Tuesday, December 29, 2009
RTT: Baby, Birthday, Backyardigans
Today is my youngest's 3rd birthday and I'm remembering that labor with him was the fastest and the most brutal and realizing that the words "fast" and "brutal" pretty much sum him up. Is that weird?
I asked Jesse to re-explain blu-ray for the umpteenth time last night and he finally got through to me when he said, "They're like dvd's on steroids. But good steroids, not some crappy nutritional supplement from GNC." and I said, "Like the steroids that make penises small?" and he said, "Yeah." So now I understand: Blu-ray discs are dvd's with small penises.
My daughter's cat, Snowbelle, killed the Christmas tree. We've had the same fake tree since Winter was a baby and now her damn furball has knocked it over and snapped the base of it and so next year we'll have to replace it. On the bright side, none of the ornaments broke and the tree will be taken down and put (thrown) away before the 1st this year.
I began re-reading what I wrote for Nano in November, getting ready to finish the first draft in January and I HATE IT. So much stupid crap to fix, like describing what my gamer husband would call an NPC (non-player-character) as "graying at the temples" in one paragraph and then reading that he's a buff, civic-minded teen 2 minutes later. Suck.
Walky is enjoying his first present of the day: a Backyardigans Fairytale dvd and I have to say that the Backyardigans are awesome, if only because they expose kids to every musical genre imaginable.
I've been planning a review post of several products (and shows and books) that I've come across lately( like Dawn Direct Foam dish soap and the Syfy channel's Alice and Brita water pitchers.) Maybe I'll eventually get on that.
Wintertime in MN has gotten to me early this year: it's usually February before I start buying new houseplants in desperation to get me through the last hard month of cold here. I have truly run out of window space, now and so I hope that this winter will end as it began: short and mild.
I've been sitting here, with my middle kid sitting within the circle of my legs while I stared at the screen trying to decide whether or not I've got any more random to share and now he just got up and Katie just jumped up to take his place, turning once before curling into a circle and collapsing against me with a contented doggy sigh that sounded suspiciously like, "Finally!" I think that's my cue. I should go, now.
Use the purple button at the top of the page to visit Keely and other Random Tuesday posts.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Westie's 6th Birthday, Belatedly
I can't believe that my baby boy is 6! He'd been pestering us to go to his favorite "restaurant" Old Country Buffet for weeks (his favorite because he is possibly the pickiest child on the planet, and at OCB he can eat pizza and fries to his heart's content *sigh*) and so for two weeks after picking him up from school I had to chant, "On your birthday, on your birthday" all the way home. The night before his birthday I snuck into his room and turned it into a maze of crepe-paper streamers and balloons. I started doing that when Winter was little and now the kids know that their birthday celebrations start the moment that they open their eyes. Westie wanted pancakes for his birthday breakfast, and so we all ate pancakes and watched him open a present at the breakfast table: the book I Spy A Dinosaur's Eye. He was thrilled that it was something that he could take to school in his backpack. Books are allowed, toys are not! He brought a big bag of treats for his schoolmates to ease the pain of having to spend his birthday at school-lol!
When he got home, he opened the two small presents from his siblings: a red Bakugan from Walker and a small shiny purple snake filled with sand instead of stuffing that his sister picked out and bought herself. She told him that it was just like his favorite stuffie (a huge, purple, stuffed snake) and that the new toy could be it's baby. He said, "No, it's the little brother!" I thought that was fitting.
At 5:15 we all clambered into the van to pick Daddy up from work. We headed to OCB equipped with a bag full of presents and a candle and lighter for whatever dessert he chose. We ate dinner and watched West's smile and the way that his hat hair fell across his forehead as he talked, animatedly using his hands for emphasis. We said our bests and worsts. Winter didn't have any worst, telling us that it was a triple-good day because it was West's birthday and she got to swim in gym class and the new Harry Potter film came out on DVD. West's best: "It's my birthday!" His worst: "I had to go to school on my birthday." Winter offered to take West for his dessert. He came back with a swirly ice cream cone, falling from it's cone onto his hand. I thought, "Seriously? There are a dozen perfectly good cupcakes over there that would hold this damn candle! Oh well..." I stuck the number 6 candle into the top of the cone and tried to light it. I burned myself. I yipped and shook my hand, making everyone laugh. I tried twice more (and burned myself twice more!) I finally got it lit and West blew it out immediately and laughed his head off, proud of his joke. I shook my head and said, "Forget it! Sing!"
We sang "Happy Birthday" and let him tear into the rest of his presents: a Play-Doh Burger Builder, Splashy the Whale, a small animatronic triceratops and another book, this one about Transformers. We carried the loot home and I let him stay up later than usual so that he could play play-doh with his brother and cheat at his new game (he doesn't like being sprayed with water and so turns the whale to face Walker during his turn-lol!) before tucking a very tired birthday boy into bed! Here are a few highlights!
Tomorrow: Westie's Birthday party with friends and family on the 12th!
When he got home, he opened the two small presents from his siblings: a red Bakugan from Walker and a small shiny purple snake filled with sand instead of stuffing that his sister picked out and bought herself. She told him that it was just like his favorite stuffie (a huge, purple, stuffed snake) and that the new toy could be it's baby. He said, "No, it's the little brother!" I thought that was fitting.
At 5:15 we all clambered into the van to pick Daddy up from work. We headed to OCB equipped with a bag full of presents and a candle and lighter for whatever dessert he chose. We ate dinner and watched West's smile and the way that his hat hair fell across his forehead as he talked, animatedly using his hands for emphasis. We said our bests and worsts. Winter didn't have any worst, telling us that it was a triple-good day because it was West's birthday and she got to swim in gym class and the new Harry Potter film came out on DVD. West's best: "It's my birthday!" His worst: "I had to go to school on my birthday." Winter offered to take West for his dessert. He came back with a swirly ice cream cone, falling from it's cone onto his hand. I thought, "Seriously? There are a dozen perfectly good cupcakes over there that would hold this damn candle! Oh well..." I stuck the number 6 candle into the top of the cone and tried to light it. I burned myself. I yipped and shook my hand, making everyone laugh. I tried twice more (and burned myself twice more!) I finally got it lit and West blew it out immediately and laughed his head off, proud of his joke. I shook my head and said, "Forget it! Sing!"
We sang "Happy Birthday" and let him tear into the rest of his presents: a Play-Doh Burger Builder, Splashy the Whale, a small animatronic triceratops and another book, this one about Transformers. We carried the loot home and I let him stay up later than usual so that he could play play-doh with his brother and cheat at his new game (he doesn't like being sprayed with water and so turns the whale to face Walker during his turn-lol!) before tucking a very tired birthday boy into bed! Here are a few highlights!
Tomorrow: Westie's Birthday party with friends and family on the 12th!
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Happy St. Nick's!
In our family (well, my family on my mother's side) we've always celebrated today as the Feast of Saint Nick. In honor of the predecessor to Santa Claus, our children put out their stockings on the night of the 5th, and dig their goodies out of them on the 6th. Some, more religious families, take this day to honor the saint through prayer and teaching, but for us it's always been a day of fun, a beloved family tradition and an excuse to parade new Christmas themed pencils, socks and hair-ties before our non-St. Nick-celebrating schoolmates. Getting to eat chocolate for breakfast was pretty great, too. The 6th marks the true beginning of our family's holiday season. This year, the Feast of St. Nicholas falls on a weekend, which leaves the whole day for my kids and their cousins to happily lug their loot around (instead of having to wistfully set them aside in order to don boots and backpacks.) I am thoroughly enjoying their enjoyment and remembering my mom and all of the little ways that she made me feel special. Today I wish for everyone, regardless of their faith or creed, love and joy and the evidence of abundant generosity in their lives. Happy Holidays!
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Love Thursday: Hairspray
The movie 'Hairspray' was one of the last gifts that I gave my mother. I picked it up for her on a whim, fairly sure that she hadn't seen it yet. She hadn't and we watched it that first night together...twice. In the following months, she watched it dozens of times. Looking back, I should've been concerned (because in the months before my Nana succumbed utterly to Alzheimer's, she watched Grease religiously every night.) I was just happy that she loved the musical as much as I did. As of today, it's been three months since Mama died, so this post is for her. I love you, Ma.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Love/Hate
I loved spending time with one of my dearest friends, Mary. We met at Starbucks after not seeing one another for a year (which is ridiculous, since we live within fifteen minutes from one another) and I was reminded again of how much I truly enjoy her company. I hope that everyone has their own "Mary". (I love you, Mary!)
I hate that I've been feeling blue the past few days. It's affecting everything in my life that requires effort on my part, which, come to think of it, is everything. Dammit. Here's hoping for a better tomorrow!
I hate that I've been feeling blue the past few days. It's affecting everything in my life that requires effort on my part, which, come to think of it, is everything. Dammit. Here's hoping for a better tomorrow!
Friday, November 13, 2009
Friday Fill-In #150
1. The last band I saw live was at a Jason Mraz concert.
2. What I look forward to most on Thanksgiving is spending time with my sisters. (If you don't celebrate Thanksgiving, insert your favorite holiday)
3. My Christmas/holiday shopping is starting to take shape in the form of copious lists.
4. Thoughts of chocolate fill my head.
5. I wish I could wear elaborate sequined gowns, ropes of rhinestones and a black feather boa everywhere. Oh! and maybe a tiara!
6. Bagpipes + Mike Meyers=Hilarious in So I Married An Axe Murderer.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to writing, tomorrow my plans include writing and Sunday, I want to get ahead on my NaNo word count...by writing!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Yesterday was my 100th Post!
So today I am posting 101 words from my Nano novel, Ouroboros:
"Well, if you’re just going to leave her lying here…" He trailed off, his eyes and teeth gleaming despite the low lighting that the cheap landlord had installed. Ava hated him when he was like this. She should’ve known, should’ve never forgotten who and what he truly was, but she always did. What did you expect? His theme song is “Lie to Me“, for Chrissakes. She tried to stare him down, but he only smiled, smug with the knowledge that he was going to win either way. Gotcha. She’d never understood the perverse pleasure that he got from forcing her hand...
"Well, if you’re just going to leave her lying here…" He trailed off, his eyes and teeth gleaming despite the low lighting that the cheap landlord had installed. Ava hated him when he was like this. She should’ve known, should’ve never forgotten who and what he truly was, but she always did. What did you expect? His theme song is “Lie to Me“, for Chrissakes. She tried to stare him down, but he only smiled, smug with the knowledge that he was going to win either way. Gotcha. She’d never understood the perverse pleasure that he got from forcing her hand...
Monday, November 9, 2009
Monday's Muse: Shangrila's Step-by-step Guide to Forcing NaNoWriMo Word Count
1. When your husband comes upstairs to tell you that your washing machine is dead, Jim, do not pass go, do not collect $100, go straight to bed and pull the covers over your head. Say, "Fuck this!" Go to sleep.
2. The next day, try to keep both the kids in the van and the characters of your novel (all of which are vying for your attention loudly) at a dull roar so that you can drive without running the lot of you into a telephone pole.
3.
Play Judy Garland. Cry over your dead mother.
4. Get down on your knees. Thank Jesus for Sesame Street. Use it to hypnotize child #3. Use this time to make several calls that will hopefully ensure continued financial stability.
5. Make like Agatha Christie, who said that "The best time to plan a book is while you're doing the dishes." Clean your kitchen.
6. Put baby down for a nap. Check all of your internet haunts. See that Facebook has prompted you to send a message to your mother. Write a message to your mother. Cry again.
7. Open your word document and underscore a line beneath the crap that you wrote yesterday. Close your eyes and try to remember what your new character was telling you this morning in the van. Don't argue when he tells you that he dresses like eurotrash and carries a back pack which sports a button that says, "Go Green!"
8. WRITE.
2. The next day, try to keep both the kids in the van and the characters of your novel (all of which are vying for your attention loudly) at a dull roar so that you can drive without running the lot of you into a telephone pole.
3.
Play Judy Garland. Cry over your dead mother.4. Get down on your knees. Thank Jesus for Sesame Street. Use it to hypnotize child #3. Use this time to make several calls that will hopefully ensure continued financial stability.
5. Make like Agatha Christie, who said that "The best time to plan a book is while you're doing the dishes." Clean your kitchen.
6. Put baby down for a nap. Check all of your internet haunts. See that Facebook has prompted you to send a message to your mother. Write a message to your mother. Cry again.
7. Open your word document and underscore a line beneath the crap that you wrote yesterday. Close your eyes and try to remember what your new character was telling you this morning in the van. Don't argue when he tells you that he dresses like eurotrash and carries a back pack which sports a button that says, "Go Green!"
8. WRITE.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Quotable Sunday: On Writing for NaNoWriMo
The story I am writing exists, written in absolutely perfect fashion, some place, in the air. All I must do is find it, and copy it. ~Jules Renard, "Diary," February 1895
Write down the thoughts of the moment. Those that come unsought for are commonly the most valuable. ~Francis Bacon
A synonym is a word you use when you can't spell the other one. ~Baltasar Gracián
Writing became such a process of discovery that I couldn't wait to get to work in the morning: I wanted to know what I was going to say. ~Sharon O'Brien
The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say. ~Anaïs Nin
The coroner will find ink in my veins and blood on my typewriter keys. ~C. Astrid
Weber
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Love/Hate
I love having my sister Lisa over. This last visit, I forced her helped her to set up her NaNoWriMo account and in addition to having her daughter occupy my sons in play and the joy of kissing her plump little baby boy all over his sweet little face, it was wonderful just to hammer out word count companionably beside her.
I hate unpacking the boxes of things that I kept from my mother's apartment. I did three of them today and every single thing in each of those boxes hurt my heart as I put it away. My eyes still stung hours after I'd finished and moved on to other things, grief following me around like a raincloud. I know that someday I'll be able to tell someone, "Oh, that was my mother's" in an offhand, matter-of-fact way-I just don't know how I'll ever get there.
(Post script~I got the love/hate prompt for this post from Ginny Marie. Thanks, Ginny!)
I hate unpacking the boxes of things that I kept from my mother's apartment. I did three of them today and every single thing in each of those boxes hurt my heart as I put it away. My eyes still stung hours after I'd finished and moved on to other things, grief following me around like a raincloud. I know that someday I'll be able to tell someone, "Oh, that was my mother's" in an offhand, matter-of-fact way-I just don't know how I'll ever get there.
(Post script~I got the love/hate prompt for this post from Ginny Marie. Thanks, Ginny!)
Friday, November 6, 2009
Friday Fill-In #149
1. Plans and schedules and to-do lists, oh my!
2. I'm happy when things are in order.
3. The last thing I drank was Diet Pepsi from a red plastic 160z disposable cup.
4. One of the most valuable things in my life is tradition, a link between myself and those that came before me.
5. I like artichokes on my pizza.
6. Dear November, thank you for the beautiful weather today. Would you mind keeping it warm and sunny out until I've finished fall clean-up in the backyard? Also, what do you say we leave the leaf-raking for April or May to worry about?
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to watching movies with the W's and getting into bed at a halfway decent hour since I reached my NaNoWriMo word quota early today, tomorrow my plans include scrubbing the kitchen floor and writing, writing, writing and Sunday, I want to reorganize the kids' room, unpack some of the boxes from mom's, wash and lay out the kids' clothes for the school week, and remember to take out the garbage. Also, write-write-writey-write-write!"
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Love Thursday: Sentimental Drivel
I love taking the long way home from my husband's place of work. Instead of taking the straight shot up the main road, which takes exactly 7 minutes, I take the back road every chance I get. It is wind-y and unnecessarily long and I've developed an emotional attachment to the landscaping in several of the yards. Driving past feels something like visiting old friends-indulgent and comforting. It takes at least ten minutes, fifteen if I linger.I love listening to Walker Cash's increasing ability to express his deep, inner thoughts. I love the way he often voices G in the place of D. ("Spigerman!") and overhearing him trying to convince Sissy to take him to school, adopting his older brother's life experiences to sway her, "I can go with you! I go-ed to kindergarten! I losed my teeth!" I love listening to him singing in the back seat: "5! Little monkeys! Jumpinonnabed! One felled off an bumped him head!" I love him.
I love that in forcing me to learn how to face paint and make balloon animals in my early teens, my mom gave me the skills to do something special for my middle kid, making him feel lucky and special even though the line at the Halloween party last week for balloon sculptures was too damned long. But, Mom? For the record? Clowning is still sucky and dumb. Pirate sword balloon anyone?
I love how independent Winter has gotten. Something has clicked for her and now she's laying out her clothes without being told, finding and turning in missing assignments without a word from me, setting her own alarm and getting herself out the door on time for the bus. I love that even now, now that the first revelation of parenting ("OMG, I can't believe how much I love her more every day!") is a distant memory, she still amazes me and inspires me and claims more of my heart. Every day. <3
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
RTT: Could The Coast Guard PLEASE Locate My Cell Phone Charger?
I was going to write "Angela Noll Mohn refrained from eating any Halloween candy, only to find that when her resolve finally crumbled, there was no chocolate left to pilfer" as my Facebook status. I decided that it was too long for Facebook, and so am posting it here. I was also planning on trying to work the word "tragically" in there. Hey, gum! The baby can't even have gum, so I'm kinda doing him a favor by eating it, right?!
I can not find the charger for my cellphone and so I am adrift in a sea of contactlessness. Which is different than tactlessness. Although I suppose I'll care increasingly less and less about tactlessness the more contactlessness I have.
Truly, my cell charger is GONE. I hate to beat a dead horse (well, unless it was a truly bad dead horse, in which case I wouldn't mind beating on it just a little, just to encourage it to stay dead..) but I only charge my phone at like, two different outlets in my house and after checking both outlets repeatedly (or as a dear ex-boyfriend used to say, "repeatively") I must conclude that my charger is not in this house, not with a mouse, not on a train, not in the rain, I can not find it, Sam, you see...
My husband went to the store and forgot the Draino that we needed for our kitchen sink, but he remembered the paper towels. So at least we can clean up if the sink overflows.
My knee hurts.
Squirrels are rat bastards.
I haven't watched The Food Network for two days. I haven't watched ANYTHING for two days. Well, except for my children, of course. (And) a blinking cursor.
My house looks as though President Obama could conceivably deem it a national natural disaster. Dear President Obama, please send the coast guard.
Was I always this crazy? Or has NaNoWriMo finally sent me over the edge? I am exhausted, and I can't think why, as the characters in the story seem to be doing all the work.
Aren't "Fruity Cheerios" basically just "Fruit Loops?" Which reminds me to remind you: head on over to Super Keely's, Queen of Tuesday Loopiness. (Or was that "fruitiness?") :p
Monday's Muse: Writing and Blogging and Harvesting, Oh My!
I am currently 2000+ words into the novel that I am attempting to write for NaNoWriMo. I came across/was reminded of NaBloPoMo while procrastinating when it came to sitting my butt down and writing words, any words onto my blank word document. It's so much easier to make a collage, and search for images and research key concepts online than it is to actually WRITE, isn't it?!
Then, as if this weren't enough, my husband came outside while the kids and I were taking out the garbage and offered to dig up my dahlia tubers for me. In all honesty, I'd considering leaving them and letting them all die, just another casualty of the "I just don't give a fuck" attitude that I've been living under since my mother died. Then up came the first spadeful of dirt and there they were, inciting me, however grudgingly, to act. I've been trying to stop time, wanting to scream at my husband when he got on my case for things like pretty much refusing to water my houseplants, "Don't you see? Don't you see?! I can't bear for everything to go on as if nothing has happened!" I'm fairly sure that I would've regretted the loss of those tubers come March. Creating has always been about channeling or appeasing my "dark side" and so here I am at 1:09am waiting for tubers to dry so that I can store them for the coming year. Today my muse? More of a sneaky mistress, forcing my hand, (and) I'm not sure whether I feel grateful or hateful.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Happy Belated Halloween!
Here is a cute project that we did for All Hallow's Eve:
My sister did a cute craft with my niece after seeing it in a magazine before passing the idea on to me during a phone conversation yesterday. I remembered to take pictures so that I could tell you all how it's done!
Supplies:
tacks
cardboard (I used empty cereal boxes)
adhesive felt or foam in multiple colors
Sharpie markers (optional)
Step One: Cut out jack-o'-lantern face shapes from cardboard.
Step Two: Put a thumb tack through each piece. I used two tacks for each mouth.
Step Three: Cover one side of the cardboard (the side with the head of the tack showing) with adhesive-backed felt or foam. Decorate pieces further using Sharpies and additional pieces of felt or foam.
Step Four: Throw the eyes, noses and mouths into a small box or tray and let the kids decorate their Mr./Mrs. Pumpkin Head to heart's content. The tacks only make teeny-tiny holes in the pumpkins, leaving your options open as you can paint or carve the pumpkins later if you wish. This is a great way to include toddlers in the making of jack-o'-lanterns (I showed my 2 1/2 year old the pieces and pointed to the tacks, explaining that they were sharp, and he did just fine.)
Ultimately, the project only took me an hour and a half, costing me nothing as I already happened to have all of the supplies on hand-does it get better than that?! The kids are looking forward to painting their pumpkins tonight, and apart from a few pumpkin-juice spots, I'm thinking that I'll be able to store these until next Halloween, when I can add to the collection. I'd love to write a longer post, but I've entered NaNoWriMo and my dog just ran by with a packet of Skittles (her favorite!) <3
My sister did a cute craft with my niece after seeing it in a magazine before passing the idea on to me during a phone conversation yesterday. I remembered to take pictures so that I could tell you all how it's done!
Supplies:
tacks
cardboard (I used empty cereal boxes)
adhesive felt or foam in multiple colors
Sharpie markers (optional)
Step One: Cut out jack-o'-lantern face shapes from cardboard.
Step Two: Put a thumb tack through each piece. I used two tacks for each mouth.
Step Three: Cover one side of the cardboard (the side with the head of the tack showing) with adhesive-backed felt or foam. Decorate pieces further using Sharpies and additional pieces of felt or foam.
Step Four: Throw the eyes, noses and mouths into a small box or tray and let the kids decorate their Mr./Mrs. Pumpkin Head to heart's content. The tacks only make teeny-tiny holes in the pumpkins, leaving your options open as you can paint or carve the pumpkins later if you wish. This is a great way to include toddlers in the making of jack-o'-lanterns (I showed my 2 1/2 year old the pieces and pointed to the tacks, explaining that they were sharp, and he did just fine.)
Ultimately, the project only took me an hour and a half, costing me nothing as I already happened to have all of the supplies on hand-does it get better than that?! The kids are looking forward to painting their pumpkins tonight, and apart from a few pumpkin-juice spots, I'm thinking that I'll be able to store these until next Halloween, when I can add to the collection. I'd love to write a longer post, but I've entered NaNoWriMo and my dog just ran by with a packet of Skittles (her favorite!) <3
Monday, October 26, 2009
Cute Mohn Babies at Zoo Boo!
Last night, Jesse and I took the kids to Como Zoo's Zoo Boo. We had a great time. We spent too much on nuclear hot chocolate. We brought a camera.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Memory
I will never again see the bees on my dahlias without thinking of my mother. Jesse told me that she was gone and after I wailed and screamed, “You’re lying!” and “That’s not true!” and cried harder than I knew I could, I pulled myself together and went down to the dahlia jungle to calm myself before telling my children. The bees were swarming-an orgy of bees danced across each bloom and I stared in disbelief, sure that the world she‘d left behind shouldn‘t still hold such beautiful things. Lighting my cigarette, I inhaled poison and exhaled hatred like a dragon and tried my damnedest to self-destruct.
The next day, Natalie and I went to Mom’s apartment to pick up her cats. I stopped at the Holiday station on the corner for a soda and more cigarettes. I wandered to the refrigerated cases at the back, feeling like I was walking through water, looking at everything around me without really seeing any of it until I began to scan the beverages. My eye landed on bottles of Fuse, labeled “Slenderize” and “Replenish” and I wondered dully why they didn’t have one called “Grieve”.
I will miss her eyes, and her pierced ears, and the beauty mark under her left eyebrow. I will miss the way she smelled, and how it felt when we kissed one another hello and goodbye. I will miss her arms around me and what it felt like to climb into bed with her. I will miss her laugh and her smile and the way she used to twist her mouth to be funny. I will miss laying my head against her breast while she stroked my hair or held my face in her hands and kissed me over and over. I will miss her fingernails and her toenails and her heels and her elbows. I will miss how she called, “Ange!” and how she’d tell the kids, “Come to The Nani!” I miss the world that had my mother in it, the security in that, the every-day-ness of that. I don’t want to forget.
I want to remember that she was more than all of the good things, too. She was demanding and manipulative, jealous. She could hold a grudge like she’d invented them. What I loved is that when you combined the good with the bad, (her cleverness, her sense of humor, her kindness, generosity and love for her family, her talent, her sense of style, her organizational skills, her complete and total mastery of the English language) she was the kind of fascinating, complicated, beautiful woman that inspires songs and tortured poetry.
Now every song on the radio is about her. A moth lands on my arm and I wonder if it’s a sign from Mom, letting me know that she’s not afraid of them anymore. Or maybe it’s the sun breaking through the clouds or the stranger who held me and prayed when I broke down crying in Target’s parking lot. I am looking for her everywhere.
The next day, Natalie and I went to Mom’s apartment to pick up her cats. I stopped at the Holiday station on the corner for a soda and more cigarettes. I wandered to the refrigerated cases at the back, feeling like I was walking through water, looking at everything around me without really seeing any of it until I began to scan the beverages. My eye landed on bottles of Fuse, labeled “Slenderize” and “Replenish” and I wondered dully why they didn’t have one called “Grieve”.
I will miss her eyes, and her pierced ears, and the beauty mark under her left eyebrow. I will miss the way she smelled, and how it felt when we kissed one another hello and goodbye. I will miss her arms around me and what it felt like to climb into bed with her. I will miss her laugh and her smile and the way she used to twist her mouth to be funny. I will miss laying my head against her breast while she stroked my hair or held my face in her hands and kissed me over and over. I will miss her fingernails and her toenails and her heels and her elbows. I will miss how she called, “Ange!” and how she’d tell the kids, “Come to The Nani!” I miss the world that had my mother in it, the security in that, the every-day-ness of that. I don’t want to forget.
I want to remember that she was more than all of the good things, too. She was demanding and manipulative, jealous. She could hold a grudge like she’d invented them. What I loved is that when you combined the good with the bad, (her cleverness, her sense of humor, her kindness, generosity and love for her family, her talent, her sense of style, her organizational skills, her complete and total mastery of the English language) she was the kind of fascinating, complicated, beautiful woman that inspires songs and tortured poetry.
Now every song on the radio is about her. A moth lands on my arm and I wonder if it’s a sign from Mom, letting me know that she’s not afraid of them anymore. Or maybe it’s the sun breaking through the clouds or the stranger who held me and prayed when I broke down crying in Target’s parking lot. I am looking for her everywhere.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Love Thursday: I'm Not Loving It
Female Atlas by Ozz Boyd
I have a problem. Well, problems. I need to: find and sort all of our paperwork. Make roughly one billion phone calls. Do the laundry. Finish swapping the kids' room with the art room. Clean my whole house. Make 40,000 trips to donate 40,000 items to Goodwill. Scrub 1,000 miles of tile. Shampoo the carpets. Paint the bathroom. Find a new job. Clean out the van. Mow the lawn. Divide the lilies. Wash the walls. (And) that's just the short list.
My problem? I don't want to do any of it. I don't. (And) I'm not. All I want to do is curl up in a ball on my bed and take a nap. No, it isn't depression. It may be grief. It may be exhaustion. All I know is that I have three hours every day now while my youngest takes a nap to tackle that list and instead I'm...sleeping. Tucking the baby in and then crawling into my own bed with Katie, wrapping myself in my blanket and shutting out the world.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
In Memoriam
My Beautiful Mother
Patricia Cecilia Noll
April 19th, 1956-August 19th 2009
I love you so much, Momsknees.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Why I'm Not Posting
Angela wanted to mention that she hasn't been posting because she's going to a
Wedding in Washinton (say that ten times fast) ,so frantically preparing to go
Out of town to see her best friend from highschool get married (and have alone time with Jesse at a very nice B&B on the water.)
Lots to do, "see" you soon! ~Shangrila <3
Wedding in Washinton (say that ten times fast) ,so frantically preparing to go
Out of town to see her best friend from highschool get married (and have alone time with Jesse at a very nice B&B on the water.)
Lots to do, "see" you soon! ~Shangrila <3
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Sweet Jebus and Other Deities
Is it really taking a name in vain to exclaim, disbelieving, in response to a difficult situation? Don't answer that. I already know.
Truly, when I say, "Christ on a crutch!" I am asking for help just as surely as I cried for my mother during childbirth. Today the kids and I painted, finally dragging out the easel and paintbox after a week of artistic sloth and my living room may never be the same again. Yes, I did sit down right at the top of the stairs with the toddler to paint while his siblings chose their colors and spread out across the room. But Walky has red paint in his hair and down his cheek, and after I took his diaper off (don't ask) he somehow SAT in the paint (think "butt-rainbow") after which of course he stepped in green paint. He picked up his empty red cup and I could see the wheels turning in his head as he looked down at his penis, then back at the cup. Yep, cup on the penis! Wow. Two points for making the toss to the sink.
Then he stepped on his sister's artwork.
Then his sister slid the box of baby-wipes onto her paint palette. Then she slid the box across my carpet. Blue carpet. That's hot.
Walker now has his finger buried to the hilt in his nose. Dear Jesus, Zeus, Allah, Mother, ANYONE...send me patience, and please ignore all the swearing.
Truly, when I say, "Christ on a crutch!" I am asking for help just as surely as I cried for my mother during childbirth. Today the kids and I painted, finally dragging out the easel and paintbox after a week of artistic sloth and my living room may never be the same again. Yes, I did sit down right at the top of the stairs with the toddler to paint while his siblings chose their colors and spread out across the room. But Walky has red paint in his hair and down his cheek, and after I took his diaper off (don't ask) he somehow SAT in the paint (think "butt-rainbow") after which of course he stepped in green paint. He picked up his empty red cup and I could see the wheels turning in his head as he looked down at his penis, then back at the cup. Yep, cup on the penis! Wow. Two points for making the toss to the sink.
Then he stepped on his sister's artwork.
Then his sister slid the box of baby-wipes onto her paint palette. Then she slid the box across my carpet. Blue carpet. That's hot.
Walker now has his finger buried to the hilt in his nose. Dear Jesus, Zeus, Allah, Mother, ANYONE...send me patience, and please ignore all the swearing.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
RTT: Tuesday Titles
Wildlife EncountersLast week, as I left my house at 2:30am to get to my sister before she gave birth, I was shocked to see a huge deer standing just a few feet away on my lawn. By the time my brain registered "deer" it was gone in a flash of tail over my hedge, it's hooves clattering down the road. I was crazy vigilant as I drove to the freeway, thinking, "Where the hell do deer live in Brooklyn Park?!"
A few days later, during an early morning potty-run with Katie, I noticed a baby robin in the long grass beside my garden. I tried to shoo it away, as Dom loves hunting, but the poor little thing just tried to run deeper into the grass (and failed.) Thinking he'd run like hell, I reached over and picked him up. He was fine until I lifted him up-then he screamed, "PEEP-PEEP-PEEP-PEEP! I carefully placed him as high as I could on the branch of a tree and then watched his brothers and sisters practice attempts at hang-gliding awhile before going inside.
This morning Walker climbed into my bed already covered in black marker. I gently reminded him that coloring on anything but paper is naughty. "Why?" "Because it makes mama and daddy feel sad and angry when you color on our things." "Why?" Well, crap.
My daughter just informed me that the baby told her, "Shut up, Stupidhead!" WTF?! Not okay!
I'm having difficulty thinking randomly. I can't tell if I'm feeling peaceful or completely refusing to deal with reality. I keep trying to concentrate and am rewarded with white noise. Not good, Bob, not good!
I am being worn down by the constant, "Mom?! Mom, can I play Neopets? Mama? Hey, mom, I really wanna play Neopets. When can I play Neopets? Hunh, Mama? Hunh?! Mama!" that my son is dishing out. I give.
While I'm eating Butter Pecan ice cream for lunch, visit Keely. Or I'll send Westie to pester you until you do.
I'm Totally Screwed
This morning Walker climbed into my bed already covered in black marker. I gently reminded him that coloring on anything but paper is naughty. "Why?" "Because it makes mama and daddy feel sad and angry when you color on our things." "Why?" Well, crap.
My daughter just informed me that the baby told her, "Shut up, Stupidhead!" WTF?! Not okay!
My Head is an Empty Room
I'm having difficulty thinking randomly. I can't tell if I'm feeling peaceful or completely refusing to deal with reality. I keep trying to concentrate and am rewarded with white noise. Not good, Bob, not good!
My Children Could Nag the Leg Off a Mule
I am being worn down by the constant, "Mom?! Mom, can I play Neopets? Mama? Hey, mom, I really wanna play Neopets. When can I play Neopets? Hunh, Mama? Hunh?! Mama!" that my son is dishing out. I give.
While I'm eating Butter Pecan ice cream for lunch, visit Keely. Or I'll send Westie to pester you until you do.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Spin Cycle: Day In The Life
I'd like to say that I'm the kind of mom, nay, the kind of woman, that runs her life in a smooth and regimented way. Sadly, this just isn't so. I blame it on the hippie artists I fell in with. :p
On a typical day:
I wake up when a) my husband crawls over me to get up or b) my boys climb into bed with me, lugging an army of Pokemon guys. If I was clever enough to bring a diaper and wipes into my room the night before (usually not a problem) I change Walker and play with the boys until a) my bladder screams at me or b) Katie's bladder makes her bark and do the potty dance. Sissy lolls around in bed reading until I call her to please take Katie outside. I head to the bathroom, fending off little boys (with help from a locked door) long enough to change, wash up, shove my hair on top of my head, etc. Somewhere during all of this, West will holler, "Mama?! Can we have fruit snacks?!" and I'll holler back, "Only if you get some for your brother and eat them at the table!" Peace reigns for 3.7 minutes.
I get upstairs in time for my husbands first call of the day. This is only the first of many calls that I will receive from my beloved over the course of the day. He'll say, "Just making sure you were up!" I'll say, "Yep, I'm up." We'll make small-talk for a few minutes, he'll give up and get back to work. I'll make the kids breakfast-usually French toast or waffles, fruit and milk. (My kids'll only eat one kind of cereal: Peanut Butter Spheres. They can't market them as peanut butter balls, because then they'd sound like Chef on South Park.) On a good day, I'll grab a protein drink or Bolthouse Chai but really, it's too damn early for me to eat. I feed the cats and Katie their canned food and tell West to drink his milk.
Most days, we snap on PBS (oh thank you, Jesus, for PBS!) in time for Sesame Street and maybe even Dragon Tales. I pull up the internet on my laptop and read or post blogs. This is it, peoples. That's all the time I can promise you, although I may stop back around the time that I should be sleeping. During this time, I'll field another call or two from my husband ("I just wanted to hear your voice." "I'm on break." "How's your day going?") and several whiny, "Mama?! Can I play my DS?"es. I will misspell tomorrow (tomarrow) and drive myself crazy.
At this point I normally take Katydid out again and putz in the yard while she does her business. I pull weeds and corral toys and love on my plants:
At 12ish, I slap lunch together (typically pb sandwiches and a veggie-a Lean Pocket for me) before changing the baby, hunting down a Nukie and putting him down for a nap. He'll generally start with, "No! No nigh-nigh time!" and end with gratefully snuggling into his pillow. I kick the kids outside, or let them do some kind of art or play DS or a computer game. Jesse comes home for lunch and I generally touch base with my mom and sisters in a flurry of phonecalls.
When Walker wakes up, we could do most anything: Head to my mom's, where the kids take turns pushing the buttons for the elevator, or run errands:
or play at the park:
or hang out with friends:
At the end of the day, Jesse and I take turns making dinner and taking care of bedtime The boys go to bed first most nights, as Sissy is allowed to stay up "late" every other night. I lay in Westie's bed and read stories and the kids take turns picking songs for me to sing, usually "Over in the Meadow" and Grover's "Wubba Wubba" song. Then we say the same prayer we've said since Sissy was born: "Thank you, God, for this day. Bless me, and everyone who loved and took care of me today. Amen."
I make the sign of the cross on each child's forehead and say, "You are my beloved. On you my favor rests." I walk to the door and say "Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite. If they do, whack 'em with a shoe, then they'll cry, 'Boo-hoo!' Mama loves you." I shut the door.
For the rest of the night, I clean, watch Gilmore Girls with Winter or a movie with Jes', shower, some nights blog or water my plants until well after the sun has gone down. Typing this out, I'm reminded that I've got a pretty damn good life. Routinely, even.
For more posts about routines, head to The Spin Cycle!
(P.S. If anyone knows how to make my pictures fit on this @#*!ing blog without changing my layout or cutting and pasting from the top of the blog where the "add a picture" blog feature keeps loading the damn things, for the love of God, tell me!)
On a typical day:
I wake up when a) my husband crawls over me to get up or b) my boys climb into bed with me, lugging an army of Pokemon guys. If I was clever enough to bring a diaper and wipes into my room the night before (usually not a problem) I change Walker and play with the boys until a) my bladder screams at me or b) Katie's bladder makes her bark and do the potty dance. Sissy lolls around in bed reading until I call her to please take Katie outside. I head to the bathroom, fending off little boys (with help from a locked door) long enough to change, wash up, shove my hair on top of my head, etc. Somewhere during all of this, West will holler, "Mama?! Can we have fruit snacks?!" and I'll holler back, "Only if you get some for your brother and eat them at the table!" Peace reigns for 3.7 minutes.
I get upstairs in time for my husbands first call of the day. This is only the first of many calls that I will receive from my beloved over the course of the day. He'll say, "Just making sure you were up!" I'll say, "Yep, I'm up." We'll make small-talk for a few minutes, he'll give up and get back to work. I'll make the kids breakfast-usually French toast or waffles, fruit and milk. (My kids'll only eat one kind of cereal: Peanut Butter Spheres. They can't market them as peanut butter balls, because then they'd sound like Chef on South Park.) On a good day, I'll grab a protein drink or Bolthouse Chai but really, it's too damn early for me to eat. I feed the cats and Katie their canned food and tell West to drink his milk.
Most days, we snap on PBS (oh thank you, Jesus, for PBS!) in time for Sesame Street and maybe even Dragon Tales. I pull up the internet on my laptop and read or post blogs. This is it, peoples. That's all the time I can promise you, although I may stop back around the time that I should be sleeping. During this time, I'll field another call or two from my husband ("I just wanted to hear your voice." "I'm on break." "How's your day going?") and several whiny, "Mama?! Can I play my DS?"es. I will misspell tomorrow (tomarrow) and drive myself crazy.
At this point I normally take Katydid out again and putz in the yard while she does her business. I pull weeds and corral toys and love on my plants:
At 12ish, I slap lunch together (typically pb sandwiches and a veggie-a Lean Pocket for me) before changing the baby, hunting down a Nukie and putting him down for a nap. He'll generally start with, "No! No nigh-nigh time!" and end with gratefully snuggling into his pillow. I kick the kids outside, or let them do some kind of art or play DS or a computer game. Jesse comes home for lunch and I generally touch base with my mom and sisters in a flurry of phonecalls.
When Walker wakes up, we could do most anything: Head to my mom's, where the kids take turns pushing the buttons for the elevator, or run errands:
or play at the park:
or hang out with friends:
At the end of the day, Jesse and I take turns making dinner and taking care of bedtime The boys go to bed first most nights, as Sissy is allowed to stay up "late" every other night. I lay in Westie's bed and read stories and the kids take turns picking songs for me to sing, usually "Over in the Meadow" and Grover's "Wubba Wubba" song. Then we say the same prayer we've said since Sissy was born: "Thank you, God, for this day. Bless me, and everyone who loved and took care of me today. Amen."
I make the sign of the cross on each child's forehead and say, "You are my beloved. On you my favor rests." I walk to the door and say "Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite. If they do, whack 'em with a shoe, then they'll cry, 'Boo-hoo!' Mama loves you." I shut the door.
For the rest of the night, I clean, watch Gilmore Girls with Winter or a movie with Jes', shower, some nights blog or water my plants until well after the sun has gone down. Typing this out, I'm reminded that I've got a pretty damn good life. Routinely, even.
For more posts about routines, head to The Spin Cycle!
(P.S. If anyone knows how to make my pictures fit on this @#*!ing blog without changing my layout or cutting and pasting from the top of the blog where the "add a picture" blog feature keeps loading the damn things, for the love of God, tell me!)
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