Oh man

I love my little guy so much. I could stare at his messy little face and moppy little head until the end of time. I could listen to that sweet little voice for the rest of my life and never need to hear another sound.

Let the season of sickness begin!

Why, oh why are kids such freaking germ magnets? (That was a rhetorical question.) It's because they are so gross. They have an obsessive need to touch anything or anyone, they will continue talking to someone who is coughing directly in their face and they do a half-hearted job of washing their hands unless heavily supervised. And who pays the price? That's right, the parents. Your children are sick, but insist on trying to behave and run around and stand on their heads as though they are well and refuse to let their bodies rest, which makes them even crankier and more prone to spontaneous tears and yelling for seemingly no reason. They insist they do not not need to blow their nose, no matter how much they are sniffing. They refuse to drink fluids. They insist they feel fine, even though they have red, puffy eyes and a hacking cough, runny nose, and temperature.

And then you cannot go grocery shopping or take them to get a haircut or let them go to school or return your library books or go into the next room because they suddenly act as though you have disappeared into thin air and they cannot find you, which results in more fits. You are trapped inside all day with a wild little germ-ridden ball of freakish energy and crazy thoughts.

The season of sickness is the new festivus.

Blogs galore

I kind of can't believe how many design blogs are out there. Maybe because I don't enjoy them. I think I feel inadequate when I read them.

I'm puzzled as to where these people (usually moms) come up with the time and money to do so many little projects or redecorate their house in a day or have the energy to "Do something really FUN! Like strip and revarnish the floors! Junior LOVES to help!" My sister will absolutely be that mom. She can do anything AND she really enjoys it AND it always looks amazing.

I admire their pictures and then I think, why can't I do that kind of stuff? And then I have to have a talk with myself and realize, I don't want to do that stuff. I'm not handy at all, nor do I have any plans on becoming handy. I can spackle with the best of them and I have my own shortcuts, like when someone in my house was installing new hardware in the bathroom and put a big hole in the wall, I fixed it for him, but what I fixed it with--I'll never tell. I can use a drill and a level and superglue. I can almost use a tape measure. I can change a battery or a lightbulb while standing on my tiptoes on top of a book on top of a ladder. I can definitely make little spots of beauty throughout our house that I enjoy and feel good about.

But if our floor needs redone, I like to pay someone else to do it. Or if I can ignore it, that will always be my first choice.

I do admire the pioneer women moms. If I could be someone else, I'd like to go in that direction. The ones who strive to make their lives completely eco-friendly and have the smallest of carbon footprints. I have one friend who is like that and she is beyond amazing.

I'm somewhere on the edge of a lot of things. I grow our food, but only in the summer. I don't can and I don't want to learn. I'm an organic gardner and I don't use herbicides or pesticides, which means half the time my flower beds and garden look like a jungle and the other half of the time I'm breaking my back pulling weeds. I tote around cloth bags. We follow Joni's words and have spots on our apples but leave us the birds and the bees. I recycle. I can whip-up a costume for my child for his school's nursery rhyme day. We mainly use one car and traded in our fancy one for a smaller fuel efficent model. All of the cleaning products in our house are eco-friendly, which means I spend a lot of time scrubbing harder, but not feeling guilty about using things that could make my kid or dog suffer. I only use cold water to wash clothes. If it's not in use, it's unplugged. I make everyone in the house crazy by insisting they put on another sweater or wrap up in a blanket to keep the thermostat low. We color on both sides of the paper. I make my own cards. I recycle printer cartridges and donate eyeglasses. I'm on the no junk mail and no catalog list. I've made the decision to not put Christmas lights outside this year to save electricity.

But on the other side of things, I can't sleep without air conditioning. I like clothes and bags and junk jewelry and my i-pod. I can't knit or sew, unless you count buttons and uneven hems. I don't make our food from scratch. I like fizzy water, which comes in cans or glass or plastic bottles. And I can't even believe I'm admitting this, but I DON'T COMPOST. I BUY my organic soil. I let my son practice his scissor skills on rolls of wrapping paper that I no longer like. Hell, I use wrapping paper! And I don't reuse it. I drink everything through straws and then I throw them away instead of washing and reusing them. I don't always buy free trade coffee because it's so damn expensive. I like to read fashion magazines. I believe advertisements that promise a mascara is going to change my life. Wow, this is very cathartic.

So, in closing, I'm not the person that I would like to be. But I also am not willing to put in the work to get to be that person. I wish I was a hippie pioneer woman, but despite my Birkenstocks and reusable bags and organic food, I'm lazy and I like useless stuff. And that's who I am. And for better or worse, I like myself the most I ever have and I'm the best version of me I've ever been. Maybe I'll become better one day. Maybe I won't.

I guess they won?

I don't care what anyone says

I still think Lisa Bonet is the most beautiful woman in the world.

Outside from 11-5

Yesterday's weather was such a treat. Almost makes one glad for global warming. It's not like we NEED polar bears. I saw a black squirrel(i didn't even know there were such things. I'll have to ask Shelly.), a walking stick AND a praying mantis. A real score. And when we got home, we went next door and hung outside until the sun went down.

 Unfortunately, we are both paying the price today with allergies galore.  I have a sinus headache like I was a 21 year old partying on her birthday with a shot of tequila for every year of living instead of  a momma  who was drinking water and eating  apple slices and home-made cake.

Can I just stress once again how very much I love my friends? (What's with the unintentional rhyming today?) If ever there were a better bunch of women, I have never had the pleasure of making their acquaintance.  Their company is like rechargable batteries for my soul.  What a gift to have people with whom you can sit around a kitchen table and completely be yourself in all your ugliest and most beautiful moods and laugh and complain and talk of the mundane (oh my good Lord, there I go with the rhyming again) and be completely understood and embraced. 

Nice Weather Makes Life Better

I guess I'm on the other end of the song California Dreamin' because it's 70 degrees in November. And to that I say, Woo. Hoo. YEAH!

And even better, today is an outside party day, complete with bouncy room, hay rides, and scavenger hunt.  And cake. I'm slathering on the Bain de Soleil for that San Tropei tan.

Melancholy

It's amazing the things that cause me to become overwhelmed with a wave of sadness: a little kid struggling to keep up with an adult, old photographs of my son as a baby, not an infant, but when he was about six months old and up because I didn't even get a chance to know him then and our life was so different then and I'll never know him again when he couldn't speak or when he was getting his teeth, or learning to sit-up, when he had blunt undefined baby features and wispy baby curls and chubby baby hands. I'll never have another baby again and my baby is already so grown-up. I wish I would have known him then like I do now. I was a better mom then, though. I guess because I wasn't having to guide and correct his behavior so much to help him be a the best version of himself that he can because he wasn't venturing out into the world without being strapped to my chest or in a sling.

It makes me sad to look at photographs of when we had first moved back to the area and bought our first home and had just gotten Stella and she was so athletic and sleek and energetic and full of herself. And now her waist has thickened with age, despite her daily exercise and her muzzle is getting white and she snores and creaks. And babies were not something we even considered and we were so carefree and didn't even know that we were. And we loved that house so much. We got to build it from scratch and everything was exactly as we wanted and we went to visit it every day, to the point that I started making and bringing cookies for the builders because they were so great about my ever changing mind. We could walk everywhere and used to walk through snowstorms to the grocery store and beer distributor and sit in front of the fireplace and Duke would always shovel our elderly neighbors' driveway without ever telling them. I would cook elaborate meals every night because I wasn't worn out as I am now.

So strange that we moved and bought this big house with plans for expanding our family (and the better school district). So strange that life can only be lived forward and understood in hindsight. Melancholy. I hope you leave me soon.

Woo-Hoo!

That's all I'm saying. 

Okay, no it's not. I am beyond thrilled. I feel like our country has been given a second chance. I am so glad that not only did he win, but he really won--America as a whole wanted this change. And that makes me feel good, too. It makes me feel like we're all in this together. I was able to stay in the moment and be grateful that I live in a country where I have the right to vote, where no one is trying to prevent me from voting, where my vote counts, where I am able to get to the polling place and not feel threatened. It was sheer luck of the draw that I was born in America. I am thankful.

Most of my lofty ideas of yesterday did not come to fruition as someone was sick. So I had a fairly quiet day: waited in line for 45 minutes to vote and marveled at all the people I knew that had nothing to do with having gone to high school with them. I guess I'm becoming a part of the community in which I live. Which I have to admit is nice. Grocery shopping on my own took about 1/2 the time, no surprise there. And I got one wheelbarrow full of work done, as well as the laundry and made French toast for dinner for the sicky and stir-fry with these great spicy faux chicken strips I found for the grown-ups. Watched the polls and finished a book. Painted my nails! How fancy and decadent  and impractical is that? 

In an effort to distract myself...

Today we will put away the Halloween decorations. Today we will take down the fence and winterize the garden. Today we will feed the ducks and go to gymnastics. Today we will go grocery shopping. Today we will see our friends. Today we will do laundry. Today we will bake bread. Today we will be grateful for all that we have and all that we are. We will be grateful that we are healthy and that we have clean drinking water and the right to vote. We will look for and appreciate the beauty in everything around us.

Election Day

I am terrified that Obama won't win. I am terrified that he will win and that just like the "election" between Bush and Gore, that McCain will seize the President's seat illegally. Our country is in such dire straits and we need change so badly. I don't know how we will survive as a nation if we continue on with this same mindset. We need CHANGE.

Ugh. My stomach is going to be in knots until the results are in. And if Obama doesn't win, I just don't know what to do. When I was in Europe this summer, "Obama for President" and "Elect Obama" t-shirts were being sold everywhere in every language.  When we were there five years ago, "Peace" flags hung from balconies and windows and we were questioned constantly as to why Bush was our President and why we were at war with a country that had nothing to do with Bin Laden( if you believe that it was Bin Laden behind the bombings.) The entire world is looking to us to change and reclaim ourselves as The United States of America.

Gotta go get ready to vote before we start the day. God willing, when the votes are in, we will have Barack Obama as the new President of the United States. God bless us today and help us to find the vehicle for change so that our children can have the advantage of growing-up in a country that has been blessed with so much already if only we can find our way back to the light.

 

Don't let your child have a camera

I take alot of pictures. It's nothing for me to rip through 257 photos at a one hour event.Mort likes to play with my camera. I do not like Mort to play with my camera. I gave him an old one that doesn't work to play with, but he doesn't want to play with one; he wants to take pictures with one. Okay, I can get behind that and nurture his creativity and desire to capture moments in time. (Yeah, I know that's not what he's doing, I'm just putting a good spin on it.)

So, for Christmas, he got a camera last night. Now he is taking pictures of the white walls, the carpet, Mommy when she first woke-up and had not yet had coffee, the television, and all are accompanied by, "Look at this!"

In conclusion, do not buy your child a camera or you will have to ooh and ahh over pictures of yourself that you would like to destroy and that he is going to go share at school today. Just sit your child in front of the television and ignore them. It's for the best.

Family Trees

I'm trying to research my family tree. It's very difficult as  I have little information on which to use and it makes me angry that every website claims to have the information that I want....for a price. It's my freaking history. Shouldn't I be allowed to have it for free? Is it this hard for everyone, or is it because I have a convicted member of the Mafia as a  deceased grandfather? I found his FBI file, but stuff is blacked out. I did discover from which region of Italy my ancestors hailed, which is cool, because if I'm going to live there, it would be interesting to see. Or not. I don't know. What am I really looking for? Do I think if I go to this town in Italy all these people will be walking around looking like me? 

I might try a church tomorrow

I won't tell you which one in case I'm too lazy to actually go, so that no one is disappointed in my heathen ways. Mort is the smartest kid in the world. I told him I would like for us to go to church and he immediately pitched a fit. "WHY? I don't want to go. It's boring." And this is from a kid who has been to church one and a half times.

And that's an excellent point. It is boring. I don't want to go either. But it's my obligation to make him be bored at church so that he doesn't grow-up and become some freaky culty wack-o church person in order to rebel against me.

I dreaded Sundays as a child because we had to waste all that valuable time being at church, We used to try to take really long bike rides so that my mom couldn't find us and we would miss it. One time I even used my kissing Barbie (complete with lipstick) to put red marks all over my sister's face and hands and then we told my mom we couldn't go to church because she had the measles.

I wonder if I'll go through with it tomorrow. I hope so. I hope I don't come down with a sudden case of measles.

I think I should be a movie reviewer

Sure, I dropped out of the one movie class I had in college due to sheer boredom, and I wasn't a communications major, nor do I know much about the cinematic world. However, I do know that when a movie is adapted directly from a book and sticks to the book except makes the characters more sympathetic and less grating and has the ending of justice one is fruitlessly praying for while reading the book, you cannot say that is a bad movie. You can say the book sucks. But you can't blame it on the movie. 

Case in point, I rented the Nanny Diaries from the library out of sheer curiosity as to why it was so horridly received in comparison to the bestselling (and no that doesn't make it fantastically  written) novel.  And it was better than the book, imo. So, there's that.

Happy Halloween!

I just realized that daylight savings time doesn't start on Sunday, it ends. Oh, well. I'm not up on all these new fangled ideas.

Trick-or-treat was such a blast last night. I almost forget the excitement of it from being a child, so in that, it's hard to recall if it can possibly compare to watching your own child's sheer joy.

Comparatively with last year when we barely managed to make it halfway down our street in two hours, last night we hit every house in the entire neighborhood in under an hour. I suspect it was because we had a little gang of kids who didn't stop running except to get the candy and say thank-you. And if a woman opened the door, Mort would throw in, "You're pretty!" My little Casanova. Between three sets of parents, we had Darth Vader, two Batmans, black Spiderman, red Spiderman and a prisoner. So, it was a pretty funny little band of superheroes (Mort couldn't see through his mask and quickly handed that and his lightsaber to me, so with his cape, he got lumped into the superhero category) and then the lone prisoner. Especially because all the adults handing out candy got it and commented on it, but the kids didn't get it at all.

And then today will be a blast because the weather is going to be sunny and 66 and we have a Halloween party with all our friends and most of it was going to be outside with crafts and hayrides and goofing off, weather permitting. And all the adults dress-up and J. the party-thrower, leaves no stone unturned in throwing a Martha Stewart worthy bash. I can't wait. Mort seems to think that somehow it's still connected with more trick-or-treating and that he's going to get more candy today. And considering he doesn't really eat candy, even when it's offered to him, I think he's just going off the excitement of other children regarding candy. And getting to spend a day with my friends is like having a big 'ol bucket of candy for me, so we all win.

Trick or treat, beeyotch.

I am so very glad that daylight savings time is this Sunday. I'd rather it got dark early than wake-up in the darkness. I need my sunlight. I'm like a reverse vampire. It seems like it's been forever and that daylight savings time should have happened quite some time ago. Lo and behold, I just read that this is the longest period ever recorded leading up to daylight savings time. You probably already knew that. I just can't keep up with everything. I've been extremely busy negotiating with my husband about which treats we're giving out. I wanted to do healthy. He wanted to go whole hog straight up candy.

His rationale is that our kid's not eating it and that when kids go trick or treating, they WANT to get all those forbidden treats. And I do have to agree. However, I wanted to give out bags of pretzels and boxes of raisins. I know, I'm the most unfun mom ever. And my rationale was that if our son filled his trick or treat bag with those kinds of treats, he could eat to his heart's content. The compromise is a big bowl combined with pretzels and various no-holds barred candy that the kiddos can choose from. Yes, I'm well-aware we're going to have ALOT of pretzels at the end of the night.

When I was a kid, there was a house in our neighborhood that we never went to because its owner would stand in the doorway in his undershirt handing out handfulls of free floating potato chips from a bag. But there was another house that gave out candy apples. I could never find that house. I saw kids with the apples, so I know it wasn't a neighborhood urban legend. Those were the days when you could go trick or treating freely without the parentals. You were safe. Or at least we didn't know enough back then to not be safe.

I think Mort will have to be 17 before he can go trick or treating without me. Although at that age he;ll probably be at a party, so I'll have to stalk him outside the house's window or hide behind trees if it's up in the mountains like in the days of yore. Y'know, just to make sure he's not eating too much candy.

Just when you sleep through the night for two nights in a row

Your child wakes-up at 2:30 and that's it, you're up. So, you head downstairs to the couch to watch the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air  and try to let the laugh track lull you back to sleep, but it's hard because it's the one where Will falls in love with a rock star and misses his own surprise party and then you hear the soft hesitant padding of feetie pajamas on the steps and ta-da: it's said child. He still can't sleep, so he clambers over you and gets under the blanket and tells you about his bad dream and then decides you're taking up too much of the couch, so you end-up lying precariously on the edge while he sprawls his little body all over the couch, hogs the pillow, and flings his legs over you. And eventually the two of you fall asleep in this position, which is actually rather sweet, because how many years do you have before your son is too old and too big to snuggle up with his mommy and trust her that she will not let the bad dreams in? So, even though you're exhausted, it's nice to wake-up with his knees in your stomach and his arm flung across your face. Because he's your baby.

Blick

The time has come to cease the outdoor exercise and fire up the treadmill. I'm not really looking forward to that. Even though I think I get a more intense workout on the treadmill because of the incline, I love the sunshine and fresh air part of outdoor exercise. It doesn't feel so much like work. Sigh.

Oh, Elisabeth Hasselback. You're just so dumb.

Sweetie-pie, can we just remember our place in the world and please stop talking about grown-up stuff? You're just the "pretty one" from Season Two of Survivor who didn't win. You were a shoe designer. You aren't qualified to talk about things in public, no matter who decided to put you in the ever revolving chair of "pretty but uninformed girl" on The View.

You first fell under my disapproving eye when you, a MOTHER, went on your little tirade about the yuck factor of breast feeding in public.(No, I don't watch The View, I read about it in the newspaper and I know Barbara backed you up, but she's from the generation who was told formula is best, plus she didn't have the option of breast feeding her child. And she's 110.) Now, honey, no matter what your big  'ol football player hubby tells you, that's what your boobs are actually made to do--feed your children. By making a fuss about breast feeding in public, you're sexualizing the act of women feeding their child. And that's just silly. Everyone knows that if it's possible for you to breast feed that breast is best for both mother and child. Furthermore, if you breast feed, you know that you need to do it on demand, which means you just may be in public when your child is hungry. It happens. It's not a sexual act, okay toots?

Now you have pissed me off because you have actually made me feel sorry for Sarah Palin that you were chosen to introduce her. That's right. Your terrible introduction of her was just that bad. Good Lord girl, did you decide to not write anything down or maybe do a little research or practice in front of the mirror? The one thing you chose to focus upon was the supposed criticism of her wardrobe? I've read an awful lot of criticism about her, but I've only read one thing about her wardrobe and that was how much it costs AND it was lumped in with the outrageous costs of each candidate's wardrobe, Obama included. And then you, the most sexist git on morning television, a woman who can't even support a woman's right to feed her child when it's hungry, have the gall to call that sexism? And you follow that up by pointing out that Palin's best quality is that she wears an American flag on her lapel?!?

I feel certain that Sarah Palin wished she had her high power rifle to shoot you. That's the best you could come up with--that she wears an American flag pin? Hey, I have one too, should I run for VP? Granted, I'm not sure what else you could have said that was positive about her, but that's not my job.  It was yours. Maybe they should have chosen the other reality show  Republican chick for your job: Rachel from The Real World San Francisco.