Showing posts from March, 2008

Perfect Posts

Well it's the end of the month, which means that it's time to tell you my favorite post of the month. I read Woulda Shoulda Coulda just about every day. Mir writes really well. She shares items from every day and makes them wonderfully entertaining to read, and she seems like a smart capable woman and a pretty great mom too. Well, sometimes she out does herself, as in this little missive directed toward her children. We all have those thankless days, but mir makes them funny. Here's a taste. It is with a heavy heart and much regret that I feel the need to inform you of my decision to tender my resignation as Greatest Mother In The World... I do thank you for the chance to be something more, but now that I’ve realized exactly how thankless this position really is, I’m afraid I am simply going to have to suggest that you get your own damn breakfast in the future. So enjoy Picture it on pink paper . ************* I was trying to decide between mir's post and this

THings I did this week instead of writing blog posts

Took two latch key kids under my wing for a while since they were on spring break and their mom works 12 hour evening shifts. I figure it's probably hard on a 13 year old girl having to make dinner and get your 6 year old brother to bed every single night all by yourself. So they've been tagging along with us as we go to the library, farmer's market, pool, and for dinner most of the week. This trend will probably continue as they are sweet and lonely kids and and I am trying to do the thing in front of me that I see needs doing instead of pining away for some grand world changing scheme that will do things on a large scale. The little boy is also quite obese and shy and, oh my heart breaks for him, he's so sweet and timid. I'll never forget his face as we stepped off the elevator into the children's part of the library and he saw a whole floor of kids books. He had never been to the public library before. He was awestruck. The Boy asked me a few nights ago why

I bet you wish your screen saver was this exciting

Just some general silliness, from my house to yours. And now I see that it's on it's side because I can't figure out how to hold a camera apparently, and when I flip it in picture project it doesn't stay flipped when I upload it. Oh well, it's still silly. I bet you wish your screen saver was this exciting. from Carrien Leith on Vimeo . And if you made it all the way to the end, um wow, the GH is saying retarded in reference to a picture of a dalmatian, I think, some breed of dog that's not very well known for intelligence, so no one get offended okay? Unless you're a dalmation, in which case I sincerely apologize for the way my husband grouped all of you inbred spotted dogs into one sweeping generalization that you may find personally insulting.


The Baby is suddenly afraid of the vacuum cleaner. (Well, I haven't used it in a while, it's been broken and I've been sweeping the rugs but... her reaction to a working vacuum seems sudden to me nonetheless.) She is absolutely terrified. She presses herself up against a wall, she crawls under the table to get away from it, she cries and screams from the moment I turn it on until well after I turn it off. Obviously, this does not bode well for the carpet, or the Baby, both of which/whom need attention from time to time. And she wakes up if I try to vacuum while she sleeps. It is one of those moments where, scream as she might, I just have to get it done and so I steel my self and turn the thing on. The baby runs to the door and presses herself against it. The Girl runs to her side and puts her arms around her cooing, "It's okay Baby, it's all right, don't be scared." I glance up from time to time as I suck the dirt out of the edges of the living room


He has a sleep disorder. He sleeps too deeply, for too long. His bladder lets go when he is in these deep sleeps if they last to long. He never dreams. It's exhausting sometimes, dealing with the laundry, and waking him in the night. It's discouraging to go through the same thing night after night. It's discouraging to look for help and find it very expensive or not very helpful at all. I just want someone to tell me what to do for this child, how to help him. No one does. The experts want to be paid first, but we don't have that kind of money. I am feeling my way in the dark, trying to find the path on my own. I want to cry some days. I know more about sleep cycles than I ever thought necessary. My own home has become a lab, a place to experiment with what works, what doesn't. I am the sleep deprived lab tech over seeing the project. I want to sleep. I want him to wake up. Tonight I kneel at his bedside to check on him. He's still dry. I try to wake him to get


She heads for the play equipment. She will not be deterred. She wants to slide. She will slide. If any one tries to stop her she will screech and cry in hot displeasure. She climbs the stairs. She gets to the top of the baby slide. It's short and curved and slow. It's a safe slide for a baby to play on as she learns the physics of sliding. Today she doesn't even glance at it. She keeps climbing stairs. One foot... two feet... She stands at the summit, smiling down at the world around her as she surveys it from her new vantage point at the top of the BIG SLIDE. Slowly she slides a tiny foot toward the edge. She slides it back. She plants her feet and squats and stands, yelling with excitement. She edges one foot forward again, and then back. Again she squats. She kneels and turns her backside to the top of the slide and dangles one foot over the edge, and then retreats to a sitting position a safe few inches away from the edge. She is grinning with pleasure at her new found

To the man with a white beard and a lead foot in the old station wagon,

Hi, I'm the crazy woman who kicked your car. I'm sure you found out by now that I didn't dent it. I aimed my kick at the guard panels on the side. You see, my hands were somewhat busy maneuvering a double stroller containing both of my daughters. The Baby, she's one, and the Girl? is 4. If my hands were free I would have used them to bang on your windows and yell instead, but I only had a foot to spare. You were really shocked when you heard the loud thump coming from your passenger side. Your wife looked downright terrified. Because I and my three children coming home from the library look like such thugs. I guess you didn't see me standing there when you came barreling out of the Chili's/Olive Garden parking lot. Of course, the stop line is about 5 feet behind where the nose of your car first came to a stop, so I guess you didn't see that either. You also apparently failed to notice that you almost ran us over. You may still be unaware of that fact. It

On Music

Our local library has free concerts every month by local artists. We go, and take all of the kids. It's free, so no one can get too annoyed when they are children, and occasionally disruptive, and it's free, so we can afford to take them. Where else will they learn how to behave at a concert than... at a concert? I really want my kids to experience live music as I did when I was growing up. There is something about seeing how those sounds are made that changes one's perspective about it. I'm fascinated by how technology has changed the way we perceive music. One hundred years ago all music was live. If music was wanted in the private home, someone who lived there needed to become a musician. Instruments were played, songs were sung, music was a communal experience. If people wanted to hear an orchestra, they had to go to a concert hall, to rub shoulders with other people in their community, to see the people who worked hard to perfect their art. Dancing required musici


Well, our internet was down for a day and a half, so brace yourself. I have much to write. We make our weekly pilgrimage to the library, that hallowed hall of all things free, and a place to get new stuff to read. The Boy rides ahead on his scooter. Often in the past he has drifted out of site, waited at the corner, but behind a hedge, and he has lost scooter privileges because of it. I have lost count of the number of times I say, "If you look back and can't see me, it means I can't see you, and you are too far ahead. It's your job to make sure you can always see me, or you don't get to ride your scooter when we go on walks." Today he stops at every corner. Today he turns and waves at me every single time he stops, and does so until I wave back and smile. Today he tells me over and over, "I was checking to make sure that you could still see me mom. Did I do a good job?" Once, he rounds a corner just ahead of me and drops out of site for a second


He wants cheese toast for dinner. My plan was baked potatoes and beans and cheese, but he wants cheese toast. We are talking around in circles as he keeps telling me what he wants and I keep telling him why I don't think it's a very good meal and the Girl is cranky and yelling over imagined insults in a bossy little voice would make anyone, let alone a 6 year old boy, find it hard not to smack her after a while. Everything is his fault it seems, and she will not stop shrieking at him. And he will not stop teasing her. I am trying to motivate them to return the living room to some kind of order, the Baby does not want to be put down, and over it all the hungry Boy keeps whining, "I want cheese toast." I send the Girl to bed. If she's too tired and sick to help clean up she's too tired and sick to be out here making the rest of us miserable as well. She lays herself down in bed and falls asleep. The Baby joins her shortly thereafter and suddenly it is just me


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