I hate that I don't blog anymore :o\ I just never know what to talk about. My life is really quite dull. So I'll just ramble, and call it an update.
The garden and such:
I'm harvesting about two pounds of tomatoes per day now. Black Krim is the best tomato I've ever tasted and the ugliest tomato I've ever seen. I want four or six plants next year.
I made homemade pizza sauce with the first batch of Polish Linguisa romas. Tomorrow I'll can 5 or 6 pints of tomato sauce with some more, and chop up some slicers into salsa, and probably eat another Black Krim with some salt for lunch.
Cukes died while we were gone on vacation. Peppers (sweet bell) are doing so-so, about 5 per week. Beets are my new favorite vegetable and I need to plant tons more next year. We've eaten four or five meals with beets so far, with more coming up. Carrots didn't sprout great, but those that did are up and coming nicely. Beans have yet to flower - I'm growing concerned. There are other things, but those are what I can think of now.
I'm sucked into heirloom gardening now thanks to these Krims and the Linguisas. Guess i better set up some grow lights!
I've been reading a lot lately. I read "Ask Mother Nature", a book that tries to convince it's reader that it's really possible to converse with the spirits of nature within the garden - bugs, soil, plants, etc. Seriously. I'm not a spiritual person though. I won't be sitting down to politely ask the squash bugs to stop eating my pumpkins. I'll just squish 'em, thanks.
"Bad Mother" by Ayelet Waldman - just downright fabulous. I don't actually agree with a darn thing this woman believes (a democratic feminist working mother that despises the pseudo-50's stay at home housewife, attachment parenting type) but her book is nonetheless wonderful. It's written beautifully, it addresses points relevant to any type of mother, and makes you think twice about judging anyone for anything. Most of all, it proves that while we all doubt our convictions at times, while we lack confidence in certain areas of parenting, we are NOT 'Bad Mothers', and there are far more important things in the world than whether we breast or bottle feed, spank our kids, work outside the home, etc. I think every mom oughtta read this book.
"The Memory String", a children's picture book that brought me to tears. I hate that, when you have to finish reading the story aloud but your voice catches in your throat and the words are blurred because of tears. But a really beautiful book. I'm gonna start a memory string now.
I haven't made a darn thing lately. I'm really too busy, and I've just not been in the mood. I did knit a hat for Cora, and a diaper cover, while we were in the car for a total of 40 hours or something, but that's it for knitting. I missed fair since we were in Montana. Ah well, always next year.
I picked up the Martha Steward Book of Crafts at the library today. It makes me want to make things. Or at least think I want to make things, till I realize I lack time, energy, and properly behaved children. Mothers of toddlers are not intended to be artists, unless that art consists of finger paints, glitter and popsicle sticks.
Chloe's fabulous. She's such a good kid. I mean, she has her moments, but she can usually be trusted not to create too much trouble. Which is a good thing because she makes up for
Miss Cora will be turning two in just a couple of weeks, and she'll let you know it with her toddler-tantrums, devilish grins, downright refusal to do anything logical or right, and her innate ability to use the word "NO!"
I love my children. I despise this age. I would happily hand off my kids to someone else to raise them from the age of 18 months until four. Any takers? :o)
Not really. There are plenty of fantastic, really, really cute moments that make up for the God-awful moments that make me consider psycho-therapeutic drugs. But would it really hurt her to throw in just a few more of those adorable times, kind of even things out a bit?
I feel like a Bad Mother because when I hear my Darling Daughter waking up in the morning, I don't run to greet her. I cringe, and suck down one last cup of coffee before all hell breaks loose.
It's not really that bad. I swear, it's really not. Just today she was belly laughing like there was no tomorrow at nothing more than my squealing "Boop!" and poking her in the tummy. And she put together a puzzle without any help today, thrilling me and Chloe alike.
And then there's that helpful streak. You know, the one that's responsible for a child suddenly appearing next to me at the kitchen sink, standing on a chair and frantically squealing "Dish-dish? Dish-dish?" The one that splatters water all over the kitchen in the amount of time it takes me to rinse three bowls. Yep, she's so helpful. I'd be lost without her. ;o)
Alright. I'm done ranting and raving about my two year old. She's gorgeous, she's smart, she's silly and girly and obsessed with shoes. Could I really ask for more?
We were talking about body parts and I taught her "arm pit". "Pit!" she repeated, pointing to her own. "Pit!" she said again, pointing to mine. Then she was quiet for a moment, lost in deep thought about arm pits, and she said quite certainly, "Pit. Dada. Hair." "Yes, honey, Daddy does have hairy arm pits." :oP~