"I know some very great writers, writers you love who write beautifully and have made a great deal of money, and not one of them sits down routinely feeling wildly enthusiastic and confident. Not one of them writes elegant first drafts. All right, one of them does, but we do not like her very much. We do not think that she has a rich inner life or that God likes her or can even stand her. (Although hen I mentioned this to my priest friend Tom, he said you can safely assume you've created God in your own image when it turns out hat God hates all the same people you do.)" - Anne Lamott (Bird by Bird)
All I can say, is...there are quite a few people in this world who could stand an Anne Lamott tattoo!
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Things That Make You Feel Sooooo Good
…Or NOT.
So the other night I am sitting in the kitchen, shoes off, hanging out talking with the husband. Caroline, came in and was playing with my feet.
This is where I doubt that she is even my child, because feet are the one thing, besides spiders and obnoxious people that totally skeeve me out. I do believe that it may have stemmed from childhood trauma of having to pull my dad’s cowboy boots off after he got home from work, the ones that he insisted on wearing with his blue thin dress socks. I can only tell you that nothing could have survived in those shoes…nothing…including his feet which is why they were clearly rotting off the ends of his legs and that was the only explanation for the hot waft of stench that came out as the boot popped off sending me falling back onto the floor…
ANYWAY, I run, (OK so really? I try to run, I more bounce along panting and hoping that someone will stop and drive me to my destination and that I will adequately still burn the desired calories…) so my feet tend to be a little, well, calloused? Is that the right word? Or maybe I should just say I have old lady feet that are dry and a mess. Caroline looked at me with love in her eyes and said “why are your feet like that?”
“I said because I am old, and that is what they look like when you get old. You will have them too.”
At which point horror flashed on her face and she yells "Oh CRAP"
Ok, so perhaps I have gained another foot-a-phobe in my house now.
So the other night I am sitting in the kitchen, shoes off, hanging out talking with the husband. Caroline, came in and was playing with my feet.
This is where I doubt that she is even my child, because feet are the one thing, besides spiders and obnoxious people that totally skeeve me out. I do believe that it may have stemmed from childhood trauma of having to pull my dad’s cowboy boots off after he got home from work, the ones that he insisted on wearing with his blue thin dress socks. I can only tell you that nothing could have survived in those shoes…nothing…including his feet which is why they were clearly rotting off the ends of his legs and that was the only explanation for the hot waft of stench that came out as the boot popped off sending me falling back onto the floor…
ANYWAY, I run, (OK so really? I try to run, I more bounce along panting and hoping that someone will stop and drive me to my destination and that I will adequately still burn the desired calories…) so my feet tend to be a little, well, calloused? Is that the right word? Or maybe I should just say I have old lady feet that are dry and a mess. Caroline looked at me with love in her eyes and said “why are your feet like that?”
“I said because I am old, and that is what they look like when you get old. You will have them too.”
At which point horror flashed on her face and she yells "Oh CRAP"
Ok, so perhaps I have gained another foot-a-phobe in my house now.
Friday, March 26, 2010
The Cat Maffia
I am thinking that the Don of the cat mafia is living in my house, with his brother the hit man. I have two cats that, well, are not subtle...in anyway. First of all they are man sized cats. These brothers each weighing in at close to 20 pounds, even scare the 60 pound boxer across the street. Because of this, you can imagine, they really like meal time…and I mean REALLY LIKE MEAL TIME.
In my recent life of 3 jobs, 3 kids, a grandmother and school board, I have gotten…er…a little behind. For the most part everyone in the family has been pretty understanding that sometimes you feel that you could make a meal off the kitchen floor, or that dinner may not get on the table until 7:30 because I am still thawing the chicken that I forgot to take out of the fridge, and even my children are understanding of having to go on safari through my jungle bedroom of laundry in search of clean underwear from the mountains of “to be folded” along the walls. They are great…the cats however? Not so much.
I forgot to buy cat food, now, this is not to say that I was starving them, I am fairly sure that they could sustain life off their bellies for 2 years if need be. But they had gone oh, maybe 12 hours over night without food, and frankly, they are less than forgiving about that sort of thing. I woke up to one of them staring me down in bed…you know that type of thing where you wake up in fear because you know you are being stared at? I went down to feed them, but we were out of food…I figured they could wait until I went to the store, so I went about my daily business.
At this point, I think they sensed that I was not going to be meeting their needs at that exact moment…so they proceeded to stalk me through the house. They followed me around taking turns tripping me until I fell on my face in the living room in my attempt to not step on the two slithering animals.
If I would stop and look at them, they would quickly adjust to their “I am pitiful and you are starving me” look.
There really wasn’t much I was going to do at that moment so I continued on my day. I went down to run on the treadmill that morning…Sugar Ray…otherwise known as “Fatty” sat at the table in front of the tread mill and proceeded to stare me down…and I don’t mean just a little while…that darn cat didn’t break eye contact for nearly 30 minutes and the whole time I was running right toward him…I actually laughed at one point because it was getting so awkward…still no break in the stare.
After about 35 minutes of running I was so unnerved that my husband was going to come down to find me laid out on the floor and fatty licking his paws after having eaten my face or something that I ended my run early.
I did finally get the food and I am pretty sure that they called off the hit cats that they had hired…but seriously…these felines are severe about their kitty chow. I will not forget again, because I am fairly sure I will find a fish in my bed as a warning…
In my recent life of 3 jobs, 3 kids, a grandmother and school board, I have gotten…er…a little behind. For the most part everyone in the family has been pretty understanding that sometimes you feel that you could make a meal off the kitchen floor, or that dinner may not get on the table until 7:30 because I am still thawing the chicken that I forgot to take out of the fridge, and even my children are understanding of having to go on safari through my jungle bedroom of laundry in search of clean underwear from the mountains of “to be folded” along the walls. They are great…the cats however? Not so much.
I forgot to buy cat food, now, this is not to say that I was starving them, I am fairly sure that they could sustain life off their bellies for 2 years if need be. But they had gone oh, maybe 12 hours over night without food, and frankly, they are less than forgiving about that sort of thing. I woke up to one of them staring me down in bed…you know that type of thing where you wake up in fear because you know you are being stared at? I went down to feed them, but we were out of food…I figured they could wait until I went to the store, so I went about my daily business.
At this point, I think they sensed that I was not going to be meeting their needs at that exact moment…so they proceeded to stalk me through the house. They followed me around taking turns tripping me until I fell on my face in the living room in my attempt to not step on the two slithering animals.
If I would stop and look at them, they would quickly adjust to their “I am pitiful and you are starving me” look.
There really wasn’t much I was going to do at that moment so I continued on my day. I went down to run on the treadmill that morning…Sugar Ray…otherwise known as “Fatty” sat at the table in front of the tread mill and proceeded to stare me down…and I don’t mean just a little while…that darn cat didn’t break eye contact for nearly 30 minutes and the whole time I was running right toward him…I actually laughed at one point because it was getting so awkward…still no break in the stare.
After about 35 minutes of running I was so unnerved that my husband was going to come down to find me laid out on the floor and fatty licking his paws after having eaten my face or something that I ended my run early.
I did finally get the food and I am pretty sure that they called off the hit cats that they had hired…but seriously…these felines are severe about their kitty chow. I will not forget again, because I am fairly sure I will find a fish in my bed as a warning…
Monday, March 22, 2010
Missing Bear: FOUND All is well with the world
Henry has a teddy bear that I got at a baby shower before he was even born. He has slept with this "lovey bear" that he named Green (surprise surprise it was wearing green) since he came out.This has been his constant companion. He has a bed for it that he made out of a shoe box. He “reads” to it, sings to it…you get the picture. This was not a dispensable part of our family…
About 2 months ago, in one of my weeks from Hell (which these days with three kids, two jobs, and school board are many) Henry asked me as we were getting out of the car if he could bring Green with him. Not wanting another battle that day I said “fine”
…For 2 months I have been racking my brain to try and remember where it was that I said this STUPID remark…
We checked Target, we checked book stores, friends houses, tore our house apart looking for this Green lovey bear.
Henry was in tears nightly, but it really came to a head this past week when sobbing one night he came downs stairs flailed himself across my lap threw his hand across his forehead in his best “woest me” pose and cried:
“He doesn’t know where I am, he is scared and lonely and I can’t find him mom…what and I going to do…he is scared…I AM THE WORST DADDY EVER!”
There are not many things that will break this girls heart folks, but this about did it.
I assured him that we would look more, to which I just got more sobbing and wailing. I have never seen him like this before…
I didn’t sleep much that night, thinking how sad I was, and racking my pea brain about where I could have possibly let him take it…
Saturday morning I went to work at the library. I usually work upstairs but was down in the children’s room this particular day… I looked across the room and in a cubby, staring back at me … was GREEN LOVEY BEAR.
The lights starting shining on him and I am pretty sure I heard the choir sing “Laaaaaaaa” as I looked at him. In my glee, then irritation I said:
“You have GOT to be freaking kidding me!”
This may seem like a momentous occasion…but mind you, I have been searching for this bear for 2 months, listening to my son berate himself for losing it, feeling guilty that I let him take it somewhere…and the whole flipping time it was in the library…
Folks, I WORK THERE EVERY WEEK….My SISTER is the DIRECTOR of the library….
Wouldn’t you think ONE of us would have seen the damn thing before I scarred my child for life about his parenting skills?
I guess I am just happy he is home, under lock and key, and may never leave this house again unless he is physically chained to my son…I am not taking any chances…
The moment of truth...Henry had a smile a mile wide!
About 2 months ago, in one of my weeks from Hell (which these days with three kids, two jobs, and school board are many) Henry asked me as we were getting out of the car if he could bring Green with him. Not wanting another battle that day I said “fine”
…For 2 months I have been racking my brain to try and remember where it was that I said this STUPID remark…
We checked Target, we checked book stores, friends houses, tore our house apart looking for this Green lovey bear.
Henry was in tears nightly, but it really came to a head this past week when sobbing one night he came downs stairs flailed himself across my lap threw his hand across his forehead in his best “woest me” pose and cried:
“He doesn’t know where I am, he is scared and lonely and I can’t find him mom…what and I going to do…he is scared…I AM THE WORST DADDY EVER!”
There are not many things that will break this girls heart folks, but this about did it.
I assured him that we would look more, to which I just got more sobbing and wailing. I have never seen him like this before…
I didn’t sleep much that night, thinking how sad I was, and racking my pea brain about where I could have possibly let him take it…
Saturday morning I went to work at the library. I usually work upstairs but was down in the children’s room this particular day… I looked across the room and in a cubby, staring back at me … was GREEN LOVEY BEAR.
The lights starting shining on him and I am pretty sure I heard the choir sing “Laaaaaaaa” as I looked at him. In my glee, then irritation I said:
“You have GOT to be freaking kidding me!”
This may seem like a momentous occasion…but mind you, I have been searching for this bear for 2 months, listening to my son berate himself for losing it, feeling guilty that I let him take it somewhere…and the whole flipping time it was in the library…
Folks, I WORK THERE EVERY WEEK….My SISTER is the DIRECTOR of the library….
Wouldn’t you think ONE of us would have seen the damn thing before I scarred my child for life about his parenting skills?
I guess I am just happy he is home, under lock and key, and may never leave this house again unless he is physically chained to my son…I am not taking any chances…
The moment of truth...Henry had a smile a mile wide!
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Type A Little Man
I know that Henry is a bit on the particular side. Perhaps it was the lining his cheerios up on his tray when he was still in a highchair...or maybe it was the fit he would throw if his granola bar was put in front of him "upside down," that was his give away. What ever it was, it was clear to us a long time ago that the boy, well, is tightly wound!
The other day, I about got in hysterics over his brand of crazy. We went for a walk with our neighbor through the woods. There is a really cool waterfall that you can only get to in the spring before the militant pricker bushes get to the size that they like to capture small children and animals and eat clothing.
We wandered along the stream bed happily; Henry in his “Buggy Boots,” was splashing in the wet mud puddles and looking at everything. We came across a very cool vine growing up a tree. It was like a Tarzan vine…Seriously, even I could swing on it…and let me tell you…that is one strong vine!
All the kids were taking turns swinging on it. We started to walk away and I heard TWAP, and then waited the obligatory 10 seconds before the wailing set in. Henry swung on the vine right into the tree. He was OK no worse for the wear so I thought, but this really bothered him apparently because as we were walking through the field his boot caught on some vines and he fell. He stood up and screamed really loud
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME TODAY! I HIT MY HEAD ON THE TREE AND NOW THIS!!!!”
I thought my neighbor was going to pee in her pants. A bit of a perfectionist maybe? I reassured him that everyone trips once in a while and that it wasn’t going to be some black mark against him in his future search for a career.
We got on the road and low and behold he tripped again. Again exasperated he stood up stomped his foot and said:
“I don’t know what is wrong with me today, I keep falling! What is up with that?”
Um…I don’t really know, but I was pretty sure that it wasn’t quite as life altering as he thought it might be…
I am thinking I may be the wrong parent to be bringing him up, because, I probably scarred him for life with my giggling…
The other day, I about got in hysterics over his brand of crazy. We went for a walk with our neighbor through the woods. There is a really cool waterfall that you can only get to in the spring before the militant pricker bushes get to the size that they like to capture small children and animals and eat clothing.
We wandered along the stream bed happily; Henry in his “Buggy Boots,” was splashing in the wet mud puddles and looking at everything. We came across a very cool vine growing up a tree. It was like a Tarzan vine…Seriously, even I could swing on it…and let me tell you…that is one strong vine!
All the kids were taking turns swinging on it. We started to walk away and I heard TWAP, and then waited the obligatory 10 seconds before the wailing set in. Henry swung on the vine right into the tree. He was OK no worse for the wear so I thought, but this really bothered him apparently because as we were walking through the field his boot caught on some vines and he fell. He stood up and screamed really loud
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME TODAY! I HIT MY HEAD ON THE TREE AND NOW THIS!!!!”
I thought my neighbor was going to pee in her pants. A bit of a perfectionist maybe? I reassured him that everyone trips once in a while and that it wasn’t going to be some black mark against him in his future search for a career.
We got on the road and low and behold he tripped again. Again exasperated he stood up stomped his foot and said:
“I don’t know what is wrong with me today, I keep falling! What is up with that?”
Um…I don’t really know, but I was pretty sure that it wasn’t quite as life altering as he thought it might be…
I am thinking I may be the wrong parent to be bringing him up, because, I probably scarred him for life with my giggling…
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