She Laughs at the Days

It has suddenly occurred to me that my birthday is almost here. It's in 4 days to be exact. I has this idea that I'd like to invite my friends and have a party. Especially since last year I had a brand new baby and would have slept through the event if it hadn't been for the efforts of my mom and my MIL. And then the last two weeks happened. Snotty coughing kids laying on couches, career transitions, no work, family members travelling... did I mention my dad came to visit? Well he did and it was actually good this time. I think the air was sufficiently cleared the last time he was here and we could get along. Anyway, I haven't really thought about a party. And our apartment is tiny, and it's been raining so outside may not be a good option. My MIL is in India so I can't really ask her to use her house, and I have snot in my hair. Now I know that my family will celebrate with me this Shabbat. Most every birthday celebration gets moved to Friday since we're

Mary at Owlhaven is holding a blanket party. Go read for want of a blanket to learn all about it. I think it's a great idea. And since it's the day after my birthday, if y'all wanted to give me a present, you could go over and help out with a blanket and say I sent ya. I'll post a reminder on Friday.

After an evening passed in the company of a scented candle, placed strategically between myself and the GH so as to mask/kill/distort/intercept the unusually putrid farts emanating from the man I dearly love, we headed off to bed. I guess we were noisy because both the Girl and the Baby, who still sleep in our room, woke up at once. We quickly decided that he would resettle the Girl and I would deal with the Baby. I always get the Baby when she wakes up, because I have breasts. Laying next to the Baby and nursing her back to sleep I heard the GH whisper from across the room to the mostly asleep Girl "Are you okay Girl, did you have a bad dream? Did daddy fart? Did the paint start to peel?" and then, in his best gollum imitation, "It burns, it burns!" It's harder to get babies back to sleep when your body is shaking with uncontrollable laughter. ************************ This morning, at what appeared to be dawn, the Boy came to my bedside and whispered, s

My 100 post came and went a long time ago, which I guess is the standard time to make one of these, but I didn't. Suddenly seized by the desire to have a 100 things post of my very own, I am using 2008 as an excuse. So without further ado... I don't use soap. I shower and use shampoo and a facial exfoliant but I don't use soap. I don't like the dry itchy and tight feeling that it leaves behind. For the longest time i only used hot water and a face cloth on my face too, but now I'm a grown up and I moisturize so I use a cleanser too. (Well, until we spent almost a year in a house without hot water. Soap helps a lot when you only have cold water to get clean in. I now use a body wash.) I love soap, especially handmade rustic looking scented soaps. I always stop to smell and touch and often buy. I have bars of soap stashed in drawers and linen cupboards and storage boxes and suit cases. They make things smell good. I am obviously fascinating starting out with soap

I often wonder if I should be telling the Girl she is pretty. I mean, she is. I think she's beautiful. But should I tell her that? I often find myself whispering in her ear, "You're so pretty," only to add somewhat lamely a second later "...and smart, and helpful, and kind." Because I don't want her to be shallow, or vain. I want her to know that what I value far more than physical beauty is kind deeds and good character. I want her to value that too. I want her to develop her mind, to become ordered and logical in the way she thinks and approaches problems. I want her to develop every part of herself and to become a confident, compassionate and intelligent woman. But does that preclude telling her she is pretty? There is such joy in watching her innocent enjoyment of pretty things. They are often far from stylish. I personally wouldn't appear in public wearing a peach flowered dress with an empire waist underneath an old dance skirt of blue tied ar

When the Boy was born my grandmother made him a baby quilt. It was pieced together with vintage fabrics, had wool lining and was altogether sweet. She also sewed a little cover for it so that it could stay clean because she wasn't sure how it would wash. I used to lay it out on the floor for him to lay on in the sun while I was busy in the kitchen. I'll admit, I was somewhat jaded about baby blankets that year. I'd gotten more than 20, all handmade, all from family and friends. Some were just little receiving blankets, some were crocheted, some were knit, one that I still have was made by a woman with brain cancer, but she made my new baby a blanket anyway, she was so excited about his coming birth. He was the first grandchild on both sides and great grandchild on some. We were rich in blankets, and we lived in a 1 bedroom apartment that didn't have room for many things. When the Girl was born we still lived in that one bedroom apartment. With her birth came even mor