If you read any "What I Wish I Would Have Known" articles written by modern homesteader types, one of the first items on their list is always going to be this:
You don't have to do it all at once.
Take it slow, they say. Give yourself grace, they say. Just a little bit at a time and don't overwhelm yourself.
I've read dozens of those articles. And I've always nodded in agreement, as though I've always known perfectly well that that one little bit of advice is absolutely correct.
Except that I didn't.
My best friend and I used to joke that whichever one of us ended up moving to a farm first was going to end up sitting in the middle of her pasture, crying the ugly cry, absolutely overwhelmed by what she had taken on and that the other friend was going to have to listen and comfort and try not to say "I told you so."
Turns out, I was the first one to move to a farm. And that prediction wasn't as far off as I'd like for you think it is. Except that it's snowy outside, so I was sobbing in my bedroom, while staring at my pasture. Which really isn't any better.
I haven't blogged regularly in almost a year. There's a reason for it though.
The past year has been seriously rough. My husband has been working out of town - sometimes out of state - for the past year. He's gone two weeks and then home for a week. That means that two thirds of the time, every responsibility of this property falls on my shoulders. In the past year I have raised a rather large garden, milked two goats and kept another 50 or so animals alive, homeschooled a first and fifth grader, kept a 4600 square foot house clean, raised 700 bales of hay on a 25 acre pasture using nothing but a shovel and some tarps. I've raised and butchered enough chickens to last a year, canned a year's worth of fruits and vegetables and dried or frozen what wasn't canned, cooked dinner every night, run my kids around to their extra curricular activities, driven an hour each direction every time I needed groceries, hauled horses to 9 gymkhanas and rodeos, and hauled chickens to the county fair. And almost all of this with very little help from The Man of My Dreams, except for the weeks he was able to spend at home.
What I learned is that I really can do it all. I'm working from 5:30 in the morning until 9:30 at night, every single hour of the day, but I can get it all done. Until something goes wrong. As soon as the slightest little thing happens to upset my very rigid schedule, I lose it. I get so overwhelmed that I can't function and all I want to do is give up. Or cry.
The bad part of that, though, is that in this life, something happens to change your plans Every. Single. Day. Nothing ever goes the way you expect it to, or plan for it to. An animal gets sick. A kid misbehaves. A neighbor needs help. A fence needs fixed or a goat gets out or a deer dies in your front yard or your dog gets skunked or the well runs dry (again) and you have to spend an hour hauling water. The list of Things That Can Go Wrong is infinite. And each one of those things is guaranteed to happen when you least expect it. That is reality.
And with a schedule as packed as mine has been this year, and a brain so overwhelmed by constant mental to-do lists, there just isn't time to stop and enjoy all those little things that are supposed to bring me joy. I don't have time to watch my kids play with animals or build a fort or raise a puppy. I don't have time to relax with my husband and just sit and watch the sun go down. I've spent every waking moment just keeping up, keeping my head above water, that I've lost touch with every reason we moved up here in the first place. And that makes my heart hurt.
It's a lesson no one can just tell you and expect you to understand: You don't have to do it all at once.
You have to learn it, first hand. And it's painful. And it involves a lot of frustration and even more tears. But eventually, you take a step back, and you realize what you're doing to yourself, and you decide things have to change. Priorities have to be considered. You have to give yourself room to bend, and time to relax. You have to remember that there are so many years ahead of you to figure this all out and get it all done. And there will never be one single year when you actually accomplish everything you feel like you should. Living this life isn't something to mark off the to-do list. It's a process - a life long process - and it will never actually be finished.
And so, at a time when so many of my friends are moving out to the country and starting their homesteading lives, here is my advice:
You don't have to do it all at once.
Take it slow.
Give yourself grace.
Just a little bit at a time.
Don't overwhelm yourself.
And when you are sobbing in the middle of your pasture, don't hesitate to give me a call.
Showing posts with label vent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vent. Show all posts
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Poor Me.
I'm gonna whine for just a minute.
It has been one heck of a week. It was the first week of school. Both girls have colds, so we've only managed to squeeze in a lesson here and there between long bouts of laying on the couch, sneezing everywhere and a constant flow of nasal mucous.
My basement flooded, and I've been dealing with slightly rude flood clean-up guys for the past four days. They keep saying they're going to be here at a certain time, and they don't show up. It's finally cleaned up and put back together, but it was definitely a hassle. And the chemicals from the carpet cleaner give me a headache.
I'm supposed to be having a yard sale this weekend. The ad is already paid for, so I can't back out. That means there is junk piled high all over my house, awaiting the sale on Saturday. Junk and clutter irritate me. And of course, the Two Little Girls keep pulling things from the yard sale pile, trying to negotiate with me about selling them. I've now got the yard sale piles covered with sheets.
My dog - who is fully potty trained and has always been reliable - has pooped in the basement twice, and peed on my bed, and all over the kitchen.
Added to the toddler that still keeps pooping in her underwear and occasionally peeing wherever she happens to be standing, I am SO done cleaning it all up.
Two Little Girls are usually pretty well behaved and get along beautifully. Today, they have been replaced by Satan's spawn. Snotty attitudes, fighting and arguing and yelling, talking back and refusing to do anything I ask them to. Let's all pray tonight that Satan takes back his spawn and returns my sweet children.
I bought fifty pounds of peaches this afternoon at farmer's market, because I'd promised the farmer I'd be there this week to do so. Every time I walk into the kitchen, those fifty pounds of peaches are staring at me, taunting me, reminding that I'm crazy.
My birthday is only two days away, and birthdays depress me. Thinking about being Closer To Thirty kind of makes me want to cry.
Alright, I'm done whining. When the peaches are canned and the yard sale is over and I'm Closer To Thirty, when the snot stops running and Two Little Girls remember how to behave, and when I find a way to keep all the excrement contained, I'll feel much better.
So just in case you were wondering, life's not always perfect here, either. :o)
It has been one heck of a week. It was the first week of school. Both girls have colds, so we've only managed to squeeze in a lesson here and there between long bouts of laying on the couch, sneezing everywhere and a constant flow of nasal mucous.
My basement flooded, and I've been dealing with slightly rude flood clean-up guys for the past four days. They keep saying they're going to be here at a certain time, and they don't show up. It's finally cleaned up and put back together, but it was definitely a hassle. And the chemicals from the carpet cleaner give me a headache.
I'm supposed to be having a yard sale this weekend. The ad is already paid for, so I can't back out. That means there is junk piled high all over my house, awaiting the sale on Saturday. Junk and clutter irritate me. And of course, the Two Little Girls keep pulling things from the yard sale pile, trying to negotiate with me about selling them. I've now got the yard sale piles covered with sheets.
My dog - who is fully potty trained and has always been reliable - has pooped in the basement twice, and peed on my bed, and all over the kitchen.
Added to the toddler that still keeps pooping in her underwear and occasionally peeing wherever she happens to be standing, I am SO done cleaning it all up.
Two Little Girls are usually pretty well behaved and get along beautifully. Today, they have been replaced by Satan's spawn. Snotty attitudes, fighting and arguing and yelling, talking back and refusing to do anything I ask them to. Let's all pray tonight that Satan takes back his spawn and returns my sweet children.
I bought fifty pounds of peaches this afternoon at farmer's market, because I'd promised the farmer I'd be there this week to do so. Every time I walk into the kitchen, those fifty pounds of peaches are staring at me, taunting me, reminding that I'm crazy.
My birthday is only two days away, and birthdays depress me. Thinking about being Closer To Thirty kind of makes me want to cry.
Alright, I'm done whining. When the peaches are canned and the yard sale is over and I'm Closer To Thirty, when the snot stops running and Two Little Girls remember how to behave, and when I find a way to keep all the excrement contained, I'll feel much better.
So just in case you were wondering, life's not always perfect here, either. :o)
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Have some respect. A rant.
Something's been weighing on my mind for awhile now, though I've avoided blogging about it because I didn't want to offend.
When did it become so acceptable for women to disrespect their husbands? It seems that this day in age, it's the accepted "norm" for conversation among women to involve husband bashing. It breaks my heart to think of how our men would feel if they heard these conversations about them. How disheartened and discouraged and hurt they would feel.
If I were to challenge you to think of something nice to say about your husband, could you? What about three things? Could you rave for an hour about the great things he's done, the way many women can rage for an hour about the things he hasn't?
I get that your husband isn't perfect. Neither is mine. I could opt to bitch about the fact that he has a serious problem with paper clutter, that he can spend four hours in front of the computer at one time, that he likes watching hunting shows on TV, that he works too much, that he's anal retentive and it can be hard to live with. And in fact, I have bitched about those things from time to time. But I certainly try not to make a habit of it. Instead, I make it my goal to simply choose to live with those things that make me crazy. Instead, I focus on the fact that he works hard to support us, he mows the lawn without complaining, he listens patiently to me when I'm in the mood to talk incessantly, and he does what he can to help around the house when he's home.
I'm not perfect either. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can be miserable to live with sometimes - I'm moody and demanding, I'm a perfectionist, and I don't iron. But I'm nearly positive that my husband doesn't sit around with his friends grumbling about wrinkled shirts and taking out the trash.
How does complaining about our husbands make anything better? Does nagging and griping really make them want to do better? How about instead of that, we thank them when something is done for us, we appreciate how hard they work to support our families. Maybe if they see a bit of gratitude instead of a wife who is never satisfied, they'd be more likely to improve in the areas where we think they need it.
What really gets me is the women who expect their husbands to respect them, but refuse to give their men the same respect. Women are NOT better than men! This whole feminist thing irks me to no end - this way of thinking encourages women to hold themselves on a pedestal above their men, and it's destroying relationships and self images everywhere. There's no shame in being a woman, doing woman's work, and being satisfied with it. Women do have a place in this world, and we would do well to take it instead of trying to fight it.
It's exhausting to listen to all of these women gripe about the men they are married to (or are living with, which is essentially the same thing.) Surely there is something good about this man, or you would not have chosen to spend your life with him. Do me a favor - focus on some of those good things. The next time you're ready to vent about what a jerk your man is, instead think of something fantastic that he has done, or about him as a person, and share that with your friend instead. See if you can get a conversation going about what great guys you have, how hard they work or how funny they are or how much you enjoy being with them or what great daddies they are... something, anything, that's positive. Let your daughters hear you rave about your husbands, so that they know how to speak about their own husbands when they are grown and married.
Or even better - tell your husband to his face those positive things. Let him know you love him. Let him know you respect him. Stop just expecting his respect - earn it by respecting him first.
When did it become so acceptable for women to disrespect their husbands? It seems that this day in age, it's the accepted "norm" for conversation among women to involve husband bashing. It breaks my heart to think of how our men would feel if they heard these conversations about them. How disheartened and discouraged and hurt they would feel.
If I were to challenge you to think of something nice to say about your husband, could you? What about three things? Could you rave for an hour about the great things he's done, the way many women can rage for an hour about the things he hasn't?
I get that your husband isn't perfect. Neither is mine. I could opt to bitch about the fact that he has a serious problem with paper clutter, that he can spend four hours in front of the computer at one time, that he likes watching hunting shows on TV, that he works too much, that he's anal retentive and it can be hard to live with. And in fact, I have bitched about those things from time to time. But I certainly try not to make a habit of it. Instead, I make it my goal to simply choose to live with those things that make me crazy. Instead, I focus on the fact that he works hard to support us, he mows the lawn without complaining, he listens patiently to me when I'm in the mood to talk incessantly, and he does what he can to help around the house when he's home.
I'm not perfect either. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can be miserable to live with sometimes - I'm moody and demanding, I'm a perfectionist, and I don't iron. But I'm nearly positive that my husband doesn't sit around with his friends grumbling about wrinkled shirts and taking out the trash.
How does complaining about our husbands make anything better? Does nagging and griping really make them want to do better? How about instead of that, we thank them when something is done for us, we appreciate how hard they work to support our families. Maybe if they see a bit of gratitude instead of a wife who is never satisfied, they'd be more likely to improve in the areas where we think they need it.
What really gets me is the women who expect their husbands to respect them, but refuse to give their men the same respect. Women are NOT better than men! This whole feminist thing irks me to no end - this way of thinking encourages women to hold themselves on a pedestal above their men, and it's destroying relationships and self images everywhere. There's no shame in being a woman, doing woman's work, and being satisfied with it. Women do have a place in this world, and we would do well to take it instead of trying to fight it.
It's exhausting to listen to all of these women gripe about the men they are married to (or are living with, which is essentially the same thing.) Surely there is something good about this man, or you would not have chosen to spend your life with him. Do me a favor - focus on some of those good things. The next time you're ready to vent about what a jerk your man is, instead think of something fantastic that he has done, or about him as a person, and share that with your friend instead. See if you can get a conversation going about what great guys you have, how hard they work or how funny they are or how much you enjoy being with them or what great daddies they are... something, anything, that's positive. Let your daughters hear you rave about your husbands, so that they know how to speak about their own husbands when they are grown and married.
Or even better - tell your husband to his face those positive things. Let him know you love him. Let him know you respect him. Stop just expecting his respect - earn it by respecting him first.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Golden Hair vs. Brown Hair - a rant.
Remember in the Little House books* when Laura slaps Mary for saying "Golden hair is lots prettier than brown," and then she gets a spanking for it? And afterwards, Laura asks Pa if he thinks golden hair is prettier, and then all is made better when Pa points out that his hair is brown, too.
I totally get it. There's something alluring about little girls with blonde hair and blue eyes. And at the risk of sounding biased, I think she's pretty darn beautiful too. But for heaven's sake, brown hair and blue eyes are just as pretty!
People comment on babies and children. It's what they do - especially old people. They love to tell you how blessed you are, how cute they are, how much fun you must have. And I love that.
What I don't love is when someone sees Cora and says, "Oh! What a beautiful little girl you have! Just look at those eyes! And her pretty golden hair! Well, aren't you just a precious little doll!" and then they look at my seven year old and say, "And hi there."
I used to think it was a little bit rude. Then I found it slightly more annoying. Now it eats at me and I get pretty darn worked up about it.
Yes, The Toddler has rather striking features, and blue eyes and blonde hair are considered "beautiful" in our society. Add to that the fact that two is a very cute age, clothes made for two year olds are absolutely adorable, and my two year old in particular is very good at doing cute things to get the attention of old ladies standing in long lines.
The Older One is seven. Seven is not a particularly cute age, and anyone who has a picture of themselves at age seven should already be aware of that. Seven is the first year of the Awkward Stage. It's also just about the age that little girls begin to develop certain sensitivities and insecurities. In my opinion, she's gorgeous and beautiful and perfect. But there are some things that a mom can say that just don't take the place of when others say them.
I wish people would keep their opinions to themselves sometimes. I appreciate the compliments and all, but I hate the way it makes my precious Oldest girl feel, and I can see in her eyes that it hurts more than just a little.
*We're still reading the Little House books, so please forgive me the constant references to them. At the rate we're reading them, I'll keep on making these constant references for the next three years.
I totally get it. There's something alluring about little girls with blonde hair and blue eyes. And at the risk of sounding biased, I think she's pretty darn beautiful too. But for heaven's sake, brown hair and blue eyes are just as pretty!
People comment on babies and children. It's what they do - especially old people. They love to tell you how blessed you are, how cute they are, how much fun you must have. And I love that.
What I don't love is when someone sees Cora and says, "Oh! What a beautiful little girl you have! Just look at those eyes! And her pretty golden hair! Well, aren't you just a precious little doll!" and then they look at my seven year old and say, "And hi there."
I used to think it was a little bit rude. Then I found it slightly more annoying. Now it eats at me and I get pretty darn worked up about it.
Yes, The Toddler has rather striking features, and blue eyes and blonde hair are considered "beautiful" in our society. Add to that the fact that two is a very cute age, clothes made for two year olds are absolutely adorable, and my two year old in particular is very good at doing cute things to get the attention of old ladies standing in long lines.
The Older One is seven. Seven is not a particularly cute age, and anyone who has a picture of themselves at age seven should already be aware of that. Seven is the first year of the Awkward Stage. It's also just about the age that little girls begin to develop certain sensitivities and insecurities. In my opinion, she's gorgeous and beautiful and perfect. But there are some things that a mom can say that just don't take the place of when others say them.
I wish people would keep their opinions to themselves sometimes. I appreciate the compliments and all, but I hate the way it makes my precious Oldest girl feel, and I can see in her eyes that it hurts more than just a little.
*We're still reading the Little House books, so please forgive me the constant references to them. At the rate we're reading them, I'll keep on making these constant references for the next three years.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Taste of Home - the Anti-Healthy
My mom and I went to the Taste of Home Cooking School on Thursday night.
I'd love to tell you it was fantastic, inspirational, and informative.
Mostly though, it was frustrating and depressing. There were good points, little useful tips and hints, etc. so it wasn't a total waste. And I'll never pass up an opportunity to hang out with my mom, so it was worth the ten dollars spent.
But overall, it was a testament to all that home cooking has become in the last 50 years, since the years of the Industrial Revolution when our purpose became wrapped up in convenience and disposable everything.
Vegetables that you can purchase in the freezer section of the grocery store (probably grown in Guatemala or something) that are pre-cut, pre-washed, pre-packaged into a microwave safe package. Put the package into the microwave and when you take them out, they are perfectly steamed. Only two minutes' worth of work, and voila! Vegetables, microwaved to remove every possible nutrient the body could possibly glean from them, in plastic nonetheless, bringing every consumer that much closer to a cancer diagnosis.
Or there's the crock-pot liner. You can now purchase a (probably-cancer-inducing) plastic liner for your crock pot. Crock-pots are already the lazy mother's best friend (and I use mine frequently - no insult intended!) But to use a plastic liner? Now you don't even have to wash the contraption after it's done cooking your food. Then, you just toss that liner into the trash can where it will make it into the land fill, adding to the already disgusting amount of garbage our society produces. It's like killing two birds with one stone - you get to eat harmful chemicals leached into your food from the plastic, and then you get to add to the ever-growing pile of unnecessary household waste. Awesome!
And recipes aren't what they used to be. Many of the recipes call for things like "1 can of chili with beans" or "1 jar of spaghetti sauce" or, most commonly, "One package of frozen dinner roll/bread/biscuit dough.". It's assumed now that no one is going to take the time to actually make these foods. Our society would much rather purchase a can of something the company claims to be food, pressure cooked in a can along with a smattering of preservatives, MSG, and GMO's. If I'm looking for a recipe for a fancy breakfast pastry, I don't want to see "2 packages purchased frozen pastry sheets" in the list of ingredients.
And what bothers me most of all is that these Taste of Home people are sitting here evangelizing the greatness of all of these convenience foods and disposable products to thousands of women across the nation, playing on our addiction to consumerism and our genetic need for "more, bigger, better, newer". Women of today are brainwashed into thinking that "convenient" means "better" when in reality, we're becoming sicker and sicker and feeding the same crap to our husbands and children, causing mass epidemics of a whole host of illnesses that no one wants to take responsibility for.
And that ends my rant. Thanks for listening.
====
Taking a 180 degree turn, I feel compelled to include this absolutely delicious recipe for a coffee cake from one of the free cooking magazines handed out from the show. You really should try it. It's easy, quick, and positively sinful.
Cinnamon Nut Coffee Cake
1.5 cups all purpose flour (or whole-wheat pastry flour)
1 cup sugar (or organic raw cane sugar)
2 tsp. baking powder (aluminum free is best)
1/4 tsp salt (I omitted this with success)
1/4 c. melter butter
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 cup milk
1 tsp vanilla
Topping:
1 cup chopped walnuts
1 cup packed brown sugar (I would bet date powder would work well here)
2 tbsp. all purpose flour (or the whole wheat stuff)
3 tsp. cinnamon
2 tbsp. melted butter
Oven: 375
Combine the dry ingredients for the batter. In a separate bowl whisk together the butter, eggs, milk and vanilla. Stir into dry ingredients just until moistened. Set that aside. Combine the topping ingredients.
Grease a 9x13 pan. Spread half of the batter across the bottom of the pan. (It's going to be spread really thin, which surprised me but turned out great.) Sprinkle half the topping on top of the batter. Carefully spread the remaining batter on top (that's what the directions say. That's a joke. There is no spreading that stuff. Better to drop teaspoonfuls of dough across the top of the first layer of topping - close together, but they don't have to be touching. Trust me.) Top with the rest of the topping.
Bake at 375 for 25 minutes or so. You'll be able to smell it when it's done. :o) Yield: 12 servings
I froze these separately in ziploc bags with success.
I'd love to tell you it was fantastic, inspirational, and informative.
Mostly though, it was frustrating and depressing. There were good points, little useful tips and hints, etc. so it wasn't a total waste. And I'll never pass up an opportunity to hang out with my mom, so it was worth the ten dollars spent.
But overall, it was a testament to all that home cooking has become in the last 50 years, since the years of the Industrial Revolution when our purpose became wrapped up in convenience and disposable everything.
Vegetables that you can purchase in the freezer section of the grocery store (probably grown in Guatemala or something) that are pre-cut, pre-washed, pre-packaged into a microwave safe package. Put the package into the microwave and when you take them out, they are perfectly steamed. Only two minutes' worth of work, and voila! Vegetables, microwaved to remove every possible nutrient the body could possibly glean from them, in plastic nonetheless, bringing every consumer that much closer to a cancer diagnosis.
Or there's the crock-pot liner. You can now purchase a (probably-cancer-inducing) plastic liner for your crock pot. Crock-pots are already the lazy mother's best friend (and I use mine frequently - no insult intended!) But to use a plastic liner? Now you don't even have to wash the contraption after it's done cooking your food. Then, you just toss that liner into the trash can where it will make it into the land fill, adding to the already disgusting amount of garbage our society produces. It's like killing two birds with one stone - you get to eat harmful chemicals leached into your food from the plastic, and then you get to add to the ever-growing pile of unnecessary household waste. Awesome!
And recipes aren't what they used to be. Many of the recipes call for things like "1 can of chili with beans" or "1 jar of spaghetti sauce" or, most commonly, "One package of frozen dinner roll/bread/biscuit dough.". It's assumed now that no one is going to take the time to actually make these foods. Our society would much rather purchase a can of something the company claims to be food, pressure cooked in a can along with a smattering of preservatives, MSG, and GMO's. If I'm looking for a recipe for a fancy breakfast pastry, I don't want to see "2 packages purchased frozen pastry sheets" in the list of ingredients.
And what bothers me most of all is that these Taste of Home people are sitting here evangelizing the greatness of all of these convenience foods and disposable products to thousands of women across the nation, playing on our addiction to consumerism and our genetic need for "more, bigger, better, newer". Women of today are brainwashed into thinking that "convenient" means "better" when in reality, we're becoming sicker and sicker and feeding the same crap to our husbands and children, causing mass epidemics of a whole host of illnesses that no one wants to take responsibility for.
And that ends my rant. Thanks for listening.
====
Taking a 180 degree turn, I feel compelled to include this absolutely delicious recipe for a coffee cake from one of the free cooking magazines handed out from the show. You really should try it. It's easy, quick, and positively sinful.
Cinnamon Nut Coffee Cake
1.5 cups all purpose flour (or whole-wheat pastry flour)
1 cup sugar (or organic raw cane sugar)
2 tsp. baking powder (aluminum free is best)
1/4 tsp salt (I omitted this with success)
1/4 c. melter butter
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 cup milk
1 tsp vanilla
Topping:
1 cup chopped walnuts
1 cup packed brown sugar (I would bet date powder would work well here)
2 tbsp. all purpose flour (or the whole wheat stuff)
3 tsp. cinnamon
2 tbsp. melted butter
Oven: 375
Combine the dry ingredients for the batter. In a separate bowl whisk together the butter, eggs, milk and vanilla. Stir into dry ingredients just until moistened. Set that aside. Combine the topping ingredients.
Grease a 9x13 pan. Spread half of the batter across the bottom of the pan. (It's going to be spread really thin, which surprised me but turned out great.) Sprinkle half the topping on top of the batter. Carefully spread the remaining batter on top (that's what the directions say. That's a joke. There is no spreading that stuff. Better to drop teaspoonfuls of dough across the top of the first layer of topping - close together, but they don't have to be touching. Trust me.) Top with the rest of the topping.
Bake at 375 for 25 minutes or so. You'll be able to smell it when it's done. :o) Yield: 12 servings
I froze these separately in ziploc bags with success.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
A ramblin' update
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!
Books:
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.
Crafts:
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.
The girls:
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
THE TODDLER.
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?
Cute Cora-ism:
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~
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!
Books:
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.
Crafts:
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.
The girls:
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
THE TODDLER.
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?
Cute Cora-ism:
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~
Saturday, January 31, 2009
The case of the disappearing husband
I don't know how many times now Andrew's return date has changed. First it was Monday, then maybe Wednesday, then - hooray! - Sunday night. Now it's just "sometime next week". And each time, it's another let down and I get sad and pissed off all over again.
I need to get a life. I'm pitiful, really. When he's working in town, I spend my days looking forward to the moment he walks in the door. I turn down play dates, shopping, lunches out whenever he's off for the week because all I want is to spend my time with him. And now that he's out of town I'm kind of lost, without purpose, because my husband isn't around to reel me back in at the end of each day. He grounds us, really, and without him around life is sort of chaotic and unstructured because we're all just waiting for him to come home.
Jesus, just reading that makes me sound pathetic.
So I'm done. I'm done sitting around missing him, wishing he were here to see funny things the baby does or hear Chloe sound out a new word. I'm not going to be sad anymore that I can't share with him from the hilarious book I'm reading, or show him my latest knitting experiment. I'm not going to waste away while I refuse to cook for only the children, and I'm not going to depend on him anymore for my "adult conversation". Everything is so centrally located on all four of us together, even if for only an hour or two a day. I think it's time to re-center. It's time to restructure a new little world that doesn't depend on him so much. We can do this - we're girls, we're tough. We don't need a man to hold us together, right? I can do without companionship and conversation and good lovin' at night.
I need to make more friends. I need to get out of the house more. I need to find things to do that occupy my time.
Blah. Don't listen to me, I'm pathetic.
I need to get a life. I'm pitiful, really. When he's working in town, I spend my days looking forward to the moment he walks in the door. I turn down play dates, shopping, lunches out whenever he's off for the week because all I want is to spend my time with him. And now that he's out of town I'm kind of lost, without purpose, because my husband isn't around to reel me back in at the end of each day. He grounds us, really, and without him around life is sort of chaotic and unstructured because we're all just waiting for him to come home.
Jesus, just reading that makes me sound pathetic.
So I'm done. I'm done sitting around missing him, wishing he were here to see funny things the baby does or hear Chloe sound out a new word. I'm not going to be sad anymore that I can't share with him from the hilarious book I'm reading, or show him my latest knitting experiment. I'm not going to waste away while I refuse to cook for only the children, and I'm not going to depend on him anymore for my "adult conversation". Everything is so centrally located on all four of us together, even if for only an hour or two a day. I think it's time to re-center. It's time to restructure a new little world that doesn't depend on him so much. We can do this - we're girls, we're tough. We don't need a man to hold us together, right? I can do without companionship and conversation and good lovin' at night.
I need to make more friends. I need to get out of the house more. I need to find things to do that occupy my time.
Blah. Don't listen to me, I'm pathetic.
Friday, January 23, 2009
If there was a depression...
Every so often, I hear the "what if there was another depression" worry from someone I know. What would we do? How would we live? Would we survive?
Maybe I'm too hopeful. I'm sure I don't really have any idea what it would really be like. But I don't have any doubt that my family would survive, and we would be alright.
We live with a lot of luxury now. We have a very nice home that is warm and comfortable, filled with nice furniture, good food, and fancy appliances.
If I had to, could I do without it? Absolutely. I have a big antique trunk downstairs that I would pack full of the things that mean the most to me - handmade things, little memoirs of the girls' childhoods, scrapbooks and probably computer hard drives. The rest, though it would hurt, I could walk away from.
So many people these days wouldn't have the first clue how to survive if they didn't have a house, a computer, a car, electricity. Thankfully, between my husband and I, I'm pretty certain we'd be alright. We've got everything we need to go camping... it would just have to be an extended camping trip, I suppose. I have enough seeds on hand to plant a garden that would feed us, and I know how to collect the seeds from those plants to save for another planting. My husband is quite skilled in hunting, and could provide meat. Between the two of us, we know how to handle the meat and I could probably even tan a hide if it came to that. A friend of mine said something about "I guess I'd have to find a way to get propane if we couldn't afford electricity." Thankfully, I'm quite skilled in cooking over a campfire.
My obsession, my fascination, is pioneer history. No, I've never lived that kind of life, but I have a pretty good understanding of it - how hard it was, and what was necessary for survival. I'm thankful that I've read the dozens of books that I have on the subject. I could sew clothing from fabric scraps if needed - many women couldn't! I could turn plant fiber into a diaper, treat many common ailments, forage for food and know what I was looking for... if it was necessary. I take a certain amount of pride in that.
My husband is incredible as far as his ability to figure out a way to make anything work, anything happen. I know I can always depend on him. Many women are married to men who are so modernized that they aren't even capable of changing a flat tire.
Will there be a depression? Eh, who knows. And it probably wont' be that severe, if there is. But I find much solace in knowing that if it really did come down to that, my family would be alright. Heck... it would be one hell of a homeschooling lesson, wouldn't it?
===
In other news... I just found out that Mark's girlfriend is pregnant again. I'm really, really irritated. He can't support either child he has, they live with his mother for Christ sake, but they get to have another baby, and I don't. Someone feel sorry for me, please?
Maybe I'm too hopeful. I'm sure I don't really have any idea what it would really be like. But I don't have any doubt that my family would survive, and we would be alright.
We live with a lot of luxury now. We have a very nice home that is warm and comfortable, filled with nice furniture, good food, and fancy appliances.
If I had to, could I do without it? Absolutely. I have a big antique trunk downstairs that I would pack full of the things that mean the most to me - handmade things, little memoirs of the girls' childhoods, scrapbooks and probably computer hard drives. The rest, though it would hurt, I could walk away from.
So many people these days wouldn't have the first clue how to survive if they didn't have a house, a computer, a car, electricity. Thankfully, between my husband and I, I'm pretty certain we'd be alright. We've got everything we need to go camping... it would just have to be an extended camping trip, I suppose. I have enough seeds on hand to plant a garden that would feed us, and I know how to collect the seeds from those plants to save for another planting. My husband is quite skilled in hunting, and could provide meat. Between the two of us, we know how to handle the meat and I could probably even tan a hide if it came to that. A friend of mine said something about "I guess I'd have to find a way to get propane if we couldn't afford electricity." Thankfully, I'm quite skilled in cooking over a campfire.
My obsession, my fascination, is pioneer history. No, I've never lived that kind of life, but I have a pretty good understanding of it - how hard it was, and what was necessary for survival. I'm thankful that I've read the dozens of books that I have on the subject. I could sew clothing from fabric scraps if needed - many women couldn't! I could turn plant fiber into a diaper, treat many common ailments, forage for food and know what I was looking for... if it was necessary. I take a certain amount of pride in that.
My husband is incredible as far as his ability to figure out a way to make anything work, anything happen. I know I can always depend on him. Many women are married to men who are so modernized that they aren't even capable of changing a flat tire.
Will there be a depression? Eh, who knows. And it probably wont' be that severe, if there is. But I find much solace in knowing that if it really did come down to that, my family would be alright. Heck... it would be one hell of a homeschooling lesson, wouldn't it?
===
In other news... I just found out that Mark's girlfriend is pregnant again. I'm really, really irritated. He can't support either child he has, they live with his mother for Christ sake, but they get to have another baby, and I don't. Someone feel sorry for me, please?
Saturday, November 15, 2008
'Tis the Season...
...for impatience, anger, frustration, and general grumpiness.
The holiday season is upon us. Have you noticed how it keeps on moving up in the year? It used to be we waited until after Thanksgiving to start thinking about Christmas. Now it's Halloween. Five years from now, we'll start decorating in August.
Our town used to be a cozy, nice little town with one little shopping mall and a few other stores. But now, we're a big fancy town, with big fancy shopping centers and big fancy highways. And with all this "big fancy" comes lots of angry, rushed, rude people. It used to feel like we still had a little bit of country here... now, it just feels like a city.
I went to Michael's today to pick up some paints for a craft for Chloe. The only parking place I could find was about fifteen miles from the store entrance. In the process of finding this parking place I was flipped off once and honked at three times (how dare I let the poor people cross in front of me, instead of just running 'em down?)Oy vey. It just made me sad.
Everyone gets so worked up at the holidays. "Hurry! MUST SHOP! Must buy fancy expensive things for spoiled children. Must be in and out of store in less than five minutes. MUST BEAT EVERYONE to it!" It's horrible. People forget that everyone around them has feelings to, that they are real people and not just pawns in the simulation of their life. I pity the poor people who work customer-service jobs this time of year - people treat them terribly! What must it be like to deal with all of these irritable, rushed, frustrated shoppers for 8 or 10 hours every day?
If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that there really is no rush. Things will get done. It won't hurt anyone if you have to wait an extra five minutes in line - and your time is no more important than anyone else's, believe it or not. NOTHING is so important that it's worth getting worked up over, or hurting another person for. Life's WAY too short to get your panties in a bundle over silly, stupid little things.
I think we should all make a pact with ourselves to BE NICE this holiday season. Even if you're one of those crazies that's out at 3 am on Black Friday - or perhaps I should say *especially if you are. Every single person you come in contact with has their own agenda, their own family, their own feelings, and they should always be considered. Take a deep breath when someone steals the only parking space for miles, and let it go. Remind yourself that you can use the exercise anyway. Smile and offer reassurance to the overworked, poorly treated store clerk, even when she screws up your order and you have to wait ten minutes to have it fixed. SHE DIDN'T DO IT ON PURPOSE. Drive the speed limit, stop for people to cross, smile and wave. Strike up a conversation when you're waiting for half an hour to buy that stupid widget that your kid absolutely insisted Santa bring them. LAUGH IT OFF. Life goes on, Christmas happens, no matter what happened in the weeks leading up to it. If it's not something that actually causes you harm, don't sweat it, and for heaven's sake, don't take it out on poor, defenseless other people.
Is it a deal? Are we gonna be nice? :o)
Happy "Holiday Shopping Season" to all!
The holiday season is upon us. Have you noticed how it keeps on moving up in the year? It used to be we waited until after Thanksgiving to start thinking about Christmas. Now it's Halloween. Five years from now, we'll start decorating in August.
Our town used to be a cozy, nice little town with one little shopping mall and a few other stores. But now, we're a big fancy town, with big fancy shopping centers and big fancy highways. And with all this "big fancy" comes lots of angry, rushed, rude people. It used to feel like we still had a little bit of country here... now, it just feels like a city.
I went to Michael's today to pick up some paints for a craft for Chloe. The only parking place I could find was about fifteen miles from the store entrance. In the process of finding this parking place I was flipped off once and honked at three times (how dare I let the poor people cross in front of me, instead of just running 'em down?)Oy vey. It just made me sad.
Everyone gets so worked up at the holidays. "Hurry! MUST SHOP! Must buy fancy expensive things for spoiled children. Must be in and out of store in less than five minutes. MUST BEAT EVERYONE to it!" It's horrible. People forget that everyone around them has feelings to, that they are real people and not just pawns in the simulation of their life. I pity the poor people who work customer-service jobs this time of year - people treat them terribly! What must it be like to deal with all of these irritable, rushed, frustrated shoppers for 8 or 10 hours every day?
If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that there really is no rush. Things will get done. It won't hurt anyone if you have to wait an extra five minutes in line - and your time is no more important than anyone else's, believe it or not. NOTHING is so important that it's worth getting worked up over, or hurting another person for. Life's WAY too short to get your panties in a bundle over silly, stupid little things.
I think we should all make a pact with ourselves to BE NICE this holiday season. Even if you're one of those crazies that's out at 3 am on Black Friday - or perhaps I should say *especially if you are. Every single person you come in contact with has their own agenda, their own family, their own feelings, and they should always be considered. Take a deep breath when someone steals the only parking space for miles, and let it go. Remind yourself that you can use the exercise anyway. Smile and offer reassurance to the overworked, poorly treated store clerk, even when she screws up your order and you have to wait ten minutes to have it fixed. SHE DIDN'T DO IT ON PURPOSE. Drive the speed limit, stop for people to cross, smile and wave. Strike up a conversation when you're waiting for half an hour to buy that stupid widget that your kid absolutely insisted Santa bring them. LAUGH IT OFF. Life goes on, Christmas happens, no matter what happened in the weeks leading up to it. If it's not something that actually causes you harm, don't sweat it, and for heaven's sake, don't take it out on poor, defenseless other people.
Is it a deal? Are we gonna be nice? :o)
Happy "Holiday Shopping Season" to all!
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Oy Vey... someone please come save me!
Today was chaos. Cora woke up around 4 am and began dancing and patty-caking in bed, mingled with the occasional body slam. Then she gleefully started sprinkling Chloe and I with water from her bottle. Chloe was up for about an hour, then went back to bed. I gave up on Cora, and got up and made a pot of coffee, then settled in to entertain her until her sister was up. By the time my coffee was done, she was asleep on the living room floor. And of course, i was wide awake by that time. At least I got to do some knitting, I suppose, something I haven't done much of in days.
At seven they were both up, so we all got dressed and headed to my mom's for the morning. We headed home around 11, since we had a birthday party to get ready for at 1:00. I figured two hours was plenty of time to shower, get changed, and get over there. On my way home from Mom's though, a friend of Andrew's family called to see if she could stop by to chat. All was fine and well... except she stayed until 12:45. I frantically raced around dressing my children, dressing myself, and made it to the party at 1:05. The party was chaos in itself, with a dozen or so kids, two dozen adults, all of whom are people I wasn't exactly thrilled to be around - the sort of "rough around the edges" type.
So we get home around 4:00, but not before agreeing to go out to the in-law's for MIL's birthday dinner at 6:30. Cora has been whining non-stop for two days for some unknown reason, and it really kicked in when we got home. Then Chloe started whining a little too, since she was tired, and a thunderstorm rolled in. I called and said we wouldn't make it out there - I didn't need anything else to deal with!
About that time, I kiss Chloe on the forehead and realize she feels a little warm. Sure enough, a fever of 100.3, and she's been complaining that her legs and ankles and knees and arms hurt. I have no idea what's wrong with her, but she was asleep on the couch by 6:30.
And of course, the time change isn't helping matters. I already put Cora to bed, it's only 7:00, but I just couldn't deal with any more whining. :o( She didn't complain at all and is already asleep, but I'll regret it when she's up at 5 in the morning.
And when you add today to yesterday, which was supposed to be a "sit around and relax" day but wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, relaxing, and last week's running around like mad doing everything under the sun, I'm just plain exhausted. I'm ready for a week off. :o)
And tomorrow we start up school again, so there should be all kinds of stress and chaos again. AND we're supposed to leave tomorrow afternoon to camp with Andrew and my dad at their hunting camp, which means I need to pack, but I kind of think we might not go afterall, especially if Chloe's sick.
I'm sure I'll be up all night with her, sleeping on the couch and taking her temperature every hour, just because that's how I am. A little cough, a mild fever, and I'm convinced my children are dying.
::sigh:: anyone wanna come over and babysit for an hour? LOL
At seven they were both up, so we all got dressed and headed to my mom's for the morning. We headed home around 11, since we had a birthday party to get ready for at 1:00. I figured two hours was plenty of time to shower, get changed, and get over there. On my way home from Mom's though, a friend of Andrew's family called to see if she could stop by to chat. All was fine and well... except she stayed until 12:45. I frantically raced around dressing my children, dressing myself, and made it to the party at 1:05. The party was chaos in itself, with a dozen or so kids, two dozen adults, all of whom are people I wasn't exactly thrilled to be around - the sort of "rough around the edges" type.
So we get home around 4:00, but not before agreeing to go out to the in-law's for MIL's birthday dinner at 6:30. Cora has been whining non-stop for two days for some unknown reason, and it really kicked in when we got home. Then Chloe started whining a little too, since she was tired, and a thunderstorm rolled in. I called and said we wouldn't make it out there - I didn't need anything else to deal with!
About that time, I kiss Chloe on the forehead and realize she feels a little warm. Sure enough, a fever of 100.3, and she's been complaining that her legs and ankles and knees and arms hurt. I have no idea what's wrong with her, but she was asleep on the couch by 6:30.
And of course, the time change isn't helping matters. I already put Cora to bed, it's only 7:00, but I just couldn't deal with any more whining. :o( She didn't complain at all and is already asleep, but I'll regret it when she's up at 5 in the morning.
And when you add today to yesterday, which was supposed to be a "sit around and relax" day but wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, relaxing, and last week's running around like mad doing everything under the sun, I'm just plain exhausted. I'm ready for a week off. :o)
And tomorrow we start up school again, so there should be all kinds of stress and chaos again. AND we're supposed to leave tomorrow afternoon to camp with Andrew and my dad at their hunting camp, which means I need to pack, but I kind of think we might not go afterall, especially if Chloe's sick.
I'm sure I'll be up all night with her, sleeping on the couch and taking her temperature every hour, just because that's how I am. A little cough, a mild fever, and I'm convinced my children are dying.
::sigh:: anyone wanna come over and babysit for an hour? LOL
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Did you vote yet?...
...I did. We went through our mail-in ballots Thursday night and I dropped them off in person on Friday.
We read through our little State of Colorado book, discussed each amendment and formed opinions. I actually enjoyed it, probably because I don't usually get to actually think that much.
I'm just so irritated with this election. I hate that it always feel like I'm choosing the lesser of two evils, instead of really being excited about a particular candidate. I don't like one much, but I really don't like the other, so I made my decision that way. Andrew made a good point - if you vote for some other party, you're giving at least half a vote to the person you really DON'T want to win. Isn't that terrible? Instead of voting for a person I really want to lead our country for four years, I simply chose the only one that doesn't scare me.
On a side note - I found the book _George and Laura: Portrait of an American Marriage_ in my grandparents' yard sale stuff yesterday. I'm about a hundred pages in, and as much as I really don't like W., it's' proving to be an interesting read. It's funny though, at the end of each chapter there are quotes from different people that know the Bushes, from Laura, and from W. himself - and even in the quotes, he sounds like an uneducated twit. Can you believe he went to Andover? I'm shocked. I had no idea he'd ever received an education...
Now I'll sit back and wait to see what happens Tuesday night. If you haven't voted yet, go vote. Especially you girls - after reading all that pioneer-era women went through to earn us our right to vote, it seems like sacrilege not to.
I'm closing with a cute story of my very smart little five year old. Some people came to the door today from the Obama campaign, assumedly since I'm a registered democrat. Chloe was standing at my side when I answered the door. "We're from the Obama campaign. Have you voted yet, and can we count on your vote for Obama this year?"
"I've already voted." I told them. I was just about ready to shut the door when my darling daughter shouted after them, "My mommy voted for John McCain!"
We read through our little State of Colorado book, discussed each amendment and formed opinions. I actually enjoyed it, probably because I don't usually get to actually think that much.
I'm just so irritated with this election. I hate that it always feel like I'm choosing the lesser of two evils, instead of really being excited about a particular candidate. I don't like one much, but I really don't like the other, so I made my decision that way. Andrew made a good point - if you vote for some other party, you're giving at least half a vote to the person you really DON'T want to win. Isn't that terrible? Instead of voting for a person I really want to lead our country for four years, I simply chose the only one that doesn't scare me.
On a side note - I found the book _George and Laura: Portrait of an American Marriage_ in my grandparents' yard sale stuff yesterday. I'm about a hundred pages in, and as much as I really don't like W., it's' proving to be an interesting read. It's funny though, at the end of each chapter there are quotes from different people that know the Bushes, from Laura, and from W. himself - and even in the quotes, he sounds like an uneducated twit. Can you believe he went to Andover? I'm shocked. I had no idea he'd ever received an education...
Now I'll sit back and wait to see what happens Tuesday night. If you haven't voted yet, go vote. Especially you girls - after reading all that pioneer-era women went through to earn us our right to vote, it seems like sacrilege not to.
I'm closing with a cute story of my very smart little five year old. Some people came to the door today from the Obama campaign, assumedly since I'm a registered democrat. Chloe was standing at my side when I answered the door. "We're from the Obama campaign. Have you voted yet, and can we count on your vote for Obama this year?"
"I've already voted." I told them. I was just about ready to shut the door when my darling daughter shouted after them, "My mommy voted for John McCain!"
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Nosy Neighbors
The more I think about this, the more irritated I get.
Earlier today, Chloe and Isabel were playing in the front yard, which I only allow occasionally (usually they're in the back.) I let her go out there though while I did some things around the house. The front yard is fenced, so I feel safe letting her play out there alone, and I check on her no less than every 5 minutes - usually more often than that.
Some kids went by on skateboards, Izzy started barking at them. Chloe attempted to get her to stop barking by yelling "Izzy! Stop barking!" and then started throwing twigs at her. (Obviously, that didn't help. But whatever. It was over in 30 seconds.)
Immediately following the incident, I get a call from my husband. "Josie (the old lady across the street) just called me. She said she's concerned with how Chloe is treating Isabel outside." She told him Chloe was hitting and kicking Isabel.
This bothers me on a lot of levels. I'm nearly certain that Chloe wasn't doing that. She occasionally will hit at Izzy if she's being too rambunctious, but never would she (or could she) actually injure the dog. And she has never kicked her to my knowledge. I suppose that it is faintly possible that in the 45 seconds that had passed since I'd watched the twig throwing incident, she could have had a sudden outburst and began viciously abusing the dog, but I really, honestly doubt it.
Second, what on earth could make that woman think she has any right at all to call my HUSBAND while he is at WORK over something happening at home? I don't even get to call my husband at work! She has my phone number, she could have called me if she was really that concerned. It's almost like she wanted to tattle on me - she's made it clear in the past she thinks I'm a rotten mother (and that my husband is a saint), so maybe she was bored and saw an opportunity to tell on me for neglecting my kid by letting her play outside alone?
I'm not sure. But I'm irked. I've tried to be nice to her. I try to remind myself that she's a lonely old woman with nothing to do and no one to talk to. But calling my husband while he is at work over something so trivial and stupid is just going too far.
For the record, I did call Chloe inside, let her know it's not alright to throw anything at the dog, even if it is just twigs.
Earlier today, Chloe and Isabel were playing in the front yard, which I only allow occasionally (usually they're in the back.) I let her go out there though while I did some things around the house. The front yard is fenced, so I feel safe letting her play out there alone, and I check on her no less than every 5 minutes - usually more often than that.
Some kids went by on skateboards, Izzy started barking at them. Chloe attempted to get her to stop barking by yelling "Izzy! Stop barking!" and then started throwing twigs at her. (Obviously, that didn't help. But whatever. It was over in 30 seconds.)
Immediately following the incident, I get a call from my husband. "Josie (the old lady across the street) just called me. She said she's concerned with how Chloe is treating Isabel outside." She told him Chloe was hitting and kicking Isabel.
This bothers me on a lot of levels. I'm nearly certain that Chloe wasn't doing that. She occasionally will hit at Izzy if she's being too rambunctious, but never would she (or could she) actually injure the dog. And she has never kicked her to my knowledge. I suppose that it is faintly possible that in the 45 seconds that had passed since I'd watched the twig throwing incident, she could have had a sudden outburst and began viciously abusing the dog, but I really, honestly doubt it.
Second, what on earth could make that woman think she has any right at all to call my HUSBAND while he is at WORK over something happening at home? I don't even get to call my husband at work! She has my phone number, she could have called me if she was really that concerned. It's almost like she wanted to tattle on me - she's made it clear in the past she thinks I'm a rotten mother (and that my husband is a saint), so maybe she was bored and saw an opportunity to tell on me for neglecting my kid by letting her play outside alone?
I'm not sure. But I'm irked. I've tried to be nice to her. I try to remind myself that she's a lonely old woman with nothing to do and no one to talk to. But calling my husband while he is at work over something so trivial and stupid is just going too far.
For the record, I did call Chloe inside, let her know it's not alright to throw anything at the dog, even if it is just twigs.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Gosh, it's been awhile
We've been busy... doing pretty much nothing. Doesn't it always feel like that though? I've uploaded pictures, so I'll just share those for now.
This was our harvest from the other night - 6 cups of basil, half a pound of green beans, tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes, a handful of chard, and a bell pepper. That's working out to be about average, minus the basil - I had clipped off the whole plants that night. I got about 6 meals' worth of pesto out of it though, that went into the freezer. We also get cucumbers every so often. Tomorrow I'm going to make a big batch of pico de gallo and some tomato sauce, and probably blanch and freeze some green beans. The garden is at that point where it basically takes care of itself. I spent all spring working hard to keep the weeds out, germinate the seeds, etc. and now we're reaping the benefits. I've got 4 varieties of lettuce, spinach, and beets coming up now for a fall crop, but the neighborhood cats keep digging up the seed beds to crap in them, so I'm not sure what I'll actually get. I did sprinkle a generous helping of cayenne pepper all around the beds the other night though, so maybe that will help.
===
A shot of my mom driving her pony in a dressage show:
I think this is kinda cool. My mom's had this pony for years, has always driven her just for fun occasionally, but is now finally doing something with her for real. She seems to enjoy it. We had fun watching the show.
My mom's pissing me off lately. I hate saying that. I love my mom, she's been my best friend for the past handful of years, since I grew up and stopped being a shithead. :oX But lately, she's just... not fun to be around. She always talks about my aunt (her sister) being negative, and set in her ways and unwilling to change... but she's starting to act just the same. She's been telling me over and over again how unfair it is to Chloe to homeschool her. "But what about socialization?" Ugh. I hate that question. I dunno... just in general, she's not fun to be around anymore. She's already complaining about Christmas. She complains about my dad all the time, how he goes out and does things and doesn't want to be with her. I feel bad for her, she's kind of in a crappy point in her life, but her negativity is kind of dragging me down at a time that I don't really need it. I used to hang out with her two or three times a week. Now it's just on Sundays, and mostly so we can see my dad. :o(
On the up side, my daddy is very supportive of us homeschooling, he's really enjoying having a son in law who is going hunting this fall, he tells me every time he sees me how proud he is of me and how much he loves his granddaughters. I'm not sure where this man came from, but I hope he stays and leaves my old dad behind! :-)
===
My dad's brother and his wife came to visit this past weekend. On Sunday we went over for breakfast, and the guys were out fishing. My aunt started talking about homeschool: "Well, you aren't going to do it forever." "umm... yes, I am. at least until college." "Well, that's not fair to her. What about socialization?" Jesus. I was so well socialized that I was suicidal at fourteen! Her son was so well socialized that he's 32 and hasn't ever had a real girlfriend, can't hold a job, and lets his grandmother support him. Gosh, I wish my kids were like that! There was a long, drawn out conversation but I won't re-cap it all. It irritates me. It ended with me saying "{Aunt}, I'm done talking about this. I get lectured by a lot of people, and it hasn't changed my mind yet. You're not going to either. I don't want to discuss it anymore." I thought that was good. UNTIL!! As we're on our way out the door, she says to Chloe "Now, you tell your mom that you deserve to go to a real school and play and have fun just like all the other kids."
Oh no, she didn't. Ah, but she did. We didn't bother going back to my parents' house to see them after that. You can lecture me, question me, harrass me all you want for my parenting and educational choices. But DO NOT make my child feel bad for the decisions I am making, and DO NOT try to turn her against me.
I think livid is the best word to describe how I felt that day.
===
Okay, baby is fussing. More pictures tomorrow. :o)
This was our harvest from the other night - 6 cups of basil, half a pound of green beans, tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes, a handful of chard, and a bell pepper. That's working out to be about average, minus the basil - I had clipped off the whole plants that night. I got about 6 meals' worth of pesto out of it though, that went into the freezer. We also get cucumbers every so often. Tomorrow I'm going to make a big batch of pico de gallo and some tomato sauce, and probably blanch and freeze some green beans. The garden is at that point where it basically takes care of itself. I spent all spring working hard to keep the weeds out, germinate the seeds, etc. and now we're reaping the benefits. I've got 4 varieties of lettuce, spinach, and beets coming up now for a fall crop, but the neighborhood cats keep digging up the seed beds to crap in them, so I'm not sure what I'll actually get. I did sprinkle a generous helping of cayenne pepper all around the beds the other night though, so maybe that will help.
===
A shot of my mom driving her pony in a dressage show:
I think this is kinda cool. My mom's had this pony for years, has always driven her just for fun occasionally, but is now finally doing something with her for real. She seems to enjoy it. We had fun watching the show.
My mom's pissing me off lately. I hate saying that. I love my mom, she's been my best friend for the past handful of years, since I grew up and stopped being a shithead. :oX But lately, she's just... not fun to be around. She always talks about my aunt (her sister) being negative, and set in her ways and unwilling to change... but she's starting to act just the same. She's been telling me over and over again how unfair it is to Chloe to homeschool her. "But what about socialization?" Ugh. I hate that question. I dunno... just in general, she's not fun to be around anymore. She's already complaining about Christmas. She complains about my dad all the time, how he goes out and does things and doesn't want to be with her. I feel bad for her, she's kind of in a crappy point in her life, but her negativity is kind of dragging me down at a time that I don't really need it. I used to hang out with her two or three times a week. Now it's just on Sundays, and mostly so we can see my dad. :o(
On the up side, my daddy is very supportive of us homeschooling, he's really enjoying having a son in law who is going hunting this fall, he tells me every time he sees me how proud he is of me and how much he loves his granddaughters. I'm not sure where this man came from, but I hope he stays and leaves my old dad behind! :-)
===
My dad's brother and his wife came to visit this past weekend. On Sunday we went over for breakfast, and the guys were out fishing. My aunt started talking about homeschool: "Well, you aren't going to do it forever." "umm... yes, I am. at least until college." "Well, that's not fair to her. What about socialization?" Jesus. I was so well socialized that I was suicidal at fourteen! Her son was so well socialized that he's 32 and hasn't ever had a real girlfriend, can't hold a job, and lets his grandmother support him. Gosh, I wish my kids were like that! There was a long, drawn out conversation but I won't re-cap it all. It irritates me. It ended with me saying "{Aunt}, I'm done talking about this. I get lectured by a lot of people, and it hasn't changed my mind yet. You're not going to either. I don't want to discuss it anymore." I thought that was good. UNTIL!! As we're on our way out the door, she says to Chloe "Now, you tell your mom that you deserve to go to a real school and play and have fun just like all the other kids."
Oh no, she didn't. Ah, but she did. We didn't bother going back to my parents' house to see them after that. You can lecture me, question me, harrass me all you want for my parenting and educational choices. But DO NOT make my child feel bad for the decisions I am making, and DO NOT try to turn her against me.
I think livid is the best word to describe how I felt that day.
===
Okay, baby is fussing. More pictures tomorrow. :o)
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Cora learned how to share!
....she gave me her cold.
Ughhhhhh I feel so awful. My temp is 101.7, last I checked. I'm FREEZING, the swamp cooler (air conditioner) is off, it's 81 degrees in my house, and I'm wearing fleece pants and a sweat shirt, drinking hot tea. I'm the biggest sissy when I get sick. I called my mom to whine. I was hoping for some sort of sympathy, maybe even an offer to take the kids for a couple hours so I could get some much needed sleep. Her reply? "Stay the hell away from me! I don't want whatever you have. And I better not already have it!"
Sheesh. What ever happened to maternal sacrifice? Hmphh.
===
Cora's doing much better, thankfully. I always worry the most about the littlest ones, they can't really tell you what's wrong. She's back to her trouble-making little self again though. She managed to climb up an entire flight of (very steep) stairs by herself today. I was right behind her ready to catch, but she didn't need me and kept pushing my hands away. How did my baby get so independent?
===
We watched Flipper (the newer one with Elijah Wood) tonight while I nursed my fever and tried to relax. Chloe LOVED it. I'm all about teaching my kids about the importance of doing things to protect the environment, and this movie was a wonderful illustration of it's importance. Except that I fear I've created a monster. Chloe already understands the meaning of the word organic. We extended that tonight by talking about how most farmers use chemicals on their crops to control weeds and bugs. With a horrified look on her face she said (with an entirely straight face) "I'm going to tell those lazy farmers at Farmer's Market to go out and pull the weeds instead of spraying chemnicals on them!" (Yes, chemnicals.) I'm scared to take her to Farmer's Market again... I can't think of any good way to explain that one away, in case she actually said it.
===
I talked to my grandmother today - my biological mom's mother. We hadn't talked in nearly a year. She's the sweetest woman, and lost her husband to a heart attack in May. I can't imagine being that old, and losing the man you love. It breaks my heart for her. Anyway, we had a great talk, it was nice to catch up. I didn't meet her until I was 20 years old - she didn't even know I existed. She's always emotional when we talk, I think at the thought of all those years of a granddaughter lost. She always tells me that if she'd known about me, she and Dwight (my grandpa) would have taken me and raised me.
===
Anyhow, I suppose that's enough rambling. I'm so exhausted. Unfortunately, neither of my children are, so I guess we'll be up for awhile...
Ughhhhhh I feel so awful. My temp is 101.7, last I checked. I'm FREEZING, the swamp cooler (air conditioner) is off, it's 81 degrees in my house, and I'm wearing fleece pants and a sweat shirt, drinking hot tea. I'm the biggest sissy when I get sick. I called my mom to whine. I was hoping for some sort of sympathy, maybe even an offer to take the kids for a couple hours so I could get some much needed sleep. Her reply? "Stay the hell away from me! I don't want whatever you have. And I better not already have it!"
Sheesh. What ever happened to maternal sacrifice? Hmphh.
===
Cora's doing much better, thankfully. I always worry the most about the littlest ones, they can't really tell you what's wrong. She's back to her trouble-making little self again though. She managed to climb up an entire flight of (very steep) stairs by herself today. I was right behind her ready to catch, but she didn't need me and kept pushing my hands away. How did my baby get so independent?
===
We watched Flipper (the newer one with Elijah Wood) tonight while I nursed my fever and tried to relax. Chloe LOVED it. I'm all about teaching my kids about the importance of doing things to protect the environment, and this movie was a wonderful illustration of it's importance. Except that I fear I've created a monster. Chloe already understands the meaning of the word organic. We extended that tonight by talking about how most farmers use chemicals on their crops to control weeds and bugs. With a horrified look on her face she said (with an entirely straight face) "I'm going to tell those lazy farmers at Farmer's Market to go out and pull the weeds instead of spraying chemnicals on them!" (Yes, chemnicals.) I'm scared to take her to Farmer's Market again... I can't think of any good way to explain that one away, in case she actually said it.
===
I talked to my grandmother today - my biological mom's mother. We hadn't talked in nearly a year. She's the sweetest woman, and lost her husband to a heart attack in May. I can't imagine being that old, and losing the man you love. It breaks my heart for her. Anyway, we had a great talk, it was nice to catch up. I didn't meet her until I was 20 years old - she didn't even know I existed. She's always emotional when we talk, I think at the thought of all those years of a granddaughter lost. She always tells me that if she'd known about me, she and Dwight (my grandpa) would have taken me and raised me.
===
Anyhow, I suppose that's enough rambling. I'm so exhausted. Unfortunately, neither of my children are, so I guess we'll be up for awhile...
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Misc. Rambling
So we went to Old Chicago's last night for Cora's birthday. We told the waitress it was her birthday, and could they please sing and give her a dessert (just like we did for Chloe on her birthday.) The waitress seemed entirely annoyed that I would request such a thing for a baby. After our meal, she showed up with a pitiful little scoop of ice cream (they usually give you a cookie) and stood there while we sang "Happy Birthday" to her. She said the other wait staff was too busy to sing. That's what I really wanted the most - to see Cora's expression when everyone sang to her, something she'd love. But no, they were too busy. I emailed Old Chicago's. I'm ticked that they couldn't be bothered to celebrate the birthday of a one year old. I hope that girl gets in trouble for acting so annoyed with us.
===
Poor Cora is actually kind of sick. She had a fever Thursday night, 102.7, but woke up Friday morning with a normal temp and acting fine. We played and had fun yesterday for her birthday, went to dinner, and then last night her temp spiked again, to 101.8. She's a little snotty, but not terribly, but her eyes are kind of runny. I'm not sure if it's some kind of conjunctivitis or if it's just part of a cold. I'm wiping her eyes and face down with warm chamomile tea several times a day and hoping it goes away. She's acting fine though, for the most part.
===
The Phantom Husband returned last night. At least, I'm fairly certain he did. There's a big pile of laundry in the closet, and a beer is missing..... He was gone before I woke up.
Okay, I'm exaggerating. I actually spent about an hour talking to him after he got home last night, but he really was gone before I was out of bed, something like 5:00. He left Sunday night, got home late last night, and all I got was an hour before he was asleep and then off to work again. I'm getting so sick of these long hours! One hour a week just isn't gonna cut it.
Seriously, I can complain all I want, but no one else I know gets 17 paid weeks off in one year. I'll take the long weeks on for the weeks off that he gets.
===
So yeah, he's back at work, Cora's a little sick, and Chloe's going to Mark's house for the weekend. (If he calls - I'm not holding my breath.) I'm not sure what's in store for today, maybe a bit of scrapbooking, snuggling, and a bit of shopping? We'll see. Only have one kid is almost like having time to myself. :o)
===
Poor Cora is actually kind of sick. She had a fever Thursday night, 102.7, but woke up Friday morning with a normal temp and acting fine. We played and had fun yesterday for her birthday, went to dinner, and then last night her temp spiked again, to 101.8. She's a little snotty, but not terribly, but her eyes are kind of runny. I'm not sure if it's some kind of conjunctivitis or if it's just part of a cold. I'm wiping her eyes and face down with warm chamomile tea several times a day and hoping it goes away. She's acting fine though, for the most part.
===
The Phantom Husband returned last night. At least, I'm fairly certain he did. There's a big pile of laundry in the closet, and a beer is missing..... He was gone before I woke up.
Okay, I'm exaggerating. I actually spent about an hour talking to him after he got home last night, but he really was gone before I was out of bed, something like 5:00. He left Sunday night, got home late last night, and all I got was an hour before he was asleep and then off to work again. I'm getting so sick of these long hours! One hour a week just isn't gonna cut it.
Seriously, I can complain all I want, but no one else I know gets 17 paid weeks off in one year. I'll take the long weeks on for the weeks off that he gets.
===
So yeah, he's back at work, Cora's a little sick, and Chloe's going to Mark's house for the weekend. (If he calls - I'm not holding my breath.) I'm not sure what's in store for today, maybe a bit of scrapbooking, snuggling, and a bit of shopping? We'll see. Only have one kid is almost like having time to myself. :o)
Monday, February 11, 2008
My mother, the hostile combatant
I'm kind of frustrated with my mom. :o\ And I think she's kind of frustrated with me.
My dad's PSA count was up last time. He fought prostate cancer 5 years ago and has since been cancer free, but the PSA going up isn't a good sign. My mom now has diverticulitis and was having some pretty bad stomach pains there for awhile.
After learning so much about eating healthy, I've come believe that they could probably have a huge impact on their own health if they'd just change their diet a little bit. Okay, more than a little bit. My dad sounds like he's all for it, but my mom, when you bring up the subject, becomes mildly combative and hostile. "I'm not going to start eating vegetarian" she says. "I know all kinds of people that eat healthy and they die of cancer anyway." I wish I could tell her everything I've learned, convince her to eat a few less steaks and cookies, and add more salads. But it won't happen, and she gets kind of mad at me whenever I bring it up.
After hearing about my dad's PSA count, I decided that if someone's going to help get him healthier, it'll have to be me. So Chloe and I juiced a pound of carrots today, put the juice in a mason jar, and walked down to his work to deliver it. He called a bit later to thank me, and said it was good. We'll be going down again tomorrow morning with another dose of carrot juice for him. I figure it can't hurt, at least.
All I want is for them to eat healthier so they live longer lives with fewer health problems. But I guess she doesn't care that much. :o\
My dad's PSA count was up last time. He fought prostate cancer 5 years ago and has since been cancer free, but the PSA going up isn't a good sign. My mom now has diverticulitis and was having some pretty bad stomach pains there for awhile.
After learning so much about eating healthy, I've come believe that they could probably have a huge impact on their own health if they'd just change their diet a little bit. Okay, more than a little bit. My dad sounds like he's all for it, but my mom, when you bring up the subject, becomes mildly combative and hostile. "I'm not going to start eating vegetarian" she says. "I know all kinds of people that eat healthy and they die of cancer anyway." I wish I could tell her everything I've learned, convince her to eat a few less steaks and cookies, and add more salads. But it won't happen, and she gets kind of mad at me whenever I bring it up.
After hearing about my dad's PSA count, I decided that if someone's going to help get him healthier, it'll have to be me. So Chloe and I juiced a pound of carrots today, put the juice in a mason jar, and walked down to his work to deliver it. He called a bit later to thank me, and said it was good. We'll be going down again tomorrow morning with another dose of carrot juice for him. I figure it can't hurt, at least.
All I want is for them to eat healthier so they live longer lives with fewer health problems. But I guess she doesn't care that much. :o\
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Gossip
I thought I'd blog a bit about the latest gossip about my ex husband, because I thought you all would be fascinated by it. Okay, not really - I'm just thinking about it, so it has become the subject of this blog.
Monday, December 24, 2007
The crazy neighbor woman
A couple of days ago, the dog from the house kind of diagonally behind us got into our next door neighbor's yard. It does it fairly often. So the next door neighbor called animal control, because while it was in her yard it destroyed one of her cats. While animal control was out there, I went to see which dog they were taking, and ended up filling out my own report since that dog has caused problems before, and torments my dog through the fence, and tries to knock our fence down. The dog in question is a white boxer, and none too friendly.
So yesterday I stepped out the back door, was standing on the stoop throwing Izzy's toy for her, when the crazy neighbor lady that was the owner of the dog in question came out into her yard. (Our houses sort of back up to the ones on the street south of us. She could see me over our fence since I was standing on the stoop.) She started waving her middle finger in the air. Then she decided that wasn't enough so she started screaming all kind of wonderful obscenities at me - God d*** you and your whole household. I hope you die, and your children too. You're all going to hell. You tell lies, dog hater.
I wish I could describe the way she was screaming. It was sort of like low, gutteral noises, kind of like the ones Chloe makes when she's roaring like a lion. It was really kind of scary. I didn't say a word, just went back inside and called my dog who was growling like mad through a crack in the fence. Then I realized they were standing at their back window watching me as I paced through the house holding Cora. It was rather creepy.
So I called the police. When he came I told him "This seems sort of ridiculous, but that lady just scared the heck out of me." I told him what happened. He went over to her house and was there for a long time - nearly an hour. When he came back he told me, "She's definitely crazy." He said she was emotionally unstable. He said he might advise us to get a restraining order and not to go into our backyard or to let our dog in the back yard. Awesome. So now our poor dog is cooped up in the house and can't go out and run. :-(
My neighbor next door called to see what was going on. I told her the story. She came over with a can of mace and helped me move stuff so I could close the blinds in the living room. Good neighbors are nice to have.
Now I'm afraid for my poor dog's life - I wouldn't put it past them to throw some poisoned meat or something into our yard. I'm afraid to let my kid go out and play for fear she'll hear words no four year old ought to hear. And I'm thoroughly annoyed that we even have to deal with this. Stupid crazy lady.
And then, just to make the evening that much better, we ended up going to Andrew's parents' house last night. They always insist that we come out at night, when his dad is home. I understand his dad wanting to see the baby, but why couldn't they come here? Ugh! So Cora screamed the whole way there - it's a 30 minute drive; she screamed the whole time we were there, almost an hour; and then she finally cried herself to sleep on the drive home. It was terrible. Poor baby just wouldn't calm down. It was her sleepy time, and she was mad that she was awake and being strapped into the car, and it just wasn't good.
Yeah. So it was just a swell night last night.
So yesterday I stepped out the back door, was standing on the stoop throwing Izzy's toy for her, when the crazy neighbor lady that was the owner of the dog in question came out into her yard. (Our houses sort of back up to the ones on the street south of us. She could see me over our fence since I was standing on the stoop.) She started waving her middle finger in the air. Then she decided that wasn't enough so she started screaming all kind of wonderful obscenities at me - God d*** you and your whole household. I hope you die, and your children too. You're all going to hell. You tell lies, dog hater.
I wish I could describe the way she was screaming. It was sort of like low, gutteral noises, kind of like the ones Chloe makes when she's roaring like a lion. It was really kind of scary. I didn't say a word, just went back inside and called my dog who was growling like mad through a crack in the fence. Then I realized they were standing at their back window watching me as I paced through the house holding Cora. It was rather creepy.
So I called the police. When he came I told him "This seems sort of ridiculous, but that lady just scared the heck out of me." I told him what happened. He went over to her house and was there for a long time - nearly an hour. When he came back he told me, "She's definitely crazy." He said she was emotionally unstable. He said he might advise us to get a restraining order and not to go into our backyard or to let our dog in the back yard. Awesome. So now our poor dog is cooped up in the house and can't go out and run. :-(
My neighbor next door called to see what was going on. I told her the story. She came over with a can of mace and helped me move stuff so I could close the blinds in the living room. Good neighbors are nice to have.
Now I'm afraid for my poor dog's life - I wouldn't put it past them to throw some poisoned meat or something into our yard. I'm afraid to let my kid go out and play for fear she'll hear words no four year old ought to hear. And I'm thoroughly annoyed that we even have to deal with this. Stupid crazy lady.
And then, just to make the evening that much better, we ended up going to Andrew's parents' house last night. They always insist that we come out at night, when his dad is home. I understand his dad wanting to see the baby, but why couldn't they come here? Ugh! So Cora screamed the whole way there - it's a 30 minute drive; she screamed the whole time we were there, almost an hour; and then she finally cried herself to sleep on the drive home. It was terrible. Poor baby just wouldn't calm down. It was her sleepy time, and she was mad that she was awake and being strapped into the car, and it just wasn't good.
Yeah. So it was just a swell night last night.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Time spent waiting
The average person spends at least 3 years of their life waiting. That ends up being about 62 minutes a day in a 70 year life.
That seems like a really low estimate.
I spend all day waiting for my husband to get home. I spend about 30 minutes most days waiting for my perpetually late ex-husband to show up with my daughter. I wait in grocery store lines. I wait at red lights. I wait for the mail man. I wait for Chloe to get dressed, to go to the bathroom, to eat her dinner. I wait for the baby to wake up. I wait for the baby to go to sleep. I wait for paint to dry, or glue to dry. I wait in stores to check out. I wait for dinner to cook.
I think nearly all of my life is spent waiting, in one way or another. Isn't that terrible?
And waiting makes me irritable.
=======================================
Today is Sunday. Andrew is working yet again. The only good part of that is that it might get us out of going to his parents' house this evening if he's out late. I'll spend a good portion of the day at my parents' house, having breakfast and just hanging out.
I need to get another ball of yarn for my Monkey socks. I have about 20 flippin' rows left of knitting, and I'm out of yarn. Oooh, that irks me! I made these socks to use up the taupe Paton's Grace I had. Now I'll be left with about the same amount when the socks are finished. How annoying! In the meantime, I've started the "leafy lace scarf" out of a silk/wool blend for my sister in law. It's pretty. I hope she likes it.
Have I gone off about my ex mother in law and Santa yet? Forgive me if this is a repeat vent, I'm so mad about it! Chloe told me the other day, "Santa isn't coming to our house." I asked her what on earth she meant and she said "Santa goes to Silver Grammy's house. She told me." Silver Grammy is Mark's mother - the psychotic drunken bitch. (ahem. Please pardon the language.) She told my daughter that Santa Claus will not come to our house, but that he will come to her house the night BEFORE Christmas Eve. Why the hell would she tell my little girl that, other than to try to take away Christmas from us?
So I told her the truth. I said, "Honey, Silver Grammy is just crazy. Santa won't go to her house. She's just an old lady, and Santa only visits kids and their homes. And this is your home." And then I reiterated the crazy part. She said that she has a stocking at her grandmother's house that Santa will fill. I said, "no, honey. She's going to put things in that stocking. Santa is too busy the night before Christmas Eve, he won't go anywhere until Christmas Eve. Your grammy just doesn't know what she's talking about."
:oX
That woman makes me crazy. I go from the psychotic drunken mother in law that needs a little bit of religion in her life to the psychotically religious mother in law who could stand to have a drink or two.
That seems like a really low estimate.
I spend all day waiting for my husband to get home. I spend about 30 minutes most days waiting for my perpetually late ex-husband to show up with my daughter. I wait in grocery store lines. I wait at red lights. I wait for the mail man. I wait for Chloe to get dressed, to go to the bathroom, to eat her dinner. I wait for the baby to wake up. I wait for the baby to go to sleep. I wait for paint to dry, or glue to dry. I wait in stores to check out. I wait for dinner to cook.
I think nearly all of my life is spent waiting, in one way or another. Isn't that terrible?
And waiting makes me irritable.
=======================================
Today is Sunday. Andrew is working yet again. The only good part of that is that it might get us out of going to his parents' house this evening if he's out late. I'll spend a good portion of the day at my parents' house, having breakfast and just hanging out.
I need to get another ball of yarn for my Monkey socks. I have about 20 flippin' rows left of knitting, and I'm out of yarn. Oooh, that irks me! I made these socks to use up the taupe Paton's Grace I had. Now I'll be left with about the same amount when the socks are finished. How annoying! In the meantime, I've started the "leafy lace scarf" out of a silk/wool blend for my sister in law. It's pretty. I hope she likes it.
Have I gone off about my ex mother in law and Santa yet? Forgive me if this is a repeat vent, I'm so mad about it! Chloe told me the other day, "Santa isn't coming to our house." I asked her what on earth she meant and she said "Santa goes to Silver Grammy's house. She told me." Silver Grammy is Mark's mother - the psychotic drunken bitch. (ahem. Please pardon the language.) She told my daughter that Santa Claus will not come to our house, but that he will come to her house the night BEFORE Christmas Eve. Why the hell would she tell my little girl that, other than to try to take away Christmas from us?
So I told her the truth. I said, "Honey, Silver Grammy is just crazy. Santa won't go to her house. She's just an old lady, and Santa only visits kids and their homes. And this is your home." And then I reiterated the crazy part. She said that she has a stocking at her grandmother's house that Santa will fill. I said, "no, honey. She's going to put things in that stocking. Santa is too busy the night before Christmas Eve, he won't go anywhere until Christmas Eve. Your grammy just doesn't know what she's talking about."
:oX
That woman makes me crazy. I go from the psychotic drunken mother in law that needs a little bit of religion in her life to the psychotically religious mother in law who could stand to have a drink or two.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Rough afternoon...
Oy vey. All week long I've been exhausted to the core by evening, but I'm more than exhausted right now. Not sure the word, but it's been a rough afternoon.
All was well till Cora woke up at four from her long nap, and then everything kinda fell apart. She's usually okay as long as I'm up and moving and she's in the sling - it's as soon as she realizes I had the nerve to sit down that she starts crying again. So I managed to make Chloe a peanut butter and banana sandwich for dinner, and made some macaroni and cheese out of a box for myself. (What will I do when Andrew is home in the evening and I have to cook real dinners again?!) So I made dinner with her in the sling all the while. Of course, I'm not permitted to sit down and eat, so I managed to get down about half a bowl in between strolls through the kitchen. In the meantime, Chloe was playing with the dog in the living room, when all of a sudden she screams something about "Izzy eating Andrew's chair." Yep, she was right. Something possessed our usually well-behaved dog to chew off a corner of the arm rest on the recliner. Lovely.
So Chloe starts coloring, I wash dishes, straighten up, fold laundry, etc. with Cora in the sling. All I wanted was to sit, but the only way she's happy is if I'm walking, so I figured at least get some stuff done. After awhile, it occurred to me I had no movie to watch tonight (it's become a nightly ritual) and I had no more yarn for the project I'm currently working on. I'm not sure I could survive a night of just walking around in silence without something occupying my hands, so I decided a trip to Blockbuster and Michael's was in order. After all, Cora's happy as long as I'm moving, right? She actually was pretty good. So we get to Blockbuster, grab the first movie that looks decent, stand in line halfway til forever and then try to check out. Do I have my card? No, I don't - I never got one when Andrew added me to the account, but it's never been an issue in the year and a half I've been renting movies there. Will an ID work? Nope, not anymore apparently. Awesome. I was really pissed. A lot more upset than the situation called for. I'm blaming it on hormones. But I held it together, got the girls back in the car, and headed to Michael's. Thankfully there were no issues there.
I would like to say though, that over the past few days, I've realized what a wonderfully behaved little girl Chloe is. She has her moments, but she's just been awesome every time we've gone anywhere. Makes me think there is hope for me as a mother yet.
So anyhow, here we are, a couple hours later. Chloe got her bath, had her milk and cookies, we had a spelling/letters/phonics lesson using fridge magnets while I paced the kitchen with Cora in the sling. I'm currently sitting here with her attached to me still, she just hasn't realized that I'm sitting yet. It's coming, I know, so I better hurry up and finish venting. :-P Every so often she does the whole "Look Mom, I'm so hungry I'm actually eating my own hand" thing, so I put her to breast, where she proceeds to lick my nipple a few times, crunch it between her gums a few times, then spit it out and look at me like I've done something utterly offensive and lets out another wail. She's not hungry - she's drained both sides at least 4 times in the past two hours.
Hopefully she'll fall asleep for real sometime in the next hour or so. My back hurts from all this slinging, I have muscles that haven't been used since Chloe was a babe. I really need to finish folding laundry, I haven't showered and I have baby puke in my hair, I'm still hungry, having never finished my pathetic excuse for dinner.... but mostly, I'm just exhausted.
Dejected. i think that's the word for how I feel right now.
It's been a rough afternoon, I need to go to sleep and wake up to a fresh, new day.
Thanks for letting me whine, back to your regularly scheduled programming!
All was well till Cora woke up at four from her long nap, and then everything kinda fell apart. She's usually okay as long as I'm up and moving and she's in the sling - it's as soon as she realizes I had the nerve to sit down that she starts crying again. So I managed to make Chloe a peanut butter and banana sandwich for dinner, and made some macaroni and cheese out of a box for myself. (What will I do when Andrew is home in the evening and I have to cook real dinners again?!) So I made dinner with her in the sling all the while. Of course, I'm not permitted to sit down and eat, so I managed to get down about half a bowl in between strolls through the kitchen. In the meantime, Chloe was playing with the dog in the living room, when all of a sudden she screams something about "Izzy eating Andrew's chair." Yep, she was right. Something possessed our usually well-behaved dog to chew off a corner of the arm rest on the recliner. Lovely.
So Chloe starts coloring, I wash dishes, straighten up, fold laundry, etc. with Cora in the sling. All I wanted was to sit, but the only way she's happy is if I'm walking, so I figured at least get some stuff done. After awhile, it occurred to me I had no movie to watch tonight (it's become a nightly ritual) and I had no more yarn for the project I'm currently working on. I'm not sure I could survive a night of just walking around in silence without something occupying my hands, so I decided a trip to Blockbuster and Michael's was in order. After all, Cora's happy as long as I'm moving, right? She actually was pretty good. So we get to Blockbuster, grab the first movie that looks decent, stand in line halfway til forever and then try to check out. Do I have my card? No, I don't - I never got one when Andrew added me to the account, but it's never been an issue in the year and a half I've been renting movies there. Will an ID work? Nope, not anymore apparently. Awesome. I was really pissed. A lot more upset than the situation called for. I'm blaming it on hormones. But I held it together, got the girls back in the car, and headed to Michael's. Thankfully there were no issues there.
I would like to say though, that over the past few days, I've realized what a wonderfully behaved little girl Chloe is. She has her moments, but she's just been awesome every time we've gone anywhere. Makes me think there is hope for me as a mother yet.
So anyhow, here we are, a couple hours later. Chloe got her bath, had her milk and cookies, we had a spelling/letters/phonics lesson using fridge magnets while I paced the kitchen with Cora in the sling. I'm currently sitting here with her attached to me still, she just hasn't realized that I'm sitting yet. It's coming, I know, so I better hurry up and finish venting. :-P Every so often she does the whole "Look Mom, I'm so hungry I'm actually eating my own hand" thing, so I put her to breast, where she proceeds to lick my nipple a few times, crunch it between her gums a few times, then spit it out and look at me like I've done something utterly offensive and lets out another wail. She's not hungry - she's drained both sides at least 4 times in the past two hours.
Hopefully she'll fall asleep for real sometime in the next hour or so. My back hurts from all this slinging, I have muscles that haven't been used since Chloe was a babe. I really need to finish folding laundry, I haven't showered and I have baby puke in my hair, I'm still hungry, having never finished my pathetic excuse for dinner.... but mostly, I'm just exhausted.
Dejected. i think that's the word for how I feel right now.
It's been a rough afternoon, I need to go to sleep and wake up to a fresh, new day.
Thanks for letting me whine, back to your regularly scheduled programming!
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