Monday, February 25, 2008


Madonna's kids never watch television because Madonna's kids have personal nannies.
I'm not railing against Maddona and I certainly understand the research against television. What I'm trying to say is that we all have a way to take a break. I have friends with absolutely no television in their house, even for themselves, and they all have a way that they zone out with their kids. Their special, quiet, sacred twenty minutes that they know they can count on and use judiciously just so that they can call a doctor or make an appointment or have some time to fold the laundry in peace.
I refuse to give up a little bit of Lightning McQueen just to feel like I am as good of a mother as Madonna is.
Because, instead of a personal nanny, my kids have a personal mama, for better or for worse. And, I know I'm a better mother than Madonna, even if there's a tv blaring behind my back.
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Saturday, February 23, 2008


Bug still breaks out in a rash even though we're rid of our cat. With allergies this severe, how am I supposed to leave him? Get out of the house? So I get a break and be a good mom? How can I sleep through a cough? A normal toss or turn in his sleep? 0-60 in less than an eyeblink is hard for a mama to do all the time. Some days I'm so spent I don't have any energy left for the normal stuff, the tantrums, the runny nose, the whining, the friends, the playdates, the park...the stuff that stay-at-home-moms stay home for... It's sunny again here and there is a hidden nook of daffodils on the North side of the house that catch the morning sun. No one except me knows they're there yet. I think I'll pick a few and take them down to the neighbors. I don't know these neighbors yet, but a former exchange student of theirs walked by yesterday while G and I were sitting on the front steps. He was crying and he looked like how I cried earlier that day. I said, "Oh, I've had a cruddy day too." He smiled and stopped and introduced himself. I said, "I'm sorry your day stinks," because when Melinda says the word, "stinks," it always makes me feel better. G spit up on the sidewalk and started to grab for her toes, of course, her toes. He said he was here to say goodbye to the neighbor's husband. He's passing away in the next week or so they say. "A long struggle," with what I didn't ask. Secret daffodils are just the thing. You can't not bring a thing under these circumstances especially and even if you're just a neighbor you don't know sitting on the porch with a happy baby. These days the few extra minutes of sun makes everything smell green even though not much but the secret daffodils are green.
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Wednesday, February 20, 2008


These are luxuries. These are my sisters. I love them. They're good people and if you have them in your life, you should never, ever let them go. They will always be there just when you need them, just how you need them, even if it's hard for them. I've known this for over three decades, but finally had a way to make sure you know too. Lonely is how it feels when I miss them, no matter if they are a few blocks or an airplane ride away. Praises be! We can walk down the hill to Auntie M's these days. What a luxury!
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Saturday, February 16, 2008

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Baby G is the most curious baby ever. She is happy to sit in your lap and take it all in. She's a thinking mama's babe and joyful at her core. I'm really hoping we are indeed like onions and at the very center, after life spins itself around her, that she knows that she is sweet and loving and smart and fun.
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Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Along for the ride

So by now, you should have guessed that I am along for the ride on the Bug Train and so is Baby G and so is everyone else that meets Bug and if you didn't think that you're on the Bug Train, well, then, you were just wrong. He loves his world and he's very happy to include you in it, but it is indeed the Bug World! Here's the latest....
So, I'm applying for preschools which in and of itself is just the nuttiest thing to think about for THREE YEAR OLD CHILDREN. But, I know it's got to be done. So I go to personally deliver an application because there are DEADLINES FOR THREE YEAR OLD CHIILDREN SCHOOLS. And I take the time to look tidy, wear a nice shirt without spit-up to a school for THREE YEAR OLD children. And Bug doesn't say anything to the DIRECTOR OF ADMISSIONS AT A THREE YEAR OLD SCHOOL until we're just about to go and Bug says,
"This baby is my baby G and she came out of mama's tummy and it hurts if things come out of your tummy and baby G made mama sick. She throw-up, blah, like that (he repeatedly demonstrates here the dry heave that pestered me for four months during G's gestation) and babies make you sick. I don't have a baby in my tummy. Do you have a baby in your tummy (the director is rotund)? I don't think so because I have a penis."
To this, I say, "Well, we best be going." And to that the director says, "No, no. Stick around. I'm sure there's more." Thank goodness that he has experience with three year old children.....
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Monday, February 11, 2008

I love McDonalds

So, I know you think that I am a snobby foodie. And so what if I am? Tonight I got out of the house by myself and it was lovely. I went to the bookstore, bought my new bookclub book, browsed and groused about some ever-present internal drama that I usually have. The night was cool and clean and the ground was wet from an earlier rain. Just lovely.
But what made it perfect is that I went to McDonalds. With Bug's allergies the only thing he can have on the menu is a Sprite. So, we never go. We never go there or to Red Robin or to Perkins or to most other restaurants where we haven't taken the time to develop a relationship with the staff to help us feed Bug. Going to McDonalds is the perfect "Mama only time" for me. Just perfect. It's quiet at 9pm. There isn't the thought that maybe I'll just pick up a few groceries or benadryll or whatever while I'm here. It's just me. There's nothing I can do for anyone else there except me. Plus, it's forbidden. ooooooo. Hurrah! Our McDonalds is right across the way from our PCC (high-end organic food co-op store). As I left, a man in the PCC parking lot yelled across at me, "Your gut will rot tonight!" I thought, "Where is your deep-fried processed food that will satisfy this urge to not be completely dictated to by my kid's allergies? Where's the love for the small rebel in this mama? You, you have left me standing in this parking lot with only flax seed in my hand." Thanks McNo-no's. You made my night.

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Sunday, February 10, 2008


As you know, we have a shark named Cable. But, we also have a dog named Able, a polar bear named Sochow, another dog named Gordon and a mermaid named Blahblah. I didn't expect Bug to get into the naming of things, but he is gaining more control of his language and his world and with those higher level skills comes the interest in naming what things are. We take a walk most evenings before dinner lately, rain or shine, and that's been needed. We've got to get out, get a different perspective, find the neighbor boys whose names we don't know, but who always lower the basketball hoop and try to get Bug to do a layup. They also talk to Baby G and it makes my afternoon - even my cruddy afternoons.
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Saturday, February 2, 2008


Just as a sidenote. We're looking at preschools for Bug. They all sound like rehab facilities. Here's a few of the names: Brightwater, New Discovery, Spruce Street Group
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Imagine, you and your coworker sharing the same space - the exact same space - all day long. For every meal, every phone call, every load of laundry, your coworker is right there next to you or in the same room as you narrating. Your coworker is also narrating likes, needs, wants, small and large imaginary dramas (okay, so for the sake of this argument, pretend your coworkers all have great imaginations). Even when you shower or use the facilities, your coworker is really close by. Also imagine that coworker can't be shuffled off to a cubicle that's decorated a bit differently than yours. No. Your coworker is righ there. All day. And your coworker also requires that you take care of some of his/her bodily functions all day long and sometimes at night.
Couldn't do it right? Not all day, all night, weeks on end without a break, right?
That's why it's important for spouses that work outside of the home help those that have the most household duties. If you say you're going to help a stay-at-home parent. Stick to your bargain. It's necessary. This is also why my husband rocks. He's a helper. Thankfully, I'm off to do my job. I've had a great break and my coworkers are just the cutest dang things ever!
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