March 2007 Archives

So my scout's honor isn't worth anything.  I did bring my camera yesterday to Bad Moms Coffee, but it never seemed like a good time to get it out and start taking pictures in the middle of conversations.  I am so glad that I'm finally able to fit in regular social contact (in real! life!) with all these women I admire so much. 

I'm sitting on the couch with Willow.  All the other kids are at school for another hour.  She's laying next to me on her belly, feet pushing into my ribs and her head resting on her arms.  She is so fidgety and wiggly.  I bought her a little toddler trampoline, with a handle thing, for her birthday.  She jumps on it all the time and I think it helps her sleep a little better at night. 

Tomorrow is the last day of March and I didn't finish writing my novel.  I didn't even begin to finish, but I did begin and, all things considered, that is something at least.  Maybe in November I'll join the real kids and see if I can keep up.  I've got all spring and summer to get a running start, which I would not consider cheating given my four-kid handicap.  Thanks to everyone who signed up and played along, and especially to Chris for making the button.  I'm in the middle of redoing my site, and I'm going to streamline the sidebar and work on getting my blogroll in order (whimper, whine). 

I know this makes no sense at all, but I'm going to go mop the kitchen before I get the kids from school. 

I'm going to Bad Mom's Coffee in a little while, and bringing one of my favorite Bad Mothers and her kid, the awesome BabyO (he's grown a little bit since then).  If a day starts off good, it has a fighting chance, right?  Will take photos this time, scout's honor.

If my day had ended when I got the mail just now**, it would have been THE most fitting ending. 

**I somehow got a HUGE damn bloody paper cut on my fingertip from some fucking junk mail.

Over the weekend I got to go out to a nightclub with this sign on the wall:

It's funny how being jammed into a totally oversold club and having beer sloshed on my feet can have the effect of making me feel like I can breathe again.  I suppose it's the magic mix of having no one to be responsible for (except myself, which apparently I forgot about if the way I felt when I woke up is anything to go by) and doing something that I used to do when I wasn't anyone's mom.

It's not that I'm wanting to go back and be twenty-three again (well, maybe a teeny bit sometimes, but it's strictly for the body), but I do find myself wishing that I'd done a better job of being twenty-three when I was there.  And it is this, this very feeling, that causes parents to lecture kids about choices and planning and thinking things through.  The longer I parent; the more of those moments I have where I relate so completely to my own parents, the more I realize that so many things can't be taught.  Some stuff you just have to go through to learn.  At least, that is true for me. 

On Sunday Willow and I went to visit with Gwendomama, Supergirl, and Bubbles (who is in need of a new name).  We had a nice, low-key afternoon, that passed too quickly while we talked and I ate all the food in the whole house.  (It was good.  I was powerless.)   We were sent home with some fantastic little wooden toys and what was left of the excellent pumpkin bread, which, uh, didn't make it home.  Again, I was powerless, and Willow helped some.

And now, I must get my non-stage diving ass to the school to pick up the kids. 

I finally got myself over to Bad Mom's Coffee this morning, and I'm hoping to make it a regular thing and to regularly get there earlier and to skip the part where I drive to the wrong town even with the stellar directions.  (And, possibly, to repeat the BLT on a bagel.)  It was great to see everyone.  I need my people.

So, I started on this funky birth control ring thing awhile back.  I was super happy thinking that I'd found the perfect solution to my personal overpopulation tendencies (although, in all fairness, I got pregnant while using an IUD --it's not like I'm all hot to have as many kids as god gives me or something).  I hate birth control pills because they do to me whatever tequila does to a mean drunk: it's like me, only minus any nice or tact or caring who gets their feelings hurt.  Also, taking a pill at the same time every single day

ha ha ha ha ha ha

No.  Not happening.

So, the ring.  No pills to take, nothin much to do (except remember to remove it, which I of course didn't the first month) except not get pregnant.  All good!  The doctor told me that the hormone dose was lower than the pill, and that I wouldn't feel like strangling everyone who breathed or walked near me. 

The first month I was on it, I felt pregnant.  Nausea, t i r e d, nausea, weight gain (bing! instantly put on something like 7 pounds) nausea, bloated stomach, nausea, headaches, MOODYNESS beyond belief, and barfing. 

I decided to stick with it, just in case it took a little while to get acclimated.  Now I'm about a week into the second month and all I do is:

• cry
• try not to barf
• have weird abdominal pain
• sleep
• feel like killing people  (even the nice ones)
• eat a full meal and have real, honest, HUNGER PANGS after
• think bad things about everything
• hate stuff
• shake my fist at the sky

Finally, I remembered the awesomeness of the internets, and I poked around.  Seems I'm not the only one.  So, I'm done with the wonder ring.  I'd rather have another kid than be this kind of mother to mine.  May I never accuse my children of all passionately hating me ever, ever, again.  Amen.

Also, I owe John a huge apology.        

Often people with one or two kids will say to me something like, Wow, I struggle with my one/two all the time.  How do you do it with four?

And, usually, I say something like this: Well, the hardest thing is going from zero to one.  I think I was just as overwhelmed with one as I am with four.  Once you have a child, ALL your time and energy goes in their direction -- so it really doesn't make that much of a difference if you have one or if you have ten; parenting is all-consuming no matter how many kids you have.

I've come to realize lately that I am totally full of shit. 

Was I saying that to convince myself?  Who knows.  What I do know is that some weekday mornings all four kids have to get out the door by 8, and other mornings it's just the boys.  The days when just the boys have to go are pretty peaceful: the getting dressed, eating, lunch packing, brushing and flossing happen pretty seamlessly, as a rule.  Of course they gripe and moan and forget their lunch and homework and such, but, compared to the days when everyone must be woken, dressed, fed, brushed, shod and jacketed and find their sharing/library books/backpack/permission slips, the days with two are MARKEDLY easier than the days with four. 

Now, it may be that I'd never have noticed that it was "easy" with two if I didn't have four to hold up as a glaring comparison.  After all, when Lex was a baby I looked at people with two or three kids and freaked out a little at the very idea of having more than one child.  I so clearly remember being pregnant with Nathan and talking to a mom at the park who'd just had her third child.  I was pumping her for information because I couldn't believe that I was going to be able to handle two! kids.  Several years later, she was marveling at me, saying how she was coping with her three, but couldn't imagine having four. 

My older three kids do spend every other weekend with their dad and step-mom, so I get breaks that most mothers of four do not.  Every time they go, I resolve to clean the house and get little projects that I've been putting off forever taken care of, but usually I shift into low gear.  I putter (what a luxury -- I wish I'd appreciated the fine art of puttering more when I had free access to it), I read, I cook, we take Willow out places that are sort of a pain with all the kids. 

I don't know if I'll cry in my beer the next time someone asks me if it's really tough having four kids, but I think I'll stop sugar coating it.  Basically it's a lot of this

but even more of this

The newspaper says it may rain tomorrow, but yesterday the weather was perfect. Took the kids to the park and enjoyed the sun and the green and the icy creek.

Meh. I keep typing and then deleting. I keep finding myself wishing that things were simpler, more streamlined or something. Time to stop wishing and go pack up a few things to donate. Maybe clean out the fridge and sweep the front porch. Stuff like that makes me feel better sometimes. Really I just want to go to the beach with a big blanket and listen to the ocean while I nap.

It would seem I am having a motivation problem.

Last night Sophie came up to me while I was in the kitchen eating everything that wasn't nailed down. 

"Mom!" she said, "I am going to draw a picture for my teacher and she is going to love it!"

"That's great, honey.  Your art stuff is right there by the table."

"It's gonna be ME, on a cross!"  With this, she held her arms out to the side, stuck out her tongue, shut her eyes, and let her head loll to the side. 

"Uh.  I don't think that's such a good idea.  Most people who believe in Jesus would feel like that isn't very respectful.  Maybe you could draw a picture of you. . .  reading a book.  Or, planting flowers or jumping rope."

"I know!  I'll draw a picture of ME, on the table!  And, I'll be all tied up with ropes!  And my feet, my feet will be NAILED, to the table!"

*sigh* "Uh.  No.  I don't think she'd like that.  It's a little, uh. . . violent."

"How about if I'm hanging from a cross?"

At the same time I said, "No," Lex said, "How about if you are hanging, FROM A RAINBOW OR SOMETHING NICE?"

"Pffft," she said, "that is soooooo babyish," then she stormed off, completely pissed because no one here understands her artistic vision.

One of the many fun things about being in Barcelona was seeing all the street art.  True, some of it was barely a step above vandalism, but more of it was creative and good. 

The shops near where we stayed all had those metal pull-down doors to cover the storefronts when they were closed.  Like a roll top desk top or garage door.  If you are out late, or early, or on a Sunday, you'll see paintings all over the place.

Here are a couple of my favorites.  Oops.  The kids are out of school.  Better run!

Okay, back now.  Here's a link to more of these on flickr.

Spring fever. Bad. Will be back soon. Click on Willow to see more pictures of what we've been up to.

I'm not positive that I know this photographer, but I'm pretty sure I do. I used to work with, hang out with, and live right near her brother (if this is the right Marina) over ten years ago. Anyhow, she takes awesome pictures, so click on this one to see some of her stuff.

So, I'm trying to write a novel. Did you know that it takes up a lot of time, this writing a book thing? Not that I've gotten very far, actually, but even just thinking about it all the time takes up a lot of time. I'm determined to get it finished, though I'm betting it will be more novellaish than novely. Whatever. No pressure.

I joined a yoga studio. Turns out I only thought I'd done a little yoga in the past: this is totally different. I took a class from a wonderful friend of mine while pregnant, and I took some classes at a local super-gym that never closes. Neither of those experiences prepared me for the sweat-soaked, hard-core workout of the yoga studio. I love(!) it. I'm addicted after just a few visits. I want to go every single day, but I think I'll have to settle for four or five days a week.

I had to go to the doctor this morning to discuss my ears. I was astonished to discover that my hearing is normal. He said my eardrum looked like hell but was working just fine. So, yay! When I left the hospital at 10am, I was secretly, desperately hoping that the food truck would be outside because I NEEDED a taco. I drove past like four taquerias on the way home, but they weren't open yet. After I got Willow from school, we went to the grocery store and got all the stuff to make tacos except the shells, because Trader Joe's didn't have any. Now Willow and I are going to walk to the grocery store before we go get the kids from school. Tonight I am going to make and then eat tacos until I can't move. It's the little things that make life good, right?

Spring is here. All the trees are flowery and buddy. The bulbs I planted five years ago are up and right now the windows are open. I'm more of an autumn girl, but you cannot deny that spring is really nice.

Time for that taco shell run. I'll try and get in some Spain stories this week. I daydream about it all the time. In fact, most of the time you could say that I'm still there.