love

chris and I finish having a "discussion."

him: I'm sorry.

me: I'm sorry.

him: I'm sorry, too.

(pause)

me: I'm really sorry, Chris ... I know I'm impatient, and frustrating, and thoughtless. and a huge pain in the ass.

him: ...well, yes. but you're pretty, so that's okay.

me: nah. I've decided to stop being so pretty all the time. it's exhausting.

him: oh. then you're definitely going to have to work on that other stuff.

friend time

This is our friend Tanner.


I love this kid, in spite of the fact that he is not fully convinced of my competency.
or maybe I love him because he's not fully convinced of my competency.
it's hard to say.
"I'm not going to look at your camera," he told me.
And he didn't.
Michael, on the other hand, gave me full on Magnum:

Tanner is good at jumping on the tramp and knows lots of stuff about Star Wars. Michael thinks having Tanner over is the Bee's Knees.

Neighborhood friends are the greatest.

progress

Well, Ivy still doesn't walk much.
Probably because I stunted her.
she's very happy just crawling.




and climbing.



and giving kisses.



and being generally adorable.

nice work, lady.

broke it

first of all, why does everyone who reads my blog hate poetry?

what's that all about?

you probably hate puppies, too.
and rainbows.
and smiling.
you are all philistines, and it is weird.

but whatever. We'll move on.

My little brother, Daniel, came over tonight. Daniel is by far my favorite sibling, mostly because he called me up at noon today and said, "Hey, do you want me to come babysit tonight?" and I was like "YES! YES! YES! LOVE! YES!" because it is hard to be articulate when overcome with shock and joy.

(yes, joy. I'm just saying. Sorry other siblings, but having someone offer unsolicited baby-sitting might be the best thing that has happened to me since...ever.)

(i'm such a nerd. It hurts me, it really does.) (but wait! I'm about to get even nerdier.)

So, thanks to Dan, Chris and I went out, had a lovely time, and then after some debate decided what we really wanted to do next was go home and play a board game.

(you didn't believe me about the nerdier part, did you? you should never underestimate my powers of nerdiness.)

So we came home and challenged Daniel to a round of Ticket to Ride.
(It's a great game by the way.)

And our boys, up in their beds, heard us come home and decided this meant they don't have to stay in bed. We could hear them running and jumping and giggling and hiding upstairs in their room.

Neither of us really wanted to deal with it. We both sat there with our heads cocked, one ear towards the staircase, when Chris turned to me and said, "Hey! Why don't they ever get along like this during the day?"

and I laughed.

here's the thing: Michael and William are 19 months apart. They are best little buddies, and play together pretty much all day long, but their play is punctuated by fights and tears and "He took my toooooyyyy!!!"s and "He won't shaaaaaaaaaareeee!"s and "He touched meeeeee!"s.

and on and on and on.

After bedtime, though, it's another story. A fantastic story, full of sunshine and puppies and rainbows. (probably poetry, too.) it's like some magical friendship switch has been flipped, and all of a sudden there's no fighting, no pushing, no tears. minimal arguing.
just lots of laughing and conspiring.
It's a beautiful thing to see.
(sure, they're conspiring against us, but still.)

However. It is after bedtime, and they are supposed to be in bed. So the next time I went upstairs, I made it clear to William that he is NOT to get out of bed again. And even clearer to Michael that if (ha! when) William got out of bed again he is NOT to participate.

The next thing we hear from them is William crying like his heart is broken.
because he tried to sneak into Michael's bed again.
And Michael kicked him out.
With his foot.

...I broke the magic friendship switch.

that's just shoddy mothering, right there.

morning poem

Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange

sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches ---
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it

the thorn
that is heavier than lead ---
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging ---

there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.

--Morning Poem, Mary Oliver

hug o' war

I will not play at tug o' war
I'd rather play at hug o' war,
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs
Where everyone giggles
And rolls on the rug,
Where everyone kisses
And everyone grins
And everyone cuddles
And everyone wins.

--Shel Silverstein

all better

the destruction OF MY SOUL

There are two things you should be aware of if you're going to continue reading this blog:

one, I am prone to hyperbole.

(what? I know.)

two, I am not using hyperbole when I say that the sound of my children throwing up makes me want to die. It causes my brain to liquefy, my heart to shrivel and my soul to crack.

(maybe a little hyperbole.)

Since that remarkable day some four years ago when I first became a mother, I have suffered indignities you would not even believe, including, but not limited to:

• being spit up on
• being yelled at
• finding someone else's food smeared in my hair
• being kicked
• pregnancy
• working 115 hour weeks
• being used as a human tissue
• being woken up at least once every hour in the night
• being head-butted
• having feces leaked onto my clothes

and I can honestly say it hasn't particularly bothered me. even though in any scenario other than motherhood, this list would constitute torture.

however. HOWEVER. I cannot be so blase about the vomiting. it is not possible. Kids throwing up is the one part of motherhood that I simply can't (won't?) pretend is okay, none of this stoic "we're just fine, just keep going, tra-la-la" for me. as far as I'm concerned, they start gagging and the whole entire world is ending. may as well curl up under my comforter and let the agony of parenthood carry me to an early grave.

...wait, where was I going with this?

Oh, right.

hey! guess what happened today?

definition

So tonight I looked up the word nemesis. (Because sometimes I get suspicious that words don't mean exactly what I think they mean) (and tonight was one of those times)

nemesis:

1. something that a person cannot conquer, achieve, etc.
2. an opponent or rival who a person cannot best or overcome
3. an agent or act of retribution or punishment.


huh.
well.

I guess this means I have a nemesis.

and his name is William.

because William is kicking my ass.

and my dad is pretty sure I had it coming.




we will now return to our previously scheduled non-posting.

ch-ch-ch-changes

One of the interesting things about having been a blogger for nigh unto SEVEN YEARS (that's right, you heard me) is that you begin to run out of things to write about.

And it's not necessarily because you are less interesting (or are you?) or the things that happen to you are less interesting (they weren't interesting to begin with, don't worry, I know),

no, it's all to do with the people who read your blog.

You see, since I have essentially abandoned Ye Olde Blog from Days of Yore, I've been thinking about how I can incorporate what I used to do there, here.


But the problem is that the people who read my blog then are not the people who read my blog now. And I'm not sure the people who read my blog now will appreciate the things I used to write about then. And, of course, some of the people who read my blog now ARE the people who read my blog then, and, oh, things are weird.


So basically what I'm using way too many words to say is: I can't think of anything to post. I'll be back in a week(ish) when I figure it out.

see you suckers later.

the nerd in me

things I'm very excited about this fall:


1. glee*

2.release of The Gathering Storm

3. return of the pumpkin truffle

4. wearing my boots again

5. leaves

6. weekend trips

7. dead mosquitos



I know.



*so the pilot for Glee was on last week, and I made Chris watch the last half with me. "good, right?" I said.
And he was all "so...it's like High School Musical, but a TV show?"
"It is not like high school musical," I responded indignantly, "not at all."
"I mean, I get that it's for an older audience, but it's basically the same," he said.
"Not at ..." then I thought about it. "oh."
huh.

beating eggs for Sunday lunch

(figured we may as well keep the lunch theme going.)

double standards

sorry about two lunch posts in two days, but there are important reasons for this:

first, we really love lunch around here. It's a thing.

second, and this is the bad news, my kids are on to me. they've finally noticed that while they're eating this for lunch:

I'm eating this:

and they are not happy about it.
not at all.

so here's the question of the day: do I start sharing my froot loops? Or start eating spinach?

...decisions are the worst.

why lunch is better when Dad makes it

The kids are always like, "Mom, make me a 'W' sandwich!" or "Mom, please make me a 'Michael' sandwich!" or "Mom, my sandwich would be better if it looked like a rocket." And I'm always like, "What are you talking about? I don't care. eat your sandwich already."

because when I was little, we were lucky to have bread and spinach was an unheard of luxury and if we wanted cheese on our lunch we walked out to the dairy and curdled some milk, plus we walked uphill to school both ways, or at least one way, but it was a really big hill and we were always very tired at the end.
(that last part is true, by the way.)







































stop showing me up, Christofer.

whine

hello, and welcome to my three-hundredth post! In honor of this very special occasion, I'd like to become almost unbearably whiny. Doesn't that sound exciting? good, because I'm not kidding. Prepare to be whined at. Everyone else around here gets to whine constantly and receive good-humoured responses, and it is MY TURN:

<>

I'm sick of the grocery store

It's annoying when you hold my leg everywhere we go

For the love of heaven, just stay in bed at night, when will you learn that SLEEP IS BEAUTIFUL

I hate cooking

Big cars are hard to park

that is MINE, STOP TOUCHING IT, YOU WERE TOO TOUCHING IT LIAR

I miss high heels

and I don't even like duck, duck, goose.
I didn't even like it when I was your age.
(Probably.)
(because it's a stupid game.)

<>

And this is where you guys attempt jolly me out of my bad mood while I stare at you and then respond by either (a) laughing, or (b) screaming really loud and throwing something at your dumb face.

thanks. I feel better.