May 2006 Archives

because I will not allow him to put a footstool on the sidewalk and offer massages to strangers for fifty cents each.

It isn't hot yet, but dressing Willow this morning made me remember all these things about summer in Texas when I was little.  Could be because I'm going there next week and dreading the heat, too. 

I remember always staking out the shady spots wherever we were playing, and using them sparingly so that they'd still feel cooler than being in the full sun.  I remember the tall all-metal rocket at the park.  It had a ladder inside and a slide at the top.  You had to be careful playing on it or it would burn your legs and arms.  We'd ride our bikes to Church's Fried Chicken for free ice water.  When it was really hot, which was always, there were tiny bubbles in the tar that patched up the cracks in the asphalt.  I used to love to pop them.  Spear grass fights.  Chigger bites.  Once my brother and I spent forever picking honeysuckle blossoms and putting the nectar drip by drip into a plastic cup so we could drink it.   Swimming felt so good.  Blistering car interiors, the smell of the a/c when it first came on, all humid and freon smelling.  OFF bug spray, ick.  The damp smell of storms coming in.  And popsicles, lots and lots of popsicles. 

What do you remember?

Lucky, why?  Here's why:

Until I lost two of my FAVORITE pair of shoes in the space of three days, I thought that I'd write about how terribly depressed I am.  But the spontaneous shoe combustion (okay, not combustion, per se, but an explosion of sorts) has trumped that because, really, those are SHOES, people.  And they are RUINED.  *sigh*

You know I will attempt to fix them.  There could even be a cobbler involved, if I can put my hands on one. 

So, this is exciting: I bought air-e-o-plane tickets to Texas.  For me.  And nobody else.  I'm going to visit family all. by. my. self. (happy dance) For five days.  Which, really, makes me very nervous about my kids needing me and having me gone for so long and even more nervous that they won't need me at all.  Remember, this is the first time in ten years that I haven't had a baby under three years old totally dependent on me.  I love it, but I'm definitely still acclimating. 

I'm going to fly into Houston Thursday (thus missing Sophie's last day of preschool, ever, because I'm a bad mother), spend one night at my dad's, and then we will drive up to Dallas (north of Dallas, really) to visit my grandmothers.  Monday I'll fly home out of Dallas.  The scary plane dreams have already begun. 

More excitement: Sophie turns five on Saturday.

A couple of months ago I went out drinking with to dinner with Lex's former kindergarten/first grade teacher, and another friend, at a restaurant I hadn't been to since I was slinging pasta myself twelve or so years ago.  I saw this guy leaving the restaurant, and even though I only saw him in profile as he was walking away, I knew he was an old boyfriend of mine.  I caught up with him in the parking lot and he came in and sat with us while we finished eating.  During the course of catching up, he said that he was happy to see I'd let my hair grow long again.  Time before the last time I ran into him it was really short.  Like this.  So, Hi, R, if you are reading this, don't be shocked the next time you run into me.  I'm going to cut my hair off this weekend and send it here.   I'll take some before and after photos.  Unless I chicken out. 

Yesterday afternoon was evil.  I forgot to bring cash when I picked up the boys from school and therefore no one could get their usual Wednesday popsicles sold by the student council.  I'm lucky; even though they've watched A Bug's Life seven thousand times the kids haven't figured out that between the four of them, they could totally take me.   I drove them home, where they slammed backpacks and doors and kicked their shoes off extra hard.  I needed a moment, so I took five minutes to check my email and take deep breaths. 

About two minutes into my five minutes, Nathan started YELLING for me.  He frequently gets hurt, mostly because he runs everywhere and thinks nothing of just jumping onto a skateboard with both feet.   I went to the hall to find out what was wrong.  He was holding his hand up for me to see, but it was too dark.  When I turned on the light I saw blood.  Lots and lots.  I got him to the bathroom, grabbed a clean towel and put pressure on the spot, right between his thumb and first finger, where the blood was coming from.  One of my steak knives was on the bathroom counter, and there was a water bottle in the sink.  At this point, I thought he'd nearly severed his thumb, because I hadn't really looked and he seemed like he was going into shock.  I said, "Uh.  WHAT were you doing with the knife?"

He screamed, "NOTHING!!!  I WAS NOT DOING ANYTHING WITH IT!!  I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW IT GOT THERE!!!!"

I looked at the cut, saw that it had more than enough gapiness to need stitches, and asked Lex to bring the phone.  John is impossible to get at work, so I called my mom, who came and stayed with the other kids while I took Nate to the emergency room** thereby saving my ass AGAIN.

Turns out that he wanted to cut the top off the water bottle, so he brought it and the knife into the bathroom.  Intending to cut a hole in the side of the water bottle, then saw the top off, he stabbed right through the bottle and into his left hand.  He lives in a tree (that means he's lucky) because he missed doing any real, permanent damage. 

He was great at the hospital, and we both watched the PA shove the fat back inside his palm with some blunt tweezers after he was done stitching. (3 stitches)  The guy was telling Nate that the fat under our skin is what makes us all look different and how cool it is and so on.  Then he said, "You know, some people pay good money to have their fat taken out." 

"Yeah," Nate said, "liposuction." 

That got a laugh.

There was a tiny bit still hanging out and Nate said, "What about that part?"  The PA just said, "Oh, we don't need that," and snipped it off.  Nate didn't even flinch.  Granted, he had both the lydicaine gel stuff AND an injection (I almost started crying when he had to get the injection in his cut because he was so brave and trying SO hard to not cry), but I would have guessed that might have set him off.

So he's home today, grateful he can play Gameboy and pissed that he can't quite play Game Cube, with this super-cool sock glove I made him to help keep the damn thing clean.  Please please please let it not get infected.  PLEASE.  He's in SUCH a great mood today that he didn't fuss when the only bandaid I could find him was Hello Kitty. 

**We didn't even get to see Jesse Jackson!!  But we did overhear VERY JUICY gossip about a patient between the nurses and the physician's assistant who took care of Nate (who, by the way, JUST walked into the room and said, "OH good!  The dictionary!  I can look up "bastard!"

That's my boy.

Chilled Avocado Soup

• 3 medium avocados (peeled, pitted, and diced)
• 1 tablespoon shallots (peeled and chopped)
• 1 teaspoon olive oil (or butter)
• 1/4 teaspoon chili powder
• 2 cups veggie or chicken stock
• 1 cup soy milk
• sea salt and black pepper to taste
• 1 medium tomato (diced)

In a blender or food processor, blend avos until smooth.  In a small skillet over medium heat, saute the shallots in the oil until tender and almost translucent but not browned.  Sprinkle chili powder and set aside to cool.  In a large bowl, whisk together avocado with stock and soy milk.  Add shallot mixture and whisk until smooth.  Stir in sea salt and pepper to taste, maybe some hot sauce.  Chill for 45 minutes, garnish with tomato.

(I was totally drinking it out of the bowl.  Seriously.)

You know that part in Elmopalooza where Elmo asks Rosie O'Donnell if she wants to sing, and Rosie is all, "WHO! MEEEE?  SING?   I'D LOOOOOOVE TO!!!"  Well, The MommyBloggers sent me an email last week asking if they could interview me.  And I was all, "WHO! MEEEEE?  TALK ABOUT MYSELF??   I'D LOOOOVE TO!!"

And so on Monday afternoon, I'll be talking about myself.  Except really I did it on Saturday and part of Sunday morning, but whatever. 

*That's the song Rosie and Elmo sing together, in case you aren't in the know.

1. Squash ~ Townes Van Zandt
2. Softly Over ~ Yaz
3. Minnesota ~ The Mountain Goats
4. Clear To You ~ The Innocence Mission
5. Why Was I Born? ~ Billie Holiday
6. Poor Boy ~ Nick Drake
7. To Love Is To Bury ~ Cowboy Junkies
8. Reckless Burning ~ Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter
9. Kapila's Theme ~ Om
10. Say ~ Cat Power

This morning I was getting my things together to go to the gym and I couldn't find the right kind of towel.  I thought, for far too long, about bringing an old cloth diaper instead.  The tracks in my brain that carry those trains are in serious need of an overhaul. 

there's this list that I saw while checking my hotmail account called "12 Things To Do Before You Have a Baby."  Or something like that.  It bugged me, but then again, every.last.thing. is bugging me today.  I especially take issue with this:

Remember, the cash you spend on all of those Saturday night dinners (splurges) could probably end up paying for diapers and formula.

How about suggesting breastfeeding?

Anyway, here's my (real life!) list:

1. Think that you want to maybe get pregnant.
2. Make appointment to get IUD removed.
3. Show up to appointment pregnant.
4. Listen to OB say,"Wow!  None of my patients has EVER conceived with an IUD before!"

That list also says it'll cost one million dollars to raise my four kids.  I didn't want to know that.  And the last thing on the list should read, "Give up on the idea of ever being this organized and prepared.  EVER AGAIN."

Sophie will be five in a few weeks and I've been asking her what she wants for her birthday.  My favorite response so far is, "A set of hockey skaters, so I can hockey."

Somewhere around 6 this morning the crows started cawing.  After twenty or so minutes I realized the two ways that crows are like my kids: they loudly wake me up in the morning, and, if no one answers them when they call, they keep calling and keep getting louder.  By the time I went out to see what the hell was going on, I swear they were shrieking, "MA MA MA MA MA!!!!!" 

The boys were up, too, asking if they could play video games since it was so early.  Instead we all went to the back where Lex saw a gimongous raccoon climbing one of the big pine trees in our yard.  We ran back in for the camera and got some crappy shots of it.  Raccoons can climb way up there, you know. 

He found a fork in two big branches and got comfortable, wrapping his tail around the middle of the tree.  There were the crows, of course, but also a few squirrels and smaller birds who were all flipping out.  The raccoon was not phased at all; he just kept on with whatever he was doing, which Lex claims was eating baby squirrels.  Nathan swears he saw a starfish fall from the tree and land in the weeds grass.  I think his wife just kicked him out of the storm drain for coming in too late and he needed a place to crash. 

Last night I had an odd dream.  There was something to do with a pool party, a few people I know, and me uh, making out with Willie Nelson.  Alrighty, then.  The girls and I are off to the store for popsicles (it's finally hot here) and toilet paper (there is NONE in the house).

I printed this page out and taped it on the cabinet door above the washer.  So should you.

Last night I got the kitchen all cleaned up, then I swept and mopped.  I love the feeling of waking up before anyone else and walking barefoot into a clean kitchen.  If the floor has just been mopped, the linoleum feels softer.  Why is that?

I'm holding a sick and sad little BabyO.   Cannot type anymore.

All the ladybugs are AWOL.  Here is the crawly feast they abandoned:

The roses need help, especially since they are really putting out the buds with the warm weather. 

The lavender and daisies are happy, the poppies are sleeping.

I'm happy, too.  Got a package today.

Sophie even took my picture.

And I took one of my own.

Kinky!!

This morning when the alarm went off at 5:15, John said something like, "You don't have to go to the gym."  I said, "Uh, okay," and turned off the alarm and slept another hour and a half.  I was all mentally prepared to go until he said that!  I guess I'll go on Saturday to make up for today.  I have not lost even a half a pound, but I feel better and I definitely have more energy.  I'm less cranky, too, but I hate to write that because some people who read it will say, "yeah, right!!"

The feeling better is good.  It's so good that I'm going to follow an eating plan in hopes of feeling even better.  The first three weeks are a detox thing, which means no sugar, caffeine, alcohol, processed food, gluten, eggs or dairy. 

eep.

I can do it.  I will be glad I did it in three weeks.  But I predict that by day three I'll feel like killing for a cup of coffee and possibly willing to turn tricks for beer.  Nice, huh? 

Tonight we took all the kids out to eat.  Sometimes we do have supper in the back yard, but my father's brother and his wife were in town, so we all met at a noisy, casual, really great (but inexpensive) restaurant.   I rarely take the kids (at least all four at once) to restaurants because it's a gimongous pain in the ass, usually.  Also, I waited tables and helped manage a 4-star cafe for too many years; I know better.  Plus, I'm on the foodie side, so if I go out to eat it's got to be worth my time and money and that usually means not too kid-friendly. 

I'm rambling. 

It was great to see my aunt and uncle.  Really great.  It's been a while since I saw them last, and they haven't seen the kids since Thanksgiving of 2003.  Some growing up has taken place.  We had a wonderful meal, and even though the boys were awful and rude, they ate and were in a better mood by the time we had to get them home to bed.  The girls were transfixed by the salt shaker.  Willow kept salting her chips and licking them, but she'd already eaten her supper so I didn't mind too much. 

Again with the rambling. 

There is a patio in back of the place, which the kids discovered as we left.  In the center of the patio is a nice little fountain.  About fifteen tables were set up outside, with those big heat lamps all around to keep it warm.  It was quiet and lovely after the noise inside.  My aunt had her camera, and was hoping to take some photos of the kids.  They all were gathered around the fountain, which was making me a little uncomfortable already, since I could feel the irk waves coming from the two women at the closest table.  But, the children were quiet, and we were patrons, so I just stood back.  I even suggested the fountain as a great place to get a shot of them all together.  Then, Nate decided to put his index finger on one of the spouts on the fountain where a tranquil, soft stream of water was issuing forth.  Upwardly forth.  He didn't hit either of the two women, but I watched the water arc into several different streams in the air before coming down on at least two diners. 

Needless to say, we moved along.  As soon as we left by the patio's back gate, I started laughing.  And I know I shouldn't have, but, OH MAN was that ever funny. 

I found a nice little flowering bush to put the kids in front of for a picture, but they all began climbing on the bike rack attached to the adobe-looking wall.  Our family portrait is of the kids climbing all about with me standing in front of the boys in hopes of keeping them from falling.  I think John was keeping the girls balanced, but I'll have to see it sometime to ever really know. 

Yay for the women in the Philippines!  I was at the shindig in Berkeley, which was the standing record until now.  I was nursing Nate and Sophie at the time.  I'm happy to pass the torch, and relieved to not be tandem nursing anymore. 

When Lex was a baby I was visiting relatives in Texas.  My cousin, who has two children, said to me while Lex was nursing that she'd never even seen a baby breastfeeding EVER in her life.  Her husband walked into the room (absolutely nothing was showing, since I had on a nursing top and Lex wasn't in that toddler pull-up-the shirt-then-look-around stage yet) and he turned bright red, spun on his heel like a professional dancer, muttered, "Excuse me," and hightailed it outta there.  I'm sure his head would explode if he knew that I nursed Lex until he was four years and three months old.  That even sounds hippie to me, and I was the one doing it!

I know nursing is not for every mother or even every baby.  I used to be more, uh, strident about thinking it was the only way, but then a combination of time and karma softened my position by giving me a baby who had to have predigested formula delivered to her tummy by a tube in her nose.  I still think that if it is possible to nourish an infant au naturel, then that is the logical choice.  And, I'm still astonished that there are people, and mothers especially, who have never seen a baby nurse.  That's just freaky. 

The summer between fifth and sixth grade, my friend Darcy invited me to go on vacation with her family.  They had a cabin (or house, I do not remember anything about where we stayed) in Bear Valley.  There was a gorgeous lake that I do remember, and there was this incident, and it involved ladybugs.

Did you know that when ladybugs get the urge to make more ladybugs they swarm on tree trunks?  (At least, that's why I imagine they do that. . . )  Like, totally obscuring the bark, swarm.  Like this, for instance.  Darcy had an older brother, (sorry about the link, I spent a huge amount of time looking for something else, but I seem to be google impaired tonight) and he brought a friend.  And, they had some empty tennis ball cans, which they FILLED with ladybugs from the ladybug covered trees and upended down the backs of our shirts. 

That was the same summer I first peed outside, but that indignity was absolutely eclipsed by the billions of ladybugs crawling all over me.  I was terrified of those little things for years.  I'm not kidding.  Shut up.

This morning, some twenty five years later (eek), I went to admire the lovely roses blooming in the yard and saw this:

And, you know what that means.

It means this:

I did so well, though.  I even let some crawl on my fingers without having a panic attack!

See me?  Shaking them on to the aphid-ridden roses?  Bravely I shake!

The girls were not afraid.

Also, look at the work I did!

And that picking and planting was done directly after eating the balsamic glazed baked carrots and broccoli/spinach/garlic/red pepper flake stir fry I made for supper.  (I'm either hating myself or totally bragging.  Is there no middle ground??)

THEN I went to Tarjay and THEN I went next door to TJ maxxxxx and scored four new tops for less than what I spent on diapers and wipes at Tarjay.

And now I will go to sleep satisfied and not have ladybug nightmares. 

Yesterday afternoon.

Yep.  Still hurts to think about it.  I spent two hours and fifteen minutes at the dentist with five kids.  Four of the five were mine, and three of my four had appointments.  There was a cute, very child friendly, waiting area directly in front of the reception desk which gave me hope, when we first walked in, that the hour I was figuring we'd spend there would maybe be not too grating.  The kids went right for the toy bins and fought over the teeny rocking chair while I picked up the twelve pages I needed to fill out for my new little patients. 

I sat in a grown up sized chair and started filling out the forms while they found a small basketball (!!??!!) to play with.  There were magazines, duplo blocks, little cars, a BigBird doll, and, the hit of the day, a phonics kinda push button talking spelling thing.  It had the alphabet and numbers on it, and several games to play.  Games like, "???" (spell the word the device says --IF you can understand it), "_ar" (fill in the missing letter in this word), "ABC" (says the letter or number of the letter or number button you push), and "pretend there are music notes here because my font won't make them so far as I know" (plays a different song for each number, and sings the letters of the alphabet as you press them.  If you press the ABCs in order, it will sing the alphabet song; when you push the letters out of order it sings each letter with its note from the song.)

I finished the papers and Lex went back for a scraping while Sophie tried, without assistance, to spell the words the box was saying.  She can't spell, nor can she accept help gracefully, so she quickly descended into a mood so foul I heard myself hissing at her, "Do you want to go sit in the van until it's your turn?  Knock. It. Off.  Let me help you, or play something else." 

She screeched, "HOW! DO! YOU! SPELL! EIGHT?!?"
"E," I said.
She pushed R, the machine blurped at her, and steam came out her ears. 
I tried showing her the E; she bit off my fingers.
This went on for the half hour that Lex was in with the dentist.

When the dentist reappeared and asked, "Who's next?"  I threw Sophie to her and said, "SHE IS!"

While she was in, the literate boys decided to play with the phonics box.  I said to them, "Hey!  Watch this!"  Then I put it on the music mode and made a little song by pushing the buttons, "U R A Q T."  No one got it for a minute, so I did it again.  The boys' friend C started laughing, and then he explained to the others.  Next, I pushed, "U R A P P."  (You don't have to tell me I'm immature; I know already.)  They were DELIGHTED by that one, so I let them play while I took Willow to see Sophie. 

Willow was afraid, so she clung to my neck.  Sophie was nonplussed, and sat back in the dentist's chair with her mouth WIDE open while the dentist was getting a few last things ready.  I could hear the boys playing in the waiting room.  Or, more accurately, I could hear the talking toy.  The talking toy said, "I C U P."  I heard the belly-laughter of the three boys.  It got quiet for awhile, then I heard this:

EFF
YEW
SEE

and I went dashing to the waiting area, to see Lex and C covering their mouths and shaking with silent laughter, and Nate pushing the last button:

KAY

I looked him square in the eye.  He looked me square in the eye.  I said, "Dude.  If you feel you need to be grounded, I can arrange that for you." 

He slowly put the toy down.  I went back down the hall to where Sophie was, trying to stifle my totally inappropriate laughter. 

And I won't even get into the frequent trips to the water cooler, the bathroom frolicking or the water spilled all over the coffee table.  I think in six months, the whole staff of Moss Creek Dental will call in sick.

I was tagged by Capello for this one. 

One.  Coffee.  Coffee in this cup.  And, while we are at it, soy milk, since I have discovered recently that I'm allergic to milk.  The cup's from Peet's, my favorite coffee shop.

Two. Semi sweet chocolate chips don't usually contain dairy.  Yeah.  I ate all those since that photo was taken.

Three. Cute hand me down jeans, that fit.  And that I could never afford new since they are not from tarjay or salvation army. 

Four. My childrens' art work.

Five. My new baby.

Six. Fabric stash!  In the clean closet!

Seven. The almost-blooming daisies.  Yesterday there were one daisy and two california poppies blooming and I was SO happy, because I'd been watching them and waiting for them to open up and I've been really sad lately and finally! there were these gorgeous flowers for me to see when I walked out of the house.  I was going to take photos of them yesterday, after I got back from dropping Sophie off at school.  Sophie, who had a daisy in her hair and the two poppies twirling by the stem between her little fingers.  More are coming.  Lucky for her.

Eight. My sole surviving lavender plant.  It was one of SEVEN that I planted.  It is thriving, and I am so glad.

Nine. The climbing roses that I cut back in January returned, even though I was sure I'd killed them.

Ten. Ditto for these beautiful long-stemmed roses.

This was a good exercise for me.  I have been really feeling awful and pouty.  I need to get over it already.  And, there are lots of other things, simple and quite complicated, that I am grateful for.  Thanks, Capello, for snapping me out of it.

I participation-optionally tag Jess, Miss Supafine, Belinda and Nina.

This post really opened my eyes to something about my second son.  He has an insatiable desire to watch, read and play scary things.  Could it have anything to do with all the regular boy reasons AND having an older brother?   I feel better, and am very interested in reading part two.

Willow was playing with the playmobile ambulance the other day and talking about her ambulance ride and horrible hospital visit.  When we were there, they wanted a urine sample.  I could not convince her to pee in the cup, so the nurses put in a catheter.  It was AWFUL.  She was terrified and in pain and I felt like such a traitor for helping to hold her down.  It took forever, and when the results came back, the doctor (we always get him and he's so fucking smug I want to squish him with a giant high-heeled shoe) said that her urine was fine, though there was some blood in it, but that was probably from getting the sample.  Ya think??  So, the other day while she was talking about riding in her carseat in the "am-ball-ance," she stopped and looked up at me and said, "Dey stoled my peepee," then went back to playing.  I'm glad she's able to work it out through her play, but it breaks my heart a little when she says things like that. 

This morning when I went in to wake up the boys for school, I saw that Lex was sleeping with his skateboard and Nate was snuggled up to a giant stack of YuGiOh cards.  Who needs teddy bears? 

I got tagged by Capello to do the ten simple pleasures thing.  So, I'm going to go take some photos while babyO sleeps and the girls draw and watch a video. 

this morning when I was driving home from the gym.  There was a house with a "for sale" sign.  It was a realty company sign, not a DIY, and the agent's name was Su Casa. 

Why is that so funny to me?  Is there really a Su Casa who sells houses?  I would buy one from her if I could.  Once, when my brother and I were flying home to Texas for a visit, the flight attendant had a name tag that read "Grinnin Barrett."  She swore that was what her parents named her. 

Su Casa!!

  little anarchist at blogging camp 
  Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

Here's a photo taken by Badger of my littlest anarchist.  Really, ALL children her age are anarchists.  Well, hmm.  Okay, maybe just mine.  What's funny is that this photo sort of led to this flickr pool. (see the icon?)  So, carry your camera with you and look for some anarchist street art to send in.

Like my friend (BabyO's mom, M) and I were discussing this morning; it's much easier to be an anarchist when you don't have children.  We think we're kinda liking many of the laws in place to keep our kids safe.  Course, there are always some that we could do without. 

I'm trying to understand the motivation behind the people who put up the quarter mile barbed wire fence down south.  Am I right in understanding that these people oppose "illegal" immigration because they feel that the immigrants are getting something for nothing?  Free health care!  At the taxpayer's expense!  Yeah.  So, living in fear and, usually, poverty, working and working and working to help yourself and your family, and then when you're really tired and absolutely need to rest, working some more.  That's all done to take advantage of the piddly amount of taxes that the fence guys pay?  No.  I bet the fence guys taxes don't even cover the things that the government provides for them and their families.  Immigrants do not get something for nothing.  What they get is pretty much screwed by the United States.  I think they should get MORE services, amnesty, and a big fat check to go buy things to send their children living hundreds of miles away.  Isn't that what the whole "trickle down" theory is all about? 

Eh.  This is why I don't blog politics; I get too hepped up to make sense.  But, you get my gist, I think.

Here's more on the subject at BlogHer (thanks again to Badger for the link).