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.

Pruning

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.

My very own tomato festival

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.

Flowers

It's the first morning of the summer schedule and I'm a bit lost. We wouldn't have even been on our way to school yet and already I'm wondering what we'll do today. My hope springs eternal and I still think I'll be able to sleep in a bit on days like this. What ends up happening though is I don't sleep in, in fact I sleep out as S always wakes up even earlier on days we don't have to be anywhere in the morning. I need to wake her up to get places. Thats how she rolls. What ends up happening is that I wake up earlier than usual and I don't shower.

H's preschool ceremony last night was great. The bittersweetness expected from the last day of a school with kids I've watched grow into their personalities for the last 3 years. The slide show brought everybody to tears, and it was wonderful watching all the kids be excited to see themselves and their classmates. What really got to me though was the last minute scramble outside to pick flowers from the garden to give to Hannah after the ceremony. I wanted them to be a surprise which translated into me crawling through the muddy yard while everyone else was in the car waiting to go. I was all of a sudden struck with awe that I was doing this for H. Mainly because I have done this for nearly everyone I know at some point or another. It made me think of H as grown up, that I was picking secret flowers for her. That was the part that nearly made me cry.

* I am as ready for June to stop being so mopey as I imagine anyone reading this is. July. July will be my glass half full.

There are no accidents

Yesterdays post was a premontion, it turns out. A pee-monition.

I had been trying for a week now to cut the grass in the backyard, and had gotten as far as giving the yard a mohawk. That night, the day before last, I dragged the mower outside, unwound the cord, but every time I stopped mowing to move a rock, a bone, a jump rope, which is every 5 seconds, I heard girls calling for me from upstairs. After the third time upstairs to see what the matter was this time, H sobbed that she didn't want to be lonely while the mower was running. "Who will stay with me when the mowers on? WHO?" I agreed to give up trying to cut the grass. I was loosing daylight, anyhow.

Today, after the bulk of the day was behind us, I decided I needed to cut the grass. Its is supposed to rain for the next 2 days, the grass was already long enough to fold in half and still be too long. I decided to let the girls stay inside and watch TV while I cut the grass. We had a rehash of the rules, no answering the door or going outside, making sure to come get me if anyone was upset or needed anything. All was going swimmingly, I checked back in a few times, the girls were sitting on the couch under blankets (even though its very warm and muggy) I got the grass to a 'good enough' level, dragged the mower back down the stairs to the basement, but before going back out to wind up the cord- I heard S calling me- Thomas had just come on. She has gotten past a lot of fears, but not this one. Then H looks up from the couch- "I had an accident." "Did you not want to go up to the bathroom by yourself?" I asked, "No", she said " I didn't want to miss Thomas." So, there you have it. Whatever comes around pees around.

An indulgence

I promise to not over abuse and make this a garden blog, not that theres anything wrong with that, but it occurs to me I can rant not only about my kids and dogs and my art but about my plant obsessions too.

For example, this is Graham Thomas:

Isn't he handsome? I think we see some of Graham's friend Jude the Obscure (best rose name ever) in the back ground.

This is another of my favorites that I lug in when it gets cold and back out when it warms up.

I used to know the name of this plant, but I've forgotten and have spent too long already trying to figure it out.

Here is S. Enough with the plant portraits already, she says.

Birds and bees

An update: This is my new robin friend. The one that came into my kitchen and pooped.


I'm pretty sure that he flew (or landed and then hopped a few times) into my house on his own accord- not that Maxi brought him in, as I had previously thought. After I took him outside, I saw the nest he must have been in just a few feet from my back door. I had the door proped open, to assist me with everyone who is always trapped on the opposite side of the door they want to be on and yelping. Even though I have been pleaded with by J, and given countless 'told you so' looks after we get bees in the house, to keep the damn door shut to keep out the vermin. My defense of keeping the door open "Whats going to come in? You're crazy" is wearing thin, what with now bees and birds flying in. I heard cheeps and tweets and saw some concerned robin parents hopping about. I saw the robin's siblings spread out around the garden on branches looking shell shocked- it must have been the day they were given the boot.

I am a little concerned about this guy as he was all of 5 inches off the ground. I literally held the camera an inch from his little bird face and he was unfazed. I think he needs to be a little fazed for survival here in the land of hungry cats and bird dogs.

Today's excitement

H, S and I were in the backyard eating water ice (what would happen if you put popsicles in a blender for anyone unaware of water ice) H ran inside to go to the bathroom. H came running back outside, seconds later- crying hysterically- so unlike her. I wondered what it could possibly be, fear sliding up my throat while I reassured myself that as horrible as it was, she got away from it. "There's a bird in our house!" She screamed. "A REAL BIRD! IN OUR KITCHEN! AND IT POOPED!" I relaxed considerably, but she was frantic and would go nowhere near the house. And hadn't gone to the bathroom yet. I headed in to assess the situation, hoping the bird was alive. I came in the back door and Maxi went outside, in disgust. A baby robin sat in the middle of the kitchen floor, looked up at me and pooped. Adorable.


H was still frantic, S was now frantic too as I'd left her in the backyard alone (and her water ice was done). The dogs were in the kitchen with me and very interested in the robin, and Maxi sauntered back in. The robin began to get a little nervous, hopped/flew into the pile of rubble I call the laundry room and wedged itself behind the vacuum cleaner.

I convinced H to get inside and go to the bathroom, got S inside to see the birdy, got the dogs and cat outside where they couldn't eat the robin.


I caught the robin, and was admiring it, hoping it wasn't going to die in my hands from shock. I wore garden gloves just in case its robin parents can find him and give him some handouts- I don't know if theres any truth to that baby animal shunned by parents if they smell humans thing. This guy seemed old enough to fly the nest, but only just. I'm assuming this bird was brought in by Maxi, and have no idea where she got it from. I called H down to see the robin, how often do you get to see a robin so close up? She refused. I was yelling about it being JUST LIKE LITTLE BEARS ROBIN, further traumatising the bird, I'm sure. H wouldn't come down.

When I was trying to catch it, every time I held my fingers above its head it would open its mouth to be fed, so once in the box and outside I tried to dig it up some food, which it didn't eat- what with the trauma of being caught by a cat, and a human, salivated on by some dogs, screamed at and around. What do you mean you're not hungry?

H had bravely come down by this point and I asked if she wanted to help get a worm for the robin. "Yes!" She said "Lets get the one that pooped on me. Because I didn't like that." Don't cross her!

Now I'm on robin patrol- I'll have to escort the dogs to the bathroom and keep Maxi, home wrecker, inside for a bit.

Manic gardening

I just put my bougainvillea outside. For the last 2 springs, I let her summer indoors. Before that, for 12 years give or take, I religiously migrated her. She would grow big and flower during the summer, then I'd have to chop her back to fit inside so she could survive and commiserate with me over the winter. This to me is a harbinger of good things ahead- that my bougainvillea is outside. It is also alarming to me that I have tempted fate by putting the plant outside for the first time in 2 years. To have something horrible happen and then have to re-evaluate my harbingers.

I was sitting around over analysing (who me?) this earlier. More accurately, I was over analysing while getting lunches ready, writing a tuition check for H's preschool that I forgot to drop off, letting dogs in and out and answering a thousand rounds of Mooommmmy!..." not while sitting. What does it mean that I am insistent on this plant existing?

Is it because for me bougainvilleas embody Mexico? My bougainvillea makes me heartsick home sick, after all these years. Is it the stubborn/superstitious angle? I will control this plant thriving out of its element. I'm afraid it means something if this plant ceases to exist, see above harbinger fear. Or is it just another angle of my obsessive plant collecting and manic gardening bug.. no... swarm?

Its mostly D all of the above, but I've had a day true to obsessive garden swarm. So I'll go with that.

I got the grass cut today- which is no small feat to do during H and S's waking hours. Well, S was asleep, and I promised H she could "water" the garden when I finished mowing, which would buy me some time to do some much needed weeding. The "..." is because H waters every thing but the garden, including me, when she waters the garden. This time I made her change before I gave her the hose. She came downstairs in white shorts, a white shirt and pink and blue water shoes. I don't know why white clothes seemed to be better candidates for getting wet, and in fact I didn't know she had any white clothes as she generally refuses to wear anything with out color.

Getting watered while weeding turned out to be the manic garden hors d'oeuvre. The real mania came after dinner, when my neighbors who were dividing their iris gave some to me. I was already outside torturing my children, making them mulch and telling them it was fun. Now I was hell bent on planting the iris before bed time. S was screaming because dirt kept getting in her sandals. H was HYSTERICAL because a worm pooped in her hand. The dogs were chasing each other in crazy figure eights around us all. I was focused. Must. plant. iris. I got them planted. Then I decided to move them. H says "can we go to bed now?" She had been asking all day if she could go to bed early. But no. I had to plant the iris. No sleep until the iris are planted.

In the midst of the planting mania, worm poop phobic children, spastic dogs, and bed time pleas- I was startled to see a bird jump out at me. My crazy slacker robin has returned. For 2 springs now, I've had a gardening robin. I'm not sure if its the same one, or if this whole robin family is like this- but this robin has discovered its easier to let me do the digging for worms, and he sits there, close enough that I could reach out and touch him, and waits for me to dig. Then swoops in and scares the crap out of me as he pounces on worms. He's been known to follow me around and give me cockeyed critical looks about my gardening frequency. "Hmm. A lot of weeds, there lady. Perhaps you need to dig some of them up? Just sayin."

I finally, somehow, got the irises planted and re planted. I hurried to get the hose and give them a soak so their roots could get comfy. I looked up from the hose to see S running at me full speed ahead- S, the one who won't walk on the grass. I stared at her, transfixed, completely confused as to why shes running towards me. Not upset, just running. She got to where I was and stuck her head full on into the hose spray. I was choking, I was laughing so hard while my daughter, who had a previous cat like aversion to water - so much so that she wouldn't bathe unless held down, is jumping in front of the hose so it sprays her in the face, running to me to dry her face on my shirt and doing it again and again. H sees the chance to re-water herself and is soaked in no time. She had changed back into the clothes she had changed out of earlier when she was playing with the hose. Why I even bother I'll never know. "Tomorrow we should bring the toothbrushes out here too!" H yells gleefully. It was easier than a bath- I'll give them that.

Gourds and goals

I must be feeling better because now my mind is spinning with all the things I want to do in addition to all the things I have to do. S and i just planted pansies. S is a very neat, everything in its place kind of kid. She was very upset at first about taking the pansies out of their six packs, and spent some time trying to put them back in. After she recovered from the horror of getting her hands dirty while trying to put things back where they GO which seems to be her mission in life right now, I managed to convince her flowers go in the dirt. She was skeptical, but gave in.

My mother taught me well, when you are overwhelmed by things that need attending, go out and garden. While not the most productive teaching, in terms of accomplishing things that need to get done, it sure does wonders for the mood. Which for me is half the battle.

The gardening can backfire. Last spring, I noticed a bunch of things sprouting from wherst I had laid the compost. I was curious and let the sprouts develop to plants. They got bigger, flowered, fruited, and then I wondered how many I could grow. This competitive streak can backfire, too. I grew gourds last year, is what ended up happening. Many gourds. Because I could. Becasue they just happened. After a pretty cool fall display, giving away gourds to anyone who would take them, and experimenting with the gourd drying process, I now have 20 dried gourds taking up space in my universe, ready to become bird houses like their mother, or whatever else it is gourds want to be when they grow up.

J asked the other day, "is it time to throw the gourds away yet?"
"Throw them AWAY?!"
"Well, what are you going to do with them all?"
"I don't KNOW. I have PLANS..." (don'taskdon'task...)
He dropped the subject. He knows me. He loves me. Maybe he'll get a gourd hat.

Yeah, I don't really have a gourd plan. The gourd plan is not as important as say, for example, the tax plan. Our taxes were just delivered via mail man bearing dog treats. I heard somewhere if you are overwhelmed, it helps to break up what overwhelms you into smaller steps. Today my goal is to open the envelope the taxes came in. Maybe thats too lofty. Maybe my goal can be to bring the envelope inside. And I've already done that. I reached a goal! See? I can too reach my goals.

Back to the gourds. I thought about painting them, but can't decide if they should be red or blue. I thought about making wind chimes out each of them, and hanging them all together. Might not be a popular choice for the neighbors. I thought about stringing them together and making candle holders out of them. That is probably a fire hazard. Any of these gourd plans take take longer than I have to spend on the gourds. I have already spent longer that I should thinking about the gourds, and now writing abut the gourds.

Weren't gourds currency at one time? Can I use them to pay taxes?