I should have written about the lovely day we had yesterday, yesterday.
I will try to re-cap, although the rosiness may be tainted as I am having a hellish day that started all too early with an hour long tantrum from S that 1/2 a bottle of lotion on her hand (her very small hand that didn't need any lotion in my opinion much less half a bottle) wasn't enough. I said no more lotion. That's all it took. Before coffee. No fair.
Anyway. Yesterday. I woke up with everyone in bed with us. H had woken up in the middle of the night scared because the wind had blown her door shut. I had been thinking I hadn't slept next to her in a while and was kind of missing it, so when she asked if she could come into bed with J and I, I scooped her up and brought her in. S woke up earlyish and being that she wakes up the way I do (very slowly and begrudgingly) shes always game to lie down a little longer. Ruby, Mayo, Maxi, well they started in bed and never left. When the girls got restless, J got up with them, and I slept until 8:23. I know that's precise, but I was enjoying every minute of it. Its been ages since I've slept past 7. In fact 7 is the new sleeping in. 8:23 is just decadent. Check this out, I came down stairs and everyone sprang into action. H had set the table, she gave everyone but me a small plate. I had a regular sized queenly plate. J poured me a cup of coffee and started making eggs and toast.
After breakfast H and S gave me some beautiful pictures they drew, and J, H and S gave me some earrings that are mother of pearl hearts. J said H was adamant about the earrings and would take no substitutions. They are beautiful. I am more impressed and a little scared by the fact that H was able to keep the earrings a secret for a week.
After meeting we went to Baja Fresh for the 'most favorite burrito' even though it was mothers day and not H's day. I did have some great fish tacos. And I also spent a large part of our lunch time in the bathroom, because I forget every time: as much as H loves apple juice, it does not so much love her. And S came too, well, because she can demand to sit on the potty.
After lunch we dropped off J and S to nap and H and I went to get some plants. H of course had to use the bathroom (damn apple juice) but plants make me happy.
H and I got home and I did some speed gardening- mainly weeding, before we all headed to my grandmothers house for dinner. In addition to the absolute beauty of not having to think of what to have for dinner or having to make it, I got to climb the apple tree in the back yard with H. I probably first climbed that tree when I was about H's age. I was really fun to be up in that tree with her. Even though I was freezing, wearing a dress and it took me a minute to remember how to get down.
All in all, a great day. That makes days like today worth it.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Stomping on eggshells
I took the girls to their well visit doctor appointments the other day. H was a model patient this time, which was nice and surprising. S, well. I suppose she was ok, but if looks could kill the whole office would be a ghost town.
We had to leave gymnastics class early to get to the appointment, which was an obstacle as this was the last gym class ever for H. A class she's been going to for 2 years with the same friends. A class that has made me some friends, too. We'll still see these people, and really gymnastics was a glorified playdate (with a director, balance beam, trampoline.. how can you beat that?) but it was the first of the lasts with this group of kids, and that had me a bit choked up. As we were leaving, H turned back from the doorway and yelled very loudly "GOODBYE EVERYONE!" and every one stopped what they were doing and yelled back "GOODBYE, H!" As one mom said, it was very Norm from Cheers. I don't know from under which cabbage leaf this outgoing child came forth. S, who used to love gymnastics class now cries throughout the whole thing, won't let me put her down. She hides behind her monkey, which she folds in a triangle, and puts over her face so she looks like an old west baby bandido.
I knew that leaving the gym class before it was over to go to the doctor was going to be trying for all of us. I predicted loudly that if everything went smoothly, there would be a treat at the end of this ordeal. At the doctors office, the nurse said to get the girls down to their t-shirts, socks and underwear. Then she looked at H who was wearing jeans, a dress and a t-shirt over that. The nurse said to H, "perhaps you would like a gown instead." H as I mentioned before was very co-operativre, and taking her job as big sister very seriously, showing S at every chance she got how easy it was. The doctor was taking advantage of this too, when she checked H's ears, she said "Ok, look at your sister and smile really big, so she knows this doesn't hurt."
When it was S's turn, she did as she was told, but with a deeply furrowed brow and glares all around. I told the doctor that I wasn't worried about her health really, but her behavior. I described the tantrums, the anti-social behavior as of late. The doctor said I may have to change the way I do things to accommodate S, she said "maybe shes not the child you take to the grocery store" Is that an option? Not really. About the tantrums she said "Do you have a carpeted room where she can't hurt herself?" Ok, so my doctor just prescribed a padded room. Whats next a straight jacket? I described some more of S's behavior and the doctor continued with her grocery theme, "maybe she'll be the one to organize your grocery coupons." The doctors point, besides frustrating me, was that S is who she is. She called me out on doing things to appease the beast. Its true that I cave more than I like to think because S just makes it too damn hard otherwise. The doctor gave me a stern warning that I couldn't let S think her tantruming ways will be effective. She suggested S is keeping them up because they have been effective. Shes right, which pains me because I have been actively aware of this. It will require more digging in of the heals on my part. Gloves are off.
We went to the dollar store, as the predicted treat after the doctors visit. I told the girls they could each pick out one thing. I practised not giving into S's tantrums. Even though she walked around the store wearing a giant fuchsia straw hat, wearing 3 plastic leis and carrying a spatula while growling "NO!... MINE!.. S!" (incase you didn't know who 'mine' refers to) we successfully left the store with her only carrying a small white fluffy bear. H by the way chose a glittery baton.
We had to leave gymnastics class early to get to the appointment, which was an obstacle as this was the last gym class ever for H. A class she's been going to for 2 years with the same friends. A class that has made me some friends, too. We'll still see these people, and really gymnastics was a glorified playdate (with a director, balance beam, trampoline.. how can you beat that?) but it was the first of the lasts with this group of kids, and that had me a bit choked up. As we were leaving, H turned back from the doorway and yelled very loudly "GOODBYE EVERYONE!" and every one stopped what they were doing and yelled back "GOODBYE, H!" As one mom said, it was very Norm from Cheers. I don't know from under which cabbage leaf this outgoing child came forth. S, who used to love gymnastics class now cries throughout the whole thing, won't let me put her down. She hides behind her monkey, which she folds in a triangle, and puts over her face so she looks like an old west baby bandido.
I knew that leaving the gym class before it was over to go to the doctor was going to be trying for all of us. I predicted loudly that if everything went smoothly, there would be a treat at the end of this ordeal. At the doctors office, the nurse said to get the girls down to their t-shirts, socks and underwear. Then she looked at H who was wearing jeans, a dress and a t-shirt over that. The nurse said to H, "perhaps you would like a gown instead." H as I mentioned before was very co-operativre, and taking her job as big sister very seriously, showing S at every chance she got how easy it was. The doctor was taking advantage of this too, when she checked H's ears, she said "Ok, look at your sister and smile really big, so she knows this doesn't hurt."
When it was S's turn, she did as she was told, but with a deeply furrowed brow and glares all around. I told the doctor that I wasn't worried about her health really, but her behavior. I described the tantrums, the anti-social behavior as of late. The doctor said I may have to change the way I do things to accommodate S, she said "maybe shes not the child you take to the grocery store" Is that an option? Not really. About the tantrums she said "Do you have a carpeted room where she can't hurt herself?" Ok, so my doctor just prescribed a padded room. Whats next a straight jacket? I described some more of S's behavior and the doctor continued with her grocery theme, "maybe she'll be the one to organize your grocery coupons." The doctors point, besides frustrating me, was that S is who she is. She called me out on doing things to appease the beast. Its true that I cave more than I like to think because S just makes it too damn hard otherwise. The doctor gave me a stern warning that I couldn't let S think her tantruming ways will be effective. She suggested S is keeping them up because they have been effective. Shes right, which pains me because I have been actively aware of this. It will require more digging in of the heals on my part. Gloves are off.
We went to the dollar store, as the predicted treat after the doctors visit. I told the girls they could each pick out one thing. I practised not giving into S's tantrums. Even though she walked around the store wearing a giant fuchsia straw hat, wearing 3 plastic leis and carrying a spatula while growling "NO!... MINE!.. S!" (incase you didn't know who 'mine' refers to) we successfully left the store with her only carrying a small white fluffy bear. H by the way chose a glittery baton.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Waiter!
Maybe it is a restaurant. She looked across the table at her children eating peanut butter sandwich, snow peas and scrambled eggs for dinner.
My uterus
Today at Trader Joes, a woman holding a child asked me if my daughter was adopted.
"No. She isn't" I said.
"Oh. We adopted Kaily from China."
Here are somethings I didn't say:
"Good for you"
"What the fuck?"
"How long have you had her?" I really wanted to say that, just as point of conversation, but it seemed like the wrong thing to say somehow. Like I was asking about a car. Although in retrospect I don't know why I was worried about offending her. I felt cold, short in my answer. Like I should elaborate.
She asked me this in the chocolate/cookie aisle. Instead of saying anything more I reached for the pound of chocolate with almonds bar. And then threw the lemon chocolate cookie tub in my cart too. For emphasis.
I didn't know what to say. She was reaching out, she probably has adopted babies on her radar. It must be hard to adopt a baby, I have a lot of repespect for those who do. Its just that I didn't. I don't notice it, but I supose S doesn't look like me at all. I am not sure why, but it hurts me when people ask me this. My heart cries out "can't you tell?"
Its much better than comments made in the past, such as "Where is that baby from?" I am waiting for that phrasing again so I can use my "my uterus" answer.
I never got this with H. It shocks me every time I hear it about S. Yes, they're my babies. Just as Kaily from China is her baby. I hope she went back for some chocolate too.
"No. She isn't" I said.
"Oh. We adopted Kaily from China."
Here are somethings I didn't say:
"Good for you"
"What the fuck?"
"How long have you had her?" I really wanted to say that, just as point of conversation, but it seemed like the wrong thing to say somehow. Like I was asking about a car. Although in retrospect I don't know why I was worried about offending her. I felt cold, short in my answer. Like I should elaborate.
She asked me this in the chocolate/cookie aisle. Instead of saying anything more I reached for the pound of chocolate with almonds bar. And then threw the lemon chocolate cookie tub in my cart too. For emphasis.
I didn't know what to say. She was reaching out, she probably has adopted babies on her radar. It must be hard to adopt a baby, I have a lot of repespect for those who do. Its just that I didn't. I don't notice it, but I supose S doesn't look like me at all. I am not sure why, but it hurts me when people ask me this. My heart cries out "can't you tell?"
Its much better than comments made in the past, such as "Where is that baby from?" I am waiting for that phrasing again so I can use my "my uterus" answer.
I never got this with H. It shocks me every time I hear it about S. Yes, they're my babies. Just as Kaily from China is her baby. I hope she went back for some chocolate too.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
I'll have that and a side of cheeseburger
Things have been so chaotic. I am making myself sit down and write despite the fact I have no idea what I'm about to say. Should be interesting. S is eating a bowl of macaroni and cheese and a cup of milk out of a mug. She's calling it coffee. She has already had a piece of pizza and 2 bowls of yogurt while we were waiting for the pasta to cook. H had a burrito at 3 o clock, because she has a burrito everyday, but also because just as I took a deep breath to prepare for my proclamation that tonight would not be a burrito night, like every other night this week, she said "tonight, I want cinco de mayo food." Now, a burrito is not cinco de mayo food in my book, but its close enough to make me not go anti- burrito tonight.
Wait, why did she have dinner at 3 o clock? Because we are all WAY off. Its been raining for days, we haven't seen the sun. We are developing skin over our eyes and gills. Also, J was home from the studio today recovering from minor eye surgery that was majorly squirm inducing and disgusting, but had him sitting on the couch reliving it all afternoon so H and I could go do errands while S napped. That put H and I 2-3 hours ahead of schedule. We got home at 3, she wanted dinner. Fine I said. Do you want to go to bed too? I was joking. "YAY!" she says. "Really? Can I go to bed early?" What? I also joked (I need to stop this) that she could have the burrito for her 1st dinner and the mac and cheese I was going to make for S when she woke up for her 2nd dinner. As soon as she was done with the burrito H yelled "I'm ready for my second dinner now!"
Maybe I should have just called the burrito a snack, as a food experience at 3pm is usually called in this house, but I have been conditioned not to call a burrito a snack. J and I have an ongoing.. discussion, I'll call it.. about what constitutes a snack. For example, J says, "I need a snack. I'm going to get a cheeseburger." This makes me insane and gets me spluttering my philosophies about snacks vs meals. "a. cheeseburger. is NOT. a. snack." and then he argues about why it is, but to be honest I don't listen to that part. Which is why we keep having the 'discussion', I'm sure. I can't think of what could possible convince me that a cheeseburger is a snack. Anyway. Where am I going with this? H and S have their fathers appetite and ideas on what a snack is. I think I have to just agree to disagree on this one. Either that or reframe my ideas of what and when dinner is, and have 35 dinners a night.
H just asked for waffles with ice cream for dessert. "How did you know about that" I asked. "I just thought it sounded good" She is very proud of her 'creation'. I will not be the one to tell her we're having Belgian waffles on cinco de mayo. She has suggested that we all thank her for her wonderful dessert, and is going around like a good chef making sure everyones waffles and ice cream are properly mixed.
Wait, why did she have dinner at 3 o clock? Because we are all WAY off. Its been raining for days, we haven't seen the sun. We are developing skin over our eyes and gills. Also, J was home from the studio today recovering from minor eye surgery that was majorly squirm inducing and disgusting, but had him sitting on the couch reliving it all afternoon so H and I could go do errands while S napped. That put H and I 2-3 hours ahead of schedule. We got home at 3, she wanted dinner. Fine I said. Do you want to go to bed too? I was joking. "YAY!" she says. "Really? Can I go to bed early?" What? I also joked (I need to stop this) that she could have the burrito for her 1st dinner and the mac and cheese I was going to make for S when she woke up for her 2nd dinner. As soon as she was done with the burrito H yelled "I'm ready for my second dinner now!"
Maybe I should have just called the burrito a snack, as a food experience at 3pm is usually called in this house, but I have been conditioned not to call a burrito a snack. J and I have an ongoing.. discussion, I'll call it.. about what constitutes a snack. For example, J says, "I need a snack. I'm going to get a cheeseburger." This makes me insane and gets me spluttering my philosophies about snacks vs meals. "a. cheeseburger. is NOT. a. snack." and then he argues about why it is, but to be honest I don't listen to that part. Which is why we keep having the 'discussion', I'm sure. I can't think of what could possible convince me that a cheeseburger is a snack. Anyway. Where am I going with this? H and S have their fathers appetite and ideas on what a snack is. I think I have to just agree to disagree on this one. Either that or reframe my ideas of what and when dinner is, and have 35 dinners a night.
H just asked for waffles with ice cream for dessert. "How did you know about that" I asked. "I just thought it sounded good" She is very proud of her 'creation'. I will not be the one to tell her we're having Belgian waffles on cinco de mayo. She has suggested that we all thank her for her wonderful dessert, and is going around like a good chef making sure everyones waffles and ice cream are properly mixed.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Who does she think she is?
Who does she think she is? I saw this film yesterday. I am still processing it. Its billed as a documentary about women who are artists and mothers- who don't make a choice between the two. I think its more about how being an artist isn't a choice. You choose not to be yourself, or you find the courage to listen to your inner voice, and in some cases suffer the consequences.
I sat watching this film not sure if I would burst into tears or throw up. These women felt so familiar to me, the things they were saying were things I say all the time. How do you do it all? But they do. Some of the women's marriages couldn't handle them following their dreams. None of them gave up being a mother, all of them celebrated the miracle that is being a mother. But some of them had to give up their family as they knew it.
But how to banish the doubt? How to find the time. My favorite line from the film, one woman was saying her husband was supportive up to a point. After some time they separated. He said "I need a wife" to which she replied "I need a wife, too."
It was incredible to see these women doing what they need to do, despite society calling them selfish. Even though it is still making me ill. Calling me once again to stop making excuses. This has been on my mind constantly for the last few weeks. Stop making excuses. Just do it. Get to Oz. Drink the courage.
I sat watching this film not sure if I would burst into tears or throw up. These women felt so familiar to me, the things they were saying were things I say all the time. How do you do it all? But they do. Some of the women's marriages couldn't handle them following their dreams. None of them gave up being a mother, all of them celebrated the miracle that is being a mother. But some of them had to give up their family as they knew it.
But how to banish the doubt? How to find the time. My favorite line from the film, one woman was saying her husband was supportive up to a point. After some time they separated. He said "I need a wife" to which she replied "I need a wife, too."
It was incredible to see these women doing what they need to do, despite society calling them selfish. Even though it is still making me ill. Calling me once again to stop making excuses. This has been on my mind constantly for the last few weeks. Stop making excuses. Just do it. Get to Oz. Drink the courage.
Friday, May 1, 2009
The crazy insane ways of the universe
Just when I'm ready to throw in the towel and contemplate being chicken farmer, soap maker, dog washer- that this art thing is just too much. Too much frustration. Not worth it. Thats it, I quit, I say. Despite the fact that I have learned and re-learned that I can't quit. I decide to force myself to be happy making art for myself only, in the dark dank basement, or some other woe is me location. Maybe its enough to make art for me and the dogs, cats and chickens I don't have yet. Its at this point, time and time again, the shifty universe comes calling with its art tendrils and pulls me back in. Throws me a bone. Kicks me in the ass and says get on with it and stop moping.
Is it an addiction or a guardian angel that makes me not give up? It seems like a larger force, what ever it is. I have been so fortunate, I choose to see it as a good thing, instead of an endless purgatoryish battle. I get phone calls out of nowhere, "Hey your work is great, will you be a part of my proposal?" Sure, let me check my schedule.
Is it an addiction or a guardian angel that makes me not give up? It seems like a larger force, what ever it is. I have been so fortunate, I choose to see it as a good thing, instead of an endless purgatoryish battle. I get phone calls out of nowhere, "Hey your work is great, will you be a part of my proposal?" Sure, let me check my schedule.
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