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Jenny advised me to put some favorite posts in the side bar. You can't not follow her advice. To your right, unless you read upside down, you will see the self centered hokey pokey. Also, a link to John's flickr page, which is mostly filled with the incredible nature shots he gets at work.
Nap time.
I am in the same coffee cup shaped boat as Nina. The stuff I enjoyed about being at blogher was the same stuff that motivates me to blog in the first place; the talking and listening and community making. Can I html code? Not without superhuman effort. Is it good or bad to email someone higher on the ladder and ask them to link to you? I never wondered about it before. So, the sessions were interesting, thought provoking and even fun, but for me the real content was all milling about in the hallways, balancing coffee on those fucking binders that didn't fit in the free bag. I'll shut up about the bags.
I want to say, now that I don't have a microphone invisibly sucking out my ability to form a sentence (though I am really tired this morning, and just typing is a bit of a chore in itself), that 'mommy' bloggers are, or can be, political. I think it's important to tell people that being a parent is hard. That sometimes (when the children are gleefully pushing your buttons while you try to get an entire bag of uncooked rice out of the burners on the stove while wearing your pajamas at 11:45 am and the mailman comes to the door and your child answers naked with scissors in one hand and a popsicle in the other, or usually in less extreme cases), the 'reward' of parenting seems puny or elusive or non-existent. It's important to let people know that being a parent is more about learning than instinct. Really, I think most of my instincts about it are wrong, because my instinct is telling me to give it whatever it wants so that it will not shriek at me. (right now, Sophie is licking me. and the computer mouse) The reason it is so vital to tell this truth is that many women who feel this way, who don't feel like they are maternal or able or competent, think that they are doing something wrong. It is so much easier to cope with feeling inadequate when you discover that you aren't inadequate, but you are a real, normal parent. And once you feel that way, parenting gets easier and healthier because you are now free to focus on what works instead of hating yourself and questioning every decision you make.
I have to get the whole famdamily to a birthday party in an hour. We have to make two trips because the new van won't be ours till tomorrow night.
A google search for 'blogher' brings up 267,000 matches (there's Jenny, top of page two!) but the question at the bottom remains, 'Did you mean blogger?'
No. I meant blogher. DUH
I'm going to sleep. You can read it all here and here and here and here. Add your own here in comments.
(the random play on this computer loves me. there are thousands of songs, but I always get to hear 'resigned' by mumble and peg at the right time. happiness)
All that remains before NASA can clear Discovery and its seven astronauts for landing is an inspection Friday by a new laser-tipped boom that will provide 3-D views of scraped thermal tiles on the shuttle's belly. The 100-foot crane will be able to determine the depth of what looks to be surface-coating damage, said John Shannon, flight operations manager.
From this article, about the space flight.
Right now my dad is working at mission control in Houston, monitoring the images and making sure the camera on the boom is working. He helped design it, and he is a member of the return to flight team.
My dad can totally kick your dad's ass.
I love the sound of Willow's laugh so much that sometimes I tickle her too much and she barfs. Sorry, baby.
There are lots of sounds I don't want to hear while I'm driving. In the past week I've been able to experience most all of them ~ the woman in the car next to me telling me my brake light is out; the kids bickering; Lexy yelling over the roar of the wind (we paid 600 bucks last summer to fix the a/c I can't live without and now if we run it the car stalls) "MOM!!! WHAT'S BIRTH CONTROL PILLS???" You know -- BAD SOUNDS. Today had extra bad sounds though. Today was the sound of my heart pounding like mad as I realized that when I turned the corner, onto a downhill street, my car stalled, again. That was followed by the sound of the brake pedal not working. Then I oofed and cursed while trying to steer the heaviest car ever without power steering. Then I realized that I was about to coast into oncoming traffic with my babies in the car. It's bad to use such language within earshot of the kids, so I redirected my energy into getting the car into neutral so I could restart it and get home, or at least to the curb. Here's where the really really bad sound comes in. The sound of me not being able to see the gear selection light up thing on the dash (cause no power) and accidentally putting it first in reverse, then in park, WHILE STILL ROLLING before realizing that I should have shifted DOWN for neutral rather than up. The bad bad sound was of the huge clunking and thunking kind. The sound of what I think was the linkage breaking, the gear box incinerating and the transmission falling onto the pavement. The transmission didn't really fall out, though.
Yeah. So. We are all safe. I got it to the curb and got the ebrake set. I didn't even crash into the truck parked there like I was certain I would. Luckily I have a new car to pick up on Monday. We bought (my parents, I should say, loaned us the money to buy) a nissan minivan. I'm eternally grateful to them for helping us out. My sister was headed over to my place to babysit for me anyway, so I called her and she picked up the kids and took them home while I waited for the tow truck. Anyone want a free van? Needs a little work.
I have to go start figuring out what to wear to blogher.
I've had it with my fucking van.
I am so tired of spending six hundred bucks every couple of months on things and ending up with an unsafe and unreliable car. It can't even take us to the beach!! The mechanic who helped us last time was great, and did exactly what I asked. I should have asked him to do the diagnostic, instead of just having him fix what the other shop told me to. But, who knows, maybe it's just a lemon. It stalls on me; at stoplights, while I'm driving down the street minding my own business. I'm afraid that someone will plow into the back of us and I don't even want to think about that. So, my parents (who are ready for me to win the lottery, big time) have offered (well, I asked) to loan us some money to get a new/used minivan. I'm thinking either honda, toyota or nissan. Any feedback? My step-dad recommends a dodge, cause his lasted forever, but the one I have now is a dodge, just under another label.
I'm ready for teleporting. Will someone please get on it?!
Yesterday I couldn't get into my blog because Typepad kept refusing the connection. Today is (duh) better though. Not that I have anything to say, really. I have to go out and put some transmission fluid in the van. It's acting up again so I called my brother in a panic and he reminded me that this happened before and it got better when I put transmission fluid in, since there seems to be a leak. All this got me to wondering if I should just hire people around me to remember things for me. I sure as hell don't seem to be able to.
I need to go redirect Willow. She is playing with a football, a stuffed dog and a mini (hard, real wood) baseball bat. I don't see any good coming from that.
I really wish that she was my next-door neighbor. But oh my lord, we could never babysit for each other. (not cause our kids aren't fabulous, but because all together there would be eight of them and that would break me)
The other day I tried out the pilates/yoga class at the gym. (I refuse to call it "pi-yo" like they do. LAME) After the class I talked to a woman who has three kids under three; three month old twins and a two and a halfer. She had a c-section with the twins, so I asked her if she, too, felt like her c-section incision was going to split open during the abdominal exercises. She looked at me all concerned and asked when I'd had my c-section. I told her two and a half years ago. Hmmmm, she said, I didn't feel that at all, but I started doing sit ups six weeks postpartum.
Yeah.
I, uh, *knew* I was supposed to do that. But I forgot. For two and a half years. Glad she reminded me.
That's right. The blog is now three, which around here means it's officially a preschooler and no longer a toddler.
I have had an eventful morning. We all got up and got Lexy off to music camp without too much fuss. Just the usual discussions over why chocolate chip cookies don't qualify as breakfast food, and why it's impossible to watch an episode of the Simpsons in the eight minutes we have until it's time to head for the car. I'd given Lexy my only cash, conveniently the exact amount he needed to purchase a song book and cd to help out with his guitar learning. Before we got out of the driveway (and after the money was lost, taken by Sophie, lost again, and then finally in Lexy's pocket) I realized two things: one; I was nearly out of gas, two; John has my atm card and the twenty he'd taken out for me yesterday and since I have no credit cards (other than my atm/visa card) I wouldn't be able to get gas without a trip to the bank, which was not going to happen with all the kids and before 9 a.m. I made Lexy give me back the cash so I could get gas. He was crabby, but I told him I'd bring a check when I picked him up and kissed him goodbye. Then, with NO GAS TO SPARE, I found myself blocked into the parking space by the woman behind me who was chatting with her friend and would not back up to let me out. I had to make a twenty-seven point turn to get out and she was oblivious. Grrrrrr.
I drive out of the school driveway, and get a block or two, only to discover a large suv blocking my way. The street the school is on is a circle, and this was at the bend where it doubles back. After the way was clear, I started to go on my way, only to discover why the suv was turning around: lots and lots of broken glass all over the road. So, I too, turned around to head home. I passed the cop that I'd passed earlier, and thankfully he didn't pull me over. I was certainly speeding the first time I passed him. I still had a few drops of gas left, and I had already scoped out the cheapest of the three gas stations that I'd passed on the way ($2.51.9) and was headed there, when I felt like there was a piece of fuzz in the back of my throat.
Now, I have been having this problem lately, where I feel like there's a hair in my throat and I throw up. It's happened about four times in a month or two. I have always had a strong gag reflex, but this is getting ridiculous. (I suspect it has something to do with having a schatzki's ring)
Here I am, driving down the road, barfing into a disposable diaper and looking for the gas station. I had to pull over on a side street because the main road was dotted with no parking signs. The whole time I was sitting in front of someones house being very sick, the kids were asking me for stuff and wanting to know what we are going to do today. I finally got to the gas station, put in ten bucks worth, and started home. I called my mom to tell her that the place John interviewed at last month called back and wants to interview him again. They practically offered him the job in the call back. I had to hang up so I could barf. "Don't worry, I'm not pregnant!" I yelled into the phone before hanging up. Then, at a stoplight, the van stalled. While throwing up into the diaper, I put on the hazard lights and got the van into park. It started again and I finally made it home. I really don't want to leave the house again.
I'm hoping that was all the excitement I'm going to get today, other than finishing up the Arry-Ha Otter-Pa book.
We are all racing to finish the one copy of Harry Potter. I'm ahead of the boys and they keep pumping me for information. JK would be so very proud of my restraint.
Just noticed there seems to be a LARGE fire nearby. Gonna go see if we need to scoot.
updated to add
The fire is farish away, but the smoke is congregating at my place. Guess I ought to go shut the windows. Wah.
I am more melty than the Witch of the West, and bitchier too, of course! It's about 85 degrees in our unairconditioned house. A bit of a breeze is beginning to come in, but we are all crankpots. Stinky, sweaty, fruit and popsicle eating (therefore, sticky) crankpots.
I took the boys to see this movie today, just the three of us. I wasn't sure I'd like it, since the original is one of my favorites, but I was happily amazed. I told my mom (she watched the girls since John had plans) when we got back, that the first movie was like a childhood sweetheart, whereas this one was the current love. They're both great, really, and it's pointless to compare them. (Allison, I don't know if you're still out there, but I remember that you were waiting for this to come out. What did you think and how are you? Miss you!)
I wonder if we can get our hands on a copy of the newest Arry-hay Otter-pay book tomorrow. Will all the stores be sold out? It's so hyped everywhere that I wonder if anyone will have any.
Ugh. I feel like I'm in a sauna. I don't think I'd ever voluntarily go into a sauna. I'm more of a crisp, autumn day girl, really. My brain doesn't seem to be working correctly. Think I'll put the kids who are still awake to bed so that I can take another shower and put all my energy into drinking another big cup of cranberry and orange juice with bubbly water. We had cheese, cantaloupe, raw red bell peppers and cold turkey (for the carnivores) for supper. I didn't have to cook, but I was sweating just slicing and dicing. I hope it gets a little better soon.
Last night the three big kids all slept on the bottom bunk of the boys' bunk bed. They left the window open and the fan blowing on them, but it was still hot. I sat up watching the rest of Six Feet Under's first season, drinking iced peppermint tea. Sophie kept coughing so I went in to give her a sip of my tea and help her get back to sleep. By the time I got to the doorway she was quiet again. The light was dim, but I could just see the shape of Lexy's leg, hanging off the bed a little. I looked at him in the dark, and for whatever reason it struck me how big he is. He's nearly tall as I am and where he used to be a little scrawny, he's now thicker. I feel like he's starting over again in a way. He grew from a tiny little thing into this boy, and that part is done. Now he's been reborn as a young pre-teenager and he's got a whole new sort of life to figure out. We are both novices again. I'm just starting to get a handle on how to parent little kids and he's suddenly more like a young adult. The man he is going to become is starting to make an appearance.
Later on, I heard Nate get up and do his sleepwalking-pee routine. He gets up in the night because he has to pee, but he doesn't fully wake up, he just stumbles around until he finds a light and feels linoleum under his feet, then he pees. More than once it has been in front of the dishwasher, because the kitchen light was left on as a nightlight. (I know I should leave a light on in the bathroom, but it shines straight into the bedroom and keeps them up.) So. Last night I intercepted him and steered him by the shoulders to the toilet. I have to lift the seat and everything because all he is capable of is peeing. When he finished he sort of woke up a little and turned toward the mirror. I was standing behind him and crossed my arms over his chest and kissed him on the top of the head. I was looking at his little arms and shoulders and seeing how small he looks now that Lexy looks so big. He looked at me in the mirror and gave me a smile. An all-baby-teeth smile. I love you, Mom, he said. And I got all melancholy because he's almost done being a little boy, too. I know it's selfish, but I'm going to miss them wanting to be with me all the time and show me things and talk to me.
I'd best deal with these feelings now. Otherwise I'm going to end up one of those well-meaning but irritating and desperate mother-in-laws someday.
Where did THAT all come from?? I was just going to write something funny about Nate's nighttime pee adventures.
Edited to add:
Hmmm. After writing that post I did my much loved and too infrequent coffee drinking blog reading. This Jenny said what I wanted to say the way I wish I could say it. Must be something going around this morning.
My sister let me borrow the first season of Six Feet Under. Yeah, I live under a rock. I'm so hooked on it that last night when I went to grab the box set thingy and watch (smacks inside of forearm a few times) one more episode before I go to sleep, just one, and it wasn't there; well! I totally flipped out. I nearly had a panic attack and I said all sorts of punishable by no dessert words. My sister was over earlier that day to babysit, and I thought she'd taken it back. I may have started to cry. May. have. Then, I saw it on a shelf that was higher than the shelf where I'd left it the last time I had my fix. And I was so so so so so happy. I watched two episodes and stayed up till nearly 1:30 am. The end.
Oh, hell. I'm going to go watch one more. I haven't seen any today, after all. You know that if the gym had a dvd player hooked up to the treadmill and I could watch there I would weigh four pounds. But I'm worried because I heard that between the first season and now there was some not as good quality stuff happening. That's okay, we all have our flaws.
John seems to have gotten the camera to work for us again, so here are pictures of the spiders (I want to call one of them Miette, but haven't named the other) and the fabulous amazing quilt stuff my mom gave me. Does anyone know what I should do with the diamond sort of shaped strips?? There are 24 pieces in each strip, and I'll have about eleven strips when I finish sewing the cut pieces. Enough to make a quilt for our queen sized bed. Maybe I should work with the circle pieces first, since I think I can figure out what to do with those. I'm not a quilter, yet, but I love quilts. When I was photographing the fabric my mouth was watering!
I'm glad that our friend Nigel the tube driver from London was in the office rather than driving a train yesterday morning. And so very very sad for everyone who was not so fortunate. Grace says:
Fundamentalism is ruining the human landscape. And yes, I include the hateful and bigoted American Christian fundamentalists in this, as well.
And that really made me think about how I grew up with a sizable worry about the cold war turning into an actual war (thanks in large part to those 80's movies with emilio estevez -- red dawn and all that other crap), but my kids will grow up knowing that getting on a plane or train or going to any event where there are thousands of people could really be dangerous beyond the normal risks. Oh. I really don't have the right words for all this. And I worry about saying anything at all for fear of being misunderstood.
In the most selfish way of looking at things, I guess I'd just like to be able to watch my kids playing outside -- blowing bubbles and playing tag and laughing with those sweet belly-giggles -- without feeling so sad about the world they are growing up in. Maybe every parent in every time feels it; I don't know. It was said (I don't know how accurate this is, though) that the oldest known letter is from a father to his son, who was away at school. It said something like, study hard, don't drink too much wine, stay away from those tempting women hanging out by the Parthenon. . . the point is that everything changes while kinda staying the same. Only, I don't know, to me it feels like things have really changed. Irreversibly for the worse.
Yeah. I'm a little depressed these days. What makes you ask?
Jeez, if the camera was working, I'd show you the cute silly spiders I made. You can see the professional ones here.
Goodnight.
Well, I can see that I have new email messages, but I can't get into my mailbox.
What a day. I'll leave it at that, since it wasn't a bad day in the entertaining or interesting way. Meredith, I have to thank you again (here, since I can't email) for sending me to your mechanic. He fixed my car in less than 24 hours for a hundred and fifty bucks less than my usual place. Sorry I didn't stop by when I picked it up tonight. Most of the bad day was caused by having (cover your eyes, major too much information ahead) one of the worst periods ever. Ugh. I had to get home. But, I'd love to take you to coffee or something sometime. Jeez, I sound so vague, you'd think I'm a guy!
I decided to go to Blogher. Because Jen and tonic is going. And so should you.
A couple of days ago I dropped off six or seven bags of old clothes and shoes (the shoes!! old sam and libby biker slingbacks, old nine west patent leather platform loafers, vintage suede 70's platforms) at the goodwill truck near our house, then headed over to my mom's to take some fabric off her hands. She's cleaning out the craft closet in preparation of the upcoming remodel. She gave me TONS of scraps and embroidery floss, antique quilt pieces -- some cut out shapes, some pieced -- embroidery hoops, doll makings, buttons and beads. Heaven. The quilting stuff is amazing. I need to do some research and find out about one pattern in particular. The cut pieces are rectangles with a triangle at either end, sort of diamond-shaped. They are stitched together in rows of 24, attached by the straight sides, with points at the top and bottom. (The digital camera is text-messaging us "LENS ERROR" and so I can't just show you.) Rather than blocks, the pieces are in long strips. I have six rows of the strips, with enough to make five more. But I don't have a clue what to do with them yet. Really, that's irrelevant, since I don't have the time to quilt. A girl's gotta dream.
screaming child needs to be put to bed, but only to be woken up in a few hours by fireworks, I'm sure
