Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
I have a French friend who sometimes corrects my spelling and grammar.
Ironic or just pitifully sad?
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Now, though it has been nearly a year, my heart still leaps a little when I go down stairs--any stairs. I always hold the rail, now, but, if my hands are full and there is no way to hold the rail, I walk like a toddler. Stairs are always a bit more challenging to navigate in heels, but now I get grizzly pictures in my mind as I imagine myself splayed at the bottom stoop because my heel caught the edge of the step.
Is there such a thing as stair-phobia?
Post Script: I just googled "Fear of falling down stairs" and, guess what? IT IS A REAL THING!! It's called climacophobia. One place promises to relieve my fear for $2974. Where did they come up with that number? Weird. Like someone could be afraid of falling down the stairs. Geez.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
I have five children and being a mother is the thing I have most wanted in my life. I was just reminded, by an old friend, how I used to talk about being pregnant with a dreamy look on my face. I would stuff a pillow under my shirt and look in the mirror and wonder. I am also a romantic, so my mother dreams were never realistic. I went to birthing classes with the express purpose of getting a little reality in my vision of labor. In fact, when asked why I was there, I believe I said something like, "In my mind, I am going through labor in a white linen dress. My good husband is standing at my head with love in his eyes as he gazes at me. A soft, wet curl has fallen over my forehead and a glow of perspiration shines on my face. I need to know what it will really be like."
There were other romantic notions that clouded my prophesying. It has frustrated me, at times, but there are other times when they are fulfilled.
One could walk right by without noticing the modest, unassuming house. It did not stand out, it did not make a statement. If you did take a chance to see what was inside, however, you would know that something was different about this place. The room was basically tidy, but there were a couple of plates left, not forgotten, but not yet attended to, on the table. A basket of unfolded laundry sat awaiting attention, but you hardly noticed those things. There was a feeling. A mother sat in her rocking chair with a book in one hand. A single lamp lighted the pages and cast deep shadows around the rest of the room. A small child, who was cradled in her lap, felt her eyes grow heavy as she was lulled by the voice of her mother. The old, deep couch was the resting place for two more children. They lay sprawled together, looking not at each other, but off--into their imaginations, as a place and time, other than their own, was illustrated by their narrator. Then, continuing your scan of the room, you see a fourth child, maybe seven or eight years old, holding a baby of about the same number of months. She rocks the baby gently, but she, too, is caught up in the story as her mother reads. As you watch the love with which the girl strokes the fat cheeks of the baby in her lap, you look back at the mother. She has food smeared on her left shoulder and there are signs of past stresses on her still-young face. Here, at the end of the day, her hair is no longer neat, her make-up has faded. She is not wearing a lovely dress with folds of silk, she is in jeans and a sweater, but it's okay. She reads with animation and sometimes has to stop reading aloud to laugh or wipe tears from her cheeks. She subconsciously fingers the hair of the toddler in her lap and you think, "It doesn't get any better than this."
Dreams do come true, only, like the book to it's movie, real life is so much better.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
- Make Bed
- Say Prayers
- Tidy Room
- Brush Teeth
- Get Dressed--includes fixing hair
Seems pretty straight forward and simple, right? Not so. These activities, which are to be done before one gets breakfast, has taken as long as ALL STINKIN' DAY.
Today, however, each child did get their Big 5 done, I had done my own morning chores and the house looked tidy and presentable by about 11 am. I then sat down with my book. I can get pretty absorbed in a book and I am reading an especially tense and raw one right now (All Quiet on the Western Front, if you care). In that short space of time, when I was completely absorbed, the children managed to wreck the house. Yes, I was on the couch, even, and not hidden away somewhere.
It should also be explained that in our small house, we do not have a family room, per se. That means that all blanket forts and cushion slides and other childhood edifices are built in the living/dining room.
One thing I cannot ignore during my reading time, is snot (blood, hopefully, goes without saying). I had just taken care of the nose of one of my pods when the doorbell rang. I reached over and opened the door to our mail man. Our mail man is really a great guy. He is funny and kind and remembers the names of each of our many children. He also has a way of coming at the wrong time.
After opening the door, I took a quick glance around the room and felt my stomach sink. There was a crazy cushion/pillow/magazine rack slide that our seven month old baby was attempting to scale. Someone had taken the empty bag of Marshmallow Mateys and dumped the cereal crumbs all over my freshly swept floor, making it look like maybe I never sweep. The table was strewn with art supplies, which, by The Law of Art Supplies, must be strewn. I was even holding a snotty tissue in my hand.
At least we were all dressed. . . this time.
Friday, February 13, 2009
My recurring nightmare is that my teeth are loose or fall out unexpectedly. I had another one last night and I awoke in a panic. Sometimes I even run to check my teeth in the mirror. Always, I brush extra good that morning to make sure I am doing my part to insure their health and safety from those wily sugar bugs.
It freaks me out and I would have a completely happy life if it were not for this one thing so please help.
Do you have that dream? What does it mean?
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
But she will.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
I can't help it--I love it.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
But, hooray, I have one page done! Click on "the fleet" above and you will be directed to a page full of information about, well, my fleet. (How do you feel about the all lowercase business? This is the kind of thing that usually irritates me, but it is speaking to me, for now.) I made little last-day-of-summer-camp videos that will probably only interest my mom, but you can watch them, if you want.
I remember the first time I frosted a double-layer cake and miraculously portioned the frosting so it would cover the entire cake (not just the picture-taking side). I was so impressed with myself. No one else cared--except my mom, who proclaimed me the most talented 14 year old she had ever had the chance to meet.
I feel like that.
Post Script: I have been informed that the tabs cannot be seen if you are using FireFox. I have no idea in all of the universe, how to correct that. If you do, please let me know!