A couple bit

Mornings

2010-11-10T05:03:00.000-08:00

This is the first morning in a long while I've had to finish a cup of coffee sitting down. As opposed to the usual chugging while running out the door. My mornings have been crazy hectic and will continue to be for the foreseeable future- but what a difference it makes to be able to sit and think before jumping into the day.

Our family is divided in half; 2 morning people, 2 non morning people. The morning people have left to go to school and work. S and I, the non morning people, are enjoying a few more minutes of a nice slow morning.

Here we go, Wednesday. I'm ready.

re-entry

2010-11-05T06:11:00.000-07:00

Well.
Yes, its been ages. I am standing, boot straps in hand, stiff upper lip, reaching for the oil can.
Starting over. Or at least picking up where I left off.

An egg seems like a fine metaphor for a new beginning. Being that I am so thrilled with these eggs you'd think I laid them myself, I am always looking for an opportunity to show them off. Its new, this egg laying. The first eggs came on Halloween. Trick or Treat! Actually, yes both trick and treat- as 2 of the first 3 were laid in a nest of thorns.

The Witches

2010-07-29T03:07:00.000-07:00

The witches are keeping me up at night. H is having a very hard time getting to sleep and a harder time staying asleep. Everything in her room is a witch. The pile of clothes on the floor that never did make it to the hamper despite my multiple pleas. The curtains, the doll house- all witches.

I go up dozens of times after I am officially down stairs after bedtime to stage light different corners of her room and rearrange things that make disagreeable shadows. She can't sleep with the light on either, so then there's that.

Last night she (eventually) went to sleep in our bed- after I rearranged our room and cleared the shadows. We've had a standing agreement that Fridays the girls (although S usually prefers to sleep in her own bed) can go to sleep in "mommy-daddy bed" and J and I transfer them back to their beds when we turn in. Our very narrow hallway is making it increasingly difficult to maneuver a sleeping H through. Last night, however, was Wednesday night. This whole Friday night agreement came to be during a period of time when H couldn't fall asleep in her own room- but the nightly transfer back to her room began to wear J and I down. Last night my justification of amending the only on Friday rule was that she'll be at her grandparents house on Friday so she may as well sleep in our bed on Wednesday. Here we go with the back slide.

Once she is asleep and back in her bed she has been inevitably boomeranging back to our bed at 3 or 4 in the morning. She calls instead of just jumping in- so that jolts me awake- and then she sleeps like a windmill causing J and I to switch into defensive sleep mode, blocking punches.

I do feel for her. I STILL get scared of shadows at times. J hangs his shirts up to dry around our bedroom and they make very imposing silhouettes- so I get it. I make the dogs come with me to the bathroom after watching a scary movie. I spent many a childhood night awake wide eyed in my room frantically thinking good thoughts until I somehow fell asleep.

I am hoping this witchy business is short lived and it is making both of us- all of us- exhausted.

In Progress

2010-07-21T12:05:00.000-07:00

Some beginning stages of the 20x20 piece for the Mamacita (W)Holon show .
I'm down to the wire as always, up against the deadline- but that's how I roll.

This piece ventures further into the block as finished piece concept that began with the 4x4 holons for this show. It feels a little strange to post these stages with out having finishing - A little like that dream where you're in school and realize you forgot to put any clothes on.

The sketch

Drawn on wood

Starting the cutting

Detail

Summer Studio

2010-07-13T10:06:00.000-07:00

Here we are in the middle of July and I feel I am just starting to get the summer underway. I haven't done work in so long I don't know who I am anymore. I was away for a few days and although things were hardly 'slow' they weren't nearly as fast paced and scattered in all directions as I have become used to. I felt the first glimmer of inspiration which nearly brought me to tears as every time it gets hard I am sure I'll never be inspired again. I get caught up in the running around trying to keep my head above water. I tell myself, my tragic circular flaw, that I can postpone making art- never is a good idea. I know its like eating to me, and I always wonder why I feel like I'm withering when I haven't worked in a while.

With that said, some new goals about spending time in the studio are in place. One day a week when the girls are with my mom- which starts tomorrow- and is a given for studio time. Also H and I will spend the 2 mornings S is in school in the studio. This is not all that productive for me, although I do love to make things with H- but it helps to be in the space and I find I don't get to the studio nearly enough. I may have mentioned in the past how insane what I let pass as being productive these days. Coffee and the newspaper? Productive if I'm in the studio. I will need to edit what passes for productivity- but for now I'm sticking to it. Next goal will be the night time studio hours, but I need to be immersed in something for that to happen. I am hoping to be immersed soon. (Does anyone else make goals to have goals? Perhaps this is part of the problem)

Anyway- as usual, H had a quite productive morning in the studio. I got some thinking done here and there, but mostly I was her assistant. She wanted to make a stuffed animal. Yesterday she drew out the pattern and started sewing, today she finished. She did the pattern and all the sewing- chose the eyes and nose. I cut the pattern out (of some fabulous yellow velvet my mother gave me ages ago from her fabric stash) and sewed on the face. (And untangled, re-threaded and patched some holes.) We are both quite thrilled with the outcome- see for yourself.

Chickens in the house

2010-06-30T17:09:00.000-07:00

The chickens have been outside for 4 nights. Every night so far I have had to put them to bed. No, I'm not reading them stories or rocking them- I have been shoving them in their hen house to safety. They prefer to pile up like puppies right up against the gate of their run. Everything I have read, and witnessed- says chickens put themselves to bed inside at dusk. Not these girls.

I don't think I have any chicken eating anything roaming around here, but I'd sure hate to find out the hard way, so into the house they go.

My sister K was here last week, causing our family to gather more frequently than usual, dinners together most nights on my porch- in view of the chickens not going to bed. I found myself chicken wrangling with an audience. And a peanut gallery. I grew less patient nightly, and last night in the heat of taking things personally, groused about how the chickens hate me.

This I have noticed in my brief study of things chicken: I understand why the term 'chicken' is used as to describe one who is fearful. I don't think chickens are afraid- quite brave in certain circumstances- but their reaction to things outside of their norm is with a large degree of skepticism and a dose of jerky comedic gestures. Oh. My. God. Anewwaterdispenser. WHAT.DO.WE.DO?

Tonight I watched. Hopeful as they were going in and out of the house during the day. At dusk they gathered in front of the door of their house and milled about. Calling to mind outside the church before the service starts. One popped in, another followed. One popped out. And so on. Eventually they were all in. I went down and shut their door- they just purred a chicken pur and I imagine cursed me for closing the door on their view. They still sleep in a pile- not a roost as its been suggested they should- but they're in the house. Doing what their supposed to for the most part. Which I find ridiculosly thrilling.

Kindergarten. Check.

2010-06-21T02:31:00.000-07:00

Its taken me a while to write about this- the end of Kindergarten. I was so emotional at the start of kindergarten- but I didn't know the full story then. That H would finish kindergarten and that I would find myself equally raw emotioned about that- watching H become even more of herself. H has so much more growing to do- shes doing it so well, I am so proud of her- but what a free fall this growing up is. My heart swells with pride until it aches- I realize I am helpless and along for the ride. I am so proud of my bigger girl and can't wait to see her transformations but can't help clutching her at every step of the way and wanting to bottle her at each moment and keep her forever.

getting bigger

2010-06-14T08:47:00.000-07:00

The chicks are 5 weeks old- and continue to grow insanely fast. They are mostly feathered, and So ready to be outside. We're all ready for them to be out. Soon. I am working on menace-proofing their home. They have us all figured out and have gotten less jumpy- they are very excited to see H as she usually has a special treat for them. These girls seems to be into junk food and have a big appreciation for french fries and pizza crusts. They just get samples of these delicacies- much to their dismay. I am not ordering pizza for them. Everything in moderation.

The block- holon

2010-06-10T09:54:00.000-07:00

I am really excited about this show.
Members of Mamacita are contributing artwork done in 4x4 squares to form a larger collaborative piece. The show is titled Holons. A holon is something that is simultaneously a part and a whole.

Here are my 4x4s- I am not used to working this small- it was fun. Kind of addictive. I decided to treat the block as the finished piece this time- I always love the block which kind of takes a back seat to the printed paper usually. I like taking the block out from behind the scenes.

The co-exisiting

2010-05-19T18:03:00.000-07:00

They're here. We have chicks. I wasn't sure how the dogs, or our cat, would welcome them. I grew up co-existing with many types of animal, mostly harmoniously- but its been a while since I tested the circle of life in my house.

Maxi, our cat, doesn't care anymore. She looked at them with her eyes wide and her tail twitching for a while, but now she doesn't give them a second glance. She passes by them often because the chicks are in the laundry room where she and dogs are fed. (No- not lost on me- slight concern the dogs and cat will want to eat the chicks, put the chicks in the room where there food is kept...good idea?)

The dogs have been funny. Ruby doesn't care at all. She has shown no interest at all. She has a slight air of "here we go again" about her. Tamayo is very excited by the chicks, some cautious tests lead me to believe his insistence is due to the fact that he can't bear to be left out. This is the dog that runs into me when I stop walking, and who is the biggest mother hen there is. He is not to be trusted alone with the chicks of course, but he doesn't want to eat them. I am fairly certain. Or at least he won't while I'm around, which is enough for now. This is not to say he won't play them to death if given the chance.

I am working on us all getting along. I'd like the chicks to be unfazed by the dogs, and be friendly with people. I'd like the dogs to think the chicks are not for eating. (Also not lost on me: the fact that I have bird dogs. Theoretically they will just point at the birds.)

Hopefully we can all just get along. We're off to a pretty good start.

You see that dog, right?

Chicken

2010-05-12T16:47:00.000-07:00

I am a bit surprised at how this poultry acquisition is going so far. It was seeming too hard, too much money, too much.. more. I was about to give up on the chicken dream for the time being when I found an ad for a coop that was everything I was looking for. Perfect in function, visual appeal and price, being sold by a really nice chicken friendly guy. When does that happen? Even with the coop, I thought maybe I'd hold off on finding tenants for it- but then I found a woman selling chicks- not just chicks, but the kind of chicks I was looking for, and she lives 5 minutes from my house. I live in the city! So- it was meant to be.

The perfect hen house.

Tomorrow is J and my 10th anniversary. I have yet to convince him that for the 10th anniversary you give poultry (Tin? I thought it said 'hen'?) We are dropping off the girls and the dogs with my mom and getting out of dodge to celebrate- so the chicks are delayed in their homecoming. They will be a week old when we pick them up on Sunday. I tell everyone that the girls are counting the hours, but really I'm the one counting down until chick time. The girls are excited, don't get me wrong. H has plans to read to each individual chick, and has even cleared a spot near our fort Knox brooder for books to go. I told the girls they could each name a chick- H chose Lorelei and S's will be named Layla. Which is a fine optimistic name for a chicken.

Fort Knox brooder.

Its finally safe to say chicken around here. J knew from the get go that chicken resistance was futile, and did half heartedly argue the sanity of my decision. He held his hands up, had a glint of standing on the train tracks with a train coming in his eyes, claimed no part of this what so ever and threw the idea on the table that I should sell all the eggs and put the money into his (currently non-existent) Porsche fund. Then he drove with me for 3 hours to pick up the chicken coop. I love that he's on board, even if its on the edge of the board right now.

10 years, baby. The poultry anniversary.

Well rounded

2010-05-06T06:35:00.001-07:00

On the slide at S's birthday party

At T-ball.

These pictures of H were taken hours apart. I love all of her worlds.

Catch up

2010-05-06T06:03:00.000-07:00

Yes, yes- I know I've gone missing. There has been a lot going on over here. I forgot to post last weeks ode to poop- but its up there now.

S is now doing what one should do on the potty, and for that I am thankful. She still refuses to use a potty that doesn't look like one in a house- like the ones that are in most restaurants, stores- where the bowl comes out of the wall- those have germs, she is convinced. Whatever. We're dealing.

S is also three. Three years old, using the potty and in a big girl bed. Where is my baby?

Here is my big girl relaxing towards the end of her birthday party. Her dance birthday party. She is rocking her choice of birthday hat. She is such a hat girl- I told her she could pick a hat to waer to her party- we were standing in front of the party hats at a party store- she turned her head, pointed to the next asile and said "that one" She had told me walking in she was looking for a purple hat.

S with her friend P. Note the tuxedo shirt. He brought her some awesome pink plastic flowers. Note that it felt like they were about to go to the prom. With a sippy cup.

Poop. And now I'm done talking about it.

2010-04-21T11:04:00.000-07:00

Perhaps you have noticed from my last few posts that my life has been dictated by poop lately.
I have typed the word 'poop' more in the last few weeks than in the rest of my life.
Poop makes me happy when its in the potty. Poop makes me sad when its not.
I contemplate human poop while cleaning up dog poop.
I just cleaned out an aquarium full of fish poop, stopping half way through to help S poop on the potty (yay!)

Poop, poop, poop.
Poop happens.

The cat poops too- but due to a grandfather clause that I am not going to mention out loud, J takes care of her poop. She's my 'get out of jail free card' of poop.

My mother used to joke that she was an engineer of poop, as she could tell which poop belonged to which of our 5 dogs (and this wasn't even the time when one of our dogs ate fluorescent green playdough and then pooped fluorescent green poops all over the yard) Once one of our dogs- the same one that ate/expelled the green playdough, ate and passed my mothers boyfriends sock. Which was laundered and returned to him, he none the wiser.

I am contemplating more poop in my life- of the chicken variety. I had chickens growing up, and always knew I'd have them again- something has snapped in my head recently (ok, a few somethings) and I am tired of waiting. Its chicken time. I am making myself wait a bit to be sure the time is now- I am already overwhelmed on a daily basis and am always scrambling around like a chicken with its head... never mind. Chicken post to follow.

The potty and what goes on in there

2010-04-14T06:32:00.001-07:00

S is working on getting out of diapers. She is doing very well at peeing in the potty. After a string of accidents, her solution to pooping is apparently not to. We are on day three of no moving bowels.

This is making me very anxious. In an 'expect it when you least expect it' kind of way. I'm afraid to leave the house. I am also concerned for S's well being. It doesn't seem to be bothering her at all, but really, how long can one be backed up? Last night I touched her belly (which is looking larger than usual) and I said "That poop needs to come out!" Well, what, was I born yesterday? This alarmed S a great deal. "There's POOP in my belly?!" No.. no, just food in your belly, I assured her. "What else?" She asked, about 10 times. Not the time to bring up what happens to the food we eat.

H is no help with announcements like "All that we eat turns to poop." I've asked her to keep these observations to herself until S has mastered the potty. With my luck, and how S is wired, she'd stop eating, too.

I didn't think to ask H to not talk about germs, however, and this is becoming an issue. At a restroom in a restaurant with their father a few days ago, H apparently went on (and on) about not touching anything that there were germs everywhere. Now,this is true, and there are plenty a public restroom that gives me the heebie jeebies- but when you got to go, you got to go, especially when you are just learning how to go. J put the exclamation on the germ observation by using one of those paper toilet covers. After that day, at a restroom at a playground (which was quite clean) S looked at the toilet as if it had ants crawling all over it, and refused to sit on it. "Where the paper thing?" she asked.

I am quite possibly the only mother in the universe who tells her kid in a public restroom, with a shrug of the shoulders, "Eh? Germs? There are no germs here." Then, because I can't stand to lie so blatantly, contradict myself with "That's why we wash hands."

The lying continues at home, S says while sitting on the potty,
"no germs at home."
"Nope", I say. "No germs at home."
"Where did they go?"
"Home."
"Where?
I resist saying "GERMany". No need to alienate an entire country in her mind for the purpose of my amusement. Instead I say "Germ-land"

S isn't convinced. But she deals. She is on the potty wearing her kitty costume.
"Hold my tail" she says. "don't want any germs on it"

2010-04-05T14:25:00.000-07:00

Writing in the bathroom while the girls are in the tub.
Because...

A beautiful spring day, outside in the garden. I'm doing some weeding, the girls are re-hiding the easter eggs- which come to think of it are still outside. I turn the hose on- briefly, I'm hoping- to spritz the pea seedlings and some violas that I won't plant today. H wants the hose. To water her garden, she says. I know better, but give her the hose, set on mist and say just don't get me wet.

S and H are misting each other until S decides to turn the nozzle to jet, and then they're soaked. They are laughing, its warm, so I don't care. I turn the nozzle back to mist and continue weeding.

They are soaking the flowers, the brick, each other. I hear S calling H a poop hat, and am pondering that comment in my weeding zen. I hear S singing a song, "watering the poop, watering the poop" H says "Don't water the dog poop!" I, still in weed zen, think, how odd, I must have missed some dog poop. "Is that poop? Don't water it" I call out. Making a mental note of that sentence being one of the many I never thought would come out of my mouth.

The hose fun is winding down, H has fallen, turns aren't being taken or given- whining is escalating- I turn the hose off. Major crying. We go inside, I begin pealing their wet clothes off.

I remember S isn't wearing a diaper. She had been doing great since she refused to put one back on after lunch. We were at a restaurant with my mom, I didn't have a pair of underwear for her in my bag- so she was going comando.

After I get S's pants off, notice the poop trail down her leg-
"was that your poop you were watering in the yard?"
"Yes" she says.
"You're not a dog!" Says H
"No! I'm a hoppin bunny! S says, majorly irriated.
"Oh. Well hopin bunnies poop in the yard too" H, the ever logical says.

I took S back out side and hosed her off.

Dressed up

2010-04-05T06:22:00.000-07:00

S in her Easter dress with her kitty tail. The tail was part of S's Halloween costume, and has become an appendage.

H in her Easter dress in my grandmothers apple tree.

I spent a lot of time in this tree when I was little. I used to think I was so high up.

Dying and finding

2010-04-05T05:55:00.000-07:00

The colors make me happy.

S taking it all in

As soon as the eggs are decorated, H and S want to eat them all. Its become a tradition that they each eat an egg before the dye is even dry. I remember the easter eggs of my youth, my mother complaining that no one would eat any of the eggs.

Then again, my mother bought at least 3 dozen eggs to dye each year, and that is too many hard boiled eggs to be eaten by anyone. Then there were the number of years where the egg quality was questionable. (This surely to be denied by by mother.) For example the Easter morning when I dropped an egg and it broke on the floor in front of me revealing its uncooked status, my mom exclaiming something to the effect of maybe she should have let them cook a little longer.

Action shot

The Easter bunny brought the girls cute fluffy bunnies in their baskets. The Easter bunny was thrilled to find two bunnies just different enough to be told apart, but similar enough to be equal. This turned out to be not a problem at all as one of the bunnies has morphed into a cat.

S pins the ears on hers down with her hand and introduces her bunny as a kitty. When she asks "where my kitty!?" we help her find her bunny. This seems to be the way it goes with her- before we know it she'll have everything renamed and we'll be left confused and wondering how this happened.

Pruning

2010-04-05T05:17:00.000-07:00

S loves to cut. She'll sit for a long time with her scissors and some paper and happily make confetti. I've learned that she can cut tiny pieces of paper without cutting her fingers and so far she has kept her cutting to the paper she's allowed to cut. Better still is that with her neat freak gene I can give her a bowl when she's done cutting and she'll pick up all the pieces of confetti and put them in the bowl for easy recycling.

I have been using this love of cutting to my advantage- but until recently only for the time it provided me to do something else while S was busy cutting.

I was outside trying to clean up the garden, S was resisting and no amount of digging, bubbles or the usual outside antics were working. But THEN, I went in and got her scissors and we both spent some time getting the garden ready for spring planting.

The possibilities are endless.

Rescue

2010-03-23T16:29:00.000-07:00

This morning H and I were making our way through a parking lot on the way to a store. We looked down and there were many worms on the black top after yesterdays hard rain. Some were wriggling about, other had met their wormy maker.

H was at first disgusted. We walked towards the store, H checking the bottom of her shoes every 2 steps. Then she stopped, "We should help those worms." I took a breath to begin the explanation of why we shouldn't. How we couldn't possibly help every worm, how it would be out of the frying pan into the fire with all those birds waiting in the bushes. I stopped, and agreed. We walked back to the car, thankfully H had a select group of worms in mind to save, not the whole parking lot. She wouldn't touch them, but directed as I picked up worm after worm and threw them to "safety". There really was quite a bird feast going on in those bushes.

Finally satisfied that we had rescued enough worms, we headed back to the store. H smiled at me, held her hand up and said "high five!" All in a days work.

The gift card

2010-03-23T13:36:00.000-07:00

One of the many gifts H received from her classmates was a gift card to Target. I was surprised and amused at first, it seemed a strange gift for a 6 yr old. Not looking a gift horse and all that, I was never for a second ungrateful (perhaps a little envious, as I am shameless in my love of Target) I just thought it was odd. Because it was not something I would have thought of.

H was excited to use her card- I refrained on more than one occasion from suggesting how she should use it. I told her we'd go shopping one morning that H was on spring break when S was in school, about 10 days since she got her gift card. No argument, no 'are we there yet', 'is it time yet',' when are we going', etc.

A few days ago, H whispered to me that she was going to use some of her gift card to get something for S, too. She wanted to get her a teddy bear, she was going to make a card and tape a lollipop to it. She was so excited, and I had tears in my eyes that she had this idea. I said it would be a very nice thing to do, but tried not to make a big deal out of it. It really would be ok for her to use her gift card on herself, should she change her mind. I wondered if she'd stick to her plan (although she has never NOT stuck to a plan).

H came home from school one day last week with a heart shaped card with rainbows and peace signs drawn on it "This is for S's surprise" she hiss-whispered spit in my ear.

This morning, we dropped S off at school and headed to Target. H quickly decided on a stuffed Maltese that came with the name Princess and its own carrying case. Then she found a very soft polar bear for S. (S often demands "where the polar bears?" then her eyes fill up with tears when you don't have an answer. "The zoo" and "the arctic" don't suffice.)

We came home and H taped the card and a lollipop (that I found in the bottom of my bag from a trip to the bank a while ago) to the bear, and took it to school to surprise S. H was so happy that S was happy, and I had to pinch myself to keep from sobbing at the warm fuzziness of it all.

Six

2010-03-15T05:46:00.000-07:00

H turns six today.

After celebrating all weekend, with 2 parties in one day- the actual birth day seems anti-climactic, but real. All weekend I wasn't thinking she was any older, because for me its all about the day. She was still 5 years and 363 days old at her party. No cause for alarm. But, now shes 6. (well, not until around 7 tonight. I guess thats pushing it. Fine. Shes six. I can handle it.)

I hadn't intended on having 2 parties, by the way. We invited 25 of her closest friends to a moon bounce party- which was great despite my freaking out about the number of kids- great also in that its 2 hours long, and then its done. Except for us, we had family over, dinner, cake again, and lots of presents. The partying continued into the night.

H is, of course, wonderful. And beautiful. And smart. I keep looking at her marveling at how she came from J and I- sometimes I see pieces of us in her, but mostly it's all her, and thats amazing.

S makes a print

2010-03-05T17:50:00.000-08:00

I have been stuck. For what seems like forever.
Someones working- these pictures light up my soul in a way that can only be as corny as it sounds. The very best part is that I swear up and down I didn't put her up to this. She said she wanted to go to the tude tude (whenever S uses her word for studio, I get "going to a go-go" in my head and have to answer her with a Mich Jaggar-esque "Every-bo-tay..") She wanted to "Roll. Right there." And I lived vicariously through her printing. The whole thing was done in about 5 minutes- but it was a good five minutes..

She draws.

She rolls.

She rolls some more.

She contemplates.

She contemplates some more.

She uses the barren... (printing on the back of a print of mine)

A print. Is that beautiful or what?

The snow

2010-02-12T06:14:00.000-08:00

(I hate that S isn't in any of these snow pictures! She refused to come out and have fun with us- staying inside, cat like, with her Daddy)

We are the world

2010-02-12T06:08:00.001-08:00

The first few snow days, H and I made this people world. H, J , S and I had been designing people- (and animals, I can't help it). My plan was to make a bunch of characters and do a puppet show, and expand my video capabilities- but H had a different plan and wanted to tape them all together. We decided it needed something to mask (ha ha) the giant masking tape center-

"A flower!" H said, then "NO!! The EARTH!!!" And so it was.

A week of snow days

2010-02-12T05:22:00.001-08:00

The begining of the rainbow snow mural

Artistic pride

pom pom snow

We've crafted. We've baked. We've had a lot of wine. Well, some of us. H has had one day of school this week- Tuesday. She is off next Monday and Tuesday- so here we have an improptu vacation. I was not ready for this, and we've been snowed in for most of it. I may attempt to venture out today. I may need to, for all of our sanity. Yesterday J and I were out shoveling snow (for 3 hours) our neighbors were laughing, what did you do tie up the kids? No- we left them inside with a pitcher of milk, a box of cereal and Sesame Street. They were outside with us for about 20 minutes, which is S's limit for cold tolerance. Even H was a little over the snow.

Doing

2010-02-03T10:27:00.000-08:00

An accomplishment! These gloves sans fingers, fingerless gloves, god forbid gauntlets, whatever you want to call them, took me less that half an hour start to finish (not including felting the sweater, which was done years ago) and they kind of look it- but a finished product! In the land of a thousand started things!

I have been knitting and un-knitting for many evenings in a row now- I thought I'd make something "easy" to limber up my creating muscle- but its been night after night of frustration. The knitting is relaxing for me, ordinarily, but indecision has crept into that as well, and I can't decide what to knit with what yarn and keep starting and stopping. Unraveling. I've been knitting to feel like I'm "doing" since I can't decide what it is I'm "doing" in the studio these days. But my doing isn't working and its making me crazy!

I will still knit a version of these non digit gloves (damn it) but today S napped briefly, and I ran up to the studio, cut haphazardly, stitched haphazardly, and now my hands are warm. Cashmere warm, too. I am hoping this finished product will help with the doing and non-doing.

I am in major...transition.. we'll call it. I am blocked creatively, and am getting too frustrated too quickly. I need some easy inspiration, but my usual sources of inspiration are frustrating me too. I am trying to remind myself that I often feel this way before an artistic breakthrough, but there's that other voice that lives in my head mocking me.

So break through already.

Hummingbird

2010-02-01T16:27:00.000-08:00

A portrait of my grandmother- with a hummingbird and a fox.

For whatever reason, I tend to assign animals to my family. Maybe they assign them to themselves, I don't know- my father's nickname growing up was rabbit. (I swear this has nothing to do with my previous rabbit post) His sister always called him that, into adulthood- and he holds on to that nickname to remember her, I believe. The nickname was because he raised rabbits- not because he has big ears or teeth. He doesn't hop.

My aunt, my fathers sister, had a lot of favorite animals, she had dogs, horses, she briefly loved rhinos- but the one that lingered, her animal, was a fox. When she died, the morning of her funeral, I remember looking out the kitchen window at my grandparents house, and seeing a little grey fox just sitting there, for the longest time. My grandmother told me later she saw that fox every day since my aunt died, and she always thought it was her.

My grandmother loved hummingbirds. She would to paint them in water color- and would often call me with questions- the kind of questions you can't answer about someone else's painting but I'd try. She gave me some of her paintings the last time I saw her, including her painting of a hummingbird. After she died, I saw hummingbirds everywhere. There is a hummingbird, or a few, who visit my garden every year- they hover and look me in the eye until it makes me a little uncomfortable- but I always think of my grandmother and wonder.

For the last few weeks at bath time, S has been splashing around in the water saying "I'm a hummingbird!"
The first time she said it I was shocked. "You're a what?"
" A hummingbird.", she said. Miffed that I interrupted her hummingbird splashing.
"A hummingbird."
"Yes."
I have been wracking my brain trying to think of hummingbird books, or a hummingbird that was on a show. Trying to figure out where she's learned about hummingbirds. I asked her teachers if they had mentioned a hummingbird in class. No. I have no idea where this hummingbird thing came from. I'm sure there is a logical explanation- but it does make me smile and tear up a little. My grandmother never met the girls, and I do like the idea of her watching them splash around at bath time like hummingbirds.

Lifted

2010-01-26T10:36:00.001-08:00

I had big plans for some studio work this morning- Both H and S in school for a few hours, I was going to do nothing but immerse myself. Except we were out of food, again, so maybe I'd do a quick jaunt to the grocery store. Even though I know there is no such thing. I was almost done with the groceries and my phone rang. It was J with a message from S's school- they called to say "come get your child now because the amount of diarrhea she has been having since the second you dropped her off is spectacular." Last week at school she emptied the contents of her stomach all over the lunch table. I'm sure they're loving her- and me- at the school these days.

All these bodily fluids are putting a cramp in my creativity. So I decided to bake bread. What I really wanted to do which is dye yarn, but I am not allowing myself to pursue that at the moment. I need a new craft like a hole in the head, I haven't begun to knit through the surface of my yarn hoard. Bread I can allow myself.

While the bread was rising, I suggested to S that we go up to my studio and paint. She was game, as always when it comes to painting. We went up, I got her set up- assured her five times that it wasn't really that the white wasn't working, just that its hard to see on white paper. Maybe she should use orange. It worked, today, there have been many flip outs as a result of the white not showing up. Yes, I've used multiple colored paper- she wants to see the white on the white.

I sat down with a scrap piece of rives BFK and some black ink- the closest things at hand. I brushed a line on the paper- and it lifted something in me. I have had this revelation so many times in my life- how I can possibly forget it as often as I do astounds me. This is the pull to the studio- I need to do work so I can live with myself. I am guilty of repeatedly trying to understand the why of it, and telling myself I don't really need it.

S and I were only in the studio for about 15 minutes. She needed scissors, which were downstairs. She paints and then cuts her painting apart into tiny pieces then tapes them all to the wall. I'm working on getting her to collage her pieces, mainly to contain the scraps of paper. Its a colorful hamster cage around here. It was a great 15 minutes. Tomorrow we'll try again, with scissors.

Stuck

2010-01-25T08:27:00.000-08:00

Its raining. There are things I want to print. There are things I want to knit.

I am instead being whipped in the face by a monkey blanket and peed all over by S who is trying to remember to use the potty but too busy elbowing me in the ribs to remember. She rolls on me, causing typos, knocking everything over. Demanding a band aid every time she bumps herself. There aren't enough bandaids in the world for this.

There are meatballs are in the oven for lunch- S's idea-" I want a meatball in my HAND", she said. They're taking some time to cook- she asked indignantly "What those meatballs DOIN in there?"

I sit- frustrated, hating myself for complaining, but wanting a studio day.

S pulls her chair up to a giant water bottle- her car. Tells me "goodbye, I'm going to my tude-tude" (studio)

good luck with that, I say. Lets go have some meatballs.

Maybe we'll go up to my tude tude after lunch.

Misadventures in rabbit ownership

2010-01-20T07:07:00.001-08:00

H had a stomach bug a few days ago. The quick kind, here and gone in a day. I made a valiant attempt to keep her home from school yesterday- she was feeling better but seemed tired. She fought me and tearfully begged that I let her go to school. Hasn't this kid read the manual, I thought? But I know from experience, no she has not. She had a great day, as per usual, and came home with the desperate need to have a rabbit.

"Can I have a bunny? A white one with black eyes. No, with black spots. No, all black, No, maybe brown. If I get a white one I'll name her Snow. Can she be a girl? If shes brown I'll call her Coffee." That was our ride home from school. Here is the dilemma, something H can never know- I am the biggest sucker for any animal, and the mere mention of a rabbit has me building hutches in my mind. But I say no. For now. Seeing if its short lived, this bunny love.

I do the stereotypical 'we'll talk to your father' thing. J says little to H, but once she's in bed he looks me square in the eye and says, "No." Because he knows he'll have an easier time calling H off the rabbit idea than me. Then J goes through all the logical reasons we shouldn't have a rabbit, really. Because we have dogs bred to hunt rabbits, for one thing (but they're not terriers, I argue, they'll just point at it, not rip in apart. Although I know this isn't necessarily the case) "Who will feed it when we go away?" He asks. The same people who feed the fish, and the cat. Of course. "I don't want to look at it!" He says.

When I was a kid, we had a revolving door of animals. The quantities changed, but at one time it was: 5 dogs, 4 cats, 2 chickens, a duck, 2 doves, I think it was 92 quail, a guinea pig, a hamster, 2 mice, a snake, 2 turtles, many frogs, a fish, a parakeet, an opossum, and 2 rabbits. I am probably forgetting something.

I had 4 rabbits, altogether- the 1st two, I thought were both female until one fateful morning we discovered what I thought were tomatoes all over the floor of the garage, where the rabbit hutch was. Turns out the rabbits weren't both female after all, one had babies, and the other one ate their heads off. Its true what they say, the males eating their young thing. We were late to school, by mother was annoyed, I cleaned it up quickly, tried to save the few live babies put them in a cat carrier with their poor bunny mother who was understandably traumatized. I rushed into the car to get to school on time- got there and cleaned up in the school bathroom.

The other 2 rabbits I had were babies bought at a market in Mexico City. I think they were too young to be away from their mother- in any case they died not long after I got them. I had an idea to memorialize them by keeping their skins. Our neighbor was a chef, had his own restaurant. I asked if he'd help me skin them. He agreed on the condition that I watch. I agreed, mostly out of being stubborn, and not wanting to look like I couldn't handle it. I regretted it soon and still see the rabbit nailed to the tree in his back yard.

These are two of many experiences I had growing up that seemed quite normal to me at the time.

This I promise- only one rabbit at a time, ever. And no skinning them. For the love of God.

Have you any Hay-re

2010-01-13T20:12:00.000-08:00

Disguise

2010-01-13T20:09:00.000-08:00

Lessons in taking down the Christmas tree

2010-01-13T19:35:00.000-08:00

I took down the Christmas tree today. Finally. I was determined to recycle it, as it tears at my heart to see the used up abandoned Christmas tree corpses all over the street starting the day after Christmas. I did some research and learned that it was possible to recycle the tree when I live, but I'd have to drive it somewhere. I groaned, but it turned out the somewhere was close, I knew where it was, and the tree was small. And its the right thing to do.

To recycle the tree here, I only had this week to do it. This was stressful to me since I have applications for financial aid due, and taxes needing to be completed early for said forms. No time for anything else- I am squeezing the number crunching in between some strange places.
I try to break things down to get them done, and so I got all the ornaments off the tree, and thought for a minute that I'd leave it at that. Do the rest tomorrow. I am working so hard on training the part of me that puts shit off until tomorrow, so I was very pleased when that very part of me said, albeit meekly, you could do it now. I was fired up. I am going to take the WHOLE tree down AND recycle it! This is the problem with everything I do! I told myself. You only do things to a certain point and then you stop. I saw it as a break though. I compared my life to a tennis swing. I have no follow through. I will get some follow through. I had solved the mysteries. I was thrilled.

After wrapping the tree in a sheet and dragging it outside, pine needles everywhere, a bucket worth of spilled tree water spilled on the rug- how and why so many needles when the tree actually had water? No idea.

Recycled the tree on the way to pick H up from school. I felt so accomplished. So followed through.

H climbed in the car, I told her proudly how I had recycled the Christmas tree. (She is miss ecology these days- the recycling police. She picked up a plastic fork the other day setting the table and asked if we could use the "wasteful ones") Well. She freaked out. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, she had been waiting "all day! Every day!" to take the tree down.

I remembered being upset at this very circumstance when I was probably about H's age. My mother told me that I didn't really want to take the tree down because it was very depressing. My mother, as I probably have mentioned, takes Christmas very seriously, and I believe taking the Christmas tree down for her is one of the most depressing things she does in the year. She convinced me though- that it was this horrible thing to be reserved for grownups- children shouldn't see the dismantling of Christmas. I adapted that sadness, that aversion to things passing that I've noticed lately.

In my guilt, my feeling horrible that H was so upset, I found my mothers words trying to get out of my mouth. The "no, you wouldn't want to- its too sad" Instead I apologized, told her I had no idea she was looking forward to it. She cried most of the way home from school and we talked about how we could make it right. We agreed (thank God) that it would be silly to cut down a tree from outside, bring it in redecorate it and then undecorate it. When we got home, we shook hands and I promised to decorate AND undecorate with her in the future.

Sometimes we don't follow through right away for a reason.

Nothing with a face

2010-01-08T14:47:00.000-08:00

H is going to make me a vegetarian.
We do a lot of cooking- she is always game to try what we're making. Tonight I am making seafood paella which we will enjoy with some friends who will get here after the girls are in bed (Ahhh....)
The girls are having a dinner of left over meatballs, some string beans and some of the cooked shrimp they saw waiting to be incorporated into the paella (is it bad that I tried to hide it? I needed some left for dinner)
H sat on the stool in the kitchen where she likes to interrogate me as I cook.
"Mom? are those shrimp dead?"
"Uh... yeah."
"Do shrimp have hearts?"
"Uh... not exactly.. "(I don't know!)
"Mom? The shrimp I just ate? Was it a girl or a boy?"
"I'm... not sure"
"Do shrimp have blood?"
"Let me find out..."
"every animal has blood, Mom." Sheesh. I don't start talking about insects, because it really grosses me out to think about insects when eating shellfish.

I went to get my laptop to google shrimp and answer all these questions once and for all. All I could find were articles about keeping shrimp in aquariums (no thanks) and a lot of "whats the deal with shrimp and high cholesterol anyway?"

I still don't have the answers.

Oh no you not

2009-12-30T10:10:00.000-08:00

Me: "on your mark... get set... GO!"
S: "No, mommy, you NOT say go, I say go. Ready... GO" and takes off.

H, singing, "a,b,c,d,e,f,g..."
S "NO H! That MY song. You NOT sing my song"

H, sitting in car, looking out the window.
S, "NO H, That MY window. You NOT look out my window."

Multiples

2009-12-28T17:30:00.000-08:00

There are few things I enjoy more than a studio overflowing with editioned prints. I had forgotten that. I finished this print (better picture of single print to follow- I'm just so loving the herd of prints right now.)

This print will be part of the Southern Graphic Council portfolio exchange- and will be exhibited (venue to be determined) in March.

I spent the entire day preparing paper, ink, printing. Its been a while... this size, a predetermined 16x20, is much smaller than I usually work, and I usually do tiny editions, 10 tops, but usually 5. This is an edition of 25- It felt great to be back in the saddle.

My favorite Christmas present

2009-12-28T17:04:00.001-08:00

We have seemingly survived another Christmas. I again did all the things this year that I swore last year I wouldn't do, and I am swearing again not to do them next year. I am striving to take the insanity out of Christmas. I don't think feeling on the verge of a nervous breakdown is anyway to celebrate anything.

This year, after the traditional gift giving time line that starts with me deciding I'm going to go minimal with gifts, then deciding I'm going make all the gifts I'll give, then realizing I needed to start way earlier in the year so one person will get a made gift, and who will that be... My daughter H planted some simplicity.

With out telling anyone, with out asking anyone to spell anything, without asking where the tape was, where the paper was, where the markers were, made and wrapped her own gifts and put them under the tree. We opened them last, they were small and the first things placed under the tree. Once again, I sat with tears in my eyes. Amazed at my daughter.

One of H's presents wrapped

The purple spoon

2009-12-18T05:46:00.000-08:00

I was expecting my neighbors to stop by, one by one, holding a purple spoon as an offering to the demon child who screamed for one for an hour this morning. I am quite sure S's screams and demands could be heard for miles.

I could have just washed the purple spoon.

That would have been much easier. We had been awake for mere moments before the demands started. I negotiated getting dressed. I compromised about lemonade. Then I was sick of it. No. No purple spoon.

H, who used to love the purple spoon too, has relinquished it because her sister has such a fit if she doesn't have the purple spoon. Its not even about the purple spoon. S will act the same way with whatever color H chooses. The turquoise cup, for example. I fight this battle becasue I know it goes way beyond the color of cups and spoons. It is wearing me down. I know its for the greater good.

There must be a color stealing villain in some story somewhere- I imagine myself to be said villain. No! No color for you! I threatened once, when H was going through a similar color insistance, to replace all the colored place settings with white. No more colors! I yelled. H, not impressed at all, quietly said, "White is a color too."

H sets the table and will go to great lengths to find "not fighting" place settings. "Look!" she says excitedly, "both pink plates! No fighting!" I am at once impressed by her peace keeping skills and annoyed that she needs them.

S refused to eat breakfast with out the purple spoon. I am not exaggerating the hour long screaming. We had to take H to school, I had to drag S out to the car, couldn't get her coat on. Didn't care. S screamed half way to school then finally stopped.
"Look at the birds" she said.
I told her I saw them.
"NO" she said. "I talkin to H."

Nebraska

2009-12-17T14:42:00.000-08:00

Its really too bad I have no time at all to write, because there is so much to write about. Since I should be working on a print, or trying to get the Christmas cards out before February, I will nutshell the last week. Trip to Colorado, then Nebraska then back to Colorado. With photos.

First of all, I was very concerned about being away from the girls for 5 days. Not so much for them. I knew they'd be fine. What I didn't know was how fine I would be. I missed them, I was ready to come home, but it was very nice to have a break. And it is only a mother of small children who would think a funeral sandwiched between 5 hour drives sandwiched between 4 hour flights would be a break. But it was. So be it.

Nebraska.

This was the view from the hotel where we stayed. The whole town smelled like cows- which I loved.

My sister, M with my father. We were at a restaurant that was also a bowling ally. There was bud or bud light to drink and chicken gizzards on the menu. Along with 30 kinds of steak. I love a steak and have reached my quota for the year I think, as all I ate for breakfast lunch and dinner was steak. My sister K was there too. Shes a vegetarian. She ordered the iceberg lettuce. With a side of potato.

The day of my grandfather's service was appropriately grey. And very cold.

After the service, which was just us, and not really a service, more of a gathering, we all went to lunch. My father, his cousin from Colorado, my sisters, my nephew and the Nebraska contingency of our family. Representing Nebraska are Uncle Jerry, my grandmothers brother, his wife Caroline and my fathers cousins Mike and Steve. Uncle Jerry farms- cattle, corn, soybeans- Steve and Mike run the farm now that Jerry's older. I don't know them well, anymore. Lately we've been together at funerals, I haven't been back to Nebraska for 10 years. We saw each other more when I was young. We'd visit Nebraska and ride horses, 4x4s, and ride around off road in Uncle Jerry's pick up truck for a tour, which included pointing out where marijuana grew wild.

Uncle Jerry, Steve and Mike are smart, witty, and love to make you squirm. They have big tractors and shoot big guns. One of them (I wasn't in the truck at the time) once ran over a rabbit because my vegetarian step mother was in the pickup asking them how they could be cattle farmers, and had they seen the movie 'babe'. As long as you accept their way of life, they'll accept yours. They backed right off the Obama jokes, and were very kind to K for being a vegetarian. When I'm with them I have such awe and respect for their lives and how hard it must be to be a farmer. I can't believe we share a bloodline. I imagine they feel the same way when they look at me. Less awe and respect, more how am I related to that crazy liberal?

The farm. K's car in the distance, driven by my father driving like a manic trying to make sure we all take note of his mad snow driving skills.

Another picture of the farm. Steve rebuilds old tractors. This is tractor purgatory.

Sunflowers that didn't make the early frost

Frost.

Colorado. Which, yes, was more colorful. But the sun was finally out. It could have been that.

A trip

2009-12-07T16:46:00.001-08:00

I a getting ready to go on a trip. A trip that has all the makings of the kind of dysfunctional family movie that comes out at this time of year. I am flying to the state one of my sisters lives in so she and I can drive 5 hours, possibly through a blizzard if the weather remains as predicted, to the state where the service for my grandfather will be held. Where we will meet up with our sister and nephew. And our father who makes us all crazy, but who we have come from all directions to support in his time of need, which is ironic since he knows nothing about time of need. There will also be assorted family members who I can't identify in photographs and only barely know the names of.

This trip came about quickly, and part of me can't believe I'm going. I hate to fly. The most I have been away from S is over night, and H 2 nights- each of those was one time only- I am about to go for 4 nights- 5 days. I am torn between loving the idea of a break and being completely frantic about not seeing H and S for that long. I'm not worried about the day to day, although it will be trying (to say the least) for J. I am trying to concentrate on seeing my sisters, and being the only person I have to worry about, something I haven't done in 5 years. (There are those who say I have never done that. But that is my goal. Looking out for number one.) But then, wait a minute, theres a funeral in the middle of all this. I expect it will hit me that my grandparents are gone- although I do realize I am fortunate to have known them as long as I did. I have not been to my grandmothers grave site, and I am bracing for that sucker punch.

Right now its the minutia. Its always the damn minutia. What food should I make sure is in the house? What should I pack thats warm enough but takes up no room because I don't want to check luggage? Should I print out that knitting pattern? Should I buy new pens to draw with? Should I write the girls a letter they can open every day that I'm away? Is that ridiculous? I don't care, I think I'll do it anyway.

And when is this christmas shopping going to get done?

My grandfather

2009-12-07T15:52:00.001-08:00

My grandfather died last week. I'm not entirely sure how yet, and it was unexpected in the way that he hadn't been sick, but not unexpected in the way that he was 89. At least I think he was 89- in our family one doesn't discuss age or money. I work hard to buck that trend in my immediate family, but my grandfather was deeply entrenched in that non talking philosophy. In fact, he and I had a running joke where I sent him a happy 40th birthday card every year.

I am sad. I am sometimes surprised by how sad. I am sad for my father, who has had the misfortune of already burying his sister and his mother. I am sad that with the passing of my grandfather, my grandmother feels really gone.

My grandfather worked setting type, later owning his own of typesetting company. His obituary, written by my father, calls him "a pioneer in the development of computer typesetting." which I will have to ask him about. There is a strange genetic printing connection in my family, my father worked for Xerox- neither my father or grandfather are artists, but some times I wonder if my love of print is genetic.

My grandparents were married for 60 some years. They were both flew planes, they spent a lot of time ballroom dancing. When they updated (its all relative) their home, a log cabin (first bought as a vacation home, that had no electricity or running water. The outhouse still stands.) they made sure to include a dance floor. I always loved the image of the two of them dancing on their dance floor in their log cabin.

My grandmother died, 6 years ago, prematurely after a fight with cancer. I was with her when she passed, after somehow flying out to Colorado to see her that same day. Despite being told my by father and grandfather that things weren't so bad and I shouldn't come. I watched my grandfather- a man who would have you believe he was made of steel and leather and had rocks running through his veins, crumble. Lost. His fingers, bent with arthritis, shaking. Everything I knew to be true had been turned upside down. Now, that man, that bad ass motherfucker, who softened with age but never gave in. Still traveled, still danced- who was more free with his words of love and appreciation in his last years- is gone too.

This is a picture of my grandfather who evidently asked my father to pull over at 14,000 ft, so he could make a snowball. The fact that he wanted to, and the fact that my father actually did pull over is proof that people can change.

He has no regrets, he has said. Which I guess is all you can ask for.

MamaCita Holiday Party & Show

2009-12-04T09:07:00.000-08:00

If you're in the area tomorrow night, stop by:

There will be a lot of great art by a lot of great mamas!

I'll be there with some fused glass jewelry I've been playing around with.

That is a 2 year old hand, by the way, throwing off the scale. The rings are big, but not *that* big!

I'll have some prints, too. Some of the monoprints I'll have there are pictured below.

I have been working on printing with glitter, and am excited to work this into woodcuts as well.

My street this week

2009-12-01T09:39:00.001-08:00

Pianos that have been left out in the rain. Why?

Two chairs getting it on.

Priorities

2009-11-30T13:16:00.001-08:00

What S brought home from school last week.

Charades

2009-11-23T09:10:00.000-08:00

A few nights ago, I taught H how to play charades. I am on the side of loving charades- It seems its one of those things you either love or abhor- H loves it too.

After a bit, H was having trouble coming up with new things to charade (well, she had no trouble being a cat 1000 times, or a tree 1001 times, but I saw the desperate need for some new material) I suggested we each draw some ideas and put them in a bag, and pick out an action when it was our turn. I loved her drawings so much- here they are:

fly like a butterfly

look in the mirror

stir soup

draw a picture

The little things

2009-11-22T04:42:00.000-08:00

I had this dream that thousands of tiny birds where flying packed together so tightly that they made a big mass. I stood on the ground looked up, thinking how strange they looked. When the mass flew by, I could see that they were all carrying something, I could see feet. They looked like human feet. Someone, who was next to me all of a sudden said, see- its true, The birds have taken to eating the raccoons. That's how bad its gotten. But I knew those weren't raccoon feet. When they got up high, they thing they were carrying broke free, and was suspended in air. The birds came together to form a large creature and swooped their prey up again. Then I woke up feeling like a human/raccoon that can't escape the little things.

The query

2009-11-19T06:47:00.000-08:00

This morning, while adjusting the fractured driver side mirror on my car with duct tape, I thought, everything is just falling apart.

I went to meeting for worship at H's school this morning- the whole school gathers every Thursday for 1/2 an hour for Quaker meeting. I usually can't go because on Thursdays I rush to S's school after dropping off H. Today J took S to school so I could go to meeting. Today was the kindergartens turn to do the query, (the Quakers use the term 'query' to refer to a question or series of questions used for reflection and in spiritual exercises. Thanks, wikipedia, for those words)

Each kindergartner stood and said what they were thankful for. H was thankful for her friends. They went down the line, each standing and saying what they were thankful for- the earth, mom and dad, their teachers, the turkey. When they were done, one of H's classmates stood and invited everyone to share what they were thankful for. One by one, kids of all ages stood and said what they were thankful for.

I'm thankful for my mom
I'm thankful for spiders
I'm thankful for DNA
I'm thankful for food
I'm thankful for my teachers.

One girl stood and said "I am thankful I have everything that I need."
The cynical side of me I work so hard to keep muzzled broke out- " yeah? How do you know what you need? Your a kid!" I got it releashed, punished it for breaking out and remembered that I have everything I need too. And duct tape to fix the rest. I am thankful to that girl for reminding me.

Yes, everything is still falling apart. I wake up overwhelmed. I go to bed overwhelmed. Everyday feels like a race, and I know there will be tasks that are benched until tomorrows game. I am trying to be ok with the possibility (probability) that it won't all get done.

Thank you, kindergarten, I will remember to be thankful.

Synchonized tantrum

2009-11-16T09:41:00.001-08:00

Just when you think you've figuring it out, is all goes sideways.
Case in point, S's tantrums.
I am being yelled at because I don't want any popcorn.
"NOOO!! You WANT COPCORN!!!"
"No thanks, I just had some. Would you like some more popcorn?"
"NO! YOU! WANT! COOOOOPPCORNNN!!!!"
I am getting a little concerned at the control freakishness that is growing and growing with no end in sight.

***
Last night, we had a fantastic duo tantrum. S wanted a tissue, but what she started screaming about was that I wouldn't let her get in the refrigerator. H was freaking out because she wanted to print. Its a bit out of context if you don't live in a printmaking home like we do, but yes, she said she wants some ink. Right now. And no, I don't condone talking to me that way- which I have mentioned time and time again. But I do understand wanting to print and not being able to, so I let it slide.

This is just a drop in the bucket- the entire video goes on for a while. This was taken at the end of the day, right before dinner. The craziest hour in this house. I was all tapped out of patience and words, so decided to record the mayhem. To step away from the situation, documentary style.

I think the tantrums dissolved earlier than they might have. I played it back for H, do you see how silly? I asked? I'm not sure she did.

(And just so you know, I did listen and explain why we couldn't print at that precise moment, but that we could after dinner, and why we couldn't hang out inside the refrigerator, but that I'd be happy to remove something from the refrigerator and present it on a plate. No children or animals were harmed, I promise.)

Why I not runnin?

2009-11-11T19:31:00.001-08:00

We live a few blocks from a park. I take my kids there, take the dogs there, every so often I take them both there at the same time. H and I walked to the park nearly daily when she was younger. These days, I am so often on my way to or fro somewhere that I find myself driving S to the park more often than not. It was a rare day yesterday when I felt I had not only time to walk to the park, but time to encourage S to walk too, instead of strapping her into the stroller and hurrying some more.

We did stop to pick flowers of each color, and leaves, and grass- but when we weren't collecting nature we were running. S with her arms chugging, shoulders hunched up around her ears- an animated run. We got to the park more quickly than I expected, I was planning on more of a dawdling stroll, not the bolt it turned out to be. After we were there for a while and lunch time was drawing near I had a brief panic about how I would get her to leave the park with out the restraint of a stroller or car seat. I talked myself down and did reverse bread crumbs all the way home (lets walk to the gazebo, lets walk down the hill, lets walk to the silver car) we were half way home before S had her "hey...wait a minute, we actually ARE leaving the park" moment.

S wanted to run the whole way home, and was annoyed with me for holding her back at the street crossing. Once we crossed the main street on the way home, we hit a steep uphill. S asked if she could run, I said she could. She geared up, got her arms ready and gave it her all, started running up the hill. She stopped, frustrated that the hill was slowing her down, looked at me and demanded, "Why I not runnin?!"

I tried to explain the physics of running up hill, and tried not to laugh too hard, S is very sensitive to being laughed at, or even with. Though boy can she dish it out.

J and I were talking last night, after the girls were in bed, about the many things we're working towards, the many things that overwhelm us. He said, "Why I not runnin?" and we laughed again.

Exploring new dimensions

2009-11-09T05:31:00.000-08:00

My 3 dimensional self has been awakened. I have always been drawn to working 3 dimensionally, but its been a while since I indulged the urge.

I released the hounds this Halloween, making costumes for the girls- had a lot of fun.

in progress

Unicorn

Cat

I used to do a lot of costuming and set work- for friends, mostly. Some were successful, like the giant Dionysus puppet I made using found objects, (such as the crutches I had obtained earlier that month after spraining my ankle jumping off a wall after a run away cat- who I did catch, at least) for a production of The Bacchae. Some not as successful, like the giant rib cage made from fallen branches I built on stage for my friends senior thesis in dance- it collapsed during the performance, but she's such a master it looked intentional. Or the meat dress I made for the same friend that nearly made me a vegetarian.

Here are some small things, in varying stages of progress- none done yet:

Not sure where I'm going with this yet- but am enjoying the ride.

Big dummy

2009-11-06T05:47:00.000-08:00

In the car on the way to school yesterday, H was talking about all the things she'd do at school that day. Art, Music, nature walk.
I said, "I wish I were going to school. I love school"
H said, "How do you know if you never tried it?"

Its hard to be 2. So hard.

2009-11-06T05:35:00.001-08:00

My 2 year old is not the boss of me. My 2 year old is not the boss of me. My 2 year old is not the boss of me.

S is screaming right now because her doughnut is in 2 pieces. Doughnut! I know! We don't eat the doughnuts around here very much. You'd think the doughnut existing on her plate would trump the fact that it dare split in 2, but sadly that's not the case.

If anyone were to walk by my window right now they may wonder, why is that mean mean lady typing while her 2 year old boss is writhing and screaming on the floor? Clearly very unhappy about what certainly must be extremely important? Why isn't she caring for that poor tortured child?

I have gone down the route of yes, I understand. How frustrating it must be for you that you have two pieces of doughnut. Do you want to talk about it? Yes, kick the floor. Let it out. But try not to eat the doughnut while your lying down crying.

This is the part where I feel like a trained monkey. When I get up, go to her- manage to pick her up through the flailing, and sing twinkle twinkle little star about 20 times. Then give her the other half of the doughnut that I had saved.

The joke is on S. Her doughnut was broken to begin with.

Fall

2009-11-04T05:26:00.000-08:00

Me and my girls

Pumpkin scooping

the winged unicorn

The artist cat at work

Another one bites the dust

2009-11-04T04:56:00.000-08:00

Another lunch box casualty. (See this and this for more tales of lunch box demise)
This time, S hung up her backpack and lunch box on the hook by the door, on her own, so I forgot to put the lunch box on top of the refrigerator to safety. We came downstairs this morning to find the above lunch box in shreds, the hook PULLED from the wall, chunks of wall the hook brought with it, and the hook itself bent. All for some peanut butter sandwich crusts.

S is very attached to her lunch box, and was very sad. I am very sad that this seems to be a milestone in my house. I picture the girls out with their friends when they're older. "So how old were you when the dog first got your lunch box? What? that never happened to you?"

This time I had a spare lunch box. Again, I wonder on my way to present the new lunch box to the sobbing S- who has a pinch lunchbox? I do. That's who.

J reattached the hook by the door. It doesn't lie flat anymore, since it was bent off the wall- but we're back up and running for the most part.

Trickle down bossing

2009-11-03T12:54:00.000-08:00

Some things S has said to my* dog in the last few days:
1) "Mayo, you NOT watch my TV!"
2) "You NOT go in H room. (door slamming) Ok? Mayo?"
3) "Mayo! you NOT eat my geegies." (raisins.)
4) "No Mayo, that MY mommy!"
5) at McDonalds, where there is no dog in sight, tears and pouting:
"Mayo eat my french fry..."
and the constant "Not YOU Mayo. NeeeOW."

We have 2 dogs, S only yells at Ruby when she's on the couch ("Ruby! You NOT go on foh-fah! OK?")

She will occasionally attempt to boss the cat, but I think shes realized, as all of us must sooner or later, that theres just no bossing a cat. With Maxi its less about bossing and more about controlling. As in direction the cat is walking in, hysterics when its the wrong direction. A cat can have fun with this.

Meanwhile, my littlest tyrant is keeping one of the dogs in line. And that dog is getting a little jumpier and I swear I've notice more white hair on his face.

*I guess I could say our dog, but he's my baby. Which I believe is the main cause of the bossing.

A little less hair

2009-11-02T10:12:00.000-08:00

As I was doing one of the many picking up junk around the house tours over the weekend, I noticed a chunk of dark brown hair. It was on the floor, right next to the drawer where the scissors are kept. The girls were both out with J when I found it- I honestly couldn't tell whose hair it was. I suspected S, but that was pure profiling. She is totally the one who would cut her hair.

Later, at the dinner table, I said to J, " you know, I found the strangest thing today- some brown hair on the floor. Right over there!" We watched as H turned her face away from us. Her body language suggested she'd like to be swallowed up by the floor. J and I kept going pretending not to notice, and trying not to laugh. "I know its not my hair, was it your hair?" Then we looked a little closer and saw that H was very upset. We felt awful to say the least. She finally looked at me, her face all wet- "it was an accident!" then she was sobbing.

I am a little troubled about where my mind went at this point. I was more concerned that she didn't cover her tracks. What does it mean that she is so upset to be found out but does nothing to hide the evidence? Growing up, that was my sister, K. It used to make me crazy that she would go into my room, go through my things, and not even pretend that she hadn't. She'd deny it, sure, but she'd never put anything back where it was. Then again I took great precautions not to be discovered. I would lay single hairs across my drawers to see if they'd been opened, and make sure to notice which direction the label was pointing on a bottle of shampoo that belonged to one of my sisters so I could put it back exactly where it was and they wouldn't know if I'd used it.

As a mother, I am happy H didn't hide the hair she cut off- I would never have known about it otherwise. Was she upset about it already, and we just brought it out by talking about it? Or had she forgotten all about it? She has said she wishes she had short hair- was it really an accident? I am so torn by all of this- I always wished I was the kind of kid who cut her hair all off, but as far as I ever got was as far as H got. I was always too responsible. I never wanted to let anyone down.

My mother did let me get the short hair cut I wanted- I was in 1st grade, the woman who cut it asked how I wanted it to look in the back. I had no idea. "We'll give you a duck tail" she said. "Do you know why they call it that? Because the back of your head looks like a ducks behind!" HA HA HA. I was horrified, even at 6. All my new short hair did was cause everyone to think I was a boy, since I was always a bit of a tomboy anyway.

So there- that is a lot of my resisting H getting her hair cut. I don't want anyone to call her head a duck butt. Besides her hair is gorgeous. Thick, luxurious. Perfect. And what does she say to me? "Mom is there anyway my hair can look like yours? Your hair is so shiny! Like gold." I would gladly trade with her if I could, but that is so not the lesson to be learned in all this.

the rain forest and the bathroom

2009-10-27T06:25:00.000-07:00

There is a rain forest sale at H's school today. The 5th grade makes baked goods and crafts and sells them through out the school to raise money. There were lots of questions- whats a rain forest, why does a rain forest need money and so on. Mostly, H is excited for the sale. She has 2 dollars to spend. In the car on the way to school after riding in silence for a while she asked "Are we allowed to get something for our sister?" Of course! I said my eyes filling with tears. The rest of the way to school, H was saying to S, "do you want to have a treat after school? H will get something for us", and so on. H often speaks in the 3rd person by the way. J and I call it twitter speak. I was so proud that H thought of getting something for S on her own- in fact the thought hadn't even occurred to me.

S loves her sister dearly, but so far doesn't go out of her way for her the way H does for S. There are some instances of S looking out for H, the other day they were playing with balloons and H's balloon became a casualty of our evil popcorn ceiling, resulting in H lying in a crying heap on the floor. S offered up her balloon- but for the most part she looks out for number one.

****

In other news, S is getting the hang of the potty. Yesterday the girls and I went to get a pumpkin, or rather 2 very large pumpkins and 3 very small ones. As we pulled up to the farm, S announced she had to go to the bathroom. No cute potty talk for this one. "I need to poop. I need a bathroom." The potty? I say, as if I don't know what a bathroom is. She sighs, yes. The potty. Luckily,the farm where we were had a very nice potty, and even better I knew where it was. S sits on the potty (in the bathroom, sorry) tries for a minute, and then looks at me perplexed, "Its not workin!" H now has to use the bathroom, and is jumping up and down holding herself. I tell S we'll try again later, let H take her turn. 3 minutes later, S takes care of business in her diaper, and I feel awful. I try to exlain how proud I am that she knew she had to go. She just looked at me and nodded. But.. we're getting there.

rock and roll and acorns

2009-10-19T09:53:00.000-07:00

S has a rock collection. She picks up rocks where ever we go and lines them all up on the bookshelf. I put them all in a box the other day, thinking she wouldn't notice, my plan was to slowly ease them out to the garden. About half an hour later I saw S frozen at the bookshelf- her lip out, her eyes big and wet,
"My wocks!"
"Here they are", I said, showing her the box.
The relief flooded over her face. I guess the rocks will be with us for a while.

S also has a nature collection. She has acorns in her pockets and scattered through out the house. She brings in other various seed pods with disperse their seeds once inside. I am wondering how long it is going to take for us to lure the squirrels in from the cold.

S brings acorns and rocks with her when we go out, they are tucked into the folds of her car seat. She looses it when she drops them, which is often.
" I dwoped my ACORN!"
" I drowped my black rock!"
(Most things have a color description, for example:
"S, what are you doing?"
"I takin my purple pants off")

The rocks and acorns make their way into my pockets. I find myself crawling under booths at restaurants looking for them. I admit I never planned to crawl around retrieving anyone elses rocks- but I will confess to my own rock collection. I...um.. still have some of the rocks I collected when I was younger. When I would kick a rock along and see how long I could keep track of it while I walked. If I still had the rock when I reached my destination I would put it in my pocket becasue I had... grown attached to it.

So yeah. It looks like we'll have S's box of rocks for a while.

More adventures in forgetfulness

2009-10-17T15:33:00.000-07:00

Today I went out to take the girls to get their flu shots- I set out having decided I would not do the H1N1 shot and definitely didn't want any flu mists, but ended up leaving with one girl H1N1 misted and one H1N1 needled- neither one with the flu shot I set out for. The whole thing is nerve wracking.

The doctors office was crazy, lines snaking around all over the place- everyone texting, people negotiating on the phones, babies crying. The girls were great, S who got the last shot there was in the office, didn't cry, or even react, and H, while a bit manic, did really well with all the waiting there was to do. We were all starving, and they were out of the stickers every kid who has ever been to that doctors office has come to expect, so we set off to McDonalds for dinner.

And then my phone rang. It seems my mind has reached an all time low. I left the house with a dog still out in the backyard- I know there are many dogs who spend their lives in a back yard, but mine think they have it rough that they can't sleep on the couch all day anymore. They have to sleep on their beds with blankets. Mayo follows me around all day, I know exactly where he is at all times. Ruby has been sleeping upstairs a lot more now that we're trying to take the couch back. It was one of my neighbors on the phone, who told me that another neighbor had come to her house because Ruby was outside yelping. In the rain, did I mention the rain? I rushed home, promising the girls still McDonalds, just a different McDonalds. I got home and still another neighbor jumped out of their house and wanted to make sure it was just Ruby that was out, and apologizing for not taking her inot his house, but he didn't know how his dog would like that. Anyway- neighbors were thanked, cell phones exchanged, and duplicate keys will be made. Poor Ruby. We brought her a cheeseburger. Meat AND bread- the carb queen just may think the whole ordeal was worth it.

my dumb yellow hair

2009-10-15T10:03:00.000-07:00

My hair. As much as I don't care most of the time, every now and then I get obsessed.

I seek solace in the form of hair dye. I was drastic at 18, fire engine red, peroxide blond. Over the years I have gotten less drastic, more sort of natural although I never cared about that. I do the coloring myself not because I am a genius colorist, not at all, but because I can't sit still for the 3 hours it takes to have my hair colored anywhere but home. That and I hate to pay a lot for my hair. BUT this last escapade has me almost surrendered.

Yesterday, after dropping H of at school, at 8 am, not the best time to ponder ones hair color, I went into the drugstore and came out with something called bleach blond the lightest you can go good luck with that or something along those lines. After submitting my hair to the abuse of this product, I saw it starting to turn yellow. Like a gold finch. It is the classic bad dye job, and the worst in all my many years of messing around with hair color.

I panicked, called my sister. I thought about not taking S to her gymnastics class. Then I posted my picture on facebook and said to hell with it. I am going to own this bad dye job.

After parading about town with my yellow head and receiving some compliments and some eye aversions- I became obsessed with getting this yellow, this brassiness, out of my hair. To stop looking like Johnny Rotten.

I consulted my sister, the most professional un professional colorist I know. She told me what to get. I couldn't find it at the drugstore and there are no reasonable beauty supply stores close enough to me- so I went to the fancy expensive salon attached one that is close. I checked their website, they had my coveted product, it was reasonably priced.

When I got there, dragging along S, in the rain, the self important guy who worked there (and who was bald. What does he know from hair?) sold me on their version of what I was looking for. I didn't ask how much it was- but quickly learned it was more than I would have paid had I been in my right mind and not my obsessed mind.

The moral of this story- if I had just gone to get my hair done at a salon, it would have taken less time AND less money. And it would probably look better too.

But it's all about the journey, right?

And now on to more important things.

Who ordered all the soup bones?

2009-10-13T11:16:00.000-07:00

Last week was such a forgetful week. At the end of the week, all family members, human and animal were accounted for- so I thought I was coming out ahead. I had a cathartic week end that I though would put my forgetting to rest, or at least to pause.

Today started out with a quick trip to the grocery store with out my wallet. Not entirely a forgetting problem, more of a dog problem. I still felt like an idiot at the check out with a cart full of groceries and no wallet.

The dogs are in the habit of going through my bag at the end of the day- when I'm asleep, they have gotten brazen, but they still wouldn't dare attempt this while I'm awake. Anyway, they take everything out, lick the graham cracker crumbs, some times get lucky and find some peanut butter sandwich crusts. They don't rip anything (anymore) , and I don't even mind that much as all the food crumbs get removed from my bag and its one job I don't have to do.

But, now its gone too far. Next they'll be charging things. Holding my wallet ransom for walks.

Morning

2009-10-08T08:13:00.000-07:00

This morning H jumped out of bed and got dressed, brushed her teeth and then came in to get me. It was 5:30, my alarm not scheduled to go off for another 1/2 hour. After which, on any given day, the snooze button would be employed for another 15 minutes, then I would I jump out of bed and run around half doing things and forgetting the rest. J was up insanely early to go to NY- I think he had to be there at 8:30. I suspect this is what got H going so early.

This morning, I shuffled downstairs, poured H some cereal, turned on the tv, and the coffee pot, which is programed to turn itself on, but not for another half hour. I headed up to the shower when S woke up. "Do you want to get up?" I asked "NO!" H wanted to lie down with S (Will she lie down with me for 5 minutes? No.) S didn't want to get out of bed.

"Do you want to lie in H's bed?"
" NO."
" In Mommy-Daddy bed?"
" NO."
" On the couch?"
" NO."

H wanted to get into S's crib. I had visions of it collapsing, so I said no. Got H back downstairs, told S she could stay in bed until I got out of the shower. As soon as I am all wet, H comes into the bathroom and asks, again, if she can get into S's crib with her.

It was too early for such existential dilemmas- if I say yes, I'm not being consistent, if I say no she'll probably do it anyway. I decided to reward her for asking and not just going into S's bed anyway- especially since I was in the shower and powerless to stop her. "Fine", I said. "Go ahead."

When I got out of the shower I heard H reading to S. They were looking at alphabet books, H was pointing out the letters and S repeating them. Everyone was happy. S grinned, 'H weedin to me!' H had her proud half smile. S even got out of bed willingly after that. And the crib didn't collapse.

The train has left the station

2009-10-07T09:28:00.001-07:00

I nearly cried for the loss of my mind this morning. I should have cried- but I was trying to focus.

I am developing some kind of amnesia. Take this blog for instance. What blog?

My sister texted me moments ago, "um.. you need to update your blog."
I have been thinking of things I want to write, pictures I want to post, as I run around a la chicken with no head. I must recollect my head, and stop scurrying. I will walk calmly from place to place with my head attached. And that will solve everything.

So, about that amnesia.

Yesterday morning, J took H to school so that S, who also had school, wouldn't have to wake up so early to sit in the car for an hour. I unlocked my car so he could get H's car seat out and off they went. About an hour later, I set out to take S to school. I couldn't find my car keys anywhere. I planned to meet a friend for breakfast after dropping S off, her daughter is in the same class. At 8:30, when we the girls should be at school already, I called her to say, no I wasn't canceling, but that I couldn't find my monkey flipping keys and therefore was running a bit late. She, who knows me better than I thought, I guess, told me she was coming to pick S and I up. At breakfast, I remembered I had taken S up to her room as soon and J and H had left. As soon as my friend dropped me off, and made me promise to let her know if I still couldn't find my keys at pick up time, I found the keys in S's room. I had looked everywhere else, including the freezer.

Today, I remembered at 11:15 that I signed S up for a gymnastics class that started today, at 11. We bolted down there, enjoyed the last 20 minutes of class. It was time to head home and I had barely caught the breath it took to get there.

On the way out the door to H's school this morning, S took a bite of a granola bar and choked after yelling at Tamayo to leave her cereal alone (he was no where near it) I thudded her back and did some weird hymlec motion. Now I am determined to sign up for a CPR/kid safety class that I will undoubtedly forget I signed up for.

Beauty rest

2009-10-01T11:04:00.000-07:00

I have often seen behavior in the girls that makes me wonder about their teenage years- today I saw something in S that I hadn't yet considered.

The girl does not wake up well. Or I should say, is not woken up well. If she is roused from a nap before she's ready, she needs at least half an hour to glare at anyone who dare exist in her vicinity- except for me, I am required to drop everything and play the role of couch. Its in everyones best interest it I do. Everything else needs to wait 30 minutes.

Today I learned what it is like to wake S in the morning before she's ready to get up.
She is usually up at 6:15 on her own, waking me up (and I don't wake up well either) but today, I had to wake her. I tried gently rubbing her back. Nothing. Turned the lights on. Furrow. Sent H in, who is the most morningest person you ever did see. S flipped over and gave H her back. I tried again, S slammed her legs down and yelled 'NO!' I said I'd give her 5 more minutes. I went up and down a few times, and was met with the same leg flailing and "NO" yelling. I tried the stern approach, I tried it all.

Finally I signed and said "You're just like Mommy, aren't you? I don't like to get put of bed in the morning either" She smiled ear to ear and said "yes." She let me pick her up. I told her the story of when I still lived with Yo Yo (what the girls call my mom. It fits, believe me) and I would do the same thing she was doing. Of course I was in high school, not 2 years old. Maybe she just needed to commiserate that it was way too early to be awake. And it was.

In high school, I slept through my alarm, my mother would come in and yell at me- she'd get our 5 dogs to jump on me, she'd sic my sisters on me, drop cats on my head. She even dumped water on me a few times. She eventually started bringing me a cup of coffee in bed. That worked. I really miss that. I most certainly will be paying for the years I made my mom heard me out of bed.
No, I will not be bringing S coffee in bed quite yet. I have a feeling I will be eventually.

No thanks, not yet.

2009-09-28T16:21:00.000-07:00

S has a new phrase- "not yet." It is said with a hint of irritation. It is said often- anytime she doesn't want to be interrupted which is always. I usually say ok, well, finish up because we're doing so and so in 5 seconds, she does go along, but I am very aware of the tug of war. Loud and clear, "because I want to not because you told me to."

This happened when H was about this old, too- I found I subconsciously changed the way things happen to avoid confrontation. Both girls have learned that "no thanks" works much better than "hell no"- but what I forget that I need to sometimes say "hell no" to "no thanks".

Case in point, S has been not wanting to get out of the bath- ever. She spent the first year of her life loathing bath time and making me wrestle her clean- well now I have to wrestle her out of the bathtub. Until a few days ago when I asked H to pull the plug and then let them play until the water ran out. H was thrilled for the time to sing loudly underwater, and S was happy splashing around- but when the water was gone, S looks at me with her big brown eyes and mournfully asks where all the water went. H laughs maniacally because they're in the tub with no water. This scenario is three for three.

I am not sneaky about the unplugging, I ask H loudly, to pull the plug (because i can't reach the plug with out getting in the tub in our idiot bathroom) I feel badly that S is so sad to be left high and dry in the tub. It all just makes me wonder if there isn't enough "because I said so".

Dog park and health care

2009-09-24T07:15:00.001-07:00

I dropped the girls off at their respective schools this morning, came home fully intending to have 3 hours in the studio. The dogs looked at me, and I received their telepathic massage that it has been ages since we went for a walk together. So I relented.

Once at the park, I ran into a guy I used to see all the time with his German shepard. I wasn't sure it was him at first, he had lost a lot of weight, the shepard had put some on. We got to talking- turns out he's been in the hospital. "I thought I'd be one of the lucky ones and not get sick until I was really old" he said. I wanted to ask, but read his mentioning the generic 'sick' as he didn't want to get specific. And really, it doesn't matter. We talked about our kids, his are older, about to go to high school. We talked about the economy, his company laying off 20%. We talked about his health care bills and how screwed you'd be if you didn't have health care. He said they told him at the hospital not to loose his coverage, because the sick he has is an ongoing condition. "Do you think Obama will get it passed?" He asked me. I told him I hoped so.

The dog park connection is a strange one. In some ways the most honest way to get to know people. You learn a lot about someone from how they treat their dog. We have stood together in the snow, in the rain, in the hot sun with gnats. We've talked about politics, dog food, hockey, kids, cats, TV shows... before you know it you are friends with people that you often have little in common with aside from a willingness to brave the elements for your dog. People who you may have known for a long time only as their dog's name.

The small talk adds up. The kids that come with the dogs get older, the dogs start to get gray, the dog owners get older and you realize that you've been standing in the field with these people and their dogs for years. Watching the time go by.

The commute

2009-09-23T04:41:00.000-07:00

I haven't had a commute farther than a staircase in about 10 years. When I did commute outside of my house, it was via the L train, or sometimes the J- which has its issues believe me, but while less comfortable that a driving commute- being packed in a subway car like a sardine, and me with my nose at armpit height- at least you could check out mentally. Now I have a driving commute, and obviously I need to pay attention. If everyone is as tired and as in need of that 2nd or third cup of coffee as I am in the morning, its a miracle any of us reach our destination.

This is the second week of driving H to school- I am getting used to it, but am kind of amazed at how much time it eats up. For instance, J drove H to school today, and look! Here I am- its been a while and I've been writing posts in my head during the commute to kindergarten. A clarvoynat blog peppered with salty thoughts toward some of my fellow drivers.

I drive H to school- (I should point out here that its only 20 minutes away, its just that her pre-K was 5 minutes down the road. Its all relative.) because the city I live in doesn't bus kindergardeners. Well, thats what I say, but the truth is I don't think I'd put her on the bus yet anyway. I am going to learn to love the commute. It seems to be a good place to interogate her about her day.

ER

2009-09-17T11:04:00.000-07:00

Its inevitable, that first ER visit- and I guess I am fortunate that it was with my second child and not until she was 2. That didn't make it any less earth shattering for me.

S rolled down the stairs- all 12 of them. The stairs themselves are carpeted, but the landing- where she, um, landed- is not. S was lying on the top stair- I don't know why. I also don't know why I didn't notice she was lying on the top stair, I was right there. (this is sounding like 'There was an old lady who swallowed a fly'...) When I finally noticed she was lying on the stair, I ran over to her yelling "S! Don't roll!" At which point she looked up- and rolled. As I helplessly watched her roll all the way down the stairs, all I could do is say Oh God, oh god, oh god. She hit, she cried, she held her head- I picked her up, after seeing she moved her arms- trying to remember all the move/don't move rules. I saw a bruise forming right away, and thought, maybe its not so bad- but then the blood started.

I called J at work and told him to meet us at the ER, and then scrambled around trying to assemble S's shoes, my shoes, an icepack- I grabbed a bag of frozen soybeans. I couldn't find S's monkey, and eventually grabbed a kitty and left without him. I kept asking S if she was ok, "Yes" I told her we were going to the doctor- "Ok." She says. After what felt like the slowest drive across town ever, behind a trash truck, a bus, and more than one idiot- I got to the hospital, and saw J on the corner.

We took S in- she was smiling at everyone. Laughing, looking a little crazy with her blood soaked hair. She sat in the hospital room with her kitty on her lap, eating frozen soybeans and not flinching while the nurses cleaned up her cut and glued it up.

Once we came home, I tried hard to get her to sit still which she was having none of. We kept her up the requisite 6 hours after the fall- which was just a little bit past her usual bedtime. Right back to business as usual.

Really?

2009-09-13T05:50:00.000-07:00

Last week I mentioned in passing that our water heater gave up the ghost. Yesterday we noticed a big water stain in our second floor hall way. We have a leak. And a third floor, so probably a major leak.

Thats all I got.

I need more coffee and a big deep sand hole in which to stick my head.

School girls

2009-09-10T09:33:00.000-07:00

And breathing out... almost.
The girls we very kind to me and didn't cry, or even resist going to school this morning. The slightest hesitation from either of them may have sent me sobbing. H couldn't usher us out the door faster- J and I kind of stood there feeling unnecessary for a bit. S, who I expected to resist her new class or school in general was fine after about three minutes of holding the shoulder of my shirt with white knuckles.

I wasn't alone as I had booked J for a breakfast date- and then I still wasn't alone after he had to go back to work because I had the company of the plumber I had to call to come replace our hot water heater which decided today was a fine day to go. What with all the attention focused on going to school surly know one would notice that the poor underappreciated hot water heater just couldn't take it anymore.

Now is when it feels weird to not have H here- I have picked up S from her school, where I'm told she had a great day, and smiled even. That "she doesn't talk much, but she sings a lot." Tomorrow will seem stranger, I'm sure.

On the ride home, S said with a big grin, "I love school" She loves a lot of things these days- her new favorite phrase.

Kindergarten, for me, is not all the way sunken in yet- but I am very proud of my big girl who makes friends easier than I ever have, who is undaunted by the new and different. I am hoping she remembers to tell me everything (when I said this to her last night, she rolled her eyes and sighed "but WHO will remind me?") I will. I will remind you.

T minus 1

2009-09-09T04:32:00.000-07:00

Kindergarten tomorrow. We are getting better at being up early, but not ready early. Although I haven't attempted that yet- who wants to be up and ready to walk out the door at 7:30 when you have nowhere to go? I have been good at getting the girls to bed early, but do you think I can get myself to bed at a decent time? No. Every morning I have a little chat with myself about how I must go to bed before midnight- but every night I just need to get one more thing done...

H is excited- but is having some anxiety about kindergarten. Well, I hope thats the reason she's become an insane tantruming freak. The other night at dinner when she didn't want to eat what I made- she threw herself from the table, with a raging "I QUIT!" and stormed out of the room while J and I turned blue in our attempts to not laugh. She's been picking and poking at all of us and then bursting into tears when we say ouch quit it. Last night she asked to sing the alphabet song at bed time.

S is starting school tomorrow too, although her 2 mornings a week are getting overshadowed a bit by H's full day full time school. I am feeling her starting too- although I reacted to her school starting when she started in the summer. I'm hoping she'll be ok with staying now that she's had a taste of school, although on her last day in the summer she was luke warm at best with the idea.

We'll see what tomorrow brings. Besides me dropping off the kids wearing giant sunglasses while biting my lip.

The Potty

2009-09-06T16:36:00.000-07:00

Today S peed on the potty for the first time. She was proud, I nearly missed it, we were all excited. H, however, was over the moon. I have never seen anyone as excited. She was ecstatic. We were confused. She made me get the camera to take a picture of S on the potty. Which I did, and which I was planning on posting, but I just can't. Even with the black bar I photoshopped on where a fig leaf should be- its just wrong. After documenting photographically, H ran to grab her crayons and settled down to draw this:

That, on the left, is S, sitting on the potty (which is aqua, blue and yellow) which is on the floor next to a red chair, and on the red chair is a cardboard box which is temporarily housing the microwave kiln (since I'm using it too much to put it farther than an arms reach away)

H had been on my case all week, asking multiple times a day if I'd gotten the potty out of the basement for S yet. This made me feel like crap, causing me to ask such questions as "What is wrong here that my 5 year old daughter has more interest in her sister being potty trained than I do?", and "Why haven't I gotten the potty out yet, anyway? Why do I need to be reminded by a 5 year old?" And, I know this isn't a question, but "I'm the mom around here, I decide when its potty time."

So, I guess I finally decided it was potty time- brought the thing up, cleaned it, tried not to dwell on the fact that I maybe could have been a touch more thorough with the cleaning when I put it away for the last time 3 years ago. S wanted the diaper off, tried to pee and got up 3 times only to sit back down again- she was determined. I left the room for a second, and she peed. H came running over excitedly, "I think there's some pee in the potty!" It happened so quickly that I even accused H of putting water in the potty. Another proud moment. S was peering into the potty, studying her work.

H yelled "Now can she have underwear?"

The war with my house

2009-09-04T16:31:00.000-07:00

I am trying. It is trying, but I am trying.

Today I, and by "I", I should say "we" cleaned H's room. Actually, "I cleaned" is accurate, the rest, being H and S, and the freaking dogs who refused to stay out of the way, mostly conspired to slow me down and rescue things from the trash- things I had to convince myself to part with in the first place. Until I employed my latest time builder, a streamed netflix movie on my lap top upstairs. All day long up there, a huge garbage bag for each the trash men and the salvation army, and it doesn't look like anything in the way of cleaning took place up there.

Then, I had to come downstairs, which looked- looks- horrendous as I had spent the day upstairs and thus not tending to the downstairs.

This microwave kiln is making it at all the more dificult to clean and achieve the organizational nirvana I so desire when all I want to do is melt glass, and figure out how to print on glass.

Also I'm getting a headache, and sore throat, and when I turn my head it feels like I have to wait for half my head to catch up. Not a good time to be feeling like crap- with kindergarten T minus 6 days and counting.

Sleepless

2009-09-03T19:40:00.000-07:00

J and I made a pinky locking pledge, this morning before I was awake, that we'd be in bed by 9 tonight. I resisted in my half awake state.. you can't go from going to bed at 1am to going to bed at 9.. but I pledged anyway and now feel like a failure and a not promise keeper. 10:38. J's in bed, although he just went up. We are trying to get ready for the school starting schedule- that will be a slam to all of our systems.

In the meantime, I have not learned all the way to crochet, but did take how to books with me on vacation. Instead I found myself taking a class on microwave glass fusing and purchasing the 'supplies available for purchase' after the class. I am having a great time fusing glass- piece by piece by piece in my tiny fake kiln which is only making me covet a larger kiln. And I'm already getting ahead of myself as usual, planning my conquering of the world by melding printing and glass fusing.

Going to bed at 10:43. Its not 9, but its not 1 either.

Re-entry

2009-08-30T15:58:00.000-07:00

We were away last week on vacation. Sort of, I mean, I guess it was vacation. It was getting away, which we severely needed to do. Now I am in limbo, we're back, but not really all the way. My father is going to come visit for a few days- he gets here tomorrow night. A visit from my father always sends me way out into orbit, and I have no time for it now.

We spent the week rushing around from one fun activity to the next with the girls grandparents, Aunt A and Uncle T. The girls who usually go to bed 7ish were up until 10, at least, every night. It took me a few hours to get S down to sleep every night. We would come in the door and she'd be so tired she'd lie down on the floor, but the second she was in bed she's be instantly energized, 'I want PWAY!' I want DRAW!' All week long because she was so fried, she'd do this thing where all of a sudden she'd look stricken, her eyes would fill with tears, the lip would pout out and she'd say, through held breath.."MOmmY.... MommY!!" and then sob uncontrollably.

Today was actually really good, for a first day back. We did nothing. Well, we did a lot, but we didn't leave the house. It is some kind of insanity to not leave the house over here. I didn't even get S dressed today. She's about to go to bed and she's still wearing pajamas. J and I cleaned our room. We put up the girls' tent on top of our bed, set up my laptop with a movie, and set them up with plates of snacks and piles of books. This was a huge undertaking. I have cleaned my side of the room and J his but we haven't done a through cleaning together... possibly ever. In fact, when J was cleaning he found his stack of thank you cards for wedding gifts we received 9 years ago that he had written and never sent. We split the thank you card writing- Maybe I wrote them and he was just supposed to send them. I don't remember. I'm sorry, those of you who may have gone un-thanked. I thank you, 9 years late.

I am far from innocent in the keeping stuff forever category. I tired repeatedly today, but it turns out I can't throw away buttons. I tried a few times, but dove into the trash bag enough times that I gave up and allowed myself to have the buttons. I did throw away a NY Yankees shirt I've had for as long as i can remember. Seriously, I may have been 10 when I got it? That hurt me. I gave it a little garbage bag funeral though, put it in a shoe box casket. Said a few words. Its was time.

bad photos of new work

2009-08-22T06:05:00.000-07:00

I never claimed to be a photographer, and should pester my photographer spouse to take pictures of my work before I post them up here in not their finest. Perhaps I will re post them, but anyway, here they are. 3 versions, one 3 color reduction, one 2 color reduction with silver leaf and one black and white. It was refreshing to work this small, these are 9x9- I usually work much bigger.

My very own tomato festival

2009-08-21T15:06:00.000-07:00

When they finally ripen, they ripen in droves. These are the tomatoes I brought in yesterday. There are many more out there ripening on the vine. I need your best sauce recipes. Stat.

Is that beautiful or what?

They both wanted to, but neither of the dogs ate the tomatoes I made them pose with. I tried for a ridiculous amount of time to balance a tomato on their heads, and they were very patient with me.

The girls both ate their tomato props. I bet I could have balanced tomatoes on their heads. I don't know why I didn't think of that until now.

medium conundrum

2009-08-19T04:33:00.000-07:00

I have a lot of print ideas up my sleeve- well, thats kind of a bluff, but I have some print ideas anyway- but what I really want to do right now is learn to crochet. Or go buy tools for needle felting. Which I also don't know how to do. Yet. And I plan to go to a bead festival on Saturday for still another of my obsessions. I'm not going to get into the whole what is art thing, it all is- but what I am trying to figure out, and what has become my eternal dilemma, is distinguishing between what is the beginning part of making work and what is procrastination. I know some of the work I like best comes from that calm playing around in the studio part. That is the part of creating that has been the hardest for me since I've become a parent. I can work my ass off pretty well, but just sitting allowing the thoughts to come? Thats hard.

I should mention I have a deadline, which tips the scale to this is procrastinating. Except it doesn't have to be a print. The work I need to finish, and um... start, is to be auctioned off to benefit inliquid, (which is, in their words, "a nonprofit membership organization dedicated to providing opportunities and exposure for visual artists and designers, serving as a free public hub for arts information and resources, and making the visual arts more accessible to a broader audience. More than just an online presence, InLiquid also nurtures our creative community through a continuing series of venue-based art exhibitions and events.") That blurb is all true, I am a big fan of inliquid.

Am I missing out on creating great work because I am stubbornly adhering to my medium? Or will I end up making thousands of macrame owls if left to one side of my mind? And would that be so bad? What I really want to do is to do it all. I need to loosen the reins a little- in art and in life. And now I'm thinking a macrame owl would make an awesome tag.

Hair cut

2009-08-18T10:11:00.000-07:00

I took H and S to get their hair cut the other day.

I hadn't planned to get S's hair cut, but she wanted to, and I was in a charitable mood. Her cut was the easiest 12 bucks the hair guy ever made. And I tipped him pretty well on top of it because he didn't laugh at me as I held my hand under his sissors to catch the quarter inch dusts of S's hair that was drifting to the floor, while yammering about it being S's first haircut.

We usually go to the salon in my kitchen. I'm not sure what got into me. Its the kindergarten thing again, I think. Everything has to be official.

S. Not smiling. Don't tell me what to do. Thats her motto.

When I showed J these pictures, he asked where the pictures of H's haircut were. Oh. Right. Well, it wasn't her first haircut, I didn't document. So, here are some pictures from H's first haircut a year ago:

Look how sappy I am, witnessing the first haircut.

To be big or to be not so big

2009-08-18T09:45:00.001-07:00

I need a new theme. But I can't muster one yet- so its this theme or no theme. My girls are getting big. How could that be, oh master of the obvious? Its confounding. Astounding. I must awknowlegde the big. This is my 12 step program to kindergarten. Where they, or at least H, will be officially BIG. School bound, never looking back, cutting the apron strings big. This is where I need to reel myself in a bit- remind myself that this is what they, the kids, are supposed to do, this is what I did.

Then again, I just had a conversation with H about picking her nose and eating the bounty on her finger. "you must stop that, its gross!" I said, my face convulsing in disgust. "no its not", she says "taste it." Maybe not so big after all.

I had a history teacher in highschool, whose name excapes me, that was obsessed with mucous. All of his jokes were nose picking jokes. In fact, if you pointed out that he was obsessed with nosepicking jokes, he'd say, "that's snot true!" and crack himself up.

So I guess big is relative.

Question for today

2009-08-12T11:02:00.000-07:00

Will I be able to send H off to kindergarten without getting a puppy?

I am on the way downstairs to pull out the girls chalkboard easel so I can begin writing 1,000 times 'I will not get a puppy' Except I don't think the easel is big enough to handle that.

I probably won't get a puppy yet. Suffice to say I am feeling the beginnings of being traumatized by kindergarten.

I am becoming very aware of little girls. I see them, size up their age- and think, "she's younger than H. Oh look, shes younger than H, too. I remember when H was that old..." and so on.

The summer is slamming shut. Fall and back to school are flinging open. Its here. Almost.

I miss my sister

2009-08-09T06:15:00.001-07:00

My sister K and man child 14 yr old nephew A are here for the week. We have been to the beach, and spent the day yesterday ripping out carpets in my mothers house. Having K here is always great and I have K withdrawl when she goes. In addition to being a huge help physically, providing a much needed second pair of hands- she and I operate on the same wave length, and that is always so refreshing to me. Driving back from the beach the other night, for example, we simultaneously burst into singing a Morphine lyric, and not only that but we had both changed the words of the song. How is that possible?

K and I started opperation gross hairy stinky carpet removal yesterday while our mother alterately stood over us and tried to remove tack strips with a pallet knife. She is not as inept as that makes her sound- just the trauma of anyone helping her makes her a bit loopy.

***

That was a few days ago. We finished the carpet removal, along removing the filth that is under everyones carpet, but more so under my mom's carpet. We uncovered some red and brown vintage, probably asbestos laden, tile that could stand to be mopped a fourteenth time, but is clean enough. Rearranged the furniture, slandered the coffee table, wished for a turquoise chair.

K and A are flying home tomorrow morning insanely early. I have already started the sister with drawl, and miss her before she's even on the way to the airport.

In the studio

2009-08-03T05:35:00.000-07:00

It can be alarming to unleash the girls with paint in my studio when I'm working on things I don't want splatter painted, but it kind of worked this time. Then again, is there any situation a giant box can't make better?

My dog baby is seven!

2009-08-03T05:22:00.000-07:00

Its one thing for ones children to keep getting older- but now my youngest dog is seven. It certainly does not seem like seven years ago that we brought him home. Finally being deemed worthy of him after a day long interrogation from his breeders- he rode home in my lap- asleep with his nose in the pocket of my sweatshirt. After 2 minutes I had no idea what I had done with out this dog in my life- or how it was possible to feel I'd known him forever when he was only 10 weeks old. He's gotten under the skin of the breeders, too- They had 14 Vizslas, and seen countless puppies come and go- but they couldn't watch as we drove away with Tamayo.

H woke up this morning and jumped on Mayo, who was asleep and yelled HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOY! in his ear. He didn't even grumble for once, just wagged his tail so fast it blurred.

kisses from dogs

2009-07-28T17:18:00.000-07:00

In continuing the undoing of all my dog training, H has trained Tamayo to lick her all over her face when she says "I LOVE KISSES FROM DOGS!" H isn't so much a master dog trainer as Tamayo has been holding back kisses for 5 years, that and after all these years, I suspect he does speak English. Yet another thing I would never have guessed that gets screamed from my yard for the amusement of the neighbors: I LOVE KISSES FROM DOOOGS! I can't wait to tell her boyfriends that one.

H and S both try to train each other. "Good girl! good job!" They enthusiastically say to each other many times during the day. Just now in fact, as S put a clothes pin on the highest wire of the drying rack. (Clipping the clothes pin on the drying rack outside, or playing clips as its known around here, is the best game since Lefty told me about water paint- which is when you get a receptacle of water and some paint brushes. Thats it. Actually, water paint is much better, but it is wetter. Playing clips is pretty good.)

I just said another thing I didn't think I'd be saying to my kids: "Don't bark at the neighbors dog! Stop barking! I mean it!"

Meanwhile my dogs know better and are quiet.

A tiger on a monkey's toe/ Backpack, backpack

2009-07-27T14:58:00.001-07:00

Eenie meenie miney mo

catch a tiger on a monkey's toe

if he hollers on his toe

let. him. GO!

H has been saying this, her version, for a really long time. And she eenies often. I haven't corrected her- for one because I think less of the racist origins of this rhyme and have a surreal image of a monkey catching a tiger on his toe- also because my questioning authority has gotten out of hand and I say- who am I to correct it? There is no right way (except sometimes, of course there is.) I have heard people tell H their version, try to say it with her to get the monkey out and off the tigers toe- but she seems to prefer it her way- as do I.

***

H and S are having a parade through the house right now, wearing conductor hats- one authentic that came with a train set, the other, mine, a target special, which looks better on H than it does on me (but she can't have it!) and also makes her look alarmingly like a teenager (and thats not the only reason why!) H is shrieking "CHOO CHOO! The Animal express! We are the best of the BEST!" S is going along, chiming in with the song here and there. S has a goose egg bruise on her forehead from running on a paved path downhill and falling. Both H and S have their faces painted. They were painted by me, and I don't have the good stuff, so there are smears of face makeup and glitter all over. It is quite a parade.

Why are their faces painted? Why is S bruised? Why am I beat?

Insert a scooby doo wavey sequence. It all started back at the mansion when...

Last night, H started making her case for going to the zoo today. She seems to know how I am on Mondays- plan-less and unorganized, and she takes advantage. I said ok to the zoo- even though we also had no food in the house and a gazillion things to do. There are always a gazillion things to do. It was hot, and its always at least 80 degrees hotter at the zoo, so I threw out a casual 'hey do you want to go the arboretum instead?' Imagine my shock and awe when that was met with YAY!!! ARBORETUM!!! I asked 5 times, are you SURE you'd rather go to the arboretum? Than the zoo? Repeat after me 'I would rather go to the arboretum than the zoo and I do solemnly swear I will not expect to go to the zoo after lunch.'

Before our plans changed, I had already laid out the zoo rules, including that we were not going to get our faces painted. We have not ever had our faces painted at this particular zoo, but if we don't cover the rules and expectations before we're out the door things get crazy. I said (why?) that I would paint their faces when we got home if they wanted. If they wanted? What was I born yesterday?

After the arboretum, the goose egg fall, the trip to the store to replenish our supply of food, I spontaneously stopped at the Gap. I never shop at the Gap, but it was there. There was a sign about backpacks, and I have become backpack obsessed. I was panicking that we didn't have backpacks yet even though its not even August and I was sure they would all backpacks will be sold out of everywhere as I hem and haw and look for the backpack of MY dreams even though I am not the one going to kindergarten. I need a stand in backpack for now, incase of emergency, while I continue my search. Once inside the belly of the Gap, I fell into their trap of buying the backpack's matching/attaching lunchbox, I fell into their additional trap of applying for a store credit card to save an additional 20% (which combined with their sale got me one of the backpack lunch box combos for free. So there. I don't care if it was a trap.)

S had a dirty diaper and was all but taking it off in the store. H was doing jumping jacks and cartwheels in the roped off section of the line. This is the schmancy Gap, in the high falutin area I can hardly stand to frequent. Where all the kids match the parents. And me, with my motley, sweaty, sticky crew with big bruised on their heads and dirty knees from falling all over the arboretum. Me with my dress that S had been using as a tissue all day. Then I changed S's diaper, tailgate style in the parking lot.

We got home, finally, ate the popsicles that were promised to get us through the food shopping, fit in some trying to figure out payroll, printing out more forms that need to be filled and faxed, and painted glitter butterfly faces on the girls faces that were already sticky from mango popsicles. (I had forgot about the face painting promise.) H sighed and said "Mom- you are the best artist EVER. I love that you made up your own design." (yes, she really said that.) Then she went on and on and ON about how beautiful she felt with this grease paint on her face. My continual assurances that she was already beautiful went ignored- I think so far she believes that, that she's beautiful. Which of course she is- but how to keep her seeing it that way? I wish her never to doubt it.

Camp School

2009-07-23T08:40:00.001-07:00

This is the picture that accompanies this post about S's first day at school. Or camp, as they call it here when its school in the summer. I have stubbornly refused to call it camp, (because its NOT camp! There are no tents! There is no insect repelant! There are no camp fires! There are no marshmallow sticks!) but I may have to give in. I am tired of the constant response "Camp?" when ever I say "school." The people are trying to train me. Maybe I'll start calling it camp during the school year. the camp year. That'll show em.

H trying to force a smile.

Sweet Summer

2009-07-23T08:34:00.001-07:00

I'm finally downloading the summer from my camera- and what I see a lot of are sticky faces.

Hunting monkeys and raised by wolves

2009-07-23T08:29:00.000-07:00

Sometimes everyone looks a little lost in the woods. Right?

Your Highness

2009-07-22T14:05:00.001-07:00

H: "Mommy? When we get married do boys call us 'your highness?'
Me: "No. But they should."
H:"What?"

H is now running around with the dogs, yelling "Oh! I forgot about the royal highness! He's a bad royal highness!" I think she's referring to Tamayo.

Must...keep...up...

2009-07-16T12:19:00.000-07:00

This blog isn't the only thing suffering from my manic distraction of late.

I am trying to do too much. Its gotten to the point where the things I am doing half assed are looking good. Because there are way too many things that are getting a 16th of my ass. And that just isn't enough.

Today I forgot to send underwear with H to school for her to change into after water play (she goes to school in her bathing suit.) Her teacher, the good cop teacher, luckily for me, informed me today when I picked her up that H was not wearing any underwear, as I didn't send any AND she doesn't have a change of clothes at school like she's supposed to that I haven't sent in despite many reminders from the good cop teacher and the bad cop teacher.

I feel I don't have shorts to spare! I don't want any cute clothes to languish away in a plastic bag for just incase use, and I don't want to spend money on any ugly clothes to keep at school, so I just keep putting it off like everything else. Maybe when they send her home in a barrel with suspenders, and no underwear beneath- maybe then I'll send a change of clothes. AND H brought underwear downstairs for me to put in her backpack this morning- I didn't even tell her too. And I still forgot. Bad bad distracted Mommy.

And get this one: I hurried and scurried and borrowed from Peter to pay John, Paul, George AND Ringo to make sure I got a payment in on time for the no interest or finance charge credit card we have. Today I saw on the caller ID that the credit card company had called. Thats strange, I thought. Upon further investigation I discovered I had made the payment to the wrong credit card.

I called the credit card company, heard an automated amount I now owe, due to my non payment, over the limit, back charges and general negligence. Managed to not pass out. Got a really nice guy named Ross on the phone. Initially, he had some attitude since I couldn't remember my password. "Its a pet's name" he groaned. "Do you know how many pets I have?!" I yelled at him. He was nice enough to help me reset my password "How about your mothers maiden name, he says.. that doesn't change" Yeah, fine Ross. Think you have it all figured out. I told him I paid the wrong credit card. He thinks they can fix this mess, but I have to call back tomorrow, after they post the payment I made.

And those are just the things I know I've screwed up. There are so many more waiting in the wings. Gotta love a surprise.

Extra senses

2009-07-12T05:48:00.000-07:00

H spent the night at her grandparents house last night. After much debate we brought S home with us instead of having her stay the night too. Its been nice to spend some time with S alone- she rarely gets both J and I to herself- I know she misses H, but shes enjoying her time.

H couldn't wait for J and I to leave yesterday- eager to begin her independence from us. She wanted S to stay, but I think is equally happy to have some alone time with her grandparents.

I am not often away from H, and hardly ever speak to her on the phone, so when she called last night, I was slammed with emotion. She sounds so much older and more coherent that the last time I spoke to her on the phone, months ago.

This morning I asked S if she wanted to draw a picture for H- who is always drawing things for everyone and I'm sure has made something for the whole family already. Just as S sat down, the phone rang. H called, wanting to talk to S. They said Hi back and forth about 20 times, and then H said "I love you!" and asked to talk to me. S went back to the table, and took the cap off a purple marker. H said "I hear S drawing, what is she making?"

H has been saying repeatedly for some weeks now that she wants to be a dog so she can have 'a nose like a dog' - a heightened sense of smell. I find this odd- of all the super powers to wish for. Maybe her wish got crossed along the way and she's ended up with a dogs ears.

Sneaky Crab

2009-07-10T17:48:00.000-07:00

I may have been a sheep dog in a former life. Or maybe I was a sheep who refused to be herded and this is payback. Whatever the reason, I find myself shepherding, herding, wolf staring, pulling pushing pleading an awful lot. Tripping over dogs, kids, cat. Waving my arms like I'm trying to land a plane. Or conduct and orchestra. Or move a mountain

The herding has games attached to it, what, as an attempt at being functional. The bed time herding is called sneaky crab, where I, the sneaky crab, try to pinch the girls as they run (delightfully, quick like bunnies) up the stairs (where they will need more herding into their pjs, the toothbrush will need to be herded into their mouths, the dog herded off the bed so we can read stories, etc etc.) S has taken this sneaky crab game to new levels, every time she goes upstairs she calls out "Tin-kee Cwab! Tin-kee Cwab, Mommy!" (Does she thing the game is stinky crab? SNEAKY crab, S!) But she doesn't hustle, as she's calling me a tin-kee cwab and I pinch her- as much as I think I could pinch her little legs all day, it does grow old after a while, when dinner is burning and dogs want to be fed and the phone is ringing... I have to heard harder. Today as this was playing out, H sighed from downstairs, "S! Sneaky crab is all about being QUICK!" I smiled. H is getting so big. I love that she plays along even though she knows I am herding her up the stairs.

Where does it come from?

2009-07-06T17:00:00.000-07:00

Getting ready for bed tonight, S pushed Maxi with her foot. (S pushes us all around. Don't feel badly for the cat) H yelled "S!" then, "its ok, Maxi. You can scratch her. You can even rip her heart out." What?! Where did this come from? Certainly not something I utter around the house. I utter plenty, its not that- just that this is not something I would say. Again- she is her own person, so why the shock that she'd say something differently that I would? I don't know the answer to that.

In the delay before bedtime- where H lies in bed and shoots me as many questions as she can think of to get me to stay in the doorway a little longer. I grind my teeth a little bit louder the longer the questioning goes on, but can't quite break from the questions as she's been making them fabulous in order to get me to stay there grinding my teeth. Today- "Mommy are how many different worlds are there? We're in this world, is Virginia in another world?" (I don't know why Virginia in particular seems other worldly to H.) Just one world I tell her. "How do we all fit? Are we at the top of the world? I don't want our house to slide off the world." I try to explain gravity. "Gravity? Who made that? Who made the world?" I have gone the religious route before- today I decided to go with Darwin. I mangled the evolutionary theory- cliff notes through grinding teeth. "The earth is made of rocks? Thats MAGIC" then "And then who painted it?" This lead into a conversation about paint and dye coming from things in nature. "Remember how red your fingers got after picking raspberries?" H asked how people could stop smelling raspberries if they used them for paint. And how would it dry anyway?"

I need to hit the books to be able to put H to bed.

Dented day and no room

2009-07-03T07:37:00.001-07:00

I woke up this morning with a big dent in my forehead from sleeping on my bracelet. It is just now, 5 hours later beginning to go away.

Despite the fact that S has had a long week of new experiences and hasn't had a nap in days she woke up at 5 in the morning. J and I decided the morning was beyond improvement so we spent some early morning time figuring out the best way to install the updates needed on my computer to install the software so we can get our finances in order. We installed the update, tried to install the software- turned out we needed to update the update to install the software, the installer of which needed more room than I had available on the hard drive. And so on.

Apparently during the time it took to figure out computer finance stuff, the house exploded. While I was attempting to make room on the computer to pay bills, the girls kept telling me they wanted to eat eggs. I couldn't take it anymore and shifted gears to go make some eggs. No only was there no room on the computer, but no room in the kitchen, no room in the dining room. I folded laundry that was in the dining room (it got held up on its way upstairs. The bureaucracy in this house) to make room on the table to eat.

While folding the laundry so I could make the eggs so I could update my computer, I heard Maxi's full mouth caterwaul coming from the back of the house. Shit, I knew we had a live one. Even though I think all the pink fluffy cat toys are real mice when I hear the low muffled MmmmmmRRrrrrOOOOwwwww.... I just knew this mouse was not pink or fluffy. Maxi thought it was a toy. Maybe we need to feed her less- but she just wants to catch and release- unfortunately, she tends to release in the middle of the house. So the freed mouse made a dash behind the toy shelf in the dining room. I set up my paper bag traps- but Maxi got herself behind the shelf and re caught the mouse who she then brought out to the middle of the room and threw in the air. While this was going on, H was sitting on the back of the couch hugging her knees. Naked. (In the middle of getting dressed. Downstairs. Because the laundry was in the dining room, of course) S wouldn't get out of the way of the mouse-I was sure it was going to run up her leg.

Maxi finished throwing the mouse in the air, and had it back in her mouth. Ordinarily, I am trying to save the mouse at this point, but this time that didn't occur to me. I was trying to chase Maxi back out of the house, or into the paper bag I was trying to catch the mouse with, but Maxi was very slowly strutting and kept trying to turn back to me, her mouth full of mouse. She dropped the mouse for another game of mouse hacky sack, and the mouse almost ran into my bag, but instead darted under the door to the basement. I threw Maxi down after it, but she wouldn't stay. She was done with the mouse. There is no way I will be able to find the mouse in the basement. Its dark, there are nooks and crannies galore. I try, am still trying, to let it go. I am afraid Maxi will find it again and bring it up. Into my bed when I'm sleeping.

To get H off the back of the couch and dressed, I told her the mouse is outside, that he left through the basement. She is concerned if the mouse has found his mommy and daddy. I am a bit concerned about this too, but for different reasons.

J will not be able to relax knowing there is a mouse in the house. I don't want to tell him. I also don't want to tell the girls to keep anything from him. Maybe I'll let H tell him that the mouse went back outside to find his mommy.

Lost. One mind. Reward.

2009-07-02T07:27:00.001-07:00

I have officially and completely lost my mind. It started, or rather the sanity ended, after I dropped S off at school today to her "I...WAAAANNNT....MOOOMMMEEEEEE.. " wails that continued through the building while I walked upstairs to drop H off at her class, and then continued still as I walked back down the stairs, thankfully out of view, and around the corner to the parking lot. I have been fighting the urge to call and ask if shes stopped crying, because if they tell me she hasn't I'm not sure what will happen but am pretty sure it will involve my stomach being flipped inside out.

I decided to go grocery shopping. I mentioned in an earlier post how this was against my new rules of how time should be spent while the girls are in school. I may have to edit the rules as I keep breaking this one. I have also mentioned in earlier posts how much I abhor grocery shopping with my children, S in particular. Like here. But today, I felt lost. I watched all the moms (and all the nannies) with their kids, shopping at Trader Joes- the girls were all in pretty dresses. They were all calm. Lovely. Helpful. I missed my girls, both of them, but especially the little one who I am not used to leaving, or doing anything with out. It is not until right now, as I'm writing this, that I realize that if S was with me, she would not be sitting pretty in her dress while we shopped. Well, she'd look cute as hell, but she'd be rampaging about something. Throwing herself out of the cart. On to the floor. Banging her pretty little head. The patrons would have tsked and given me those looks that I hardly notice anymore. I would have left unfinished and frazzled. But somehow, despite all this, I really wished she were there. And that is why I have lost my mind.

All grows up

2009-06-30T11:31:00.000-07:00

S and I have both survived her first day of school. S insisted on carrying her own backpack and lunch box. The irony here is that I have to beg H to carry her backpack and lunch box, but for some reason I try to carry S's around- she won't have any of it. All of a sudden S looks so big to me. She carries her own bag. She opens her own granola bars. She doesn't want to take a nap. Even though she needs one. I gave her a hug today and she said "Stop, Mommy!" She then grinned and hugged me but still. I didn't like hearing that.

H is looking so grown up these days too. I am not sure what is going on. How is it that I am shocked every time my kids grow? What am I an idiot? Of course they're going to grow.

H is entering an endearing...um... how shall I say... snarky/flippant stage. She now says about a thousand times a day- "Um.. hel-LOOO? Knock knock? Anyone home?" complete with teenaged eye roll and sigh. She does the whole thing in response to EVERYTHING. For example, "Why is there a PENCIL on the BED?! Ummm.... Hel-LOOO!? Knock knock? Anyone HOME?" Sigh, hair flip.

S. School. Tomorrow

2009-06-29T18:09:00.000-07:00

S starts school tomorrow. Monkey can't come. I know its going to be good for her- but its kind of making me nauseous right now. Its just 3 hours. Its just 2 days. She made me pull my hair out all the live long day today. Must go fret about it and try not to. My baby.

This pretty much sums them up

2009-06-29T18:03:00.000-07:00