Wednesday, September 29, 2010

The Art of Apologizing

Sometimes this little one is a little aggressive in her play.  I mean, she is the youngest of five very active children so she has never had the luxury of gentle doting.  At the same time, she has a great big toddler heart--the kind that makes her run to whomever is hurt or crying and wrap her arms around them.  She is wonderful at comforting and even the maddest child cannot refuse her overwhelming love.

Yesterday, was was playing kind of rough with her big brother.  She threw up her head and hit him in the mouth--right on his braces.  He put her down with a, "Dang It!"  She immediately began to cry because she had hurt him.  I held her and loved her and asked if she wanted to tell her brother that she was sorry.  She nodded and gave a tearful, "Yeah."  We went to him and as she hugged him, I asked if she had something to tell her brother.

"Brother?  Can I watch Veggie-Tales?"

Close enough.
Apology accepted.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Is She Talking About Me?

You know that Sara Bareilles song King of Anything?  If you don't, here is her video.  

I completely love this song.  It is fun and sassy and is great music.  The first few times I heard it, I was like, "Yeah!  I know those people!  They are always forcing their ideas down my throat."

Here is my problem, now I feel guilty every time I hear it--like she's talking about me.

"Geez, Emily!  No one cares what you think.  Why do you keep writing/talking?"  I'm always afraid that I'm a bit of a know-it-all.  I don't try to be.  I try to just be interested in conversations and to contribute to those conversations in an interesting way.

But, I'm always afraid I am that guy in the song.  The one that bugs everyone.  The one at which, when people turn their faces away, they roll their eyes.

Is it all in the attitude?  What is the difference between saying something that you think might be mutually interesting and being a know-it-all?  


Sunday, September 26, 2010

Find a Conviction an Go With It

I have known about the Duggars and their nineteen (the oldest is married with a child of his own) children for a while--well, since they had only fourteen children!  Their family interested me, but I always wrote them off as a bit of a circus side-show.  I don't think I ever judged them ill for having many children because I think there are a lot worse things you can do with your life.  (And, incidentally, why is it that people think they can criticize those with big families--often so cruelly?)  But the other day, I actually visited their website and read their story.  When I mentioned this to my friend (who home schools, home-births, eats whole foods, doesn't vaccinate and treats her family illnesses at home with essential oils and onion poultices for as long as possible), she asked, "Are they kooks?"

No, they really aren't.  I mean, sure, they are a little odd, but who isn't?  We all have our little odd parts.  The girls all wear dresses and the boys tuck in their shirts.  They read the Bible and aren't ashamed to tell us what they've learned.  They take music lessons and their family car is a bus.  I have to say, I am inspired by their conviction.  In this country of one or two kids max, they have to be of strong character to keep doing what they believe is right.

This is briefly what happened (you can read their longer version on their website if you are interested).  When they were first married, they didn't think they wanted a large family.  They thought they would have children, but some day, not right away.  She was on birth control for four years and then they had their first, a son.  They figured they would have another, but wanted to space them responsibly; she went back on the pill.  When she conceived on the pill* and miscarried, they (like all of us who experience miscarriage) were heavyhearted.  But when the read the fine print of the pill's packaging and discussed with their doctor the fact that the use of the pill may have contributed to the death of their baby, they were devastated.  They went to the Lord.  They studied the Bible and prayed for direction.  The only things they could find in scripture about children were words like treasure, gift, blessing, loved, and delight.  They prayed that Father would help them love children the way He loves them.  And they promised to welcome as many children into their home as He saw fit to send.

What, of that, is worthy of criticism?  Having the courage to obey divine direction?  Being willing to turn their backs on the world's definition of a "normal" family?  Giving up other aspirations to unselfishly submit to the plan of the Father?  How many of us can say we live our lives with as much dedication to our convictions?  Few, I'd wager.

I will never be like the Duggars.  For one thing, my body doesn't work that way.  Though I was on birth control for only the first two months of marriage, my children have come two or more years apart.  There are things I would certainly do differently in my own family.  I do believe, however, that everyone has a genius and if we learn from those to whom it comes more naturally, we don't have to learn things the hard way.  I think this family has a few genius ideas from which we could all benefit.

Today's pearls of wisdom from the Duggar Family:  In the running of a family or a life, it is a good idea to think in the following order.  God, others, yourself.

And there is your Sabbath Day sermon from Preacher MotherShip.  I will now step down from the pulpit.

*This is not a rant about the evils of birth control.  The decision to use birth control is a personal and private decision between a woman, her husband, and their god.  I am not blanketly against the use of it.  

Saturday, September 25, 2010

City of Rocks

Justin had an early exam and nothing scheduled for the afternoon.  We took advantage of the beautiful autumn day and went for an adventure.

Just over two hours' drive away is a cool place called The City of Rocks.

This amazing place was on the California Wagon Trail and there were a lot of journal entries about it.

They (the pioneers) signed their names on the rocks with axle grease.  Some have faded away, but many have retained their integrity.

(She was picking the grass seed pods.  She thought it was wheat and wanted me to make bread out of it when we got home.  It reminded me of the time my little brother, then about four, "caught" a fish that was floating on the water.  It was about five inches long, but somehow, my dear mother was able to make a fabulous fish dinner for the entire family out of Levi's fish.  *wink, wink)

It was fun to not be the one to point out that there were people here 150 years ago under completely different circumstances.  I loved when my children began swapping stories about pioneers and found themselves touching the names on the walls; feeling that human connection.  Being the mother to older children is de. light. ful.

We scampered around on the granite the whole afternoon.  Even the two year old would run to catch up calling, "Wait for me, guys!  Wait for me, guys! (Repeat, repeatedly.)"

Four years old and at the top of the world (or at least as close to the top as her mother could allow).

It had so many amazing rock features and formations.  The Earth Science class that my son has had a hard time enjoying suddenly came to life.  When he saw the effects of erosion and weathering, he understood it,  why it is important, and even that it is an interesting thing to study.

Of course, we made the all-important decision that, were we ever a hunted people, we could totally survive hidden in these crazy caves.  With the rabbits, if need be.  (Well, until we ate them all.)

It felt so good to run and climb and play, here at the end of summer.  I love this beautiful world that was created for us.

And I'm glad the roads weren't paved so there wasn't a crowd.  (:

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Recipe from my Sis

This is my favorite sister in the world.  And my adorable nephew.

She is amazing in about Ninety Billion ways, but one of the things she does well is cook.  The other day I was looking for a recipe for shrimp.  She had posted this on her Facebook page so I stole it--the whole note.  I made it for my family tonight and had an amazing dinner that was done fast.  Easy, easy dinner.  Everyone in my household ate it; most had second helpings.  From Mollie's kitchen to yours:


Ok, so I love to cook, but mostly I love to cook new recipes! I got tired of asking my family what they wanted for the menu and getting either blank I don't know's or burgers, lasagna, or chili dogs as I quit asking. I make what I want and that's's gone surprisingly well! All will eat it, and the agreement is it can't hurt my feelings if they don't love it...I've had very few failures! Well, except my one super picky eater 7 year old...who will literally eat about a tablespoon of food at dinner, but LOVES breakfast)

My favorite new recipe source is the Everyday Food magazine put out by Martha Stewart...

I made this one tonight, it was GREAT!
Spaghetti with Shrimp and Bacon
Prep: 25 minutes
Total: 25 minutes

Serves 4 (plus my bird like eating 4 year old, and my I don't eat dinner 7 year old)

Coarse salt and ground pepper
12 ounces spaghetti (I used white, but prefer whole grain, but didn't have any...)
2 strips bacon, chopped (I had cheap bacon, super thin so I used 4 slices)
8 ounces large (I used 41-50 count Costco frozen, because they only have the tail on) peeled and deveined shrimp halved horizontally
6 scallions, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon lemon juice


In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook pasta until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water; drain pasta, and return to pot.
While pasta is cooking, fry bacon in a large skillet over medium until browned, 6 to 8 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer to a paper-towel-lined plate.
Add shrimp, scallions, and garlic to skillet. Cook, stirring frequently, until shrimp are almost opaque, about 1 minute. Add cup pasta water, and bring just to a boil. 

Add shrimp mixture and lemon juice to pasta. Season with salt and pepper, and toss to combine. Thin sauce with pasta water as needed. Serve sprinkled with bacon.

397 Calories
3.5 g Fat
25 g Protein
66 g Carb
3.5 g Fiber 

The Elbow

They were playing "Saved" which means they were laying on the stairs, hanging on to one another's limbs and the big brother was supposed to "save" them from some impending doom.  Somewhere in the being saved, Pod Three was injured.

She is a bit of an over-reactor (understatement) and was bellowing pretty good.  I have some children whom I ignore when they claim terminal injuries and others who, if they cry from pain, I call the ambulance because they just cut off a leg.  This one I tend to ignore or pacify.  She was wailing away and trying to tell me that her arm and her body were nearly torn asunder.  I was having her flex her hand, wiggle her fingers, move her wrist up and down and the other home-health diagnostics.  Everything was fine.  I sent her off to art class with a mouthed, "She's fine," to her teacher.

An hour later, when I picked her up from her class, she was still holding her wrist only she was now guarding her arm.  Again, I asked her where it hurt, could she move this way or that and I discovered that the problem was not her wrist, as I gleaned from her early blubbering, but her elbow that was hurt.

Nurse-maid's elbow.  I was sure.

When I was a newlywed, I worked in an emergency room.  I'm not trying to claim much medical knowledge, but we did see several kids with nurse-maid's elbow.  I watched the joint re-jointed several times.  Now that I have many children, I have reduced this problems many times.  I did the simple, but painful, procedure and thought I felt the pop when it all went back into place.

Still, she wailed.  She guarded.  She wouldn't let me touch her arm.  I finally decided to take her to the doctor.

I know the doctor would have been many people's first reaction, but I rarely take in my pods.  Usually, if they are sick, they need their bed and their mom more than they need to spread sickness all over a doctor and his staff.  And, as rough as my kids are, we've only had one set of stitches and one major burn.  So far.  Cavities?  Yes, we get those.  Broken parts and major illness?  Not yet.  (Yes, I'm knocking on wood.)

She sobs and holds her arm tenderly the whole drive to the office.  She sits in the lobby, cradling her arm while I fill out the papers and sign the releases.  When I finish, she tells me she needs to use the restroom.  While she is in there, she uses both arms to pull down her britches.  She uses both hands to get some impossible-to-get doctor's office toilet paper (why do they make that so hard to use?).  She pulls up her pants and washes her hands vigorously.  I just stare, silently, dumbfounded.

She is fine.

While she is drying her arms, she suddenly starts pumping them up and down and, looking from one arm to the other, exclaims, "Hey!  It's better!"

Who knew it was the office and not the doctor that heals?

Monday, September 20, 2010


We had our Young People's Book Club meeting today.  We read Where the Mountain Meets the Moon by Grace Lin.  It is a wonderful, gentle story.  I was also thrilled to find a good children's chapter book about China.  Anyway, I'm telling you this because you need to know that in addition to not being able to catch a ball, consistently spell correctly, and sit still for any length of time, I cannot do origami.  I can not!

I thought it would be a fun activity that we could learn.  The kids could take home their handiwork and even show off to their friends.  Wasn't it a great idea?  I googled "easy origami."  I tried the easiest, beginner stuff.  I failed.  Bad.

(Incidentally, "googled" has the squiggly red underline that means misspelled.  I use the Google Chrome browser.  Don't they know they are a verb?)

I showed the detailed instructions to the kids.  They were no better than I.

We played a game with wadded-up newspaper balls.  One of the kids took home a bag-full of newspaper balls so he could attack his older brothers (who probably deserve it!).

No one took home a delicate paper swan or star or frog.

And there you go.  One more useless fact you didn't need to know about me.


More of my drivel on The MotherShip Home Schools . . .

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Sick One

My baby is sick today.  She was fine this morning.  We went to church as usual.  She started coughing a dry cough that could have just been from our super dry mountain air or because she needed a drink.  I took her to her class where her condition worsened and I ended up taking her out early.  By the time we were walking home, her nose was running, her eyes were watering, her cheeks were bright red and the cough had strengthened.  She has been miserable all evening.  She is sleeping right now, but only tentatively, with a fan blowing on her naked, hot back.

Isn't it something, what happens to a family when the baby is sick?  (I know, at two, she is not really a baby anymore, but there is no one younger so she retains the title.)  Everyone does what they can to help; one brings a blanket, another a wet rag for her forehead, another brings a drink of water and a dolly.  The older ones stand helplessly by my side for the moment when I need a quick break so they can take a turn rocking.  We are all patient with her crying and coddle her as much as possible.  She just has a cold, she will be fine, but it is still so sad when the normally lively child is sedate and miserable.

I think there is a very specific reason for the sicknesses of babies and children.  Beyond all of the scientific business that is going on with the fever and the white blood cells, there is something happening in that child's social life:  She is becoming absolutely irreplaceable to her family.  The pitiful look or the uncomfortable cry that can only be healed by hours of pacing the floor or patting her back, endears the mother (father/brother/sister) to her.  Yes, she needs us to teach her and comfort her and love her at other times, but when she is sick, her pain speaks to our most basic nurturing instinct.  When she is sick, she needs me.  It is a refining of the parent's soul, bringing us closer to understanding our Father's love for us.  These endless nights are the ones that cement our desire to be the best parent possible to that precious child.

So, though I will be tired on the morrow, I would never trade my many nights wearing out my rocking chair with the fussy or sick or hungry baby.  She will only be small enough to fit in my lap for such a short time.  And I must run many years on the batteries charged while my life is on baby duty.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Rustic Colonial

Wood, brick, stone.
Grounded materials.

Mustard yellow, ox-blood red, dusty teal.
Warm and child-friendly colors.

Used for many years, with many good years left in them.
They don't have to be expensive, but I'm sick of stuff falling apart.

I've been keeping house for a dozen years.  I've experimented with lots of things.  I've discovered my design aesthetic:  Rustic Colonial.  (Not Americana.)

Happy Weekend

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Amazing Bean Stew

Nights are getting cooler and that distinctive crisp is in the air.  We can start cooking like people again, no more salad/ cold cereal/ cold-cut sandwiches dinners.  We are busy getting kids to their lessons/ games/ practices which means they are starving when you finally walk in the door at 6:45 pm.  If we can manage to get dinner cooking hours before so that you don't have dinner at bedtime, everyone is happier.

I have been making this recipe for years and years.  If you have a huge crock-pot, you could make it in there. I make it in my huge stock pot and just keep it warm until dinner-time.  (I wish I had a picture, but I always forget to take pictures of my food.)

Amazing Bean Stew

Mix in a large pot:
2 T Vinegar
2 T Yellow Mustard
1 C Brown Sugar
1 C White Sugar
1 1/2 C Ketchup
(All cans are 16 oz, drained)
2 cans Red Kidney Beans
1 can Buttered Beans
1 can Green Beans
1 can Garbonzo Beans
1 can Chili Beans with Sauce
2 cans Pork N' Beans

1 lb browned hamburger
1 lb chopped ham 
1 C Chopped Onion

Bring to slow boil then simmer until warm throughout and onions are tender.  I usually serve it with hot biscuits or cornbread.  Makes a BIG batch.  (It also freezes well if you wanted to freeze half for later.)

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

What Was That Called?

I got this little holiday catalog in the mail today.  


It had the things you would expect a catalog like this to have:  embroidered elk duffel bags, remote control candles, Star Wars light saber pen sets in a collector's tin, an Eclipse board game, and the guitar table lamp.  You know, stuff everyone wants for Christmas.

As I was thumbing through, dog earring just about every page, I found this:

Yes, this phallic kitchen device is called the g*Spout.  

One time, a group of seventeen-year-old boys were restoring an old wooden row boat.  They named it Morning Wood.  Their scout leader thought it was such a cool name--poetic, even.  Of course, when he told me the name, my shocked eyes made a noticeable appearance.  

"What?" he asked.  

"Do you know what that means?" I asked, dumbfounded, as the group of boys behind him were trying to keep their hysterics quiet.

I looked at them and said, "If you don't tell him, I will."  

At that, as their joke suddenly came to light, they could no longer hold it in.  I have rarely seen a group of teenage boys so incapacitated . . . for so long.

I wonder if anyone told the editor of the catalog what she printed opposite the Teacher mugs.

Sunday, September 12, 2010


Three or four times today, I was instructed to get my family to bed at a regular time.  (Not by any person, but by a higher power, if you know what I mean.)  If I want to have a waist again, get the kids to bed so you can get up early enough to exercise without their help.  If you want a happy, orderly bedtime, make a regular bedtime--like an appointment.  If you want that quiet time to really be able to study scripture, get your family to bed!  If you don't want little feet in your lower back, put the children in their own beds and train their bodies to be tired before yours.  (I don't know if that is possible.)

Here's what happened.  When I had my first child, I was working from five p.m. to one or two a.m.  I was tired in the mornings, so I trained my baby to sleep until nine or ten.  By the time the second pod entered our lives, we were pretty set in our ways.  I kept saying to myself that when the first was in school, we would be forced into a routine bedtime because he, and then, they would have a bus to catch.

Enter home school.

Dumb, dumb, dumb.  They will never get up before seven.  Ever. Ever.

I do not want them up before seven.  Never.

We do better during some spaces in time and worse at others.  We are in a bad way right now.  I'm not sure what has happened, but it is 10:31 p.m. and my children are all awake.  All of them.  And I'm tired and grumpy and I don't want to be the mom any more today.  But, here they are.  All awake.

So I think I'm going to get them up at 7:30 tomorrow.  We are going to go to the skate park and the playground and we're going to ride bikes and play tag.  I am going to run them into the ground.  They will be tired by 8:30.  Then, maybe, I can get up early enough to have some Mom Time.

I'm going to need it, after a day like tomorrow.

Have you ever had to change your family's sleeping habits?  How did you do it?


By the way, I'm still blogging about my K12 experiences over at The MotherShip Home Schools, if you're curious.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Saturday is a Special Day

Every room in my house is a disaster.  There are no clean dishes, no made beds, and no swept floors.  The only good housekeeping news is that I am actually caught up on laundry!

I usually dislike doing garage sales because they are so much work.  But, since we are likely moving before next-year's garages sale season, there are a few things that are actually sale worthy.  I decided this morning that I will sell half the crap in my house next Saturday.  

I will go through every drawer, every box, every pile and I am getting rid of things.  I am determined to have less--a lot less--by this time next week.

Also, today, I will dust every surface, sweep every floor and organized every space.  I may not go to bed until one or two in the morning, but that's not too unusual for me.  Tomorrow, when I wake up to enjoy my Sabbath day, there will be a cabinet full of clean dishes, quick access to whichever book I may need on the organized book shelf and an overall feeling of peace in this often-chaotic house.

It won't look quite like this, but it will be close.

Without all the matching (expensive) boxes.

Or the house plant that will just need water and dusting.

Alright, maybe it will just be clean and ordered, not cute.  But anything is better than that first picture, right?!

Thursday, September 9, 2010

The Parts of Our Story That Change Us


My mom just left a comment on one of my birth stories posts.  I'm not sure what made her decide to re-read that post, but I'm glad she did.  I went back and read about the arrival of my fourth child, my sweet almost five-year-old.  Since school started last week, the only things I have said to her were, "Just a minute," and "Yes, I will get to you," but I never did.  Yesterday, I skipped some laundry and some dishes and I spent time with just her.  We didn't do anything special, but I made sure to listen to her, to read to her and to cuddle with her.  I love that beautiful child.  

Today, by the way, was a much, much better school day.  I am starting to get the hang of things.  Give me one more week and I'll be an old pro (until the next week when someone throws me a curve ball).

After I read her birth story, I decided to read the rest.  I wrote them all on their birthdays (my mom also contributed mine on my birthday) during my first year of blogging.  It has been a while since I read them.  What is it about that story that is so captivating?  It is a coming-of-age of sorts for a woman and every delivery is different.  I had something in me that I didn't even know was there.  I am stronger than I thought I could be.  It is also an amazingly intimate moment with my husband.  I am grateful that husbands are allowed into the delivery room now.  It is exactly where they should be.  The two of us are the constants; the medical staff changes, the new baby even changes, but it is still and always Justin and I.  Then, of course, is the spiritual connection one feels with Heaven.  Here we are, participating in Creation, in the giving of life.  He is handing over a gift so laden with trust to a couple of young, inexperienced incredibly imperfect parents.  We must do this right.  We must do it with Him.  One can only imagine how Joseph and Mary--but especially Mary--must have felt.

For every moment that you want to pull out your hair because there is a whole family sized tub of hot cocoa mix dumped on the kitchen floor, or the two year old decides that in the corner, behind a large chair is the best place to do her business, or the older children believe they have as much parenting authority as you, the actual parents, there is this one big moment that makes it all okay.  There is the time of their coming.  The time before you were their mother and then the next moment when you couldn't imagine life without them.  

Tantrums and all.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Oh, Man

This last couple of weeks have been doozies!  We started school on September first and it is an entirely new experience.  There will be a lot of changes because, for a family who is used to three to five hours of school per day, these ten hour days are KILLING me.  Here are a bunch of things I've been thinking about.

  • Birthdays aren't usually hard for me.  It's fun to be celebrated--especially for a mom whose hard work is often taken for granted.  I'll tell you what made me feel really old, though.  Today, a man-voice was calling through the house, "Mom?  Mom?" and he was talking about me!  
  • I am going to keep a journal of sorts on The MotherShip Home Schools about my experience with K12.  There is so much to say and even more to work through.   Writing helps me do that.
  • For years I have felt like I have a story to tell, a book to write, but I couldn't get that perfect idea.  It popped into my brain, just now, when I was trying to fall asleep. (This always happens to me, by the way.  Biggest source of my insomnia is thinking.)  I'll let you know how that goes.
  • My mom called yesterday to tell me that she is updating her living room.  You know how you get comfortable with how a place always looks?  I hadn't really noticed that she hadn't updated in a while.  We started figuring and discovered it has been sixteen or seventeen years since Joette sat and played piano while we plastered the walls in paper.  Wow.  
  • My son is a dancer.  I have four girls, but he is my dancer.  We've finally been able to watch a few episodes of So You Think You Can Dance and  . . . well, he doesn't feel so out-in-left-field anymore.  
  • Here is why I watch Project Runway (and, for now, SYTYCD, see above):  there are some incredibly talented people in the world.  I could do without the cheering and the drama, but I watch it for the beauty.  I love beautiful things and could examine a perfectly tailored blouse or flowing cottage garden or moving photo or I could watch an inspiring dance or listen to a fabulous song over and over and over.  So, the shows.  The people just amaze me.  It makes me want to continue to refine myself; to become better.
  • I have a classical station on my Pandora player which I turn to when I need to concentrate.  Because it is music that helps me focus on other things, I often don't really notice what is playing.  Today, however, a song from my junior high orchestra days came on.  I was instantly fourteen.  Mrs. Barr was banging out the accompaniment and I was working my bow across the strings of my cello.  I could smell the rosin, hear the echo of the tiled orchestra room and feel the vibrations of the instrument I held with my whole body.  (That is a wonderful thing about cello, by the way.  You can't just play with arms or hands, it takes the whole body.)  It's not a particularly pretty song.
  • Even though I like to snack while I read, I discovered that I can't eat while reading about the Holocaust.  Or The Hunger Games.
  • A friend was recently divorced.  I had no idea anything was wrong.  It just goes to show that you have to be kind and loving to everyone because you just never know what they're going through.
  • I'm glad it's getting cooler.  I made the season's first batch of pumpkin bars and won over the love of my children before lovingly reminding them that they had twenty-eight more hours of school to finish up.  And chores.
  • We want to move closer to our families (and the pine trees) next spring.  The problem is, we like it here!  The boy is at an amazing ballet school with a male, straight, professional  ballet dancer for an instructor.  People move so they can have this kind of thing for their child and here we are leaving it.  I am so torn!  AND, I've finally got my house the way I like it.
Okay.  I think I'm empty.  Maybe now I can sleep.  


Love you all!

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Soothe Me

I am so in love with white rooms, lately.

They make me want to take a shower ('cause it's white) and then take a long, peaceful nap.

I love how the mostly white rooms feel clean and bright.  So free of strawberry jammed fingers and muddy toes.

They feel so opposite of my life right now.

Not that I'm unhappy with my life--quite the opposite, in fact.  

It's just that, well, this would be impossible for me.

I know that if that foyer were clear of shoes and crayons and muddy tracks that it would mean my life was as empty as the space and all of that.

But, it's just so . . so . . .so . . . clean.

So, while I'm glad that I'm sitting at a "vintage" desk with a little boy's name carefully carved out of it's wood veneer, it would be so lovely to instead be writing this post from this desk:

And if I were, I would be wearing a gorgeous, stiff silk.

I know it.

Ah, well.  I'll take my soft cotton nightgown, all fifty sticky fingers and my perpetually dusty corners and all that that implies.

Just let me look at your pictures every once in a while.  It soothes me.

Thursday, September 2, 2010


I am tired, really tired.  I've been kind of in a buzzed daze all day, doing all my tasks with lackluster and impatience.  It is the second day of school and I know it takes a little while to get used to my new demands and routine.  (I, unlike most of the world, am not a routine girl.  Of course we have our version of routine, it's just super flexible.  I'm pretty sure almost every other mother in the world would feel like the world was whirling out of control, if they were in my shoes.  For me, however, it makes life exciting and fresh.  I think that's why I usually like change and surprises.)  I've just a few last minute things to take care of tonight before I hit the hay; little things like get the doggone kids to go to sleep.  (Why, parenthetically, can they keep going so much longer than I?)

So this evening when my husband asked what I had planned for dinner, I didn't know.  I said, "I want peaches and cream, corn on the cob and vanilla malts."  Our son, who was standing in on the conversation, said, "Isn't that two desserts?"  Yes.

As I was serving my family, I apologized for the weird combination and lack of main course.  The nine year old proclaimed, "Are you kidding?  This is exactly the kind of meal a kid hopes for!!"

Which is why they have a mother.

Well, she'll be back tomorrow.  But tonight, they just got exhausted ol' me.


Congratulation, Nora Mair!  You have won a great big ol' cookie sheet, and a bunch of other loot!  I hope it changes you life the way it changed mine--

and thanks for visiting my blog.

Here's hers.  I really love her sister and am pretty sure I would love her too, if only I could get to know her.  There are so many fabulous people in this world, aren't there?  The media would have us believe otherwise, but I know the truth.  While we have a lot of nasty folks cluttering up our beautiful, happy world, there are others here who keep it habitable.

I want to sit here and chat for hours, but, alas, I must print a ream or so of work for my pods.  I hope you enjoy the prizes, Nora.

The MotherShip