They looked pretty great, until the rain came. We survived! Next year I have to put myself in a costume too.
Very tough to convince Penny not to eat every piece of candy each time she added it to her bag. However, when I told her that the whole point of Halloween was to "collect the candy, not eat it right away", she replied with a big "Oh! O-tay!" - as if we should have told her beforehand.
Later when we were all sitting at home scouring over the candy supply, Eloise says, "Hear that. More rain."
Penny shrugs her shoulders and says, "Aw. Bummer."
Ruby asks, "Um Penny, did you just say bummer?"
She responds, "Yeah. Bummer."
Fits of hysterics.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Like Father Like Daughter...
This seems to be the norm around here. I'm really ready for a new month and a different rotation for Myles.
Getting Excited...
These girls are just ridiculous... in anticipation of Halloween madness, they have tried on lots of costumes and finally decided. Ruby will be a witch (with lots of makeup, hairspray and "bloody glow-in-the-dark teeth if you can find them at the iParty store Mommy"), Eloise will be a Midnight Fairy (not a very nice fairy I'm told... also in need of lots of glitter and colored hairspray) and Penny will be their pet spider (or as she pronounces it: 'pider).
The face painting shots here demonstrate their affection for the arts - which I might add, they have a knack for. I am so very very afraid to see what they choose for costumes when 2017 rolls around.
However, they are welcome to wear whatever they please at the Eclectic Halloween party in 2022. (That's a nice Wesleyan reference people... sorry.)
Can't wait to show photos from tomorrow, provided that we don't have to wear snow pants underneath everything.
The face painting shots here demonstrate their affection for the arts - which I might add, they have a knack for. I am so very very afraid to see what they choose for costumes when 2017 rolls around.
However, they are welcome to wear whatever they please at the Eclectic Halloween party in 2022. (That's a nice Wesleyan reference people... sorry.)
Can't wait to show photos from tomorrow, provided that we don't have to wear snow pants underneath everything.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Miss Nelson Returns
I mentioned that one day I would emerge from the dark fog of my head and post something uplifting - something different. Then I got terrified that perhaps I was the kind of person who lives their life in a permanent state of moderate dissatisfaction. The professionals might refer to me as "depressed". I thought, "Ugh. I'm that complete bore who complains about shit endlessly and never digs herself out of her own misery."
Well, it's taken me a couple of weeks to work with these thoughts and I have successfully shoveled away a fair amount of crap in my head. This is all due to the fact that my children are all in school and there are moments where I can think. Just plain think about what is next, where I want to head, what fulfills me... it's allowed me to be relatively happy for a change. Two couples therapy sessions shed some optimistic light into my world. And I started going to the print shop more... took some refresher courses and am now hooked into the world of etching. There's nothing like working with hazardous chemicals while making art - I swear it's a sick rush. I mean, acid eating metal? Wearing a dust mask? Bottles of varnish and ink with skulls and poison symbols on them? Total adoration. (We are all trying very hard to print our works in the least toxic ways... I swear.)
During my hours in the studio, Penny is either at her new daycare or at a little morning "preschool". The separations have been really really rough for her. She's a totally attached munchkin and has spent most of her waking hours with me exclusively. The guilt of leaving her to indulge myself in my "potential career" is painful. Dropping Penny off with someone else to care for her while I go make art (without a salary to speak of) makes me feel like I'm headed to the local salon for a pedicure while my child suffers with a stranger. In this emotional process however, I can see just how ridiculously important it is to love what you do for a living. That's the message I am choosing to send my girls as they grow up - and I'm sure I'm going to hear it from them when they are 18 (and 30) and remind me of all that I didn't do to enrich their lives - choose what makes you happy. Simple shit.
Aw, this isn't to say I hit the easy road and my life is smooth from this point on. Myles and I continue to struggle. I feel like I work overtime trying to fix "us" - yet I'm finally done with attempting to fix him! (As far as I'm concerned he needs to take responsibility for his own adult garbage. He seems permanently dissatisfied with lots of things, but I'm going to try to ignore that for a little while longer. And if it persists beyond his residency, then I will re-assess.)
Phew. I must say it's great to write shit down again. Good to be back...
On a funny note - a few weeks ago I was telling Ruby that it wasn't a great idea to put her hands down her pants... and she replied, "Why not? Daddy puts his hands down his pants all the time."
(Dying laughing.)
Well, it's taken me a couple of weeks to work with these thoughts and I have successfully shoveled away a fair amount of crap in my head. This is all due to the fact that my children are all in school and there are moments where I can think. Just plain think about what is next, where I want to head, what fulfills me... it's allowed me to be relatively happy for a change. Two couples therapy sessions shed some optimistic light into my world. And I started going to the print shop more... took some refresher courses and am now hooked into the world of etching. There's nothing like working with hazardous chemicals while making art - I swear it's a sick rush. I mean, acid eating metal? Wearing a dust mask? Bottles of varnish and ink with skulls and poison symbols on them? Total adoration. (We are all trying very hard to print our works in the least toxic ways... I swear.)
During my hours in the studio, Penny is either at her new daycare or at a little morning "preschool". The separations have been really really rough for her. She's a totally attached munchkin and has spent most of her waking hours with me exclusively. The guilt of leaving her to indulge myself in my "potential career" is painful. Dropping Penny off with someone else to care for her while I go make art (without a salary to speak of) makes me feel like I'm headed to the local salon for a pedicure while my child suffers with a stranger. In this emotional process however, I can see just how ridiculously important it is to love what you do for a living. That's the message I am choosing to send my girls as they grow up - and I'm sure I'm going to hear it from them when they are 18 (and 30) and remind me of all that I didn't do to enrich their lives - choose what makes you happy. Simple shit.
Aw, this isn't to say I hit the easy road and my life is smooth from this point on. Myles and I continue to struggle. I feel like I work overtime trying to fix "us" - yet I'm finally done with attempting to fix him! (As far as I'm concerned he needs to take responsibility for his own adult garbage. He seems permanently dissatisfied with lots of things, but I'm going to try to ignore that for a little while longer. And if it persists beyond his residency, then I will re-assess.)
Phew. I must say it's great to write shit down again. Good to be back...
On a funny note - a few weeks ago I was telling Ruby that it wasn't a great idea to put her hands down her pants... and she replied, "Why not? Daddy puts his hands down his pants all the time."
(Dying laughing.)
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Two down, one to go...
About 5 years ago I remember taking the very young, very scheduled and very stroller-bound Ruby and Eloise on a walk up Church Street in Burlington. I was attempting to purchase something at a store called Scribbles, when the mom behind me in line said, "I just dropped my twin girls off at Kindergarten," in a very disconnected, deadpan kind of way. Immediately I wanted to bother her with all kinds of questions, as I felt I was living in some kind of existential hell with two babies... but instead I replied, "Oh wow! That must be quite a milestone!" She said yes, and we kind of awkwardly parted ways. For whatever reason, that meeting stuck in my head for all these years - as many parents remind me time and again that your children aren't young forever and your time with them is fleeting. Honestly, that's the only stuff that gets me through the variety of struggles and worries on a day to day basis. Sure, it's hard to cherish moments... believe me... but when my nervous girls walked up to the school yard this morning, begging me not to leave their side, I was shocked at how badly I wanted them to leap right in with their friends and head off to the classroom!
But when their teacher gathered all the kids together in a single file line and whispered something magical to them, El and Ru both turned to us and shouted, "Bye Mommy and Daddy!!!! See ya later!"
My heart moved into my throat, and my eyes watered over a bit.
Today is the beginning of something very new for me... for all of us. If anything, I'm feeling confused about what lies on the horizon. I promise to keep everyone posted. Penny starts at a new school next week!
But when their teacher gathered all the kids together in a single file line and whispered something magical to them, El and Ru both turned to us and shouted, "Bye Mommy and Daddy!!!! See ya later!"
My heart moved into my throat, and my eyes watered over a bit.
Today is the beginning of something very new for me... for all of us. If anything, I'm feeling confused about what lies on the horizon. I promise to keep everyone posted. Penny starts at a new school next week!
Monday, August 17, 2009
It's About Time...
My munchkins with me at sunset on Steps Beach, back in July. This photo feels like it was ages ago when the summer was new... when we had to wear sweatshirts.
Now we are melting. Sweating. Arguing. Complaining. Searching out swimming opportunities and preparing for Kindergarten on August 26th.
The summer months are too fast for me - perhaps the only people who savor the time are the kids, who can barely wait 5 minutes for me to fry an egg.
Now we are melting. Sweating. Arguing. Complaining. Searching out swimming opportunities and preparing for Kindergarten on August 26th.
The summer months are too fast for me - perhaps the only people who savor the time are the kids, who can barely wait 5 minutes for me to fry an egg.
Sunday, August 02, 2009
-'cation
My month away in Nantucket was a treat-and-a-half. But not totally devoid of frustration, lack of sleep, high-maintenance child-wrangling, bugbites, unwanted sunblock applications, and girl drama... you could call it a "vacation" to a degree. I prefer to think of it as "Time away from husband feeling kind of single-mom-ish but supported by my family-cation".
Nantucket is a fantasy world. It doesn't surprise me that 13 years ago I fell in love there. There is such a sweetness in the air - cultivated no doubt by ocean salt spray and creepy old spirits from the whaling days. Wild sunset skies... dunes... evening swims. Shadows and crickets. Falling asleep to the gentle sounds of rowdy vacationers and lonely foghorns. The rain on our rooftop was worthy of a relaxation podcast - and at that, it only rained at night or in the early morning. Fog burned off to give us mostly beach-worthy days... the kids were in paradise.
Penelope turned 2 on July 3rd, my mom turned 66 on July 4th. I feel like I'm 45, lining up for a turn in the Mid-life Crisis Circus. So I chopped about 8 inches of hair off my head... a trendy low-maintenance bob, I guess. I went to a bunch of incredible yoga classes taught by one of my favorite teachers from Providence, I rode my bike, I ran 2 road races. I went out and drank too much on more than one occasion. Got my swerve on. (I love the drunken illusions when your belly's full of gourmet treats: the ebb and flow of beautiful humans groomed like polo ponies, walking arm in arm, tiptoeing across the cobblestone streets, stumbling on the brick sidewalks. There's always a sunburned booze-hound sailor guy somewhere who laughs so loud that he rattles the glasses behind the bar. Oh, and those goddamn late-night fish tacos. I would kill for one right now.) There were these moments that felt really really good, yet somehow I thought that every second away from my kids was a huge burden on my mom or a detriment to my girls' mental health. I know I know. Silly. But feeling guilty is my great talent.
Leaving the island hurt like punches. I mean, for the first time in ages I had to blink back a couple of tears while we all tossed pennies off the ferry deck (local tradition: toss a penny from the boat as you round Brant Point Lighthouse to insure that you will return to the island again). And I'm not one to get sad. Shocking.
But we are home to the new rainforest of Vermont. Pests have devoured many of our garden delights... and perennials. Fucking slugs ate all the marigolds. The local organic food is spectacular however, and I'm pretty inspired in the kitchen. The twins got their Kindergarten class assignment and fortunately it's the teacher that I got the best first impression from. She has a guinea pig in her classroom, which will do her huge favors in the likability department. Ruby and Eloise begin gymnastics/soccer camp tomorrow - leaving Penny and I to do what we do best in the mornings: errands. (Poor portable Penelope...) As for Myles, he's in the pediatric intensive care unit this month, and then he gets a week vacation (that he'll spend half of tiling our bathroom). I'm relatively solo-momming yet again. Almost like Kate Gosselin, minus 5.
Well, one of these days I'm going to sit down to this fucking blog and tell you all something uplifting - I swear. Something monumental and enlightening. Something joyful.
Just you wait...
Nantucket is a fantasy world. It doesn't surprise me that 13 years ago I fell in love there. There is such a sweetness in the air - cultivated no doubt by ocean salt spray and creepy old spirits from the whaling days. Wild sunset skies... dunes... evening swims. Shadows and crickets. Falling asleep to the gentle sounds of rowdy vacationers and lonely foghorns. The rain on our rooftop was worthy of a relaxation podcast - and at that, it only rained at night or in the early morning. Fog burned off to give us mostly beach-worthy days... the kids were in paradise.
Penelope turned 2 on July 3rd, my mom turned 66 on July 4th. I feel like I'm 45, lining up for a turn in the Mid-life Crisis Circus. So I chopped about 8 inches of hair off my head... a trendy low-maintenance bob, I guess. I went to a bunch of incredible yoga classes taught by one of my favorite teachers from Providence, I rode my bike, I ran 2 road races. I went out and drank too much on more than one occasion. Got my swerve on. (I love the drunken illusions when your belly's full of gourmet treats: the ebb and flow of beautiful humans groomed like polo ponies, walking arm in arm, tiptoeing across the cobblestone streets, stumbling on the brick sidewalks. There's always a sunburned booze-hound sailor guy somewhere who laughs so loud that he rattles the glasses behind the bar. Oh, and those goddamn late-night fish tacos. I would kill for one right now.) There were these moments that felt really really good, yet somehow I thought that every second away from my kids was a huge burden on my mom or a detriment to my girls' mental health. I know I know. Silly. But feeling guilty is my great talent.
Leaving the island hurt like punches. I mean, for the first time in ages I had to blink back a couple of tears while we all tossed pennies off the ferry deck (local tradition: toss a penny from the boat as you round Brant Point Lighthouse to insure that you will return to the island again). And I'm not one to get sad. Shocking.
But we are home to the new rainforest of Vermont. Pests have devoured many of our garden delights... and perennials. Fucking slugs ate all the marigolds. The local organic food is spectacular however, and I'm pretty inspired in the kitchen. The twins got their Kindergarten class assignment and fortunately it's the teacher that I got the best first impression from. She has a guinea pig in her classroom, which will do her huge favors in the likability department. Ruby and Eloise begin gymnastics/soccer camp tomorrow - leaving Penny and I to do what we do best in the mornings: errands. (Poor portable Penelope...) As for Myles, he's in the pediatric intensive care unit this month, and then he gets a week vacation (that he'll spend half of tiling our bathroom). I'm relatively solo-momming yet again. Almost like Kate Gosselin, minus 5.
Well, one of these days I'm going to sit down to this fucking blog and tell you all something uplifting - I swear. Something monumental and enlightening. Something joyful.
Just you wait...
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Frantic Emptiness
Vermont summer nights have brought us late bedtimes, visiting cousins, fireflies and slugs. Deer have discovered my perennial garden and I am restless while sleeping... waiting to see the motion detection light come on and then to shout out my window like a grumpy old lady as a sweet little doe scampers away.
The twins are like monsters without school, Myles is working 7 AM-7 PM this month with about 2 free weekends. Otherwise it's a 6 day work week for him. We barely communicate. Apparently the kids sense that something is "off", and have a hard time figuring out how to get our attention in positive ways. I barely want to have play dates because the girls ruthlessly torture their friends with verbal abuse. They know just how to hurt feelings... and mine too. So I've done a bit of an overhaul with how things will operate in the house - from earning their treats and allowance, to a zero tolerance policy with attitude and rude language and most importantly - reinforcing the benefits of positive behavior. It seems to be working. The only problem lies in my energy level to keep up the consistency. Any glitch in my "system" gives poor results, no doubt.
A Facebook "friend" (we've never met) who recently gave birth to twins updated her status as being: "scattered, smothered and diced". I couldn't relate more. I am a greasy, fatty, chopped up Waffle House hash brown. I wanted to tell her that things would really improve once the kids were older... but that would have been a cliche and a lie. Twins do have the bonus of a built-in buddy when they grow up, but they also have a significant amount of "twinny" baggage to deal with socially. And to be a parent to their twin-ness is complicated. (For example, inviting 2 friends to play usually works better than inviting 1, and telling one they did a great job making their bed when the other is being a grump and won't cooperate makes me feel like I'm picking favorites.)
Fortunately the end of this month will allow Myles and I to take a trip to Southwest Harbor Maine for a friend's wedding. We have enlisted the help of his dad and sister for the weekend and we'll take a 6 hour drive out there. Hopefully we won't want to kill one another by the time we get back and we can have a bit of relaxation... it is our 6 year anniversary on the 28th after all.
The following Monday we head to Nantucket for the month of July. No Myles, save for 1 weekend. It should be altogether weird. I don't have better words - and I don't know how I'll feel. Part of me doesn't care how I feel. I'm really tired of figuring out feelings, mine or anybody else's. It's pretty lonely. Pretty empty. Pretty depressing.
Last night I had a dream that I was running a marathon - the Middletown CT Marathon (which doesn't exist). I started out with a group of friends, running at what we thought was the front of the pack, but somehow we got separated. My running seemed slow and frustrating. My feet like cinder blocks, my stride short and useless. I turned to a friend and said, "just so you know, when you are running in a dream, it's impossible to lift up your thighs and really pick up the pace." She seemed confused. But I knew I was in a dream. So I switched to a side step. It was much easier... skip skip-skip... We eventually finished, and I crossed the line sideways. Nobody was there to greet us. The following day Myles was scanning the results in a local newspaper. "How'd I do?" I asked. "6 hours 25 minutes, " he said in a monotone.
And that's all I remember. Frantic. Empty. Scattered. Smothered. Covered. Chunked. Diced.
The twins are like monsters without school, Myles is working 7 AM-7 PM this month with about 2 free weekends. Otherwise it's a 6 day work week for him. We barely communicate. Apparently the kids sense that something is "off", and have a hard time figuring out how to get our attention in positive ways. I barely want to have play dates because the girls ruthlessly torture their friends with verbal abuse. They know just how to hurt feelings... and mine too. So I've done a bit of an overhaul with how things will operate in the house - from earning their treats and allowance, to a zero tolerance policy with attitude and rude language and most importantly - reinforcing the benefits of positive behavior. It seems to be working. The only problem lies in my energy level to keep up the consistency. Any glitch in my "system" gives poor results, no doubt.
A Facebook "friend" (we've never met) who recently gave birth to twins updated her status as being: "scattered, smothered and diced". I couldn't relate more. I am a greasy, fatty, chopped up Waffle House hash brown. I wanted to tell her that things would really improve once the kids were older... but that would have been a cliche and a lie. Twins do have the bonus of a built-in buddy when they grow up, but they also have a significant amount of "twinny" baggage to deal with socially. And to be a parent to their twin-ness is complicated. (For example, inviting 2 friends to play usually works better than inviting 1, and telling one they did a great job making their bed when the other is being a grump and won't cooperate makes me feel like I'm picking favorites.)
Fortunately the end of this month will allow Myles and I to take a trip to Southwest Harbor Maine for a friend's wedding. We have enlisted the help of his dad and sister for the weekend and we'll take a 6 hour drive out there. Hopefully we won't want to kill one another by the time we get back and we can have a bit of relaxation... it is our 6 year anniversary on the 28th after all.
The following Monday we head to Nantucket for the month of July. No Myles, save for 1 weekend. It should be altogether weird. I don't have better words - and I don't know how I'll feel. Part of me doesn't care how I feel. I'm really tired of figuring out feelings, mine or anybody else's. It's pretty lonely. Pretty empty. Pretty depressing.
Last night I had a dream that I was running a marathon - the Middletown CT Marathon (which doesn't exist). I started out with a group of friends, running at what we thought was the front of the pack, but somehow we got separated. My running seemed slow and frustrating. My feet like cinder blocks, my stride short and useless. I turned to a friend and said, "just so you know, when you are running in a dream, it's impossible to lift up your thighs and really pick up the pace." She seemed confused. But I knew I was in a dream. So I switched to a side step. It was much easier... skip skip-skip... We eventually finished, and I crossed the line sideways. Nobody was there to greet us. The following day Myles was scanning the results in a local newspaper. "How'd I do?" I asked. "6 hours 25 minutes, " he said in a monotone.
And that's all I remember. Frantic. Empty. Scattered. Smothered. Covered. Chunked. Diced.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
