Friday, September 9, 2011

Well, it happened.

School started. The morning of Day 1, went well enough. Jack seemed unphased at the idea of going, we had been to the school twice in the days leading up to then so he was pretty primed. On the way to school, he stuck to unrelated topics. Like this:

Jack: Mommy, did you know that Earth is the only safe planet for us?
Me: Yep.
Jack: Mars isn't good. And "Anus" isn't good.

Somehow, despite my PTSD, I remembered that savory factoid for you. I saved all my anxiety for middle of the night hyperventilation attacks, martyrs mothers sheild their children like that. But, thank God, I had a good deal of peace that morning. Which is good because the drop off looked like this:

(I like to make my facebook friends feel grateful they're not me.)

He had diarrhea right after school and just before school the following day. That's how nervous our boy gets. He told me "I HATE YOU......*grumble grumble* leaving me like that!" Glad I let him finish the sentence. He hid under a desk for the first bit of the day but slowly crept out and his teacher had nothing but positive things to say about him. Bless her. By yesterday (third day) he was EXCITED to go to school. He carried his own backpack for the whole walk and marched up the ramp behind his teacher with the other kids instead of crying. THIS IS SUCCESS, PEOPLE.

Last night (during the great power outage of 2011) Jack pointed to his school from our backyard and said "there it is, my new school, I belong there!" HEAVENS OPEN, ANGELS AND UNICORNS SING. Just more evidence that Jack is sometimes contrary just to be contrary. But, when it's inexplicable optimism, we savor it. In other awesome news, Harvey's first day of preschool looked something like this:

(This kid is so enthusiastic, it kills me. So he sometimes poops his what!)

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Getting Florid Over Woodland Creatures

When we moved into the new place, I was pretty enchanted by all the bunnies hippity hopping all over our backyard. But then we fixed up the yard. Then this happened:

(This here is a weed. That round thing from which it sprung forth? A bunny turd)

There's a certain cliche about rabbits doing something in excess. I assure you, they poop twice as often. We patched some obvious fence holes and ordered some organic wabbit wepellent. Which, turns out, is basically dehydrated blood and oregano. Apparently rabbits are supposed to flee from death and Italian food. Also, turns out, birds LOVE death and Italian food.

(You know that feeling that you're being watched?? Yeah, ALL THE TIME)

We were feeling pretty good. Still playing catch up on the weed pulling but the yard was looking less like a toilet/salad bar. Then slowly, I began spotting the evidence. Nothing like before, but, ya know.......a little pile here and there:

Befuddled, we concluded that surely, in our haste to secure our borders, we'd trapped an illegal WITHIN OUR FENCING. I had hunting on the bwain. The night before last, I climbed into bed and spotted one of the boys' flashlights on in their cozy coupe outside. Justin went to fetch it when we heard a rustling in the bushes. AHA - the WABBIT. We played flashlight tag with him for a while (poor dude) and finally cornered him in a flower patch. Justin opened a hole in the fence, prodded him out, and patched it up. Ahhhh...

(Now, what do you suggest we do about *this* rat-in-a-cuter-outift?)

Friday, August 19, 2011

Some things

Filling out forms and prepping for the school year to begin (gulp). In addition to the seven thousand enrollment forms, us allergy folks get to fill out this SIMPLE PAPERWORK before an Epi-pen can be kept on campus. Here's hoping Jack's bowels stay composed when we drop by the allergist's office for signatures today.

(thanks A LOT legal system - *handcramp*)

(HOWEVER, this pretty much RULES - I ♥ you, legal system!)

In entirely unrelated news, I read Beatrice's Goat to the boys this week. It's a beautiful story, and a true story. In 1991, through the organization Heifer International , a dozen goats were given to families in Beatrice's village in Uganda. Beatrice's family named their goat Mugisa, which means "luck". The goat gave the family two babies and lots of milk which they were able to sell. This meant a new home for the family and an opportunity for Beatrice to attend school, a dream of hers. When the book was written, it's success led to a scholarship for Beatrice to attend bigger schools in Uganda she eventually graduated from Connecticut College where she received a degree in public service.

While my boys are a bit young to fully understand just how much a small gift like that can affect the lives of others, they certainly understood that Beatrice was without, and with their "lucky" gift, she was able to go to school and live in a home that would protect their family from the rains. I want them to realize not just how fortunate they are, but how easily their fortune can bring hope and life to those in need.

School starts in less than three weeks. I'm not sure at all how I feel about that. What I am sure of? I need to soak up these last days of doing whatever we feel like. It's been a real treat.

(we're lucky in that our ducks love gluten free bread)

Monday, August 15, 2011

Cleansing my Body and Conditioning my Brain

Cleansing is easy. AFTER day two. Day two feels like what Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew looks like. One big ugly day of detox. Like any self respecting junky, I felt good and sorry for myself. But I had given my swiss cheese of a mind a focal point, and that focal point was Somalia. My body missed it's expected intake of convenience food. BOO. HOO. I have the OPTION to eat beautiful organic superfoods, foods that make me a better wife, mother, friend, and human being. And at the risk of sounding like a big fat sassy pants; choosing convenience is selfish in a way that I just can't stomach right now.

Like one of Oprah's coined "Aha moments", I'm feeling a shift within that is irreversible. Clarity doesn't always give you the warm fuzzies. Meditating on these atrocities, and subsequently blowing all of my body's sodium out my eye holes, I'm left feeling empowered through a large helping of self reflection. Example: A week ago, I stressed and lost sleep over creating a safe snack food list for Jack's class for next year. LOST SLEEP OVER A SNACK LIST. Can you guess where my "feel like an a-hole-o-meter" registered when I compared my snack pack problems to those losing their babies to famine and violence? It basically maxes out.

Despite my wanting to shield my boys from "the bad stuff", we are having discussions about how fortunate they are to have the food they often whine about. A few weeks ago, in a parking lot, Harvey tugged his hand from mine, as he's prone to do. I sat him in the car and told him that cars are much bigger than him, and if he were hit by one, he could die. He looked at me indignantly. I said "Do you understand what that would mean? It would mean that your body would be dead and we would have to bury it in the ground and mommy would cry forever". His face fell and he sobbed. Ding! went the a-hole-o-meter, but he learned a little something and he hasn't forgotten it.

I can't fly to Africa and stop the corruption. I can't adopt all the babies or pray the starvation away. But I can strive to live more mindfully, always. We can count our blessings alllll day, but unless we find ways to put them into loving action, we just plain don't deserve them. Please donate to these babies today.

Friday, August 12, 2011

I ran out of things to clean.

(Just looking at this photo will no doubt stimulate your bowels)

Apparently, in the move, I lost my ability to focus. To keep my "thoughts" straight, I'll have to rely on bullet points.
  • At night I can barely sleep and during the day I can barely wake. Not awesome.
  • Coffee REALLY amps up the semi-insomnia so I'm chai dependent which isn't so bad but also isn't so good.
  • My appetite has been less than impressive which makes me sad and also makes me feel altogether messedup.
  • Oh, and there are headaches.
  • I have this notion that anxiety lends to anxiety so I think I had better nip this thing in the bud. Aside from a tropical vacation (ha. ha. ha.), I have no better ideas than to cleanse my bod and hope for the best.
I'll be back in a few days. Three pounds of toxins lighter and (anticipatedly) a lot less cranky.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Dear OCD (obsessive cleaning disorder),

The next time you compel me to engage in an activity akin to, oh I don't know, dismantling and detailing the vacuum cleaner;


remind me that vacuum cleaners GET DIRTY AFTER THE FIRST RE-USE. You're a real head scratcher, OCD.

Gotta run, I'm off to clean the bottoms of my shoes...

Yours truly,

Wednesday, July 27, 2011


Packed up my bored little vikings this afternoon and set sail on a mini voyage. Our destination? Our former residence (still in escrow). Our mission? To pillage the yard of anything edible.

Truly, I went for mint. I need it for a dessert I'm making this Friday and, after years of ripping it up and cursing it like a weed, I refuse to pay money for the delicious garbage. I figured I'd grab a few lemons, check out the heat stricken cucumbers, and maybe find a cherry tomato or two worth picking.

Well, we sailed back with far more booty than expected!¹

Not featured are the two dozen tomatoes Harvey picked and devoured.
(first dose of silence I'd had all day)

Gourds? Pumpkins? NOPE - lemon cucumbers. Aren't they dreamy?

My first thought after cleaning these up was "Darnit!, out of hummus" but a dash of sea salt was really all it needed. Even the dark orange ones, while tougher skinned, are delicious.

The lopsidedness makes my heart pitter pat.

¹ Vegetables grow a heckuva lot faster when you aren't impatiently stalking them.