Monday, March 31, 2008
Then the door closed again and I woke up after eight.
I came down the stairs and there they were, painting window catchers, laughing and carrying on.
Those early morning hours were followed by the customary sibling dissension; it was short lived.
But getting to sleep in, well, that was a treat - sweet, sweet Sabbath.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
(Mama Milton was born and she was afraid for her sanity.)
Then one day, you stopped screaming. There was a transformation.
I don't know how we lucked out; you are such a good kid. Yes, you are prone to tears over imaginary bunnies accidentally left on the bus. Yes, you are high octane emotional, but I know it's because you were born with such a big heart. I've watched you bend yourself into a pretzel, giving someone the benefit of the doubt. Not everyone in the world is so generous, so I worry about you; sometimes I wish you were a little grittier.
But then I remember when you were six and you saw a feature on TV about Locks of Love and cried until I promised to consider letting you donate your hair.
I know your Dad didn't want to sign on. It choked me up too. But how could we refuse? Your kindness moves you, and we are just along for the ride.
Lately, you've put away the tights and the skirts and the hair ribbons. You're older now and while you still love to write little stories and draw everyday - we keep the mill in business - you come home, rain or shine, and beg to kick a soccer ball or swing a tennis racket for an hour or so after school. I stand at the window and watch you undo the day at school, where you forced out of your introverted shell. You need a little solitude, to keep afloat. I understand that better than you know.
Girl Scout camp, 2006
Thursday, March 27, 2008
And now, he's coming down with something and he feels unable to leave work until he sees it all through; he's got families besides our own counting on him. (He has stellar work ethics...)
So, I think I might not be by for a few days, until I catch my breath and then resuscitate the troops.
My family's weary.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
She sat, making frumpy faces at me until I took her upstairs to my bathroom to inspect the rash.
Oh. My. Louse. Was I in for a surprise.
I cringed and fretted and felt like such a bum when I realized my sweet girl had lice.
I'm still cringing.
She was a trooper today, reassuring me that her body book explained what was happening, while I vacuumed, and washed mountains of laundry.
(Paranoia, big destroyer.)
I washed her new Pat the Bunny and sent the other 467 stuffed animals in her bed on a little vacation, by way of Hefty Hefty Hefty.
I expected her to cry and carry on. (Oh, wait. That was me.) Instead she drank her tea, watched her Buffy and even did some homework while I spent four hours grooming her very thick hair.
I'm still mortified, to be sure, and I thought about keeping this little incident to myself. I'm just too tired to finish that other post, before Mr. Bug came to town.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Aren't they cheery?
(And don't forget a trash magazine because nothing makes me chuckle-cough better than those pictures of J Lo and Co, sporting heels and posed with her beautiful babies. They look like they are in some 1950s ad campaign.)
Friday, March 21, 2008
But my heart is heavy for two families at my church: One family lost their infant son, here too early and gone an hour later. Two other bitty kids lost their mother, dead in her sleep at 26. 26.
I'm sitting here with stationary, not knowing what to say. I just don't know.
And as I fret to get it right - on paper, for Easter, for their birthdays - my life feels so full. I get to raise my children, even when they make me nuts.
Busy never felt so good.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
So much for the thoughtful post about letting go of my anger.
(I tried, Yoda, I tried.)
I have noticed a change in myself, that losing my temper and raising my voice has become indulgent, a habit I could put down, with a little effort so it was worth working on.
However. I pulled myself out of bed yesterday, dizzy and feverish to let my kids in after school and pounded the Motrin so I could manage until Greg returned from his trip when both kids launched into bickering over their Annie's Bernie Os. And then they started hitting each other.
I said, quietly - not because of my peaceful, spiritual state, but because I have Flu Throat, sore beyond words - to please stop. To get along. To keep their hands to themselves.
But my patience wavered and I gestured them to their rooms, laryngitis making my promise impossible to break. My attitude sucked, though. I was exasperated.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
I'm teetering folks, about to take The Flu Plunge.
My Mama brain is doing the math:
We are T-minus 5 days to Easter at my place, and then Zack's birthday followed by Lexi's. Can I recover, just in time? Yes, I sure hope so. But WHAT IF Zack gets it. That boy's been counting down since the day after Christmas for the big day....
Do I a) Lysol every surface, between drool-infused napping? or b) Lick Zack's face, when he walks through the door, and get it over with?
I think this means I've lost my mind, calculating weird sickness math.
Maybe it's the fever...
And please remind me not to sign the kids up for activities with strict attendance rules, while Greg is on the road.
I'm not up for hard core mothering today.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Turn about is fair play.
When we stood up in church, pledging to be there as Sage grows up, I was overwhelmed. It really is something, watching these kids come into our life.
To think, when we were in our 20s, majoring in Doofus 101, we'd make it this far.
My heart is full.
Little Sage whispered "tickle, tickle" as she reached out to get me. What a cutie.
I was instructing my son on the manner in which we leave grocery stores and enter parking lots - touching on the finer points of being a short person unseen to moving cars - when you flew past me, emphasizing my lesson and scaring the bejeebus out of us.
Please be advised: Busy parking lots do not welcome your sort. Kindly slow down or stay home.
(Yes, I considered running your car down, ramming it a bit, but that's not how my mama raised me. Count your lucky stars.)
Saturday, March 15, 2008
I love it.
*thank you, thank you*
Friday, March 14, 2008
He decides his are softer, but mine? They are like rainbows.
Somehow I know he is grinning.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Maybe I'm nervous because of that wildcat, inches away from my skull.
Laurel, one of the main characters in Jackson's book, is an art quilter. Joshilyn had this one commissioned, just like one in the book. There is a real human tooth, lodged in the toe of the boot. Really.
I can't manage a few words along the lines of, 'your work inspires me'. Or 'I love your blog'.
Thankfully, I had Stephanie with me so I
Then she suggested the '1, 2, 3 Betty thing', which made her look adorable.
Me? Nervous and nerdy? That would be a go.
Still, hearing a published author I admire describe writing a crappy book, tossing it, and starting anew, with a braver spirit gave me courage.
(I should have taken Stephanie's picture too, but I am such a dope when I am twitterpated. I'm sorry.)
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
"Talent is long patience." Gustav Flaubert
I've taken pains to line up some time to sit here and work on writing fiction, finishing a short story or working on My Novel. The one that exists primarily in my head. I avoid talking about it much here because I am a) struggling, staring at an empty screen & b) I sound like I am vying for the American Idol, dopey and dreamy-eyed, and perhaps, delusional.
But be that as it may, I've made this goal a priority and I want see it through, despite my efforts to the contrary.
See me cleaning my house and watching Bette Davis in a less complimentary version of Elizabeth, in the Virgin Queen - like I need more Tudor-obsession in my life.
(Joan Collins as Beth! I could spend all day! Avoiding writing!)
By mid-afternoon, I clutched my laptop, closed my eyes and channeled my best brave Anne Lamott, minus the dreadlocks - because I just can't pull it off - and pushed my way through a 1000 words.
Something tells me it isn't going to be any easier today. Nothing worthy ever is.
Monday, March 10, 2008
I'll own Friday's late night with the kids, post-hockey game that threw their tender bodies into chaos. They slept in Saturday, just in time for the springing forward and further sleeping in on Sunday.
See the pattern? Even my Human Alarm Clock is struggling; Greg is lugging himself out of bed around 4:30 or 5 which by my calculations means he is working in the middle of the night now.
And paying $3.67 to fill the tank before he drives all over our little corner of the world.
(I feel a case of the Mondays coming on.)
My trusty CBS News Sunday Morning reassured me that our family needs more sleep and I'm on board, epecially for Greg's sake, if I could figure out how to pull it off. How do you manage, dear readers?
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Pretending I own a turn table.
There was a 70s-tastic picture, RIGHT HERE, but Google/Blogger is under the weather. It's making me mad...
So, here's the scoop: Throw a party, and mingle with the ladies - all from the comfort of your own home. Did I mention there are prizes?
And if you are new here today: Welcome. I'm terrible at introductions so check out my about page and please, browse around.
(And while you are all dolled up, why don't you stop over at Mommified Me and drop off some birthday love and attention to Ms. Cami. She deserves it.)
Friday, March 07, 2008
Which sounds easy. Except this is post #445, and I'm terribly indecisive. So without further ado, I found some posts that made me chuckle, light and breezy on a Friday afternoon.
So, the rules say I must - and it doesn't sound very bossy, no? -do the following:
Link one must be about family.
Link two must be about friends.
Link three must be about yourself.
Link four must be about something you love .
Link five can be about anything you choose.
I will flake on the tagging portion of the meme, because I am just that lazy today. If you want to play along, let me know and I will add your name ____________right here.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
But, my skin has been crawling lately and I am trying, desperately, to be a big person and not come unglued each time I hear the phrase The Neighborhood, the one that is special in ways I guess I will never know.
When I am feeling particularly noble, I see the snobbishness, incessant chatter about moolah and plastic surgery for what it is: Insecurity. Desperation. Need. And I want to be kind.
I want to be kind but I am finding it hard when I'm pretty sure they aren't too eager to be quite as generous to me in my Target t-shirt and drugstore lipstick.
I used to think when Greg and I made more money someday - and ironically, we do these days - I wouldn't be unnerved by desperate housewives. That becoming affluent would erase my insecurities.
But anymore, the divide grows for me: Less about economic class, and more about lifestyle, choices and being a simple girl from the country. I'm pragmatic to the bone.
I'm not cut out to be a Jones, and today, I'm not sure what to make of it in a world gone mad, running, chasing but never satisfied.
Maybe I've had just enough.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Your URLs? Not saved.
I will try again later.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Here I am, posting the post I intended for Saturday, before the day ran away with me and my computer threw a fit.
(Love & Logic doesn't work on my laptop. I tried.)
Somehow Zack managed to soldier on, healthy and spunky as ever. I *helped* Lexi bake Junior Mint Brownies for the girl scout bake-off and she finally left the couch.
(What's that? Did Greg catch the flu? I think if you listen closely, you'll hear *fraud* & *cheater*. I just figured that my thrice-hourly scoured hands should be the ones handling food. Because I love children.)
Zack spent the remainder of his 11 month-old birthday gift card on a spider-man learning laptop he's being eyeing since summer. He hunched over in the corner, dodging bad guys, caressing the keyboard. Like me.
The kids and I delivered girl scout cookies yesterday, and visited with some friends until dinner, when I ran away with Stephanie and Jen, to see The Other Boleyn Girl.
(We were sadly unimpressed.)
And we made plans for an unnamed women's retreat, throwing around words like 'rustic' and 'trails' and 'flask'. It is clearly bad mom territory, so be looking for that post.
And now, I have to skedaddle. Much to do, much to do. Welcome March.