funk, I add a few drop of essential oils to the balls before throwing them in the dryer. Young Living’s Purification blend is my favorite. It eliminates odors and leaves my laundry with a clean, fresh scent. I also like lavender and Joy blend. Bam! Naturally soft and naturally scented, funk-free laundry.

Do any of you use dryer balls? How many ball jokes did you count?

Finnish School is Out!

I attended the kids’ last day of Finnish school because there was an awards ceremony. Since the school encourages only Finnish to be spoken, I’m screwed because my Finnish vocabulary is limited to, “Where is your pacifier?” “Take your fingers out of your mouth,” and “put your pants on.” None of those are suitable replies when people speak to me. Or if they are, I don’t want to be a part of that conversation.

During the ceremony Little Finn runs out of the room where all the parents and kids have gathered to sing and receive awards. The Finn follows. I’m left alone with the older kid as the program begins.

Finn Girl’s teacher stands up. What’s she saying? I have no clue in it’s another language! Well, Finn Girl and her teacher have the same name, Suvi, which means summer in Finnish. We’re singing a song about summer during in the program.
Her teacher says something that sounds like Suvi (finnish language puts different endings on nouns and it confuses the hell outta me), but I don’t know if she’s talking about herself, Finn Girl, summer or the song. After the third time the teacher says Suvi, a parent hissed at me in English that Suvi needed to go up front to accept her certificate. Awkward, indeed.

Here’s Little Finn completely avoiding class. We’re all doing some hokey-pokey-like dance. Yup, us grown-ass adults shaking our legs and twirling around like morons while our 2 year old gives zero shits about the class. Pretty much sums up how he felt about his class all year.

Look, here’s the certificates they received. I don’t understand what’s written on them. The Finn says they signify the kids completed that year’s class. Ok, sounds good. I’ve learned Google and Bing do not translate Finnish well, so I’ll take his word for it.

The kids were excited school was over, but I will miss it.  It was the only time I got the house all to myself!

 

Homemade Foaming Hand Soap

Ingredients needed to make hand soap.

I’m always washing my hands and my kids’ hands. Washing after playing at the park, picking their noses, and other gross things. You know, like crawling on public restroom floors, picking up chewed gum on the street, and digging through trash cans. We’re a classy bunch, can ya tell?
I adore the fancy-smelling foaming soaps. Lemon-basil, peach-coriander or rosemary mint, anyone?  But I’ve become a label reader and I didn’t like the ingredients listed. Or the price.
Why were dyes, sulfates, and weird ingredients in hand soap? Shouldn’t there be two or three ingredients? My favorite bar soap was an option, but I like foaming soap in the bathrooms and kitchen for easy use for kids.
Making foaming hand soap takes less than five minutes. It’s simple and costs a fraction of the fancy smelling stuff.
I used an old soap bottle that was originally filled with fancy hand soap. The key is the bottle must be a foaming dispenser. I’d like to buy this

The final product

bottle. It’s cute, sturdy and received good reviews.

Ingredients:
Dr. Bronner’s Castile Soap  (I bought mine on Amazon, but it can be purchased in most grocery stores in the health food section)
Almond oil (can substitute with olive, jojoba,  or grapeseed oil)
Water (distilled is best, but tap water is okay if the soap will be used within a couple weeks)
Essential oils

Directions:
1. Fill bottle 2/3 full with water.
2. Add 2 tbsp. castile soap.
3. Add 1/2 tsp. oil.
4. Add essential oils of your choice.  (I love fruity, clean scents for warmer weather. Wild orange, lemon with mint, and lemongrass are my current favorites.)
5. Close container and lightly shake to mix ingredients.

Can a Sugar-Free Me Exist?

I don’t discriminate. I love all types of sugars!

This week I bid ado to a life long member of my family. Someone who was near and dear to my heart. He was there when I was happy or needed a pick-me-up. Consoled me when I was heart-broken and in the depths of self-pity. Oh, Sugar, you’ve been my crutch long enough.

Strawberry frosted Pop-Tarts, Fruit by the Foot, Reese’s Cups and pixie sticks were staples of my youth. I remember adding spoonfuls of sugar to my bowl of Cheerios in the morning.
My high school breakfast consisted of a Diet Coke, frosted animal crackers and a cigarette. (Shhh…don’t tell my mom.) Even my 20s were laden with sugar filled treats and midnight grocery store runs to stock up cookies and ice cream.

I craved candy like an addict needing a fix during my first pregnancy. I’m surprised Finn Girl didn’t come out with jelly beans in her DNA or worse, Swedish fish running through her veins. Not only would’ve that been genetically disturbing, but The Finn would’ve been ticked. The Finns have a strong dislike for the Swedes. Yes, the dislike extends to food with any Swedish reference.

But the time has come to say goodbye to this vice. Add it to the growing list of things I’ve quit: cigarettes, soda (pop, Coke, whatever), gluten, and showering daily since having kids. But if I ever give up coffee or wine check to see if I’ve been possessed. Seriously. A life without those things is not worth living. Coffee and Wine, I’m in it for LIFE with you!

You want me to eat what for dinner??

But now in my mid-30s, I need to improve my health or the Diabetes (pronounced die-a-beat-us) will come for me. I eat a fairly clean diet. Just ask my sisters. They’ll tell you how they’re terrified to eat my house because it’s always an experience. Kale salad with nutritional yeast dressing,  cabbage “steaks” with cashew “cheese”, and homemade chickpea brownies. We usually order pizza at family gatherings.

Now, it’s time to hunker down and get The White Devil out of my diet.

It Ain’t Easy Being Green

Living in Washington has provided several learning opportunities. I’ve learned parking spaces labeled “compact” are the SAME SIZE as regular spots. Businesses are required to label a certain amount for compact cars. My SUV is long enough to cover the “compact” writing so no one notices. Problem solved. I’ve also learned oh-so-much about garbage, recycling, and toddler’s gross habits.

Sorting garbage is a way of life here. We have three garbage bins in our garage. One for trash, recycling, and food/yard waste. Which leaves approximately three inches left to park your car in the remainder of the garage.

Little Finn’s love of trash reminded me of this guy. I think they smell alike some days, too.

We recycled in Ohio, but that was amateur compared to Seattle. Detergent bottle empty? Finished with that yogurt container? Changed your door knobs? They can all be recycled! Our bin is overflowing every week. Of course, with a toddler who adores playing in the trash, I usually end up with plastic containers, beer bottles and paper bags scattered about the house. It’s like the kid is practicing to be a homeless bum. If he starts putting brown paper bags around the empty beer bottles I’m taking him to therapy.

The food waste bin has been the most useful, yet difficult to use. We keep a small trash can under the sink and dump it into the larger bin in the garage. The trash can fills up quickly with food scraps and funky smells. Finn Girl is ALWAYS the first to notice. “Mom, it smells like dirty diapers. Mom, it stinks like dead ponies. (What? I have no idea what that means or where it came from.) Mom, why am I smelling something bad? It hurts my nose.” Finn Girl’s teenage years will require me to be heavily medicated. The overdramatic holding of the nose as she flees from the kitchen or the cries that come from her throwing her scraps in the yard waste trash are comical, but only if you’ve had a cocktail. Otherwise it’s irritating.

I am proud to say we have only one or two bags of trash weekly. In Ohio it was easily 5-7 bags. That kinda change would make uber earth conscious Alicia Silverstone happy. Now if only I could get on board with her whole vegan diet we’d be BFFs. Sharing the best use for hemp hearts. Talking about our organic, freshly composted gardens and how to make our own kumbucha. But I can’t. I love the animal flesh. And cheese. Life would be sad without cheese.

The Finn is loving all the recycling and yard waste bins because he grew up dividing his trash like he had a severe case of OCD. I, on the other hand, am accustom to throwing everything in the garbage. The only thing we recycled in the Midwest were glass jars that my mom would fill with bacon grease that would be used for cooking later.

Cubes of trash sold for $50-$100/each. There’s hope for Little Finn’s trash habit.

We’re all adapting and enjoying the changes. I’m hopeful that Little Finn’s obsession with garbage will morph into some sort of weird, new-age art and we can count on him to fund our retirement. If not, guess The Finn will keep his day job.

Hiking with Kids

It’s been an unseasonably warm winter in Washington. We’ve been enjoying 60 degree weather, sunshine and our flowers are starting to bloom. The family decided to take advantage of the weather and go for a local hike. I packed up water, snacks, hand sanitizer, wipes, and crossed my fingers.
Thirty minutes later we were at Coal Creek park. I strapped Little Finn into my carrier. And away we went with him crying and kicking me.

So many picturesque moments of green landscapes on the hike. I showed my sister the above picture of the waterfall at the end of the hike. She said it looked fake. I told her if it was fake it’d look like this…

That red thing is me floating down the river. Do you know how exhausting it is carrying 27 lb of screaming toddler on your back up a muddy, steep incline?
During the 45 minute trek Little Finn pulled my ponytail like I was his horse and my hair was his rein. He also wiped his snotty nose and dirty hands in my ponytail. I had no idea my hair had so many uses.
Maybe it’s a new trend I can start here. Out of tissues? Use your hair! Ran out of wipes? Use your hair! I’m certain I can find articles on how snot and crumbs are nourishing for your hair. It’s also a renewable resource. People will love that aspect out here!

The hike back down was summed up nicely by Finn Girl, “Listening to nature is boring. When are we done? I never want to come back here.”

Yeah, not seeing Girl Scouts in her future.

Homemade Detangler

Finn Girl has typical Nordic hair. Super fine, tangles into a thousand knots if you look at it, and a shade of gorgeous, almost white blonde women pay for in a salon. She also has a tender scalp and a great set of lungs. Combine all these traits together and this, my friends, is the recipe for a daily epic meltdown.
She puts on an Oscar worthy performance while I brush her hair. The tears, the deceit, the pain. When is this going to stop? Why do I do this to her? Why, mom, WHY!?!
We go through bottles of syrupy, sweet detangler quickly. The artificial scents they use make me nauseous. What exactly does Apple Blossom Surprise and Strawberry Fizz Dessert smell like?
Then I read the ingredients and knew we could find a better, natural alternative.
The detangler recipe below is easy to make. It works, too! I added essential oils to create a pleasant scent.

Homemade Detangler

Ingredients

• 12 ounce or larger spray bottle
• 2 cups distilled water
• 3 tablespoons marshmallow root (Ordered from Mountain Rose Herbs)
• 2 tablespoons conditioner of choice (I used this one)
• 10+ drops of essential oil of choice (optional)

Instructions

1. Add water and marshmallow root to small pan. Bring to a boil for one minute.
2. Reduce heat and let simmer for 20-30 minutes.
3. Let cool slightly and strain through a cheesecloth or very thin wire strainer. (You’ll have about 1.5 cups water at this point)
4. While still warm, pour in to bottle, add conditioner and essential oils. Shake until mixed. (If ingredients don’t mix completely, I suggest putting them into a blender until mixed well.)
5. Store for up to 2 months (it might last longer, but we go through the bottles quickly).

   *Recipe adapted from wellnessmama.com

Top 10 Reasons You Know You’re Married to a Finn

 

1. 

   Perfect size coffee mug for husband.

   Long periods of silence are his norm and not uncomfortable. (Makes for a really awkward meal when you’re sitting with the fin-laws for dinner. I’ve never ate faster in my life than when in Finland.)

2. Shows minimal emotions. (Besides the birth of our children I’ve rarely seen strong emotions. Bonus: He’ll never need Botox because no frown lines.)
3. Asks to put sauna in house.
4. Wants to put real burning candles on the Christmas tree. (So many answers to this. Why? How? Fire hazard! Death and destruction!)
5. Correctly pronounces name of everything in IKEA. (Equally useful and annoying. Especially when he corrects the workers on their pronunciation.)
6. Drinks unhealthy amounts of  oh so strong, super strength black coffee (We make a separate pot for my parents when they visit because they can’t drink it.)
7. Totally forgets about Thanksgiving (It’s an American holiday, remember? I fed Finnish kids a Thanksgiving meal one year. You should’ve seen their reaction to stuffing.)
8. Looks at his feet or anywhere else besides your eyes when speaking to you.
9. Hatred of all things Sweden. (It’s an ongoing national rivalry. Think Hatfield vs. McCoys, but with countries.)
10. Tries to put our children down for a nap in a stroller outside during winter. (Yes, they do this in Finland with heavy duty prams and layers of warm blankets. Over here it’s a great way to get your child kidnapped or have child protective services called for child abuse.)