Jane said

Por que?

2007-08-18T20:28:00.000-06:00

Marballers - Marbles

Oprin - Apron

Draw a Matt - Call Matt

Boat bridge - Dock

Nail nails - Fingernail clipper

Light Ups- Snow boots

Bee-yub bee-you - W

Ek - X

Deena - Banana

uh-UH (8 octaves higher than the first) - Yes

Creative and simple kidspeak - I always pull a tear inside when they start pronouncing something properly, so I'll hold these sayings close to know how far they've come.

The first trim

2007-07-26T20:26:00.000-06:00

It hadn't quite occurred to me what a deal a first haircut is for one's child. Having given my children their first haircuts within the last couple months I wasn't ready for the loss it signified and the future to come. Little Miss's came just shy of her 3rd birthday. Her hair was slow to come in but as one layer lengthened into cornsilk a new one of dandelion fuzz sprouted just underneath. From baby fuzz to little girl locks. Just before the cut she still had ends that were frayed from bobbling her head back-and-forth to take in the brand new world as a baby. The baby fauxhawk had filled in to white tresses. It was time, ready or not. But her papa went first - he having had hair well-passed his shoulders, if not to the middle of his back - for more than 20 yrs. She had been scared afterall, confusing a hairstylists smock to that of a Dr. so she drew the conclusion that haircuts hurt. He went first so she could sidle up her bravery. It's a new chapter, possibly a new book entirely. As her fuzzy ends fell to the floor, so did the last few shreds of outward babyness.

Little Man's came just a day or two after his first birthday. He always had a good swath of light brown then golden then near-white hair. It came in piles and was tickling the bottom of his nose in the end. At home I'd been known to put in a strategically placed ponytail or a glob of gel but in a few minutes time all was a fall of sunshined hair streaming over his forehead and into his eyes. Just like him, it couldn't be contained - at least not for any length of time. It was unruly in that ambiguous baby way. The cute way that says he's a babe, leave it uncut, unshaped, unbound. But as he swiped and blinked more and more by the day its badge of freedom turned to hindrance. Something held onto by the heart with no call to practicality. So a lock of bang was snipped for keepsake and then there was baby mullet. A firm "no" and several sessions of snipping over 2 days later we have a mini-Stingish sort shape. He looks older already and more "kept" than he truly is. My 1-yr-old little boy babe with only his eyes and grin to gleam wild.

Thankful tears

2007-07-20T08:29:00.000-06:00

Most every time I'm getting together with my closest, dearest friends - there is only a handful - I always think twice when applying my mascara. I should always know to apply the waterproof kind even though I sometimes underrate my buds and apply the regular kind (but it's always curling - love the curling).

Because I should know - with the friends I have - I will come home at the end of the night with raccoon eyes, not because of the sad-sobbing but because of the laughter. Full on - grab my sides, hope I don't snort, get disgusted stares from those around, tears streaming down my face - laughter.

With friends like these . . . well, I just shouldn't even wear mascara.

Little Man - 1 yr.

2007-07-18T10:41:00.000-06:00

Today is my Little Man's 1-year birthday. The changes he's made over the last 12 months, let alone the last week are boggling to me. "Hi", "kitty", "woof-woof" and duck come babbling out of his rosebud lips and the eyes-closed grins are frequent and giggle-inducing. He and his sister are night and day in the way that their twilight and dusk run into each other without a notice of a beginning and ending. So alike, so different. He listens but does not follow. A constant game of chase no matter if he's the only one playing or not. Coming into his own expressions, mannerisms, likes and dislikes. Mama's boy - yes. His own person - most definitely. Happy Birthday Quade.

Televised Foreign Policy

2007-07-16T21:52:00.000-06:00

I'm in the midst of a vacation, one that simply means: I get to hang out at home 40 more hrs a week; more tv. That's not much to say considering - no cable, so network it is. I tried, triiiieedd stomaching the 10:35 Ughfest, that is the Tonight Show/Late Show hour - I got as far as Leno saying, "Didn't bin Laden think before he released his video on the same week of Harry Potter? / Why'd he use a video tape - he should get with it and send a DVD."

And, we wonder WHY the rest of the world hates our Foreign Policy. It's not the government's foreign policy, it's American's. Let's crack jokes about a Major, global, terrorist's with-it-ness over national tv, to millions of Americans. His Faux Pauxness managed the largest mass devastation on home soil that we've seen. It gives us permission to act like it's all a big joke, it's a punchline, it's not really happening - Big Brother/American Idol/Survivor/Dumb Fucking 1/2-scripted blend of Shit- insert-reality-show-here . . . is what's REALLY happening.

You know, because we can see it digitally -- and if we're truly fortunate -- in high definition, everything else is meaningless drivel.

I'd been getting ready for a relative's wedding fo...

2007-07-14T14:54:00.000-06:00

I'd been getting ready for a relative's wedding for a while and the big day was yesterday, items I realized:

Catholics like lies - it just intensifies the guilt which is what they really love.

4 children - 2 five yr olds, a 1yr old and a 3 yr old can actually step-up and time their manic depressive episodes so that everyone else sees them as cute, darling, steal-the-show angels and they save the demon-hell-spawn episodes for us - too considerate.

Thinking that pseudophed (besides helping with my sinuses) and caffeine will keep me awake and ready to party when all it really does is act like rage fuel.

Having boobs and an ass actually helps keep up a strapless dress so I was the only one that could breathe.

The chicken dance and hokey pokey makes everyone a great dancer.

And on the seventh day, she vented

2007-07-08T19:21:00.000-06:00

So the bc pills started 10 days ago. And I am 10 miles into Crazyville. At least, this time around I'm old enough to have figured out why, just why I am so pissed off, edgy, angry and tempermental - it came to me on the 7th day. Those might all sound like the same types of emotion, but - oh no - they are all very different and I have explored all their subtleties and nuances. I believe I am a professional when it comes to getting pissed off now. Edgy might even sound trendy, but I assure you, it's quite overrated. Edgy might mean an extreme hairstyle or too tight, too high, too complicated skirt in some cases but in mine, it means the edge of an abyss of bitch - I think I'm only hanging on by one finger now. Let's hope that finger is strong.

Annual smear of humiliation

2007-06-29T13:39:00.001-06:00

Since the Little Man is just this side of weaned and monthlies have started again I decided to go in for the annual exam all girls look forward to, and get some pills or something so I stop killing myself with cuteness for the lovely bundles the Hub and I have produced.

My Doc is a great lady. She's blunt, has a sense of humor and never seems to be rushing so I usually feel as comfortable as possible when she's the only one that's been nearly as (clinically) friendly with me as my husband.

First the up-the-shirt exam: "Um, while you're there, what's that?" I point to a dime-sized spot of pigmented skin that popped up right in between my boobs since I had my son nearly 1 year ago.
"Oh, that's just a fungus, not too different from ringworm but not contagious or spreading. Just put some . . . (I stopped listening at fungus)"
"What?! Boob fungus?! I have boob fungus?! But it's not skin cancer?"
"No, Ha . . . um, it's really common."

Below the belt exam: Doc: "Oh, but this spot (where the sun don't shine) you might want to keep track of."
"Uh, right."
"I know I haven't seen you for a while - since you were pregnant - but it might have grown a little (ok, I think my ass just shrunk a little since I was pregnant, so the spot is bound to look bigger in relation). You should have The Hub take a digital photo every 6 months and compare."
"What?!, photos of what? Oh, GOD."

Might as well ask the last question because I thought I've had skin cancer on my nose for a couple years now and I should just bite the bullet and know for sure: "Ok, then what about this spot on my nose - it's not real noticeable but it does look like an immature zit, but I've had it for years?"
"Oh, that you might take concern with in about 10 years because you might start resembling . . . (some children's book witch character I forgot) - it's just a blah-blah follicle that will probably start growing."
"Uhhhh, huh?! Freakin' witch nose!?"

OMG So I leave with a diagnosis of: "Boob Fungus" ; "Potential Witch Nose" ; and a prescription for "Digital Ass Photos" and "bc pills".

At least it's not cancer.

Shallow Time

2007-06-27T19:55:00.000-06:00

I've had some strange alone time lately. I'll take my supper break from work and go home like usual. Most days, it's to put the kids to bed and grab a bite to eat. But every once in a while, like tonight, the kids are at their grandmother's so that the Hub can go to a weekly film society meeting. So, there I am, alone, with my slice of pizza and House MD. No snuggles, no wrestling, no separated anxiousness pulling at my pant leg, no whimpers or whines (not counting the cats'). I let myself sink for a minute or 57. They tick away slowly from the shallowness of the moments. No depth of sound, no rich, belly-laugh sights to distract from tick . . . Tock . . . Tick . . . Tock. The time crawls by with a lack of exuberance, lack of substance. Any other day it would zoom by in staccato, double-time aerobics-video style - minus the leg warmers and leotards. I would laugh and yell and be stern and soothing and whisper affection just as my last - too few - sand grains dribbled through pulling me out the door again.

Drunk + Drunk = Drunk?

2007-06-17T12:11:00.000-06:00

"So-and-so was much drunker than I was."

"I was way soberer than he was."

The Lager calling the Ale, "buzzed."

Ode to a smoke

2007-06-14T16:19:00.000-06:00

Oh, but want for cigarettes. Yes, I've smoked, yes I've smoked regularly. Do I now? No. Not for nearly 21 months. I picked it up again casually, during drinks after my first was born. It's awful. The hangovers more from cigs than the 3 tequila shots and a couple cosmos. Never being able to brush your teeth enough, the way the smell clings to your hair like scum in a stagnant pond. The coughing, the planning - will I have enough for the day, enough money for more?

The dependence is demeaning. But the mythology so inviting. There was nothing better than a summer day sitting outside on a picnic bench or in the park or on the beach, sunning and smoking the days away. Blowing rings at the puffy clouds passing by. Practicing the french inhale. Or sitting in the coffee shop writing and doodling and laughing over steamy sweetened cups and smoldering savory nicotine. The slight buzz from the first one of the day sent giggles through me and a rush to the head. Somehow channeling concentration through the monotonous task of drag, inhale, express, tap tap, drag, inhale, express, tap tap. Feeling anger subside as I rush outside half enraged over something trivial or not. The warm calm coming over me as the vapors plunged through my lungs and roller-coastered back out like a heaving bull during a wet winter day. All of these moves programmed an addiction. Triggers, one by one, having to break each one through sabotage and careful planning.

Here I am today, setting my righteous example. Hoping my children never listen to their pressuring cousin like I did. Hoping they won't be as weak as I initially so as to need much more strength later on.

Choking on air

2007-06-12T11:02:00.000-06:00

Summer is here, with a vengeance. As if to say, "Oh, yeah winter, you're a fuckin' wuss! Me and my peep, Spring, thought we'd show you how it's done." Bring on the rain, floods, ticks, mosquitoes and balmy 95 degree weather with soothing humidity.

This past Sunday summer hit early and there was a pool emergency. Relieved, my sis-in-law offered up her place for a kiddie-pool party. I went about the SD summer routine, readying the kids for any outdoor adventure they'd find that day:
- Slathered in sunblock, 1/2 hr early for soak-in time
- Misted with bug spray
- Swim diapers
- Swim suits
- Dry clothes for later
- Towels
- Cold drinks
- Sunglasses
- Hair tied back
- Snacks
All CHECK!

So I head to the car, place Little Man in carseat, decide car is very hot so I'll roll down the auto. windows before closing the door. Find other car's key. Where are other keys?! Call hubby who brought in, that morning, the keys for the car he took to work but not the keys for this car - the car that is readied with sunscreened children, children ready for pool fun, children on the verge of melting from broken promises of a day spent with auntie and cousins and pool fun!

So I wrack brain - too far and too hot to hoof it anywhere. I try the sprinkler which is looked on as though it's spitting acid and shrapnel and fire - baby cries, toddler shrieks and hides in horror.
I call niece - lovely, 13-year old niece who is always bored with life. She rides her bike over and watches the kiddos toddle about the yard in their swimsuits and takes them for walks around the block while I dig out the bike and bike trailer. I head of to the closest department store to find a pool. There are frogs and 10-footers and ones with multiple partitions and shades and sprinklers (ooo dreaded sprinklers) all in need of the lungs of a practiced bong-pro. And then, ta da: Just unravel and fill - no lung capacity necessary. Yeah!

Peddaling back with pool in the trailer I noticed a few odd looks as if I'd forgotten something or left something behind, what with the kid-free, kid trailer. I get home and commence to making a cool oasis of pool, cool drinks and patio table with umbrella. Niece and kids just get back from walking around the block and Little Miss - 1/2 melted, hops right in and starts splashing about.

Feeling that Little Miss doesn't quite understand all that I've done in the last hour to make a wonderful pool-filled day for her I say, "See, what mama did? See the pool mama got? What do you say when someone does something for you?"
She looks up, a little shruggishly and replies weakly, "thank-you, thank-you mama." Sarcasm at almost-3, she's catching on.

Trippin' at the store

2007-06-04T10:02:00.001-06:00

Shopping with children.

Occasion 1: We need to get penises for Q's bottles!

Occasion 2: (1-year-old running through mall) Beeeee-itch, beeee-itch, beeee-itch.

Occasion 3: (litter) And that's for the kitties? For the kitties' poooooop? We got that for the kitties AND their poooop.

Occasion 4: What the?! Um, sz 4 shorty running shorts? Wonder how these got in there?

Same-same could never do this

2007-06-02T22:54:00.000-06:00

So, it's bad enough having to buy condoms when you are married, have two children, a mortgage, etc. Condoms seem like something for the singles, something kinkier than a pill, a procedure or a damn insertable device. They are the party hats of the slightly irresponsible.

So, I suck it up - knowing I won't have anything to keep me responsibly non-procreational for another 3 weeks and I saunter in, on a Saturday night, to a local gas station. Might as well grab a 6-pack and a bottle of wine. I've purchased condoms at this particular establishment before: Chip aisle, candy aisle, grocery aisle, toilettries / cond . . .um . . .Where the flip, are the condoms?! So I scan and saunter nonchalantly and can NOT find them anywhere. So, lucky me, a wisp of a girl with jet-dyed black hair is cleaning wiener grease (this makes her sooo totally approachable for my particular situation) from the hot dog spinning machine.

"Um, do you still carry condoms?"
"Yep." She removes the greasy gloves and heads towards the counter. The whole time my eyes are darting everywhere to see where I've overlooked and then I glance up. Up above and BEHIND the counter!
"So, not only do I have to ask you (wiener grease cleaner), now I need to announce it to you (guy behind counter) exactly which kind I would find of particular interest."
"Yep."

Same-same could never same-same on that one.

If I prayed

2007-05-30T13:34:00.000-06:00

I think when I go in for my next annual exam I’ll say, “Please give me something that . . .

stops baby makin’
takes weight off
increases drive
gives me energy
puts me in a good mood
makes me beautiful
gives me a unicorn"

Is that so much to ask?

Teach me

2007-05-25T16:10:00.000-06:00

I grimace and bite my lip as I overhear, "If I have to hear another teacher complain about how little they get paid when they have 3 months off - ugh!"

Because I'm sure this dolt knows that teachers usually have inservices at the beginning and end of the year. They need to keep up on their certifications and take additional training during the summer. They've worked enough during the school year through: staying after, tutoring, humoring angry parents, fielding calls at all hours, preparing lesson plans on their own time, working weekends, grading papers and researching, to make up for those few extra weeks off by 10 fold.

So, suck it and hug a teacher today!

Equality

2007-05-24T23:38:00.000-06:00

There is no question, when it comes to sex and fertility, who really has to have the ultimate responsibility over it. The oopses and the accidents only land, ultimately in one person's hands or wombs as it may be. Here I am proclaiming the lifelong, girl-long cry of unfairness. It's self pity really. It's like crying because I have boobs and they sometimes suck. It's like crying because I have spontaneous bleeding from a place I don't care to mention and we all know, THAT SUCKS.
It's like crying over Love Story and we don't really know why, or how it sucked us in but it did and so I cry and that sucks too.

Back to . . .

2007-05-21T17:07:00.000-06:00

We arrived back home no earlier than 2:30 in the a.m. today. Through the Badlands, through sheets of rain, through bitchin lightning, through hours of stretches of roads with no public restrooms and signs promoting 24 hr. gas stations that no longer existed. Through 2 playings of a new DVD of Little Einsteins at midnight.

Now, home to our fungus den from the stronghold of damp due to a week's ago flooding. Home to our own beds, home to our own yard, home to our own park, home to our own lonely cats, home to our own messes that we have to clean up ourselves instead of placing a tiny sign on our front door reading "Pick up After me."

Home Sweet Dank Home : ) it's good to be back.

Tres daytrip de Pharri - adios

2007-05-20T07:49:00.000-06:00

1 beautiful wedding
17 - times a lovely moment comes to a screaching halt as my children take over the show
1 canister of wagon wheels decimated
3 meals rejected in favor of above canister of wagon wheels
3 times I navigate myself and don't get lost

adios

Day 2: Road Trip de Pharri

2007-05-19T08:02:00.000-06:00

3 freakouts: it's in dispute on whose they were
1 parrot sounding as though it were in the final throws of labor
1/2 a session of alligator wrestling (only slightly violent)
Dozen waterslide rides
1 general long wailing session because water should never, NEVER fall ON you
2 Red Stripe
1 bottle of Chianti
1 meal out of everything that has a shell in the ocean, sans children

Day - break it down

2007-05-18T09:19:00.000-06:00

First family of four vacation

In 1 full day we've accomplished:
2 sets of rags - used to resemble childrens' clothing
7 freakouts - not all by toddler
the glory of a portable dvd player
2 park breaks
1 picnic
1 on-the-road pumping session
1 black eye
37 mosquito bites (from in the car)
midnight snack of: 3 Amberbock, 1 strawberry Pop-Tart, 1 bag of Jalapeno Cheddar Kettle Chips, 1 box Junior Mints

Road trip - by the cubic foot

2007-05-16T21:04:00.000-06:00

Toyota Echo: 13.6 cubic feet
2 adults: 6 cubic feet
2 children under 3: 2 cubic feet
luggage for adult: 2 cubic feet
luggage for 2 children under 3: 15 cubic feet

Something doesn't quite compute . . .

Pack Rats and Claustrophobics

2007-05-10T13:35:00.000-06:00

Our basement took in water due to nearly 7 1/2 inches of rain that fell mostly in a 5 hr. period. Now we are in clean-up mode which isn't easy when working opposite shifts and having 2 kids under the age of 3. Last night me mum stopped by to watch the little'uns so The Hub and I could get down-'n-dirty in the least fun of ways.

Scenario: Our drying basement of which I only use the laundry facilities and a bit of the storage area - otherwise it is the resting place for a 1/2-dozen-per-week collection of advanced reader copies (books) that have been collected over a 13 year period, among other collections.

There are some things we don't work well together on (I know this) - it's pretty silly and ridiculous so I've at least acknowledged the humor in it. Examples:

"So I'll move these there and then we can move the shelves out."
"NO, we'll cut out this carpet then all we have to do is scootch these over."
"So we could probably take those there and throw this out."

"What are those?" (Rolled up papers)
"Posters."
"Of what?"
"Lord of the Rings."
"Um, and we need them?"
"YES."
"For what?"
"To sell or something." (we could have had that same conversation 500000 times over just fill in the blanks)

"I know what the name for your book sale could be."
"What - grrrr."
"For sale: Every Book You've Never Heard Of"
"Ha - no, this'll be the name (farts)"

Swimmingly

2007-05-07T23:22:00.000-06:00

Incredible downpours waterlogged our fair city and the surrounding areas. Up to 9.44" were reported in some spots. Our area received just shy of 7.5".
"Is your basement flooded?" is the sarcastic one-liner everyone has the inside joke on.

Just why, WHY are there basements even? We did all build on a swamp. The most head-shaking aspect I've found is that all the houses that are about 100 yrs. or more are all built - and still standing - in one area and all the new developments with their triple-digit price tags are in floodplain area. Did our great-grandma/pas know more than we did about the laws of water and where it will flow? I guess needing to redecorate your living quarters at least every 3 years does have it's up side.

Ok, it's too early to get snarky, it is terrible - but everyone is safe and the most inspiring aspect is watching everyone, as a community, pulled together - quite humbly - by Mother Nature.

Real Moms Know When To Hold On, When To Let Go

2007-05-04T13:21:00.000-06:00

Some of my most important decisions are whether to hold on or let go.

I hold on to:
- The fact that family is most important
- Hands while crossing the street
- A fussy baby for comfort
- My toddler a little tighter knowing her dependency on me won't last
- The knowledge of where I came from is fundamental in me teaching them
- That relationships at any age will always and should always have value
- The idea that my children will be their own people

I let go:
- Of his little hand so he learns to walk on his own
- Of the adage that children should not be heard
- The idea that cake, ice cream, pie or cookies are not occasional breakfast foods
- Stabbing words a child says during times of frustration or tiredness
- So they learn to work out problems or disputes on their own
- Of the idea that cleanliness is next to godliness; god doesn't have much time for fun anyway
- When boredom sets in and the kitchen cupboards are white and there are paintbrushes and paint not getting used
- And they may fall, but they had tried

What does "Real Mom" hold true for you?

"Enter the Real Mom Truths contest! The winner will receive this amazing 4G iPod Nano and Chocolate gift set, plus a link to their post on True Mom Confessions on Mother's Day"

Thanks Neno - beautiful idea.