Showing posts from April, 2007

I'm falling behind

There is so much to tell you all about, goat death and the GH's birthday party, my immigration physical, the homeless guy who gave me money, but right now I'm busy teaching a 5-year old math, and trying to get the pee off of the floor in my bathroom at the same time. But I did want to mention that this month I nominated Journey Mama for a perfect post hosted by Suburban Turmoil and Petroville . And yes, I know that I'm a day late and that the awards went out yesterday, but yesterday I was trying to decide if I'm moving out of this apartment by touring all of the other apartments in this or a lower price range and hating them all, we are not moving this year. I nominated this entry for several reasons. First I think it's incredibly well written, to the point that I felt that I was living part of her experience, and second, because I admire the attitude she has and the grace with which she is dealing with something really hard. So go over and read it if you haven&#

Note to Self

Never strip off your pajamas and then walk in to your own private bathroom in your own master bedroom at the back of your apartment in order to clean up before getting dressed. Otherwise you may find yourself standing naked in your bathroom as all of the children of the neighborhood congregate on your bed, right next to your clothes. You may then find yourself yelling through your bathroom door something like "Go out of the bedroom and close the door, go out now, I don't care what you're playing just get out, get out now, GO! LEAVE!, CLOSE THE DOOR NOW!!!!" Don't even do this when your children are under the supposed supervision of their father since he obviously doesn't see anything wrong with letting everyone play in your bedroom while you are trying to get dressed.

Sober and Thoughtful

The past week was the week of remembrance for the 6 million Jews who were murdered during Ha' Shoah/Holocaust . I went to synagogue, which I rarely do, because the guest speaker was David Faber . Last year I read his book, Because of Romek , and I wanted to hear him speak. The day before I ironed. I never iron. I carefully ironed my clothes, and my children's clothes in a sort of private homage to the man we would meet tomorrow, who had lived through so much, whose people had been so severely wronged by the rest of the world. The man who endured unimaginable horrors and lived to tell the rest of us about it. It was silly I know, to iron, I'm sure he didn't notice, but I didn't know what else to do. He's a short little man, his movements careful and sparse, he moved with the care of most elderly people, and something more besides. His hands shook with the effort of raising them above his head to show us the pictures of his family whom he watched die, or the sho

Because one person asked

Because someone asked if there were any pictures of me earlier this week here is the most recent picture of my self. This is passover dinner. I am the one holding the baby with the OMG why didn't anyone tell me that I have that much cleavage hanging out?

So help me, you had better not die or I will kill you!

Do you ever have those days when you feel as though just getting your children through it alive is an accomplishment, and sometimes it’s because you might kill them yourself? When the last bedroom door shuts and the last pair of tiny eyes closes in slumber you sigh in relief and think to yourself, “I’m so glad that’s over.” Today was one of those days. It started well enough, breakfast, school, making muffins, lunch, playing at the playground with friends. And then… We walked to Kinko’s. The Boy likes to take his scooter along as we go and as is habit ride ahead to the corner and then sit down and wait for me, until I get there and we cross together. He never crosses the street by himself: he knows to wait for me. There is one corner however that gives him problems. Because we don’t often cross at that corner but turn and continue on the same sidewalk he can get too far ahead. Just two days ago I had spoken to him about it and reminded him to always make sure he can see me behind hi

Love Is...

...When your auntie spends her weekend sewing you silly hats and horse shaped pillows, because she knows you like them. She sets up tents in the back yard and sleeps outside with you so you can pretend you are camping, she draws and cuts out dozens of paper fish and tapes magnets to them so you can pretend you are fishing with the special pole she also made you. She makes you pretty costumes, and lets you play with her things. She reads you books, she makes cookies and pancakes for you and lets you "help", she even makes you your own special apron. When she went to India she bought you bangles and shoes. When she went to Thailand she came home with a little seat that fastens to her bicycle so she could take you for bike rides with her. She always seems to be thinking about you and how to make your day special. And, of course, she gets up from whatever she was doing to come outside and swing with you when you ask her. Happy Love Thursday

4 months

You are already 4 months old. I haven't really noticed how much you've changed because it happens a little bit at a time, but you have grown so much. You are still quite tiny compared to some babies but all of your newborn sleepers are getting too tight in the feet, so you must be growing. Yesterday when I gave you a bath I noticed what a chubby little tummy you have gotten as well. You are just beginning to hold onto objects and put them into your mouth. You have managed to get a toy spider in there to suck on, much to your sister's dismay I might add. You try to grab at everything in reach, including breasts and hair. And there is a constant stream of drool coming out of you these days. It takes less than an hour for you to soak all the way through a bib and into your top as well, and that's when you aren't spitting up. You continue to be very chatty and talk to us all the time. Your happy sounds are something like nnndluuuurb, with the emphasis on the second s

I heart the internet. *Updated

Mary thinks I'm a good writer, I got this nifty award from her for this post. The thing that's so cool about this blogging thing is the way I can put something out there and people respond and we dialogue and connect through words. I love the way that works. And I really like the people I have "met" since doing this. Also, where else would I have learned how to turn my favorite bra into a nursing bra , for about a dollar total cost? Imagine that, a nursing bra that fits properly for less than $80! Or to make my own sling after I lost my other one, for a fraction of the cost of replacing it. It's so simple that I'm thinking I could start selling these, after I invent my own pattern that is. And here is where I learned just about everything I know about baby wearing and using my wrap, they even teach you how to make them. The International Breastmilk Project is taking my extra breast milk to feed AIDS orphans in Africa. I'm really excited about

Our Weekend in Pictures

The Genius Husband's little sister just turned 18. Whoopee. Growing up where I did in Canada 18 was huge, because not only were you legally an adult and able to vote and order your own cable, but you were legally allowed to drink alcohol also. Imagine the parties, okay don't, it's kind of pathetic to imagine a bunch of kids under 20 getting hammered BECAUSE THEY CAN!!! This birthday party was a family affair. Well, family, friends, and every guy at her college who knew it was her birthday. The rest of us found their attempts to get her attention amusing. She wanted greek food, and then somehow the Scots-Irish blood took over and before we all knew it there was a scaled down version of the Highland games taking place complete with caber tosses, broad sword fights, balancing contests, spear throwing, archery, and a whole lot more fun. Can you tell she has a lot of brothers? This is the Boy with a "broadsword" constructed for the occasion so they could beat on ea

Siblings, Boys, and Princesses

Today is good, I slept 8 hours last night, the house is almost tidy again, and I can think straight. I even exercised. I came inside this afternoon from cleaning out the vacuum filter, again, and privately coveting a Dyson, to loud happy sounds bursting from the bedroom. The Baby was in her swing, the Girl sat behind her pushing her, and the Boy was acting out a drama for her benefit between two toy horses. She stared at him without blinking, eyes wide and adoring, and added to his silliness her own chorus of vocalizations. It's a picture perfect scene, especially since I can ignore the messy bedroom behind it. As soon as I rounded the corner to look they all froze, staring at me self-consciously, paralysed grins just fading from their exuberant faces. Perhaps it's not okay to be having this much fun, are we doing something wrong? The Boy feels just a touch self-conscious about his little play. And then I smile warmly at all of them and walk away, letting them know that I'

On Surviving a Tired Day

Mary at Owlhaven is asking everyone what they do to get through the days after the nights of no sleep. I was eagerly trolling the comments looking for tips because the nights here have been mostly sleepless since the common cold has once more darkened our door. I don't do well without sleep. Anyone who has lived with me even a little while can tell you that I'm crabby and cranky and irritable if I wake up tired. This of course is an indicator that I am not nearly as good a person as I'd like to think that I am because when it gets difficult all sorts of meanness, and I mean that in the old fashioned sense, comes leaking out of me. My MILly, who raised 8 children, has recently admitted to me that she is able to run on no sleep for days and days before it starts to bother her, and that perhaps she is a freak of a physical specimen and it is harder for others. I'm glad that she has realized this because many times in the past she has been decidedly unsympathetic. I tell

I'm holding the baby

For the past few weeks stories have been circling around in my head. Random thoughts intersect and chase each other down, my fingers itch for a keyboard. I have so many things I want to write about, but I haven't. Instead I walk around holding the Baby while she fusses. She has the cold that we all have, and it makes her miserable. So I walk, and rock, and entertain, and in the times when she is asleep I try to stay on top of the housework and the school work and take care of my other children who feel neglected if I don't take care of them once in a while as well. Sometimes I sleep too, rarely. Because, as much as I like writing, and as much as I want to devote time to becoming a better writer and recording things to remember later, it's more important to me to hold my baby when she cries, to wipe the tears and feed the bodies of the children who need me, and to live life as it is right now. So, I'll have lots to say when I get the time. Until then, I'm holding t

The most afraid that I have ever been.

Two summers ago I got on a plane with my 3 year old son and one year old daughter and flew to the town I grew up in to attend my great grandmother's funeral. Since I was already paying for the ticket I decided to stay a few weeks to visit since it had been a long time since I had gone home. One night while laying in bed in the tiny room I shared with my children I heard a sound from the boy that was suspiciously vomit like. Instantly alert I hauled his tiny body out of bed and into the bathroom to avert total disaster. It was only after I got him there that I noticed that he wasn't breathing, or rather, that he was barely breathing. His entire body was shaking, he couldn't talk, his chest heaved from the effort of trying to draw air into his lungs, and he was coughing like a barking seal in pain. The sharp pungent smell of urine filled the bathroom and I realized he had just peed himself I could see that he was terrified, suddenly so was I. At this point part of the back


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