Before I get into things, I have to yet again apologize for the lack of visuals. Uploading photos takes me more time than I actually have... so I'm actually prioritizing by just getting out these words. Amazing. You just heard me admit I have some sense of priorities, which is relatively new. (For now my therapy is money well spent. I can feel it lifting me out of a fog every day.)
Yesterday I made a big adjustment and took myself for a solo trip to Shaw's Market. If you know me well enough, it should come as no surprise to hear that I am a food snob. I shop at the co-op in Hanover, I prefer organic, and local if I can get it, and I cannot stand taking my kids to a crazy fucked up mainstream market (candy and t.v. characters selling empty food EVERYWHERE). I had a minute to take MYSELF to the market, sans kiddos, and I realized how tight our money is these days. For the moment it's not the economy affecting my wallet, but the little ones' recent bout of pneumonia, everybody is hungrier and thirstier than usual while taking steroids and antibiotics. Oh, and meds for THREE kids... even with good health insurance we pay too much. Christmas gifts set us back a bit, plus heating costs. Long story, I know... but we needed a lot of food, so I chose Shaws.
After taking some time to pick optimal goodies and deals throughout the market (English Muffins! "Conventional" Granny Smiths, FROZEN chicken nuggets, things with hydrogenated oil), I grabbed a 16 pack of Scott toilet paper... extra soft. I tucked it underneath my cart to conserve space. Well, I paid for my gargantuan load of groceries and was quite pleased when the bill came to be $157. That seemed really reasonable considering how much I had packed in!
I strolled the cart out to my car, started loading the bags in the trunk and realized, "Motherfucker, I have neglected to pay for the toilet paper". It never made it up on the checkout counter.
(Big pause. Lots of internal dialogue.)
"I SO don't want to head back into the store in order to show Shaws how honorable I am." "If I drive away with a FREE giant toilet paper pack, will I get hit by a car tomorrow?" "Who just saw me do this on camera?" "How much was the 16 pack anyway?" "Do I deserve this much free ass-wiping material?"
The giant pack was thrown hastily in the trunk.
In the end I decided I DESERVED lots of free toilet paper. Christ, this was my parting gift for spending $157, like when you buy too much makeup from Lancome and they hit you with some lame nylon bag and a tacky lipstick for free...
What a relief. I knew I did the right thing despite the poor karmic consequences! In fact, at this point I'm convincing myself the free toilet paper was a gift from the New Year's Resolution Gods - they are smiling on me as I make better choices, authentic Mollie Nelson choices that will ultimately benefit my three little ladies. Even if that means frozen dinners and more processed food... that doesn't have to be the norm, nor does it have to be forever. It's simply a choice for now.
Just now.
And that's enough.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 08, 2008
Conundrum with the Shrinky Dink
The weird thing about therapy is...
being in therapy.
I am spending a lot of time debating whether any of my time and money spent focusing on myself is useful. I know that's a pretty defeatist attitude, and I know some of that attitude is fueled by some not-so-encouraging family members. How shitty is that? I've also been reminded by Myles that therapy is really a luxury of the upper-middle class. This of course makes me feel HORRIBLE. We can pay for therapy, it's true. And we aren't victims of sexual assault, alcoholics, addicts or members of the lower economic strata... more guilt for my brain. I can't stand it.
This week my assignment was to work on checking in on how I FEEL, rather than trying to tackle some big task (like applying to school, finding childcare, being honest with my mother, calling my financial advisor). I found it pretty funny to realize that I view a therapist like a teacher or a coach giving me homework, and I want concrete things to look for, to mend, to solve... She would rather I take some time to breathe and notice where I'm at emotionally with the things I do.
And the result from this week: nothing. I felt yucky thinking about myself too much.
So I did what I usually do, and have done for the last 13 years, which is to kind of disconnect from my internal dialogue and get involved with doing stuff. We started gingerbread houses with the twins, we decorated the tree, I made beef stew (hysterical... stew always makes me think about Beef Stroke-me-off), I'm making appointments and play dates all over the place. Myles is working his ass off and I can barely think about what he's up to. This is how I deal and distract myself. Why would I want to stop and FEEL how I feel? Especially during the holiday season, when we are more focused on family and friends and rituals... Why bother with ourSELVES?
Acknowledging all of these things has been really really exhausting - yet somehow I am still scrambling around, finding people to look after the kids so I can take myself to the little tiny office above the bank in town... to sit with my shoes off, in an overstuffed couch, face to face with an 50 year old jewish lesbian from Brooklyn who thinks she can help me out. If you had told me this would be my reality 10 years ago I would have laughed in your face.
At the end of the day I do convince myself that the therapist is good. She reminds me that in the end, all we really have is ourselves. When I consider how individual happiness positively affects the people around you - I can't argue against that. So I'm sold on taking care of myself. I just feels kind of lame to admit it.
being in therapy.
I am spending a lot of time debating whether any of my time and money spent focusing on myself is useful. I know that's a pretty defeatist attitude, and I know some of that attitude is fueled by some not-so-encouraging family members. How shitty is that? I've also been reminded by Myles that therapy is really a luxury of the upper-middle class. This of course makes me feel HORRIBLE. We can pay for therapy, it's true. And we aren't victims of sexual assault, alcoholics, addicts or members of the lower economic strata... more guilt for my brain. I can't stand it.
This week my assignment was to work on checking in on how I FEEL, rather than trying to tackle some big task (like applying to school, finding childcare, being honest with my mother, calling my financial advisor). I found it pretty funny to realize that I view a therapist like a teacher or a coach giving me homework, and I want concrete things to look for, to mend, to solve... She would rather I take some time to breathe and notice where I'm at emotionally with the things I do.
And the result from this week: nothing. I felt yucky thinking about myself too much.
So I did what I usually do, and have done for the last 13 years, which is to kind of disconnect from my internal dialogue and get involved with doing stuff. We started gingerbread houses with the twins, we decorated the tree, I made beef stew (hysterical... stew always makes me think about Beef Stroke-me-off), I'm making appointments and play dates all over the place. Myles is working his ass off and I can barely think about what he's up to. This is how I deal and distract myself. Why would I want to stop and FEEL how I feel? Especially during the holiday season, when we are more focused on family and friends and rituals... Why bother with ourSELVES?
Acknowledging all of these things has been really really exhausting - yet somehow I am still scrambling around, finding people to look after the kids so I can take myself to the little tiny office above the bank in town... to sit with my shoes off, in an overstuffed couch, face to face with an 50 year old jewish lesbian from Brooklyn who thinks she can help me out. If you had told me this would be my reality 10 years ago I would have laughed in your face.
At the end of the day I do convince myself that the therapist is good. She reminds me that in the end, all we really have is ourselves. When I consider how individual happiness positively affects the people around you - I can't argue against that. So I'm sold on taking care of myself. I just feels kind of lame to admit it.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
so much for photos
Myles got to spend his birthday on call in the NICU. I got to spend the day freezing my ass off with the kids.
I am so sick and tired of static hair... which is a bad sign, considering it's November.
The wood stove is excellent. Retrieving wood from the wood pile is not.
I can make a perfect chocolate cake with 3 children under the age of 4.
I am on day 4 of diarrhea diapers with Penny (this is the kind of virus that hangs around for 7-10 days, hurrah).
My lips are so chapped that they look like I've put lip liner on.
I won a bid on eBay for limited edition perfume. I can't decide whether I'm proud of it or not...
I am so sick and tired of static hair... which is a bad sign, considering it's November.
The wood stove is excellent. Retrieving wood from the wood pile is not.
I can make a perfect chocolate cake with 3 children under the age of 4.
I am on day 4 of diarrhea diapers with Penny (this is the kind of virus that hangs around for 7-10 days, hurrah).
My lips are so chapped that they look like I've put lip liner on.
I won a bid on eBay for limited edition perfume. I can't decide whether I'm proud of it or not...
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
empty
Here's what's weird: I arrive at this page and think... fuck, now that I'm talking to a therapist once a week, I have nothing to share with my friends. I'm drained! My verbal diarrhea is all seized up. It's a sensation akin to constipation.
The emotions I'm confronting in the shrink's office are so deeply disconcerting and enlightening - I want to smile and cry about everything.
As for kid news, Eloise doesn't have a broken foot. Just a bad sprain (inflicted by her twin sister of course).
Perhaps my next post will have pictures from our kid-free weekend in NYC... lots of good times, good food, good people (MY PEOPLE) and a beautiful wedding.
The emotions I'm confronting in the shrink's office are so deeply disconcerting and enlightening - I want to smile and cry about everything.
As for kid news, Eloise doesn't have a broken foot. Just a bad sprain (inflicted by her twin sister of course).
Perhaps my next post will have pictures from our kid-free weekend in NYC... lots of good times, good food, good people (MY PEOPLE) and a beautiful wedding.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
thanks and i love you
Just a brief howdy to send my appreciation to you guys for loving emails and support. I know my last post sounded horrible. I didn't mean to scare anyone into thinking my marriage is done. I am happy, however, to let everyone in on the fact that Myles and I have LOTS to work on as a couple.
Beyond that, I need to work on myself!
Off to take Eloise to the doctor. We think she might have broken a little bone in her foot...
Beyond that, I need to work on myself!
Off to take Eloise to the doctor. We think she might have broken a little bone in her foot...
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Honesty... Policy
As I just typed the title out I felt my heart get huge. I can hear it throbbing in my head now and my toes feel numb.
I'm not being fair to myself by never writing about how difficult my relationship with Myles happens to be. Plenty of you readers know some of our struggles... you know how we have operated as a unit for about 12-13 years now... but with all this moving around and child-keeping, we have suffered. It's a horrible horrible sad reality that I am completely terrified to address in any real way. I am not really honest with YOU about how much I hurt on a daily basis, I am not really honest with Myles about how icky I feel about us, I am not really honest with my children (actually, I try to keep them from any emotional turmoil, which is neither honest nor real) and most importantly this means I am not honest with myself.
I started some therapy the other day, which has sparked this particular blog. It has some potential to cause MAJOR DISASTER for me.
For us.
So I'm attempting to be honest. Just a little bit. And then maybe you will have to read between the lines in the entries down the road.
Or it will all get juicier.
I'm not being fair to myself by never writing about how difficult my relationship with Myles happens to be. Plenty of you readers know some of our struggles... you know how we have operated as a unit for about 12-13 years now... but with all this moving around and child-keeping, we have suffered. It's a horrible horrible sad reality that I am completely terrified to address in any real way. I am not really honest with YOU about how much I hurt on a daily basis, I am not really honest with Myles about how icky I feel about us, I am not really honest with my children (actually, I try to keep them from any emotional turmoil, which is neither honest nor real) and most importantly this means I am not honest with myself.
I started some therapy the other day, which has sparked this particular blog. It has some potential to cause MAJOR DISASTER for me.
For us.
So I'm attempting to be honest. Just a little bit. And then maybe you will have to read between the lines in the entries down the road.
Or it will all get juicier.
Monday, October 20, 2008
WARNING!
This photo tells the story of my life right now. Penelope does absolutely everything to ensure she's in danger at all times. Looking for a bee at the bottom of a water-filled bucket... can you say "drowning hazard"?
Yesterday she fell off of 3 different chairs in the kitchen and took a spill down our cement front steps. I guess that's better than the time she fell backwards from the large boulder in our driveway and landed with her diaper-butt stuck in a rodent hole. No injuries thus far... but with a pediatric resident as father I have been convinced that a trip to the E.R. should follow shortly.
Oh, and HUGE photo upload at my Flickr site... click on the Penny pic here and it should take you there. View the slideshow titled VT Fall 2008 if you have a minute or two. You are so jealous that you don't live here. New England Paradise... complete with tempting apples.
Yesterday she fell off of 3 different chairs in the kitchen and took a spill down our cement front steps. I guess that's better than the time she fell backwards from the large boulder in our driveway and landed with her diaper-butt stuck in a rodent hole. No injuries thus far... but with a pediatric resident as father I have been convinced that a trip to the E.R. should follow shortly.
Oh, and HUGE photo upload at my Flickr site... click on the Penny pic here and it should take you there. View the slideshow titled VT Fall 2008 if you have a minute or two. You are so jealous that you don't live here. New England Paradise... complete with tempting apples.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Ms. Martin
Ly. You are truly amazing. I know this is quite possibly one of the craziest shots I've ever taken of you (save for one or two "playing dead" pics from Idaho Camping Trip 1991), but it just speaks volumes.
First of all, there's an accessory on your head. Then there's the fact that you are on a ride on lawnmower (confirming your love of sterotypically male power tools/objects), and the story behind your pond... which you are afraid to mow close to for fear of falling in. Now, how could I ever forget that this was taken on the day that my daughter Ruby barfed all over the back seat of my minivan... I mean blew chunks of the grossest possible vomit everywhere... and you single-handedly cleaned it up without a complaint, like it was something you did often and even enjoyed. I'm thrilled that I managed to get a photo in before that drama unfolded. Good story to share for years I'm sure.
Well, to finish up, I am really indebted to you forever. I'm trying to figure out what it is I should do to repay you for your kindness and support. How cool is it that I finally have one of my oldest friends living only 20 minutes away? And who else would let my kids pour their own maple syrup and put gummi bears on their pancakes?
I hope you don't hate me for making this shot moderately public. I'll manage to convince you that such a visual masterpiece only comes in the most special of situations.
I love you to pieces.
First of all, there's an accessory on your head. Then there's the fact that you are on a ride on lawnmower (confirming your love of sterotypically male power tools/objects), and the story behind your pond... which you are afraid to mow close to for fear of falling in. Now, how could I ever forget that this was taken on the day that my daughter Ruby barfed all over the back seat of my minivan... I mean blew chunks of the grossest possible vomit everywhere... and you single-handedly cleaned it up without a complaint, like it was something you did often and even enjoyed. I'm thrilled that I managed to get a photo in before that drama unfolded. Good story to share for years I'm sure.
Well, to finish up, I am really indebted to you forever. I'm trying to figure out what it is I should do to repay you for your kindness and support. How cool is it that I finally have one of my oldest friends living only 20 minutes away? And who else would let my kids pour their own maple syrup and put gummi bears on their pancakes?
I hope you don't hate me for making this shot moderately public. I'll manage to convince you that such a visual masterpiece only comes in the most special of situations.
I love you to pieces.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Hello, is it me you're lookin' for...
To my loyal peeps... I will try really hard to get my act together and post pictures, but for now my spanking new computer in the basement won't give me decent wireless connection, so uploading is impossible.
Busy times upon us all right now. Myles seems to be working constantly - meaning I'm "working" twice as hard too. With the crisp fall air and the surreal colors of the leaves all around our home, my head is spinning. I find myself at a loss for words. I'm busy making food again... pies are next on the list. Already tackled chicken soup.
Penny is 15 months as of yesterday.
Honestly, I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the concept of my family and what it all means.
I'll try to write more. And more often.
P.S. What are you doing to ensure that Obama wins in November? We don't want to wake up on Nov. 5th with a nasty dose of McLame lovers rejoicing, do we?
Busy times upon us all right now. Myles seems to be working constantly - meaning I'm "working" twice as hard too. With the crisp fall air and the surreal colors of the leaves all around our home, my head is spinning. I find myself at a loss for words. I'm busy making food again... pies are next on the list. Already tackled chicken soup.
Penny is 15 months as of yesterday.
Honestly, I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the concept of my family and what it all means.
I'll try to write more. And more often.
P.S. What are you doing to ensure that Obama wins in November? We don't want to wake up on Nov. 5th with a nasty dose of McLame lovers rejoicing, do we?
Friday, September 19, 2008
The Burrito
Conversation overheard all week at nursery school pickup:
Random parent friend: "So, how was your trip?"
Me: "Amazing. I had this perfect burrito..."
It's not really fair to blog again without a photo - at least after an insanely fun 4 day solo trip to San Francisco. There's too much to share. But if I had to choose some choice thoughts to share from my excursion I'd go with these:
*Being away from my family is fun to a point, and then it starts to feel weird and wrong. Amazing, but it took a good 24 hours to discover that I am not and will never be the same person I was before I had kids... I mean, sometimes I fantasize that just being alone and traveling will allow me to be the way I used to be. NOPE. Even the keg stand and the lack of sleep didn't do it for me.
*Spending time with my favorite old friends, acting like there's no distance between us, and then having to separate to different states, countries, cities is PAINFUL. Why do we torture ourselves like this? We need one another. I'm perfectly capable of finding new friends anywhere I go (thankfully) but my college friends are the people I would choose to raise my family along side... to share our marriage woes, our parenting conundrums... and we are really worlds apart. This crazy computer is our glue. Again, weird. What I wouldn't do to live around the corner from Leah and Beth..
*One of my most satisfactory moments during the trip involved a burrito. A huge carnitas super burrito. The works... probably laden with plenty of lard, but not without perfect salsa, guac, sour cream, rice, beans, shredded pork. As long as my abdomen is wide. And I only had a tiny tortilla portion left at the end of my eating session. It was revolutionary and meant to be (the parking place directly in front of the restaurant was the sign). To sit still with my dear friend Beth and make lots of smacky sounds and comment on the flavor dimensions... and without children interrupting me. I was transformed for a moment, and I actually didn't miss the kids.
*Travel is healthy. And by that I don't mean traveling alone. Going places with the family is a great way to teach yourself and your children about the world (how easily I forgot that simple concept). While we took a brief outing to a beach I was awestruck by the Pacific Ocean... oh, and the Golden Gate bridge. Simple landmarks, monster changes in geography, ethnic food, unfamiliar smells in the air. It's all just plain good for your soul to experience new things. No, we don't all have $600 to throw at plane tickets, but we can hop in a car and head to the next state over. Or the next town that we know nothing about... so what if the kids complain the entire way? Or they scream the entire flight? Or they miss their nap and we all have a horrible night's sleep? The world has so much to offer us and I'm feeling guilty about ignoring it.
Anyone want some visitors?
Random parent friend: "So, how was your trip?"
Me: "Amazing. I had this perfect burrito..."
It's not really fair to blog again without a photo - at least after an insanely fun 4 day solo trip to San Francisco. There's too much to share. But if I had to choose some choice thoughts to share from my excursion I'd go with these:
*Being away from my family is fun to a point, and then it starts to feel weird and wrong. Amazing, but it took a good 24 hours to discover that I am not and will never be the same person I was before I had kids... I mean, sometimes I fantasize that just being alone and traveling will allow me to be the way I used to be. NOPE. Even the keg stand and the lack of sleep didn't do it for me.
*Spending time with my favorite old friends, acting like there's no distance between us, and then having to separate to different states, countries, cities is PAINFUL. Why do we torture ourselves like this? We need one another. I'm perfectly capable of finding new friends anywhere I go (thankfully) but my college friends are the people I would choose to raise my family along side... to share our marriage woes, our parenting conundrums... and we are really worlds apart. This crazy computer is our glue. Again, weird. What I wouldn't do to live around the corner from Leah and Beth..
*One of my most satisfactory moments during the trip involved a burrito. A huge carnitas super burrito. The works... probably laden with plenty of lard, but not without perfect salsa, guac, sour cream, rice, beans, shredded pork. As long as my abdomen is wide. And I only had a tiny tortilla portion left at the end of my eating session. It was revolutionary and meant to be (the parking place directly in front of the restaurant was the sign). To sit still with my dear friend Beth and make lots of smacky sounds and comment on the flavor dimensions... and without children interrupting me. I was transformed for a moment, and I actually didn't miss the kids.
*Travel is healthy. And by that I don't mean traveling alone. Going places with the family is a great way to teach yourself and your children about the world (how easily I forgot that simple concept). While we took a brief outing to a beach I was awestruck by the Pacific Ocean... oh, and the Golden Gate bridge. Simple landmarks, monster changes in geography, ethnic food, unfamiliar smells in the air. It's all just plain good for your soul to experience new things. No, we don't all have $600 to throw at plane tickets, but we can hop in a car and head to the next state over. Or the next town that we know nothing about... so what if the kids complain the entire way? Or they scream the entire flight? Or they miss their nap and we all have a horrible night's sleep? The world has so much to offer us and I'm feeling guilty about ignoring it.
Anyone want some visitors?
Thursday, September 11, 2008
3 Cords
Oh my. This is what you are supposed to have in order to prepare yourself for winter up here.
And that nice land of ours behind the woodpile will be COVERED in snow some day soon.
This begins my enormous photo sharing... lots of places visited, lots of old friends, lots of new stuff like school and gymnastics class (still undocumented, but I promise some leotard shots in the future).
And that nice land of ours behind the woodpile will be COVERED in snow some day soon.
This begins my enormous photo sharing... lots of places visited, lots of old friends, lots of new stuff like school and gymnastics class (still undocumented, but I promise some leotard shots in the future).
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Hazel and Rowan Visit!
A great thing about living in VT again is our proximity to old friends. We shared a gorgeous afternoon playing... and catching up. (These kiddos mom and I were pregnant at the same time and attended birthing class together.)
5 Granddaughters and one more on the way!
So great to see the cousins for a day... we miss them terribly.
My sister is having her baby via c-section on Friday morning. Apparently the baby is sideways! Why does this have to be the same day that I'm leaving for a 4 day trip to San Francisco?
My sister is having her baby via c-section on Friday morning. Apparently the baby is sideways! Why does this have to be the same day that I'm leaving for a 4 day trip to San Francisco?
"That goat is lookin' at me!"
(Thank you Brian Fellow for allowing me to steal a quote for my title...)
The girls absolutely adore animals... which is why I jumped at the opportunity to see my friend Ellen up in Burlington for a day. I drove up there for a busy busy day trip, saw my mother-in-law, ran into our old babysitter, had some flatbreads, threw everyone back in the car to visit Shelburne Farms (one of my most favorite landmarks in the world) and had a chinese food dinner at Ellen's parents' house. I drove the girls home in their jammies - they were all sacked out in the back of the minivan while I grabbed a listen to Al Gore's speech at the Democratic Convention on the radio.
The girls absolutely adore animals... which is why I jumped at the opportunity to see my friend Ellen up in Burlington for a day. I drove up there for a busy busy day trip, saw my mother-in-law, ran into our old babysitter, had some flatbreads, threw everyone back in the car to visit Shelburne Farms (one of my most favorite landmarks in the world) and had a chinese food dinner at Ellen's parents' house. I drove the girls home in their jammies - they were all sacked out in the back of the minivan while I grabbed a listen to Al Gore's speech at the Democratic Convention on the radio.
Not Me
Penelope. You are just not me at all. Maybe in personality we could have some things in common, but honestly people think I stole you from the cute baby adoption center. Or that I special ordered you from South America...
My Experience of the Barefoot Potluck Wedding
Complete with summer's most popular shade of nail polish.
Show Me Your Most Serious Faces...
HA! Really. I told them to look very very serious. Does this explain why they never respond to me when I shout, "Girls! Seriously! I mean it!"
Monster Bugs!
When my daughters get mosquito bites on their face, this is what happens. Poor Ruby got a fat black eye from this recent episode... Why don't I remember this happening to anyone back when we were kids? I see children all over the place with this type of allergic reactions to the "common mosquito". Hmmmm...
Full of Pie
Right after their first successful contra dance, the girls stuffed themselves with blueberry pie and chilled out on dad's lap.
mission accomplished
I only managed to contribute to the very beginning of the wood stacking. Full credit should be given to Myles, with assistance from Raani.
Sign me up for early fall fires. Eeek.
Sign me up for early fall fires. Eeek.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
milestones
Hindsight. You know what they say.
Recently I've been encountering something huge inside that has been welling up for years. I'm growing into a new me by reconnecting with the old me. The original Ms. Nelson is attempting to make a comeback... like, maybe, Ms. Nelson: The Revised Edition.
When I took this shot of Penny she had just celebrated her 1st birthday. It blows my mind to reflect on her physical skills - to know that Ruby and Eloise were taking their first wobbly steps at 12 months, and it would be several months after that when they would even dare to throw a leg over a rocking horse. I believe Eloise finally decided to tackle a playground ladder at 2.5 years - and Penny climbs to the top bunk at 13 months. We all talk about how little Pickle has a lot to look up to, big girls to learn from and model after, but what strikes me as odd is the degree to which I forget how I used to be about Ru and El's "developmental milestones". And to know now how meaningless many of those things can be! I love to look back on what I have learned during this mom gig and laugh. My concerns and paranoia and my "will it ever end?"s...
Hopefully I can be supportive and helpful when my sister gives birth to her first child this September, but I have decided to remind her that in parenting, the advice and wisdom from other sources only makes sense once you have endured the worst: those sleepless nights, the lonely days, the first fevers, the family-wide illnesses, the horrific car rides and the aborted vacations. How about the day I decided to throw away my parenting books? Relief.
And if my mom had told me to stop reading online parenting advice, I would have proclaimed how "it's just what my generation does." In the end, she was right though. For me, the best solution to my mommy-woes was finding friends and shooting the shit.
Perspective.
That's where I'm at these days. The air in the house starts getting colder at around 4:45 pm, and by 7 pm I've closed the windows up for the night. Right about the time when one season ends and another is about to begin I get full of self-reflection and I start completing tasks and getting creative again. I do the big check-in and try to make a step forward... or a step somewhere.
But in reality the end of August hints at fall way too early in these parts. If I could only bottle this kind of productivity and energy and take a shot of it when the Vermonters start to hibernate. Or when my Procrastination Demon comes for an extended visit and Penny has mastered ice skating at 18 months.
Recently I've been encountering something huge inside that has been welling up for years. I'm growing into a new me by reconnecting with the old me. The original Ms. Nelson is attempting to make a comeback... like, maybe, Ms. Nelson: The Revised Edition.
When I took this shot of Penny she had just celebrated her 1st birthday. It blows my mind to reflect on her physical skills - to know that Ruby and Eloise were taking their first wobbly steps at 12 months, and it would be several months after that when they would even dare to throw a leg over a rocking horse. I believe Eloise finally decided to tackle a playground ladder at 2.5 years - and Penny climbs to the top bunk at 13 months. We all talk about how little Pickle has a lot to look up to, big girls to learn from and model after, but what strikes me as odd is the degree to which I forget how I used to be about Ru and El's "developmental milestones". And to know now how meaningless many of those things can be! I love to look back on what I have learned during this mom gig and laugh. My concerns and paranoia and my "will it ever end?"s...
Hopefully I can be supportive and helpful when my sister gives birth to her first child this September, but I have decided to remind her that in parenting, the advice and wisdom from other sources only makes sense once you have endured the worst: those sleepless nights, the lonely days, the first fevers, the family-wide illnesses, the horrific car rides and the aborted vacations. How about the day I decided to throw away my parenting books? Relief.
And if my mom had told me to stop reading online parenting advice, I would have proclaimed how "it's just what my generation does." In the end, she was right though. For me, the best solution to my mommy-woes was finding friends and shooting the shit.
Perspective.
That's where I'm at these days. The air in the house starts getting colder at around 4:45 pm, and by 7 pm I've closed the windows up for the night. Right about the time when one season ends and another is about to begin I get full of self-reflection and I start completing tasks and getting creative again. I do the big check-in and try to make a step forward... or a step somewhere.
But in reality the end of August hints at fall way too early in these parts. If I could only bottle this kind of productivity and energy and take a shot of it when the Vermonters start to hibernate. Or when my Procrastination Demon comes for an extended visit and Penny has mastered ice skating at 18 months.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Mamarama
I just have to put this out there: having a bunch of great conversations about my last post with moms and non-moms alike, I realized how difficult it is to get here to post words about my sorry-ass Webster life. I am pretty hard on myself I guess, and for no good reason. I read too many mommy blogs (and no, if you are a friend of mine, I don't compare myself to you... it's those random links to moms that I don't know) and they drive me AWAY from this medium. When I'm feeling dark and pessimistic other mothers articulations of my exact feelings bring me down down down... into a terrible, stupid, teenager kind of place. When I'm feeling decent and empowered, other random momblogs make me feel connected to this lovely (almost underground) society that we have created as modern day computer crazy mothers.
But I"m thinking about this: real connectedness. I mean, connectedness shouldn't even be a word it sounds so horrible... but I like to think back to times when mothers took care of one another in a different way. When we didn't have technology and instant internet gratification, what did our moms do? That's the good stuff - (and occasionally the BAD BAD stuff because there were those moms that were in the dark and isolated, I know) and what I'm talking about are those badass mothers that did fucking everything because that's all they had to do. That's all they could do. They were technically sad and oppressed as far as feminism might be concerned... but for someone like my mom, or Myles' grandmother, they had serious survival skills. These ladies had husbands who expected dinner on the table every night. They didn't get to sleep in on weekends and give the kids over to dad so they could go to yoga class. They did all the shopping, cleaning, cooking and they didn't get their husbands to partake in "babywearing". Kids were their profession in a way. Homemakers. Remember?
Well, what did they do to deal with their identity crises, failing marriages, infidelities, ppd, anxiety, and recreation an/or loss of self?
What I'm getting at is this: they took care of one another face to face. Or they listened to one another's voices over the telephone...
Make a spinach and sweet potato-laced brownie out of these thoughts now, m'kay?
But I"m thinking about this: real connectedness. I mean, connectedness shouldn't even be a word it sounds so horrible... but I like to think back to times when mothers took care of one another in a different way. When we didn't have technology and instant internet gratification, what did our moms do? That's the good stuff - (and occasionally the BAD BAD stuff because there were those moms that were in the dark and isolated, I know) and what I'm talking about are those badass mothers that did fucking everything because that's all they had to do. That's all they could do. They were technically sad and oppressed as far as feminism might be concerned... but for someone like my mom, or Myles' grandmother, they had serious survival skills. These ladies had husbands who expected dinner on the table every night. They didn't get to sleep in on weekends and give the kids over to dad so they could go to yoga class. They did all the shopping, cleaning, cooking and they didn't get their husbands to partake in "babywearing". Kids were their profession in a way. Homemakers. Remember?
Well, what did they do to deal with their identity crises, failing marriages, infidelities, ppd, anxiety, and recreation an/or loss of self?
What I'm getting at is this: they took care of one another face to face. Or they listened to one another's voices over the telephone...
Make a spinach and sweet potato-laced brownie out of these thoughts now, m'kay?
Friday, August 01, 2008
bloop
Ew! I've become that blogger who abandons their readers for too long... and then I get enveloped in this battle of how to re-emerge into your lives, how to update you on our hectic scene. Clearly I'm at a loss. My camera has been found, but now I'm battling technology with a 5 year old computer and a hatred for "backing up" files on disc and deleting them. If I upload 200 photos to this thing it might explode... but I'm dying for the freedom to inundate this fucking blog with my new pics.
The girls have grown again - all three of them. I continually ask myself who these creatures are that I've created... and how did I bring them into the world? Each one so different. They surprise me daily with their observations - particularly the twins with their commentary on gender:
"I don't think Boppy (a.k.a. grandpa) likes unicorns very much. Does he? Maybe we could draw him a boy unicorn with a beard."
Wait, do I have two four year old daughters who can already draw unicorns and rainbows? How the hell did this happen? And Penny! Holy shit what a fucking handful of squishy insanity! She's constantly on the move and into mischief... making car and truck sounds, falling down, climbing stairs, opening and closing EVERYTHING, insisting on using her own utensils at meals, saying, "yeah" when you ask her a question. And eating more blueberries than necessary... which brings me to the title of this blog.
To those of you who have kids and who have fed them blueberries (or anything round that has a "skin" on it) you know what I mean. The poopy diaper is not filled with just plain poop. It's BLOOP. And it leaves their cute little butt crack in a baboon-like situation. Same thing for feeding them strawberries and oranges... if you aren't careful you can give your child's ass a citric acid burn. And those raisins you fed your kid... re-hydrated on the other end they are grapes. Oh and corn... CORN! A corn filled diaper is a disaster. The bulk is completely overwhelming and you wonder if there's really any nutritional value to corn in the first place. (I know, actually, corn has no nutritional value. Corn is corrupt. But nowhere is it more evident than in your child's diaper. Or on your muffin top.)
So we have been blueberry picking, we have been pond swimming, we repeatedly go to farmers' market, we hop on our neighbors trampoline. I do a lot of cleaning up, feeding, shuttling, yelling, scolding, apologizing, tickling. When I have a second to myself I can be found emailing, checking my facebook page or watching So You Think You Can Dance and the new Project Runway.
Facebook has actually made me feel like a sad old housewife - looking at some sweet shots of my hectic youth posted by high school friends hurts in ways I never imagined possible. (Which leads me to think, how do you feel when you are 65?) But I could sit and obsess about how svelte I used to be, how stoned, how carefree, how clueless or I could take a deep breath and realize how much I've learned in the last 15 years... the greatest enlightenment arriving with motherhood. (ugh. I said motherhood. Isn't that the name of a maternity clothing store? Makes me think of unflattering nursing bras and cheesy floral print acrylic "blouses" ...) So I've had almost 5 years with my new persona... and please fellow mommies, agree with me here that YOU become a new person when you bring a child into the world... and I finally feel comfortable both mourning the old Ms. Nelson and cultivating the new one.
For the moment my girls are asleep, I've fed and bathed all 3 of them, I've settled into my couch corner, and I am alone in this house in the woods, listening cautiously to the noises outside (and no, I don't like that branch-breaking sound I just heard) and feeling fortunate to have a husband who spends a couple nights a week at the hospital. (In the immortal words of Brian Fellow on Safari Planet: "Get him away from me!")
Don't get me wrong - this quasi-single mom gig is tough - but it reminds me that I'm capable of anything. And in what seems like 2 minutes, my kids are older and more independent, and my glory days have yet to come.
The girls have grown again - all three of them. I continually ask myself who these creatures are that I've created... and how did I bring them into the world? Each one so different. They surprise me daily with their observations - particularly the twins with their commentary on gender:
"I don't think Boppy (a.k.a. grandpa) likes unicorns very much. Does he? Maybe we could draw him a boy unicorn with a beard."
Wait, do I have two four year old daughters who can already draw unicorns and rainbows? How the hell did this happen? And Penny! Holy shit what a fucking handful of squishy insanity! She's constantly on the move and into mischief... making car and truck sounds, falling down, climbing stairs, opening and closing EVERYTHING, insisting on using her own utensils at meals, saying, "yeah" when you ask her a question. And eating more blueberries than necessary... which brings me to the title of this blog.
To those of you who have kids and who have fed them blueberries (or anything round that has a "skin" on it) you know what I mean. The poopy diaper is not filled with just plain poop. It's BLOOP. And it leaves their cute little butt crack in a baboon-like situation. Same thing for feeding them strawberries and oranges... if you aren't careful you can give your child's ass a citric acid burn. And those raisins you fed your kid... re-hydrated on the other end they are grapes. Oh and corn... CORN! A corn filled diaper is a disaster. The bulk is completely overwhelming and you wonder if there's really any nutritional value to corn in the first place. (I know, actually, corn has no nutritional value. Corn is corrupt. But nowhere is it more evident than in your child's diaper. Or on your muffin top.)
So we have been blueberry picking, we have been pond swimming, we repeatedly go to farmers' market, we hop on our neighbors trampoline. I do a lot of cleaning up, feeding, shuttling, yelling, scolding, apologizing, tickling. When I have a second to myself I can be found emailing, checking my facebook page or watching So You Think You Can Dance and the new Project Runway.
Facebook has actually made me feel like a sad old housewife - looking at some sweet shots of my hectic youth posted by high school friends hurts in ways I never imagined possible. (Which leads me to think, how do you feel when you are 65?) But I could sit and obsess about how svelte I used to be, how stoned, how carefree, how clueless or I could take a deep breath and realize how much I've learned in the last 15 years... the greatest enlightenment arriving with motherhood. (ugh. I said motherhood. Isn't that the name of a maternity clothing store? Makes me think of unflattering nursing bras and cheesy floral print acrylic "blouses" ...) So I've had almost 5 years with my new persona... and please fellow mommies, agree with me here that YOU become a new person when you bring a child into the world... and I finally feel comfortable both mourning the old Ms. Nelson and cultivating the new one.
For the moment my girls are asleep, I've fed and bathed all 3 of them, I've settled into my couch corner, and I am alone in this house in the woods, listening cautiously to the noises outside (and no, I don't like that branch-breaking sound I just heard) and feeling fortunate to have a husband who spends a couple nights a week at the hospital. (In the immortal words of Brian Fellow on Safari Planet: "Get him away from me!")
Don't get me wrong - this quasi-single mom gig is tough - but it reminds me that I'm capable of anything. And in what seems like 2 minutes, my kids are older and more independent, and my glory days have yet to come.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
And Still No Photos...
Our Nantucket "vacation" will be over in 2 days - and although I know we will be back again, it always hurts a little to leave this paradise. As I mentioned before I am without camera... and having fallen in love with my digital SLR last summer (literally, rediscovering some instant creative gratification) I have had to digest every visual moment that passes here in a different way. I'm constantly adding to a mental list of all of the things I would have taken a picture of: Penny's sweet face with birthday cupcake all over it, Ru and El twirling in their fancy twirly skirts in the grass, giant, frightening waves at Miacomet beach, tiny wet stones at low tide, drip castles on the sand bar, jellyfish and hermit crabs, my mom's 65th birthday cake and this lovely old funky house. We are headed for a big kitchen and 3 bedroom renovation here come September and I'm feeling kind of torn about it. This kitchen has been part of my summers for 28 years - and I can't tell you how many naughty shenanigans have taken place on the center island table. How many quarters were bounced... that circular burn from a bong... the tequila shot messes, etc.. If my camera were here I would do my best to record the nuances of our crowded old kitchen, the over-stocked and disorganized pantry that you have to duck into.
Maybe it's just me, maybe I've been one of those lucky few who gets to return year after year to the same fantasy place of our childhood. But now I get to share that nostalgia with my children and it makes me completely nutty and contemplative. I get THOUGHT HEAVY when I'm here. Sometimes I even think I hear my heart beating like a ticking clock as I lie on the beach (which nowadays lasts for 30 seconds before I have to rescue a baby from the perils of the ocean) and wonder how in the world did I not cherish every youthful, sensuous, gorgeous second on this island. I can see that the twins have fallen in love with Nantucket already. They tell me what smells yummy on the way to the beach (in all the right spots) and they obsess over the same toys and board games that I played with when I was little. They are consistently spoiled and given sweets by their doting, delicious and cozy grandmother. My mom packs the most excellent cooler full of food for the beach... napkins included.
But back to me being thought-heavy... ugh. It gets heavy! I keep wondering what the next step is for me and when I'm going to feel ready to get back into a creative career... and WHY I need to plan this out. I wish it would just unfold, but I'm finally certain that I am a bad planner, and if I could organize my thoughts for the future adequately then maybe, just maybe some day we could buy our own Nantucket cottage down the road. Maybe I could have an art show here one day. Maybe I could have a print studio and give print classes to kids for the summer. Maybe I could let go of being "a really good mom" as a profession.
I honestly cannot conceive of the balance and organization that it would take for a person like me to be a part-time working mom. It sounds spoiled, I know... most people have it way worse than I do... but I am owning up to my complete and total incapacity when it comes to pursuing my career. I have been enabled by my incredibly generous mother! That's the sad reality.
It feels both good and horribly embarrassing to say all of this.
So Damn you Nantucket for drawing overly sappy, introspective blog entries out of me. And Fuck You Nikon D40 for disappearing and making me write too much.
Maybe it's just me, maybe I've been one of those lucky few who gets to return year after year to the same fantasy place of our childhood. But now I get to share that nostalgia with my children and it makes me completely nutty and contemplative. I get THOUGHT HEAVY when I'm here. Sometimes I even think I hear my heart beating like a ticking clock as I lie on the beach (which nowadays lasts for 30 seconds before I have to rescue a baby from the perils of the ocean) and wonder how in the world did I not cherish every youthful, sensuous, gorgeous second on this island. I can see that the twins have fallen in love with Nantucket already. They tell me what smells yummy on the way to the beach (in all the right spots) and they obsess over the same toys and board games that I played with when I was little. They are consistently spoiled and given sweets by their doting, delicious and cozy grandmother. My mom packs the most excellent cooler full of food for the beach... napkins included.
But back to me being thought-heavy... ugh. It gets heavy! I keep wondering what the next step is for me and when I'm going to feel ready to get back into a creative career... and WHY I need to plan this out. I wish it would just unfold, but I'm finally certain that I am a bad planner, and if I could organize my thoughts for the future adequately then maybe, just maybe some day we could buy our own Nantucket cottage down the road. Maybe I could have an art show here one day. Maybe I could have a print studio and give print classes to kids for the summer. Maybe I could let go of being "a really good mom" as a profession.
I honestly cannot conceive of the balance and organization that it would take for a person like me to be a part-time working mom. It sounds spoiled, I know... most people have it way worse than I do... but I am owning up to my complete and total incapacity when it comes to pursuing my career. I have been enabled by my incredibly generous mother! That's the sad reality.
It feels both good and horribly embarrassing to say all of this.
So Damn you Nantucket for drawing overly sappy, introspective blog entries out of me. And Fuck You Nikon D40 for disappearing and making me write too much.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Visuals Down!
Oh how sad. I've lost my camera... and i'm too lazy to deal with uploading my iPhone photos for the moment. But without a visual record I'm paying extra special attention to all of the details of our Nantucket vacation.
I missed my 5th anniversary with Myles. He was post call anyway so I figured he might have slept the day away and we aren't necessarily the ceremonious type. This time apart gives me a little more time to sit with the concept of a PAPER gift to commemorate 5 years of marriage. ( I'd be happy giving a paper gift every year.)
Ruby and Eloise are incredible little 4 year olds enjoying all of the details of a charmed summer vacation space.
Penny will be 1 on July 3rd - and no longer nurses. Three days of not nursing and no big deal. She's more interested in cars, bicycles, balls and walking to be bother with boobs.
Sad I guess, but she wasn't a huge nursing fan anyway. I kept trying to make it a cozy time for us to share together, and eventually i felt like I was forcing it into our routine. Weird. Considering that I probably won't have another child, that portion of my life is over. (Feast on that thought fellow women... your child-bearing and useful mammary phase is over... what next?? Mid-life crisis?)
For final notes I'm going to address three topics that have occupied my mind recently, and you can discuss them with your friends:
*Why are 12 year old babysitters the best babysitter?
*What is the significance of having children if you (and your partner) don't spend the majority of your time taking care of them?
*What is the importance of having lots of STUFF? What is it like to be able to afford anything you want?
I missed my 5th anniversary with Myles. He was post call anyway so I figured he might have slept the day away and we aren't necessarily the ceremonious type. This time apart gives me a little more time to sit with the concept of a PAPER gift to commemorate 5 years of marriage. ( I'd be happy giving a paper gift every year.)
Ruby and Eloise are incredible little 4 year olds enjoying all of the details of a charmed summer vacation space.
Penny will be 1 on July 3rd - and no longer nurses. Three days of not nursing and no big deal. She's more interested in cars, bicycles, balls and walking to be bother with boobs.
Sad I guess, but she wasn't a huge nursing fan anyway. I kept trying to make it a cozy time for us to share together, and eventually i felt like I was forcing it into our routine. Weird. Considering that I probably won't have another child, that portion of my life is over. (Feast on that thought fellow women... your child-bearing and useful mammary phase is over... what next?? Mid-life crisis?)
For final notes I'm going to address three topics that have occupied my mind recently, and you can discuss them with your friends:
*Why are 12 year old babysitters the best babysitter?
*What is the significance of having children if you (and your partner) don't spend the majority of your time taking care of them?
*What is the importance of having lots of STUFF? What is it like to be able to afford anything you want?
Saturday, June 21, 2008
"back-to-the-land"
We are here and we own land. Ten acres of real land. We have a lawn that leads down to some woods, which lead down to a meadow. I thought having 3.5 bathrooms was exciting... but then I saw the meadow and I realized that this new home is all about the OUTSIDE and not necessarily the inside. (Well, the inside is incredible to... but wouldn't you rather hear about a meadow?) I mean, when was the last time you saw a meadow? (A Central Park meadow does not count.) Once I find my camera I'll take a picture of the girls standing in the grass. It might reach their chins, and is probably filled with ticks, but we'll head out in the tall grass so you get the idea.
Ruby and Eloise have adjusted really well to this new place. They have helped me set up my herb garden, they have taken a couple of good walks in the woods looking for snails, mushrooms and deer tracks, they have written letters to friends from school... it's been pretty great. My friend's sister already scored us a nice babysitter last night and Myles and I went out for the first time in about 6 months. I'm actually waiting for something terrible to happen because I'm feeling extremely lucky. Maybe this brief moment of "happiness" is just payback for the turmoil and uncertainty that we've been presented with Myles' career path over the past few years. Whatever it is - I cannot describe how elated I feel when I wake up in the morning to birds chirping all around, and I can see nothing but trees, hilltops and sky. Our bedroom makes me feel like I'm at a spa. I kid you not.
Maybe my dark cloud lurks just around the corner, when I'm stuck managing 3 kids and Myles isn't home for 30 hours at a time. But owning this property is a crazy crazy treat. I suppose I should enjoy the sunshine while it lasts.
Oh, speaking of treats... Miss Penny has figured out how to walk on her tiny, pudgy feet - and she's fast! She also has discovered how to hold a crayon and vandalize when nobody is looking. Perhaps she was watching Ruby drawing "E"s with craypas all over the Little Tykes play house and decided she wanted to play naughty too. Which leads me to ask, did Ruby really think that I'd be fooled with the E's? (That kind of cleverness deserves it's own post. My girls have become quite the smartasses.)
So to punctuate this entry I am going to invite any of you to come and visit whenever you can. There is plenty of room - and I'd like to take you for a little walk in our woods. By then I'll have learned how to forage for wild leeks and morels... savory tarts all around! No really. The best thing about our land is that I get to share it with people. So call now to book your weekend.
Ruby and Eloise have adjusted really well to this new place. They have helped me set up my herb garden, they have taken a couple of good walks in the woods looking for snails, mushrooms and deer tracks, they have written letters to friends from school... it's been pretty great. My friend's sister already scored us a nice babysitter last night and Myles and I went out for the first time in about 6 months. I'm actually waiting for something terrible to happen because I'm feeling extremely lucky. Maybe this brief moment of "happiness" is just payback for the turmoil and uncertainty that we've been presented with Myles' career path over the past few years. Whatever it is - I cannot describe how elated I feel when I wake up in the morning to birds chirping all around, and I can see nothing but trees, hilltops and sky. Our bedroom makes me feel like I'm at a spa. I kid you not.
Maybe my dark cloud lurks just around the corner, when I'm stuck managing 3 kids and Myles isn't home for 30 hours at a time. But owning this property is a crazy crazy treat. I suppose I should enjoy the sunshine while it lasts.
Oh, speaking of treats... Miss Penny has figured out how to walk on her tiny, pudgy feet - and she's fast! She also has discovered how to hold a crayon and vandalize when nobody is looking. Perhaps she was watching Ruby drawing "E"s with craypas all over the Little Tykes play house and decided she wanted to play naughty too. Which leads me to ask, did Ruby really think that I'd be fooled with the E's? (That kind of cleverness deserves it's own post. My girls have become quite the smartasses.)
So to punctuate this entry I am going to invite any of you to come and visit whenever you can. There is plenty of room - and I'd like to take you for a little walk in our woods. By then I'll have learned how to forage for wild leeks and morels... savory tarts all around! No really. The best thing about our land is that I get to share it with people. So call now to book your weekend.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Strong Dislike
I hate packing. I fucking hate it. I always said I'd pay to have the movers pack for me if I had to move again, but considering how impractical that all seems, we decided to do the majority of it ourselves. I'm dreading those final boxes that we pack labeled "MISC."... and the annoyance that results when you can't figure out the right way to pack garbage cans, power strips, brooms, telephones and perishables at the last second. And then it's usually impossible to find that very box when you get to your final destination... what box did we put the dish rack in? Oh, and did I even consider to pack clothing in something other than a "wardrobe box"? Because I might be wearing the same black tank tops for the next 3 months...
My home that I made cozy over the last 2 years is being dismantled and is crumbling into dustbunnies. Our walls are empty. I'm dreading the wrap-up party for the fragile shit in the china cabinet. Padding the champagne flutes makes me nervous. And the antique sugar bowl from my mom's cousin...
The kids toys and the kitchen will be the last things to get packed, for fear of bringing on too much emotional trauma too quickly in the mind of the 4 year old! Meanwhile, I'm feeling on and off sick... trying to piece together the "right" way to approach this relocation. Will it be permanent? Do I want it to be? Am I going to throw in the towel and settle on being a Vermonter for the rest of my life? Will I ever EVER get to visit Manhattan in the next 2 years? Why is the Manchester airport 1.5 hours from Norwich? Why is Nantucket even farther than that?
In this swirl of Unknowns I'm frightened of how apathetic I am. I don't really care about my own mental health because I'm too concerned about my sensitive little monkeys that have to leave their best friends and excellent school. I literally have gotten really good at shrugging my shoulders over this process... we moved to NYC in 2001, we moved back to Burlington in 2002, and then again to another Burlington spot in 2003, and then left Burlington for Providence in 2006. Experts! Myles likes to tell me that the average American family moves 3-5 times in their lifetime. But that just gives me another reason to believe that Americans are a bunch of misdirected loonies!
On that note, I've killed my reserve battery power... goodnight.
My home that I made cozy over the last 2 years is being dismantled and is crumbling into dustbunnies. Our walls are empty. I'm dreading the wrap-up party for the fragile shit in the china cabinet. Padding the champagne flutes makes me nervous. And the antique sugar bowl from my mom's cousin...
The kids toys and the kitchen will be the last things to get packed, for fear of bringing on too much emotional trauma too quickly in the mind of the 4 year old! Meanwhile, I'm feeling on and off sick... trying to piece together the "right" way to approach this relocation. Will it be permanent? Do I want it to be? Am I going to throw in the towel and settle on being a Vermonter for the rest of my life? Will I ever EVER get to visit Manhattan in the next 2 years? Why is the Manchester airport 1.5 hours from Norwich? Why is Nantucket even farther than that?
In this swirl of Unknowns I'm frightened of how apathetic I am. I don't really care about my own mental health because I'm too concerned about my sensitive little monkeys that have to leave their best friends and excellent school. I literally have gotten really good at shrugging my shoulders over this process... we moved to NYC in 2001, we moved back to Burlington in 2002, and then again to another Burlington spot in 2003, and then left Burlington for Providence in 2006. Experts! Myles likes to tell me that the average American family moves 3-5 times in their lifetime. But that just gives me another reason to believe that Americans are a bunch of misdirected loonies!
On that note, I've killed my reserve battery power... goodnight.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
High Speed Countdown
Where does all the time go? Already we have tackled many of our spring "milestones"... Wheeler School Field Day, our "Going Away/Birthday Party", Teacher Appreciation Day, many friends' birthdays. My sister moved into her new house (she's expecting a baby in the fall), we have pretty much sold ours (lucky!), Penny can climb the stairs and has started to sign some words. Now all we have to do is manage a trip to Manhattan this weekend, prepare for 2 "Star of the Day" days at school, have a goodbye function at school, go to a final swim class and have an end of the year ballet performance. Oh, and we have to pack up this entire house.
What the hell people?
I cannot believe I have to leave this place. I have such a love of Providence and all things Rhode Island. I'll be leaving with my brand new bottle of Autocrat Coffee Syrup... to make coffee milk with good VT dairy! Now all I need is a case of frozen "stuffies" and a shipment of gingerbread muffins from Seven Stars Bakery. What about all of my sweet neighbors and all of Ruby and Eloise's lovely friends? What about my glamorous consignment shop that pays me good money for my old clothes? What about my cat? Will he be eaten alive in the woods of Norwich?
So many unknowns... but as the clock ticks, I'm pretty good about living in denial and coasting along like nothings really going to change. I did the same thing when we left Burlington, and it seemed to work out alright.
I'll let you know when I stop eating and break out into hives.
Stay tuned for my photo posts.
What the hell people?
I cannot believe I have to leave this place. I have such a love of Providence and all things Rhode Island. I'll be leaving with my brand new bottle of Autocrat Coffee Syrup... to make coffee milk with good VT dairy! Now all I need is a case of frozen "stuffies" and a shipment of gingerbread muffins from Seven Stars Bakery. What about all of my sweet neighbors and all of Ruby and Eloise's lovely friends? What about my glamorous consignment shop that pays me good money for my old clothes? What about my cat? Will he be eaten alive in the woods of Norwich?
So many unknowns... but as the clock ticks, I'm pretty good about living in denial and coasting along like nothings really going to change. I did the same thing when we left Burlington, and it seemed to work out alright.
I'll let you know when I stop eating and break out into hives.
Stay tuned for my photo posts.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Hit the B Square
I love the idea of tackling this kind of dance project. A few weeks ago I was at a "book group" night with my lady friends discussing the very importance of our choreographed pop songs on bad boom boxes. We all had stories and favorite soundtracks... like my friend Heather who fondly remembers doing her Billy Jean routine to her dog (the only family member who cared).
Did I ever tell any of you that I thought this song was called "Hit the B Square"?
Did I ever tell any of you that I thought this song was called "Hit the B Square"?
Friday, May 09, 2008
"Movin' On Up"
NO, we aren't moving quite yet, but I though I'd post a photo or two of our future home. This will be our kitchen. I CANNOT believe we are lucky enough to deserve such a space. It freaks me out just looking at those windows! Will this really be ours?
Monday, April 28, 2008
Stinky Cheese Face
Ru and El went to the most insane Princess birthday party a few weeks ago. The goody bag was enormous and filled with at least $15 worth of crap... and there were at least 12 little princesses in attendance. Princess Belle came and painted their faces, sang songs and played games with them. They were served a healthy lunch and a gourmet birthday cake (that looked like it was made by the Ace of Cakes on the Food Network)... all of this at the fucking Agawam Hunt Club. It was amazing, but I have to say I'm excited to get our asses to Vermont so we can bring some perspective back into our kids lives.
Wait until I tell you about their first sleep-over at their best friend Sophie's house. (It involves a large bubble bath, Baby Bulgari Perfume, dinner at a Japanese steak house, etc.)
This particular photo was taken after the birthday party. Ruby's new thing is to make stinky cheese face for pictures. Oh, and don't you love that she wanted a pink unicorn painted on her cheek?
My house is overflowing with unicorns.
Wait until I tell you about their first sleep-over at their best friend Sophie's house. (It involves a large bubble bath, Baby Bulgari Perfume, dinner at a Japanese steak house, etc.)
This particular photo was taken after the birthday party. Ruby's new thing is to make stinky cheese face for pictures. Oh, and don't you love that she wanted a pink unicorn painted on her cheek?
My house is overflowing with unicorns.
9 months of Penelope
At this point, some of you have already seen this photo... and considering that Penny will be 10 months soon, I thought I should post this dumpling shot.
I cannot explain how hard it is to keep my teeth off of her. Her Fleshy-ness has magical powers over me. Sometimes I refer to her as Ms. Fleshypants, or DJ Fleshy Flesh. Wait until her thighs tan up this summer... she can't keep the sun away!
I cannot explain how hard it is to keep my teeth off of her. Her Fleshy-ness has magical powers over me. Sometimes I refer to her as Ms. Fleshypants, or DJ Fleshy Flesh. Wait until her thighs tan up this summer... she can't keep the sun away!
Sunday, April 13, 2008
needs and wants
I got my hair cut yesterday - and despite my requests to have a cut like Padma's on Top Chef, I ended up with something shorter and slightly more "suburban-housewife" than I had hoped. Now, Providence isn't exactly the hippest place on the planet, but there is a nice little downtown area that is trying to establish itself as a Soho-like place to shop. Needless to say, I haven't done any shopping there (or anywhere for that matter) in the last year, and there are some lovely little boutiques with pricey clothes and jewelry. After feeling slightly "updated" into a more cosmopolitan status with my freshly cut locks, I walked out of my glam salon and browsed a couple of these shops. What a bad idea! It hasn't occurred to me how hideous my wardrobe has become because I just don't get out much... clearly shopping with 3 kids is impossible, and convincing Myles that I need to go shopping doesn't cut it. He always says, "Oh. So you NEED pair of jeans?" I'm tired of convincing him that jeans from 3 years ago don't make me feel good... and that the knees are all blown out and make me look like I'm an extra in Footloose.
Holy shit though. Even if did buy the new jeans I wanted, it would cost me over $100. This is the kind of stuff I want. I don't want Old Navy and Gap. I don't even want J Crew. What is wrong with me people? I gave up my super-trashy weekly magazines, but I cling to my tacky subscriptions to Lucky, Domino and Vogue. I know that's partly what makes me WANT WANT WANT. Otherwise I'm not sure I'd pay much attention. But these crappy periodicals are like my little lifeline to my former self. Miss Nelson. Remember her? I kind of do. She liked living in the city, shopping for trendy shit at sample sales and blowing money on expensive dinners and drinks... she took good care of her fingers and toes, she smelled nice and had good haircuts. Always appropriately waxed. But then Miss Nelson had kids.
Poof!
Miss Nelson is still missing...
My materialism has become so complicated that I decided to reconsider my "wants" and narrow them down to true "needs" - Because ultimately there are more important things to consider - like how you pay the bills and maintain good credit so we can buy a house. But no matter how hard I try to give up some of my former obsessions, I can't ignore that voice in my head that says, "Who have you become? And how did you become this new person so willingly?"
There's nothing like a move back to Vermont to make me feel in touch with my inner City Girl. (Perhaps it wasn't a haircut that I was looking for yesterday, but a confirmation that I'm still ME deep down. And when I say haircut, I'm talking about the kind of salon that gives you a latte when you arrive and scrubs your head for 15 minutes... aaahhh.) So yes, despite my recent dry and frugal moments, I'm still a crazy glutton. I appreciate over-priced fashion. I still can easily spend $20 on import cheese without guilt. What will Norwich VT do with me? Fuck. I mean, I think we are buying a house from a Mormon family! (Any suggestions on how to cleanse the house from the spirit of Joseph Smith?)
Well, back to my initial point, I have decided that I can't let a location change take any of the remaining sass out of me... I'm so afraid to be stuck in hideous footwear for 8 months out of the year. When there is snow on the ground most of the time, you become practical and frumpy - how BORING.
Clearly I'm exaggerating about this Fear of the Frump, but I see it as a reflection of some other pending adjustments that I have to make in my mind. Like how I am afraid of taking Ruby and Eloise out of an incredible school and plopping them into a mediocre 4 day a week program... ew.
see! I'm such a fucking snot.
Busted.
Holy shit though. Even if did buy the new jeans I wanted, it would cost me over $100. This is the kind of stuff I want. I don't want Old Navy and Gap. I don't even want J Crew. What is wrong with me people? I gave up my super-trashy weekly magazines, but I cling to my tacky subscriptions to Lucky, Domino and Vogue. I know that's partly what makes me WANT WANT WANT. Otherwise I'm not sure I'd pay much attention. But these crappy periodicals are like my little lifeline to my former self. Miss Nelson. Remember her? I kind of do. She liked living in the city, shopping for trendy shit at sample sales and blowing money on expensive dinners and drinks... she took good care of her fingers and toes, she smelled nice and had good haircuts. Always appropriately waxed. But then Miss Nelson had kids.
Poof!
Miss Nelson is still missing...
My materialism has become so complicated that I decided to reconsider my "wants" and narrow them down to true "needs" - Because ultimately there are more important things to consider - like how you pay the bills and maintain good credit so we can buy a house. But no matter how hard I try to give up some of my former obsessions, I can't ignore that voice in my head that says, "Who have you become? And how did you become this new person so willingly?"
There's nothing like a move back to Vermont to make me feel in touch with my inner City Girl. (Perhaps it wasn't a haircut that I was looking for yesterday, but a confirmation that I'm still ME deep down. And when I say haircut, I'm talking about the kind of salon that gives you a latte when you arrive and scrubs your head for 15 minutes... aaahhh.) So yes, despite my recent dry and frugal moments, I'm still a crazy glutton. I appreciate over-priced fashion. I still can easily spend $20 on import cheese without guilt. What will Norwich VT do with me? Fuck. I mean, I think we are buying a house from a Mormon family! (Any suggestions on how to cleanse the house from the spirit of Joseph Smith?)
Well, back to my initial point, I have decided that I can't let a location change take any of the remaining sass out of me... I'm so afraid to be stuck in hideous footwear for 8 months out of the year. When there is snow on the ground most of the time, you become practical and frumpy - how BORING.
Clearly I'm exaggerating about this Fear of the Frump, but I see it as a reflection of some other pending adjustments that I have to make in my mind. Like how I am afraid of taking Ruby and Eloise out of an incredible school and plopping them into a mediocre 4 day a week program... ew.
see! I'm such a fucking snot.
Busted.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Monday, March 31, 2008
Live Free Or Die
Apologies for my lack of photos... they have yet to make it onto my computer after our long trip.
But more importantly, we are headed back into the mountains. Myles ended up having to scramble into a Pediatrics residency spot at Dartmouth. I guess the anesthesia programs of the northeast weren't ranking him, so he chose the best possible option. And the funny thing is that I think it's ultimately the best fit for him. He just doesn't know it yet.
People keep asking me how I'm doing. I'm responding with a lot of nervous grins and uncomfortable "you know, I think things like this happen for a reason" comments.
Do things like this happen for a reason? Maybe they do for the sake of showing Myles that he has a gift for working with children...
But what lesson am I learning?
Occasionally in a relationship there is compromise... and other times we throw up our arms and surrender.
But more importantly, we are headed back into the mountains. Myles ended up having to scramble into a Pediatrics residency spot at Dartmouth. I guess the anesthesia programs of the northeast weren't ranking him, so he chose the best possible option. And the funny thing is that I think it's ultimately the best fit for him. He just doesn't know it yet.
People keep asking me how I'm doing. I'm responding with a lot of nervous grins and uncomfortable "you know, I think things like this happen for a reason" comments.
Do things like this happen for a reason? Maybe they do for the sake of showing Myles that he has a gift for working with children...
But what lesson am I learning?
Occasionally in a relationship there is compromise... and other times we throw up our arms and surrender.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
and we're off...
All five of us Websters are headed to Disney World for a week starting Saturday morning. My mom and dad and my brother's entire family will be there too - and coincidentally another family from Ru and El's old Montessori school. There should be lots and lots of ridiculous princess crap happening... as well as disgusting unhealthy food, overtired, spoiled and misbehaving children, the occasional rash or sunburn and a lot of laughing. Oh, and swimming. And spending money. (ouch.)
The idea that I have to pack for myself and 3 little girls is pretty overwhelming, which is why I need to get off this fucking machine and get to work.
Did I mention that Penny can crawl AND pull herself up now? And Ruby and Eloise turn 4 tomorrow. And we find out if we have to move again on March 20th. Lots going on in this head of mine.
Prepare yourselves for some super special photos and an update on our future when we return...
The idea that I have to pack for myself and 3 little girls is pretty overwhelming, which is why I need to get off this fucking machine and get to work.
Did I mention that Penny can crawl AND pull herself up now? And Ruby and Eloise turn 4 tomorrow. And we find out if we have to move again on March 20th. Lots going on in this head of mine.
Prepare yourselves for some super special photos and an update on our future when we return...
Friday, February 29, 2008
A Light in the Attic
Shel Silverstein. Genius! Who remembers the book "The Giving Tree"? You all MUST remember that one, right?
It begins, "Once there was a tree... and she loved a little boy..." and the tree gives all of herself to the boy as he grows and grows into a greedy grown-up and eventually chops her down to a stump. And it continues from there, "And the tree was happy... but not really." Eventually the boy returns as an old man and needs a place to rest, so he sits on the stump. Again, "the tree was happy".
End of story. So was the tree really happy? Were we all destined to be greedy like the boy?
Today "The Giving Tree" makes more sense than it did when I was young - on so many different levels. When you are young, you relate to the boy, but as a parent now I feel completely in touch with the tree! I understand unconditional giving. You give and give and give every moment to your child that you can. At times I've felt like I wanted to burst from the pressures of self-sacrifice - initially it was such a hard adjustment for me and I was so angry at the world. Why did I feel like I was throwing away my former self for my kids? Why did I have to do this, and why did I feel so guilty about NOT liking the process of giving? I was happy... but not really.
Well, last night Ruby and Eloise recited a short poem to me from memory. It was a Shel Silverstein poem about taking a snowball under the covers - "and when I woke it had wet my bed" (insert goofy kid laughter). So I went and got out Myles' tattered copy of "Where the Sidewalk Ends". More Shel. We picked poems and I happily read all of these memories to my girls. At times I didn't even have to look at the words because they were pouring out of an odd memory bank in the back of my brain. It felt so good. Here were these things that I vividly remember from my childhood! These excellent nonsense poems about dogs with two tails, three guys who go for a ride in a flying shoe, and the unicorns who missed their ride on Noah's ark. Ru and El have hit the age where I will be able to share and appreciate these excellent pieces of literature, not just picture books.
The sacrifice we make for our kids has extraordinary payback. I got another glimpse of that last night - those milestones along the way, like the first "I love you, Mom" out of your kid's mouth, or the first time you realize you wish you could take on all of their pain or illness so that they didn't have to live through it, - those are the things that make being a parent completely rewarding. Recently I've been so pre-occupied with the fear of moving to yet another place, juggling Penny's schedule (or lack thereof) and dealing with financial paranoia that I've almost forgotten to recognize how mature Ruby and Eloise have become. Sharing this old favorite book gave me a small wake-up call.
Last week Eloise said, "Mom, we don't like having curly hair. We want straight hair like Sophie." Shit, I thought. This garbage already? I tell them it's not about the outside, it's the inside that counts... corny corny, I know... but to identical twins that has even more resonance.
And for another grown-up comment, Ruby told me I should return my bruised squash to the market, "like you did with the LAME pistachios." (They WERE lame pistachios for the record. Almost all of the shells were sealed shut.) Note to self: don't say things like "lame", "butt-crack", or "bummer" in regular everyday speech. Fortunately they haven't figured out that I'm the F-Bomb Mommy - at least not yet. I'll let you know when someone says fuck. (Watch it be Penelope's first word. Seriously, if she could talk I think she'd say, "GIVE ME THE FUCKING CHEERIOS! NOW!!!)
So there it is. My kids are my life. I can complain about how hard this job is day in and day out, and how I think society pressures mommies to give too much of themselves - but it is refreshing to know that even reading them a book can remind me how I'd be happy to give them the world; to let them virtually chop off my limbs, and use me as a resting place.
Infinitely happy indeed.
It begins, "Once there was a tree... and she loved a little boy..." and the tree gives all of herself to the boy as he grows and grows into a greedy grown-up and eventually chops her down to a stump. And it continues from there, "And the tree was happy... but not really." Eventually the boy returns as an old man and needs a place to rest, so he sits on the stump. Again, "the tree was happy".
End of story. So was the tree really happy? Were we all destined to be greedy like the boy?
Today "The Giving Tree" makes more sense than it did when I was young - on so many different levels. When you are young, you relate to the boy, but as a parent now I feel completely in touch with the tree! I understand unconditional giving. You give and give and give every moment to your child that you can. At times I've felt like I wanted to burst from the pressures of self-sacrifice - initially it was such a hard adjustment for me and I was so angry at the world. Why did I feel like I was throwing away my former self for my kids? Why did I have to do this, and why did I feel so guilty about NOT liking the process of giving? I was happy... but not really.
Well, last night Ruby and Eloise recited a short poem to me from memory. It was a Shel Silverstein poem about taking a snowball under the covers - "and when I woke it had wet my bed" (insert goofy kid laughter). So I went and got out Myles' tattered copy of "Where the Sidewalk Ends". More Shel. We picked poems and I happily read all of these memories to my girls. At times I didn't even have to look at the words because they were pouring out of an odd memory bank in the back of my brain. It felt so good. Here were these things that I vividly remember from my childhood! These excellent nonsense poems about dogs with two tails, three guys who go for a ride in a flying shoe, and the unicorns who missed their ride on Noah's ark. Ru and El have hit the age where I will be able to share and appreciate these excellent pieces of literature, not just picture books.
The sacrifice we make for our kids has extraordinary payback. I got another glimpse of that last night - those milestones along the way, like the first "I love you, Mom" out of your kid's mouth, or the first time you realize you wish you could take on all of their pain or illness so that they didn't have to live through it, - those are the things that make being a parent completely rewarding. Recently I've been so pre-occupied with the fear of moving to yet another place, juggling Penny's schedule (or lack thereof) and dealing with financial paranoia that I've almost forgotten to recognize how mature Ruby and Eloise have become. Sharing this old favorite book gave me a small wake-up call.
Last week Eloise said, "Mom, we don't like having curly hair. We want straight hair like Sophie." Shit, I thought. This garbage already? I tell them it's not about the outside, it's the inside that counts... corny corny, I know... but to identical twins that has even more resonance.
And for another grown-up comment, Ruby told me I should return my bruised squash to the market, "like you did with the LAME pistachios." (They WERE lame pistachios for the record. Almost all of the shells were sealed shut.) Note to self: don't say things like "lame", "butt-crack", or "bummer" in regular everyday speech. Fortunately they haven't figured out that I'm the F-Bomb Mommy - at least not yet. I'll let you know when someone says fuck. (Watch it be Penelope's first word. Seriously, if she could talk I think she'd say, "GIVE ME THE FUCKING CHEERIOS! NOW!!!)
So there it is. My kids are my life. I can complain about how hard this job is day in and day out, and how I think society pressures mommies to give too much of themselves - but it is refreshing to know that even reading them a book can remind me how I'd be happy to give them the world; to let them virtually chop off my limbs, and use me as a resting place.
Infinitely happy indeed.
Monday, February 25, 2008
a bright bright sunshiny day...
One of these blogs that I follow suggested that you shoot your photos into the sun as an experiment. Like a rule-breaking kind of thing. So I quite like this photo of Eloise. It captures her essence just perfectly. (As I write this I'm feeling guilty for not posting a link to the blog that I read regarding photos, life coaching, creativity... not because I don't want to share this with you, but because I'm being an ass about the norms of the blog medium. That is another potential topic entirely... norms of the blog medium. I find myself hooked on a relatively link-free style for many reasons... but really, that's another entry on another day.)
But yes. I just said BLOG as a medium. Currently I work in "blog" and I'm struggling with all that entails and how I've become this blogger of sorts. I don't get many comments posted directly to blogger, which is fine, but I do manage to hear feedback from my pals around the world (yes, you are all around the world) and that is precisely why I do this. You are all so fucking far away and this is a decent method to let you know how my brain and family unit is functioning.
The inspiration for my photo post was an experiment, so I have decided to make a experiment of my own and encourage many of you non-bloggers just to start writing in a blog format to see what happens (you don't have to share it with anybody). Really, this type of writing began as a Doogie Howser, M.D. kind of computer journal I could use to document my days... and then it became a means to communicate... and now it has become a place of curiosity for a tiny community. Many of you are friends, but some of you are quasi-strangers. I invite you upon this entry to let yourself be known in my comments box (and that's okay if there are only 2 of you) and ask me some questions. Or send me your links. Discuss amongst yourself, and in the meantime mess around with shooting into the sun.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
All You Need Is Love... Love Is All You Need
My college graduation present has been sold (silver Golf, 1999). My little twins are not so little any more. I am addicted enough to television that I even take pictures of it. I adore felting lame squares of knitting and making them into coasters. My cat doesn't appreciate Valentines, but Penny knows that 18K rose gold charm bracelets are good for her.
Myles and I have been together for 12 years this summer.
That means my niece Daisy is turning 12 in March, my sister's dog Maggie (who was put to rest last week) was also 12, and I am a really old old lady.
But what a thing to reflect on - loving the same person since the age of 20. I have a few regrets... but they are ultimately trumped by all of our beautiful memories. Enjoy a visit here to have a visual.
Myles and I have been together for 12 years this summer.
That means my niece Daisy is turning 12 in March, my sister's dog Maggie (who was put to rest last week) was also 12, and I am a really old old lady.
But what a thing to reflect on - loving the same person since the age of 20. I have a few regrets... but they are ultimately trumped by all of our beautiful memories. Enjoy a visit here to have a visual.
Monday, February 11, 2008
change we can believe in
My friend Heather who has 6 year old daughter sent me an email a few days ago confirming her love of Barack - she writes:
"I am so excited about Barak's wins yesterday. Lets keep it up! I just keep picturing myself telling Dora that he is the president of our country and being so proud to tell her that. Now when she asks about the president I just try to brush it under the carpet or change the subject. Dora already knows the truth about the tooth fairy and Santa (I also explain that we can pretend these things are real if she wants), but I don't have the heart to tell her about Bush and the US government."
I just love her comparing of the mysterious and phony Santa and the scary truth about the US government. Amazing.
Well, for another kind of change, I am off to do a crossword in bed with Myles rather than pollute my brain with more TV. Back when we were child-free we did a bedtime crossword every night. It's time we get back to some honest and healthy togetherness before our relationship wears thin under the pressures of residency...
"I am so excited about Barak's wins yesterday. Lets keep it up! I just keep picturing myself telling Dora that he is the president of our country and being so proud to tell her that. Now when she asks about the president I just try to brush it under the carpet or change the subject. Dora already knows the truth about the tooth fairy and Santa (I also explain that we can pretend these things are real if she wants), but I don't have the heart to tell her about Bush and the US government."
I just love her comparing of the mysterious and phony Santa and the scary truth about the US government. Amazing.
Well, for another kind of change, I am off to do a crossword in bed with Myles rather than pollute my brain with more TV. Back when we were child-free we did a bedtime crossword every night. It's time we get back to some honest and healthy togetherness before our relationship wears thin under the pressures of residency...
to my clueless few...
I've just been alerted by a couple of people that they completely don't understand what my last post was making reference to! Huge apologies for being so vague... but I have a bad case of Obama-mania. (Or should that be ObaMania?) Barack Obama's campaign speeches repeatedly use the phrase "yes we can".
Here goes my first attempt at posting a video to y'all.
Here goes my first attempt at posting a video to y'all.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
New Sweater, New Skill
Here she is - Ms. Penelope Pickle! What a clever dumpling sitting up by herself... almost a little too clever for my liking. She does these roly-poly moves from a seated position and falls down onto her stomach, where she then manages to inch herself backwards. I remember this phase of Ruby and Eloise's babyhood... you turn the corner for a moment, only to return to find a child stuck under the sofa. When she figures out how to crawl forward I am in serious trouble.
How nice is this hand-knit cardigan she's wearing? My snazzy sister whipped it up in a matter of days. If only I could pull a cute outfit like this together... my fashion has fallen down the drain along side my dish suds. Perhaps that's my next entry: How To Feel Attractive Again.
Just writing that out makes me want to crawl under this desk and cry.
How nice is this hand-knit cardigan she's wearing? My snazzy sister whipped it up in a matter of days. If only I could pull a cute outfit like this together... my fashion has fallen down the drain along side my dish suds. Perhaps that's my next entry: How To Feel Attractive Again.
Just writing that out makes me want to crawl under this desk and cry.
Friday, January 18, 2008
REsolution
Over the years I have been addicted to paper towels, zip-loc baggies, saran wrap, designer bath wash and packets of wipes. I have been the first to secretly criticize my in-laws for their impressive use of wax paper and recycled yogurt containers for every little leftover food item. I cannot stand BROWN, unbleached, recycled paper towels and their complete inability to effectively wipe up or dry anything (it's just pushing whatever you spilled all around the counter). I have been known to giggle at crusty-ass towels that have been dried on a clothesline or drying rack... thinking they don't really smell fresh or feel particularly nice wiping your face after you get out of a shower. I have scoffed at bar soaps for their dingy, dirty scum that you get to look at all built up on your shower rack or soap dish. I have whined about people who are so environmentally conscious that they would even bother to recycle a fucking piece of tin foil - and better yet I like to make fun of those losers who manage to wrap your peanut butter sandwich in the old foil that previously held your roasted garlic. Hello flavor spoiler... the equivalent of cutting your banana with the onion knife!
Remember that Pantene commercial where some annoying model tossed her hair around and said, "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful?" I've always envisioned my hippie relatives saying, "Don't hate me because I'm frugal".. giving a delicate toss to their grey hair and tossing a little handful of fucking granola with flax seed into their mouth.
So my point is that I have been hyper-critical of anything "green". Hell, I even hate the term "green". It makes my skin crawl... kinda the way that "low-carb", "vegan" or "low-fat" does. I like to be an asshole about people who are healthy and good... because they make me feel horrible about myself and my complete inability to have any self-restraint. Honestly, it doesn't make any sense, except for the fact that that is the way I have been raised to think. I don't blame my parents for anything here, but these sentiments always have a root cause. My mom is a maniac about cleanliness and cleaning solutions, and my father is still in denial about our role in the process of global warming.
But this here is a photo of my new crusty-clothes-creating drying rack. I'm pretty proud of it actually, because it was a struggle for me to really want to put it in my dining room for anyone to see. I've had to let go of the concept of other people's impression of my decor and start thinking of how proud I am to be doing something to save energy and money. (For the record, I still use the dryer, but not nearly as long or as much as before.) Much to my mother's dismay, I haven't put paper towels in my kitchen for over a month. We use numerous washcloths and dish towels for wiping up, cleaning and drying. I have also managed to finish off my favorite shower gels and have moved to bar soaps - which has been a fun transition, considering that there are still a ton of beautiful smelling solid soaps for me to purchase. Think about how much extra plastic waste is created by those silly bottles. I do need to work on finishing up my squirty hand soap dispensers... but that's a tough one for me. I hate dirty bars of soap on the side of the sink...
We also bought some of those HIDEOUS, coiled, florescent "Al Gore" lightbulbs (as my dad likes to call them). They are an interior decorators nightmare... such an unflattering effect on our complexions... but interspersed with regular bulbs here and there I can handle it I guess. Hell, I kind of dig wax paper sandwich bags now.
These are my efforts to adjust my ways for the moment, and once these baby steps become normal to me, I can tackle something else. Being better to the environment is not a resolution. Resolutions don't work... as far as I'm concerned they just end up being disappointing. Instead I choose to refocus. And now I can make fun of myself - instead of other people - when I choose tin foil over plastic wrap.
Remember that Pantene commercial where some annoying model tossed her hair around and said, "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful?" I've always envisioned my hippie relatives saying, "Don't hate me because I'm frugal".. giving a delicate toss to their grey hair and tossing a little handful of fucking granola with flax seed into their mouth.
So my point is that I have been hyper-critical of anything "green". Hell, I even hate the term "green". It makes my skin crawl... kinda the way that "low-carb", "vegan" or "low-fat" does. I like to be an asshole about people who are healthy and good... because they make me feel horrible about myself and my complete inability to have any self-restraint. Honestly, it doesn't make any sense, except for the fact that that is the way I have been raised to think. I don't blame my parents for anything here, but these sentiments always have a root cause. My mom is a maniac about cleanliness and cleaning solutions, and my father is still in denial about our role in the process of global warming.
But this here is a photo of my new crusty-clothes-creating drying rack. I'm pretty proud of it actually, because it was a struggle for me to really want to put it in my dining room for anyone to see. I've had to let go of the concept of other people's impression of my decor and start thinking of how proud I am to be doing something to save energy and money. (For the record, I still use the dryer, but not nearly as long or as much as before.) Much to my mother's dismay, I haven't put paper towels in my kitchen for over a month. We use numerous washcloths and dish towels for wiping up, cleaning and drying. I have also managed to finish off my favorite shower gels and have moved to bar soaps - which has been a fun transition, considering that there are still a ton of beautiful smelling solid soaps for me to purchase. Think about how much extra plastic waste is created by those silly bottles. I do need to work on finishing up my squirty hand soap dispensers... but that's a tough one for me. I hate dirty bars of soap on the side of the sink...
We also bought some of those HIDEOUS, coiled, florescent "Al Gore" lightbulbs (as my dad likes to call them). They are an interior decorators nightmare... such an unflattering effect on our complexions... but interspersed with regular bulbs here and there I can handle it I guess. Hell, I kind of dig wax paper sandwich bags now.
These are my efforts to adjust my ways for the moment, and once these baby steps become normal to me, I can tackle something else. Being better to the environment is not a resolution. Resolutions don't work... as far as I'm concerned they just end up being disappointing. Instead I choose to refocus. And now I can make fun of myself - instead of other people - when I choose tin foil over plastic wrap.
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