The Witches

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.

Summer Studio

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.

Kindergarten. Check.

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.

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

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

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.

Rescue

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

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

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.

The snow

(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

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

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.

Misadventures in rabbit ownership

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.

Lessons in taking down the Christmas tree

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

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

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."

My favorite Christmas present

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

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."

Charades

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 query

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.