The Christmas Post

Dear Friends and Family,

We have yet to make our photo cards this year, and we are so behind on all things Christmas.

So for now, here are some updates for the year.

Joel turned 10 and that is kind of an alarming age. How did I become the mom of a 10 year old? People told me it all went fast, but I felt like the process just doubled in pace. In eight more years, he will be an adult! As a ten year old, he has found his passion for the arts through dancing ballet and contemporary and playing the piano. Both of these forms of expression work really well for him, and he could not really imagine life without them.

Ellie is now 9 and super sassy. She has always had strong opinions about what she likes and does not like, but this is a whole new level of that. She too loves to dance and will openly admit to people she wants to be a famous ballet dancer when she grows up. Apart from dance, she also plays the piano  and reads chapter books in a day. Her new favorite books are about fairies, but she also loves The Secret Garden. When she is ahead on her language arts school work she works at writing her own stories about ducks and other animals.

Dominic is our wild child. At 6 years old, he has enough energy for the entire family and some. This is his first year learning the piano and his second year dancing. He longs to take a hip hop class and has created his own version of this style to his dance at the end of his class. He runs circles around the house to calm down and loves to play quietly even though it doesn't seems possible.

Charis is 5. She grins through her dance class and is a very loving big sister to Bria. There is a baby at the library named Olivia, who Charis makes sure she sits next to every week. In her mind, our new baby just has to be a girl. Charis has also gone from eating like a bird to cleaning out the house. We expect her to suddenly become very tall soon.

Bria is sweet as pie at 4 years old. She is the kind of four year old who acts 8, and even though she does not have to be a part of our homeschool classes yet, I give her things to do because she wants to learn. She is tackling letter sounds like a champ and writing a few letters with ease. She is also a young ballerina who is learning as many moves as she can from her dance teacher and siblings.

Isaiah is now 2, but in April he will be three. It has been so strange to not have a baby in the house. I have also not breastfeed in one whole year (the first year since 2004). Isaiah adores cars and we go nowhere without as small matchbox Lightning from the movie Cars. He is too young to take dance, but at home he has shown us his love for movement as well.

Tim still works for US Bank as the branch manager of Quilcene. It is almost his 2 year anniversary at that branch. He's learned to be quite the chief in the last couple of years while Marion has had to leave for 10 days at a time for residency two times a year. He still preaches about 2-4 times a year and plays music at our church from time to time as well.

Marion is pregnant with baby number 7. Her due date is June 19, 2016. It is very strange to be pregnant and due around one's own birthday. We'll just have to wait and see how that turns out. She is also in her second year of graduate school and attempting to finish her manuscript...yes the same one from 2005. This could be the year it actually becomes a book. Who knows. When she isn't working on that she is homeschooling 4 of our six children and talking care of the house.

So here is a complete update on our entire family for the year of 2015! Can you believe it is 2015? All I can say is life has been pretty amazing. We wish you all a wonderful holiday season!

Love, Tim, Marion, Joel, Ellie, Dominic, Charis, Bria, and Isaiah

MFA Mamma in Year 2

What has changed since I began graduate school? This time last year my home smelled like freshly baked french bread and sometime a crockpot of homemade yogurt could be spotted on the counter. I was super idealistic about the home cooking tasks I could accomplish as well as my studies. This was before I pooled all my creativity onto the page.

A memoir requires much more dedication than I ever imagined. In my case, I often write eighty pages on one topic, just to find my voice on the matter. In that process I think, wow, I have a whole other book on just this topic. Then I reread the maze of my mind and realize how little of it is even interesting to me...the person who lived these things.

There are emotional moments in writing where I have written about the topic of my choice and it sounds like my seventh grade diary, but not in a good way. Wow, I was super dramatic in seventh grade. I can face the fact that I still am, but maybe slightly less so than that voice...that girl...I've grown since them. I have three of my own dramatic little girls.

Remolding my voice has been a threading of several layers of myself. There is such an amazing feeling once something starts to sound like a real person...more like me. People aren't just the person he/she is in present time. Nope, people are made up of complexly woven together moments of time. Sometimes, one has no idea what stitches together what. I was surprised to see that in the middle of wishing I could become a famous actress, and noticing I really liked psychology, that there was also a person who loved to process all kinds of thoughts on the page. Thank you Montaigne for giving us a reason to try out our ideas. It probably has saved my sanity.

As for the woman who made loaves of bread daily, I plan to do that again. Bread has been replaced by things like homemade almond milk...awesome stuff, when made from scratch. I still make fun things like cookies because mine are dairy free. I will admit that cooking is actually a part of my writing process. There is reading, then writing a bunch of ramblings, then chopping up veggies for dinner, and yes that wonderful moment hits...I know what I plan to write. It is amazing how real life kills writers block.

So, this time last year I had no idea how to make sure school work would be finished and mommy Marion wouldn't be too grouchy. Now, I have figured out some kind of a dance where my home life is just as much as my writing life as my writing life is. I get grouchy about not finishing a book I am reading at times. Getting lost in the worlds other people have created for me is a whole new balancing act.

For now, I can take a deep breath and smile. Writing is a pretty awesome way to spend extra time.

Lost Words

I did something stupid, and I knew better! Yesterday, I mysteriously lost 150 pages of my book. This was something people warned me about, and it wasn't that I never backed up my work. My basic back my work up plan was why I still have 100 pages left.

My excuses included the fact that I am a busy mom who didn't have a space to plug in an external hard drive, or email myself all my work. It's true that I write it small chunks of time. On a good day I have an hour to write, but most of this time would not be without something taking me away from my work.

Hitting save was never a problem, but I cannot understand why my document looks like I haven't hit that button for over a month. It seems to have forgotten that even when the phone rang, and the computer was safely in sight, I still hit save.

The saddest part about this whole lesson was not that I lost my work. I lost a version of myself that I cannot seem to get back while rewriting what I lost. I tell myself that is fine, and this book will be better because I spent so much time writing out my thoughts and arranging my ideas. I often bring up a blank page on the computer when I feel stuck anyway.

It wasn't as if I felt like the almost completed draft was perfect, it was just almost done. I could have examined it for holes and colored in the the bland parts. Now I'm left with all the same fragments I began with.

Will my thoughts be different this month? Could I find a better way to arrange each section? Is it actually bad that I cannot remember certain parts? Readers would probably forget them if I cannot even remember what I was trying to say.

All things considered, I still think losing a manuscript is not a good idea. I went to cook dinner tonight and forgot to turn on the stove. I feel as if I got a really bad haircut and if I could just go back to before the appointment, it would look different. I want to be calm, and willing to work on my manuscript, but I feel like it cheated on me. I feel like it went to find a secret home. I feel like it was teasing me every moment I couldn't wait to get to my computer to write it.

Goodbye old version of my book. I will probably forget a lot of you. Until the new version.

11 Years With Tim!

I have been married to this awesome, sexy, adorable, intelligent (you get the idea) guy for 11 years! They have been the best years so far, but I know we will be able to top this because every day with this guy feels like normal life.

My cousin Joe once told me to marry the guy you cannot live without. I would add, pick the guy who naturally feels a part of your world. Side note: this doesn't mean you won't fight or have difficult times, it just means pick the one person who is worth going through everything with.

This is what makes up normal life:

1. He puts up with the fact you need to press snooze several times as part of waking up.

2. He had to give up a favorite food like peanut butter so you wouldn't have allergic reactions.

3. After several years, you finally realized that compromising on something to watch wasn't really what happened. He liked watching a lot of things and picked movies and shows based on your joint interests. So we weren't watching Center Stage, but he loved watching you laugh while watching Gilmore Girls.

4. He encouraged you to go to grad school even if it meant he had all six kids on his own for 10 days.

5. You get to have cute clothing and a nice haircut first. He says," I benefit if she looks hot" if anyone questions how we spend our money.

6. You would pick cuddling on the couch every night over anything else.

7. He woke up the inner introvert you needed, but ignored.

8. The first baby diapers of the day were usually changed by dad.

9. You still feel like it is the first day you met every time you look at him.

10. You don't need to compare your relationship to anyone else because it is yours!

This list is too long for a blog post. Here is glimpse into our amazing 11 years. I love you Tim Ruybalid!

Summer Beach Days

Sand was everywhere! It covered toes and the folds of rolled up pant legs. Going to the beach in Washington State didn't usually call for a swimsuit, or did it? As a mother of six kids, the investment of bathing suits is sometimes similar to snowsuits. I wish we used them more, but we usually didn't.

"Let's got to the Cape George beach." This was our first attempt to go to the beach. I forgot about practical things like looking at tide times. It was a crazy low tide. The kind of low tide where a super a rocky beach smooths out into sand bars with mini lakes and streams. It was the kind of tide where kids could not imagine not finding the edge of the water, but to get there, they must cross one of the mini streams and not get their feet wet. The water was far too cold for that.

Isaiah, two years old, cried out "Hand hold." It was the first summer he really understood that touching this little stream would be like a cold version of bath time.

All the older kids pretended I wouldn't notice they were up to their knees in sea water and making pretend paddle boards out short, flat, well weathered pieces of drift wood.

"Get out of the water!" I cried, but seriously it was too late! We were going to be going home in wet clothing.

"Joel told me I should go to that rock," Dominic insisted that his nine year old brother would push him to the rock if he had not ventured in himself.

"I am wet," Bria appeared. Was she wet from water or was it pee? Who knew at this point. As a three years old, she usually kept things under control, but this water mark didn't look like the water wading type.

Was it time to pack up and go home? I wasn't sure, but I was ready.

Attempt two at the beach took place. This time we brought a picnic. The beach was covered in interesting, chopped up white shells. It was a small beach, where the water funneled between Marrowstone Island and Port Hadlock like a stream with gentle rapids. A tall green bridge towered over us. We set up a picnic and broke open a bag of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. A man fishing nearby gave the kids a lesson on how to catch fish and through them back without killing them. My oldest perked up with questions.

Nobody got wet that day. The water moved to quickly and the assortment of clam shells were more interesting.

We got to right under the bridge, that was more like a floating skyscraper to six much smaller people and maybe even two slightly taller adults. Then the perfect sand turned into jagged basalt. Black chunky rocks were more of a hazard. They could harm children. Our walk was cut short when super careful Isaiah slipped and scraped his hand. I scooped him up in both arms, carried him like a football, and attempted to dip the scrape in the fresh cold salt water. He wriggled, screamed, and I wished could just let him walk to the car.

A lot was learned through trips one and two. First, bring some food! Prepare for water, sand, and kids falling on things.

Trip three to the beach was the most civilized. I knew my kids would get messy. We packed a bag of spare clothing. The one item we forgot was a change of underwear for all. I highly recommend bringing everything.

The sun beat on my shoulders that were covered with a thin denim jacket. It was hot when I was fully covered up. To the kids that meant, lets wade into the water as far as possible.

"I know we brought back up clothing, but can we try to stay somewhat dry," I begged the kids. This lasted about two minutes before my oldest daughter, Ellie (8 years old), soaked herself mostly to her waist. It was as if the spare clothing was a ticket to get drenched. Swimsuits called for swimming, right?

It all began with jumping waves, as one might jump rope. Of course the kids will want to swim. After all, we did actually go to the beach. It was not Hawaii, but it was warm enough to get a little bit wet.

I took a deep breath. It was just sand and salt water. For the first time in weeks, everybody in my family was happy!

No dairy in a house that loves cheese!

Going for official allergy testing always scared me because I knew there was something going on, but if I knew what it was, changing would be a must instead of an optional thing. I never wanted to be the guest at the table who couldn't eat anything in front of me. Sometimes allergies take over everything. Nope, I played it 'safe' calling possible allergies just things that bothered my body.

I was pregnant with Charis (baby #4) and addicted to an evening ritual of Strauss chocolate chip mint ice cream and a warm cup of vanilla rooibos tea. Tim and I had three small children, one of whom was a baby, so it was like a date night to tuck them all into bed around 6 PM (YES bedtime was that early...still is...way less cranky kids) and cuddle on the couch watching something from Netflix or Gilmore Girls because we had a tradition of watching every season we owned each pregnancy.

Charis was my first homebirth baby with a midwife who expected a strict diet from her clients. I was up for the challenge, minus the whole ice cream thing. In my mind, I viewed it as some extra protein and we only got the best quality. Along with a healthy diet, was an infusion of raspberry leaf, nettle, oat straw, and alfalfa. I drank it everyday and fully believed this would all put me in the best health of my life.

Then a rash appeared on my left arm, just below my shoulder. My dark brown skin never turned red, so all I knew was that it itched like crazy and didn't go away. I blamed the drink and experimented with eliminating different herbs. Since the rash felt like stinging nettles against my skin all the time, I assumed it was this. It took six months to get rid of the rash and three of those months were with an baby girl in my arms. She was my fourth, but my body was acting strange.

When baby number five was born, I began to feel puffy and I weighted the most I ever did in my life. I didn't know what the cause of this was, but I crave foamed milk a lot. I found myself having a decaf latte a week for  awhile as a treat. Not only did I get a treat, but my four kids were all strapped into the car for a whole twenty minutes while I went to purchase the coffee. The ice cream habit had grown into warm coffee milk. I drank my special infusion, as I did the time before, but without the nettle, so the stinging rash did not come back. I thought I had figured everything out. Other than feeling fat, I was rash free. I even noticed I hardly got sores in my mouth, when I used to get them all the time. Being healthy was paying off in several ways.

HIVES! I was covered in hives after my sixth child was born. I knew I must have an allergy, but I could not imagine what to. I traced it to possibly peanut butter because I had been making my son a PB & J sandwich daily for his school lunches when I had never really had much peanut butter before. In fact, I noticed my face swell slightly once after making my son's lunch, so I cut it out of my own diet. However, just cutting out peanuts seemed to not work...unless I was getting into trace peanuts constantly without knowing it. The symptoms got worse. My ankles and legs had welts on them.  I had a huge hive breakout on the back of my neck making it challenging to sleep. Sleep with a newborn was hard enough. It was six weeks before these hives mostly went away. I went to the doctor who tested my blood for all kinds of things, but not allergies. Frustrated, I gave up and tried to test myself by eliminating things.

I started with peanuts and moved on to soy. Maybe I still had hives because I was allergic to soy as well? Often soy and peanuts were processed together making it difficult to pinpoint if I was allergic to one and not the other. This got things under control. I would have a few smaller hive episodes, but nothing like what I dealt with the first six weeks after baby number six was born. However, things didn't go completely away.

Then I went back to school and found myself back in my old college ways. I didn't want to be a pain, and I had not real proof I was actually allergic to anything, so I went and I ate what was provided to me. Worse than any hive breakout ever, I found myself knocked out for a week. My throat felt like it had a trail of hives all the way down it. I needed to sleep any spare moment I could get. I felt ill, but I wasn't sick. I knew I would need to be more careful next time, so I set out to buy a lot of my own food.

Without access to a kitchen I bought food I could just eat. This included a quart of my favorite whole milk yogurt. If I needed to shy around meats in strange sauces, then I would want some kind of filling protein beyond nuts. I didn't think twice about things like cheese frequently served with Mexican food (super popular in southern CA). I also bought fruit, nuts, and plain salad. I didn't want to get dressings because of the soy and peanut factors and a bottle of olive oil seemed like a bit much for the whole ten days I would be on site for school.

The first time, I was at my school's ten day intensive I made it a couple of days before my mouth broke out in sores. This time I made it five days. I was sure it was the tortillas in some Mexican food that may have contained soy oil. Everything went back to that meal.

However, everything went back to another food group in all of this. DAIRY! I have never been best buds with dairy. It was a suspect of discomfort ten years ago, but I had conveniently forgotten that. When I came home from my second intensive, I was knocked out for weeks...in fact over a month before I went to the doctor for a physical, and begged to start allergy testing. I was swollen with hives on and off, and I felt like I almost had the flu for weeks. I should also state that I worked out six days a week intensely and never lost a pound. I did mysteriously gain about four pounds during the ten days I was gone, and I ate less than usual.

I went for blood testing. It was not always accurate, but a good place to start. When I opened the results I was possibly allergic to dairy and sesame. Suddenly a lot made sense. By avoiding all things with soy and peanuts, most sesame things were out of my diet as well. There was a granola I loved that gave me hives, but did not contain soy or peanuts. Guess what it did contain? Sesame. As for dairy, one can see I ate a lot of it. I also always cooked in butter. It tastes so good. This was going to be harder for me to eliminate.

It's been two weeks now without either of these things! I feel wonderful. No longer is the couch calling me for a nap every hour of the day. I lost two pounds! I don't have hives! I still have the remains of a few sores in my mouth, but they are healing. I don't feel swollen. Plus, I feel so great I don't miss the bear paws, lattes, cookies, veggies cooked in butter, etc. I do miss bread and butter, but other than that, so far so good. It has been worth it to remember what it felt like to actually have energy! Maybe I haven't figured it all out, but what I have learned is to not ignore one's body's warning signs.

Nectarine Fried Rice

So the original idea was pineapple fried rice, but I was lacking ingredients. We didn't actually have a pineapple. Without the main ingredient, I searched the shelves of my fridge for a new creation.

We were at the end of the farm box, and I had been putting off practical things like going to the grocery story. What was actually left? Some evil looking red beet leaves, a spicy green pepper, and garlic( I recently bought a braid of garlic) were what needed to go into this dinner.

To replace the pineapple's sweetness, I grabbed six super ripe nectarines. They tasted great in oats so why not rice? My daughter recently labeled peaches as the other mango, so there was even a vague sense of tropical appeal. I diced them up and wished for the best.

Two cups of riced cooked in a large pot with a tablespoon of coconut manna, garlic, and the spicy green pepper.

In my frying pan I scrambled six eggs, while I waited for the rice to be finished. The end was simple. Peaches, scrambled egg, beet leaves, and small square cut pieces of deli turkey meat were added to the large pot of rice.

The look of this stuff was colorful and much pinker than most of what we were accustomed to eat. I told my kids this dinner was basically sugar in a bowl.

The result was a new favorite meal!