Friday, March 21, 2008
My Friend Marv
Since myspace is all about friends/networking I thought I should share my friend Marv because he can't have his own myspace account. I'm not sure of his age or sexual orientation but his occupation is trapping, disarming and consuming bugs. Yeah bugs, Marv is a spider. Every night he spins a web outside my kitchen sink window, catches his prey and then wraps things up very early in the morning. He actually either eats or just grabs his web quickly as the sky is getting lighter and disappers until dark. If I were a fancy writer I would provided a brillant description of the glowing sun exploding as it appears on the horizon just over yonder from the big red barn, but I'm not, so use your own imagination. Anyway, I've never seen such an orderly fellow (well, that's a lie, I can think of 3 men...) and if I weren't such an honest girl I might consider having an affair with him (if he would tidy my house that is). The spider, the affair with the spider! Not one of the 3 men (one is my dad and that would be unthinkable). He has all the qualities I would seek out in a mate: he is handsome (well, as handsome as a hairy grey spider can be, I'm sure the other spiders dig him), he starts and finishes a project, he is self-sufficient, he cleans up after himself, he disappears during the day, he has minimal debt (gosh, probably no debt, we aren't charging him to live under the siding by the window), he is physically fit, and as far as I can tell doesn't ask for much. That, is my friend Marv and I'm enthralled by him.
8 Random Things #2
here is no worse hell than balancing the checkbook when you are the wife of a farmer in the middle of a drought. If I never post again it is because I threw myself in front of the tractor so hubby could pay off the loans with the insurance money. It would be a noble way to die in these parts.
8 Random Things #1
The ring I wear on my right pinky finger was given to me by my sister when I graduated with my B.A. and has "Live your dreams" engraved on the inside.
Moving On Part II-The Loot
I'm aiming to live like the woman who built a house the size of a parking space (84 square feet!) and allows herself 300 items total at all times. Therefore if she brings something in, something else must leave. We have over 300 Little People alone but that doesn't mean I'm not always working my way in that direction. The only obstacle I face is that I don't have the support of the rest of my immediate family, especially my daughter. The last time I cleaned her room I came away with 3 garbage bags of "loot", none of which would have met her approval for disposal. She willingly flushes used toilet paper and tosses used Kleenex, besides that she has a level of personal attachment to items that I will never understand.
We have found her forging through the garbage can in search of items that I have deemed to be useless (tags from clothing, old art work, broken crayons, popped balloons, etc.). So now I must put the items in a bag and hide the bag until she is gone or asleep before I haul it to the outside garbage. Even then I sometimes blow my cover when a stupid talking toy starts expressing itself on the way to the road because I forgot to remove the batteries. Close your eyes and imagine Elmo chicken dancing his way to the dump-I can't tell you how many nights I have dreamed this very dream!
In my own little private way I have started to move on from the baby making business, a business that I have obviously been very adept at these past 8 years (I think I must have been brainwashed by some cult). I have come to the conclusion that it must end at some point and now is a good time to say good-bye to the sling, the breast pump, the bouncy seat and floor-gym-mat-thingy. All infant related items are making their way out the door, maybe slowly but surely. The blue patterned sling that held all 3 boys (child 1 was denied this opportunity as I was the clueless first time parent) for hours and hours, to the point where I harbored wretched feelings towards it, was at the top of the loot pile this past week. It wasn't singing on the way to the landfill like Elmo, but in a small way it was a coveted dream nonetheless.
We have found her forging through the garbage can in search of items that I have deemed to be useless (tags from clothing, old art work, broken crayons, popped balloons, etc.). So now I must put the items in a bag and hide the bag until she is gone or asleep before I haul it to the outside garbage. Even then I sometimes blow my cover when a stupid talking toy starts expressing itself on the way to the road because I forgot to remove the batteries. Close your eyes and imagine Elmo chicken dancing his way to the dump-I can't tell you how many nights I have dreamed this very dream!
In my own little private way I have started to move on from the baby making business, a business that I have obviously been very adept at these past 8 years (I think I must have been brainwashed by some cult). I have come to the conclusion that it must end at some point and now is a good time to say good-bye to the sling, the breast pump, the bouncy seat and floor-gym-mat-thingy. All infant related items are making their way out the door, maybe slowly but surely. The blue patterned sling that held all 3 boys (child 1 was denied this opportunity as I was the clueless first time parent) for hours and hours, to the point where I harbored wretched feelings towards it, was at the top of the loot pile this past week. It wasn't singing on the way to the landfill like Elmo, but in a small way it was a coveted dream nonetheless.
About 8 Random Things
I have noticed on some of the blogs I read that the blog writers are being "tagged" to list 8 random things about themselves that I'm presuming others don't know (otherwise what is the point?). I have not been tagged but I find it intriguing that people attempt this task. When I try to think of 8 things that are personal enough that no one knows them, I wonder if I would want to share them, because they are, well, personal. Not weird-personal or dirty-personal, just mine to keep and have. A piece of me that no one has taken away, something for safe keeping. Then I wonder if the unveiling of our private selves is for our benefit or the gain of others. Do we want to share these things but have no other way to do it but in written form? Are we too scared to have a verbally intimate conversation with those that would "care" about our disclosures? Do others even really want to know what has been divulged?
After considering what 8 things I would list (I had difficulty coming up with 8) it occurred to me the people that really know me would either already be aware of these "quirks" or would not be dumfounded by them. For example, I eat a banana EVERY day in the morning after I brush my teeth. Really? Is that why 90% of the time someone catches me going to the supermarket I am on my way to buy bananas even though there are already a pile in my fruit bowl at home. I'm as paranoid of running out of bananas as I am of not having a worthy book waiting for me when I go to bed. Now see, I can't think of anyone that would care about my banana issues or my book issues (except the library, because I am a book hoarder or whore, I can't decide which one). Writing about them doesn't change me or certainly (I hope) the way people view me. So why on earth do we feel compelled to share such information? Most of the lists that I have perused (one example) expose such similar information.
After considering what 8 things I would list (I had difficulty coming up with 8) it occurred to me the people that really know me would either already be aware of these "quirks" or would not be dumfounded by them. For example, I eat a banana EVERY day in the morning after I brush my teeth. Really? Is that why 90% of the time someone catches me going to the supermarket I am on my way to buy bananas even though there are already a pile in my fruit bowl at home. I'm as paranoid of running out of bananas as I am of not having a worthy book waiting for me when I go to bed. Now see, I can't think of anyone that would care about my banana issues or my book issues (except the library, because I am a book hoarder or whore, I can't decide which one). Writing about them doesn't change me or certainly (I hope) the way people view me. So why on earth do we feel compelled to share such information? Most of the lists that I have perused (one example) expose such similar information.
Moving On Part I-The Cleaning of the Van
First off, the person that invented the car seat was a genius. I can't imagine driving with the cell phone at my ear, a latte in one hand, and beating the little ones off as they creep up from behind. Those wonderful seats keep them contained, just the way I imagined parenthood to be. However, I loathe the committee that approved the original model and did not press for a self-cleaning option. The presence of a well-seasoned mother was obviously missing from their dialogue.
For a few weeks now our van has been smelling less than fresh, oh I guess I'll just be really honest and say that it had that nasty rotten milk smell to it. I'm fastidious about my house but the kid-traveling vehicle is another story, I keep it clean enough that it is acceptable yet I don't go crazy every week with the vacuum and car cleaning stuff.
I was especially motivated to find the offensive smell as plans for an actual vacation for myself were in the works. Yes, a "vacation" which means taking no children or just those children that will be less of a burden, as opposed to a "trip" which involves traveling a long distance with children that will demand every ounce of energy I possess.
It didn't take long to find the "problem". Child 4 that does not like to eat due to some fairly substantial mouth trauma as a baby and his natural genetic disposition to sensory processing disorder has spent much of the past year drinking liquids instead. The soymilk was tolerable but I wasn't thrilled about the studies that suggest the phyto-estrogen in it can mimic estrogen in the body. Once I was sure he could handle cow milk we switched to that in the lactose free form. One big difference between soy and cow is that when soy spills it doesn't stink when it is dry while we all know what rotten milk smells like!
Anyway, although I hated to do it, I pulled the damn seat out and let the dog eat all the crumbs left on the real seat in the van. On a side note the dog loves van cleaning day, in fact I've gotten so smart about it that I let her in there first to clean up the initial large chunks of dog-edible goodness. After I pulled the seat out I proceeded to do the unmentionable and dismantled the car seat cover from the plastic seat. Any parent that has done this knows what a pain it is and why someone would drive around in a rotten smelling van before admitting that yes, it is the van that smells and not the dirty kids clammoring in and out of it. At first I wasn't convinced that the smell was coming from the seat itself but once the cover was removed there was no denying it. Child 4 was attemting to make cottage cheese on all those long drives to art and violin lessons. He would show us for dragging him around day after day to activites that had nothing to do with making him well-rounded and culturally sensitive!
We now have a "fresh" smelling van and Child 4 is only allowed water while traveling. In my frenzy I even cleaned the coffee stains in the carpet (don't even think that I am only allowed water while traveling, dried coffee has a delectable smell!). I even made it to the hidden rear compartment where I store extra clothes for each child and the sling for the "baby" that is now almost two...
For a few weeks now our van has been smelling less than fresh, oh I guess I'll just be really honest and say that it had that nasty rotten milk smell to it. I'm fastidious about my house but the kid-traveling vehicle is another story, I keep it clean enough that it is acceptable yet I don't go crazy every week with the vacuum and car cleaning stuff.
I was especially motivated to find the offensive smell as plans for an actual vacation for myself were in the works. Yes, a "vacation" which means taking no children or just those children that will be less of a burden, as opposed to a "trip" which involves traveling a long distance with children that will demand every ounce of energy I possess.
It didn't take long to find the "problem". Child 4 that does not like to eat due to some fairly substantial mouth trauma as a baby and his natural genetic disposition to sensory processing disorder has spent much of the past year drinking liquids instead. The soymilk was tolerable but I wasn't thrilled about the studies that suggest the phyto-estrogen in it can mimic estrogen in the body. Once I was sure he could handle cow milk we switched to that in the lactose free form. One big difference between soy and cow is that when soy spills it doesn't stink when it is dry while we all know what rotten milk smells like!
Anyway, although I hated to do it, I pulled the damn seat out and let the dog eat all the crumbs left on the real seat in the van. On a side note the dog loves van cleaning day, in fact I've gotten so smart about it that I let her in there first to clean up the initial large chunks of dog-edible goodness. After I pulled the seat out I proceeded to do the unmentionable and dismantled the car seat cover from the plastic seat. Any parent that has done this knows what a pain it is and why someone would drive around in a rotten smelling van before admitting that yes, it is the van that smells and not the dirty kids clammoring in and out of it. At first I wasn't convinced that the smell was coming from the seat itself but once the cover was removed there was no denying it. Child 4 was attemting to make cottage cheese on all those long drives to art and violin lessons. He would show us for dragging him around day after day to activites that had nothing to do with making him well-rounded and culturally sensitive!
We now have a "fresh" smelling van and Child 4 is only allowed water while traveling. In my frenzy I even cleaned the coffee stains in the carpet (don't even think that I am only allowed water while traveling, dried coffee has a delectable smell!). I even made it to the hidden rear compartment where I store extra clothes for each child and the sling for the "baby" that is now almost two...
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Even Way Back When
If anyone had told me before marriage and kids that it would be this way I would never have believed it:
Women never have an half-hour in all their lives (except before and after anybody is up in the house) that they can call their own, without fear of offending or of hurting someone. Why do people sit up late, or, more rarely, get up so early? Not because the day is not long enough, but because they have "no time in the day to themselves."
All of these women, all of these years, surviving and prevailing and shining even though we are so limited with our own time. Florence Nightingale has summed up in three sentences what it is like to be a woman. I think she may be my new hero
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
