Goodness, that was a lot of extra

I keep hoping my energy is on an upswing, and my mood right behind that, but then it swings back down.  I don't need to tell you this, but do try to never get hit by a personal life Tsunami, because it really is an ass kicker to come back from in so so so many ways.  I am tired of not being who I used to be, tired of being tired, tired of having to lie down and read something soothing after paying a bill or taking a phone call or having a thought.

Today, I am tired by the normal!  Progress!!  Still tired by other stuff too, abnormal as it may be and always will be, but I did more this week for parenting purposes and did not 1) lose my sobriety, 2) lose my faith, or 3) actually let the house get any dirtier.  Success!  The things I did this week that were extra were making a yarn wig for Raggedy Ann (tips to follow), making a poster for my daughter to be Star of the Week at Kindergarten (turns out in my mid 40s I still can't cut out a star free hand, but now I have Google and I can find a template to use, lickety split), attend and assist at 2! class parties, decorate the front porch (I did not however, carve pumpkins, and I tell myself that PTSD means I shouldn't use a knife that sharp while I still have this shaky hands thing going on. Spilled cofffee is one thing, knicked knuckles is entirely another). And like mt depressed people who weigh too much, I ate as many Reeses PB cups as I could, and a smattering of other stuff, so of course I am tired.  Perfect for that extra hour of sleep.

Still Life with Laundry - minus the goose poo

In honor of how full my head is these days, I decided to join in NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) this month. I've made a commitment to post every day for a month. Think of it as a Roman vomitorium if you will, since my head is all spinny and full of stuff and it needs to come out, and now you get to see it, so maybe I'll see less of it myself. The theme of September for NaBloPoMo is Art. I don't think I'll really get in any trouble should I stray from the topic, but at least we'll begin that way. Art.

Still life with laundry. Notice the clean baby pants.

Susie homemaker tip of the day: if any of you let your toddler fall on a goose poo, simply place a plastic bag on the car seat to minimize seepage, and use Oxi-clean spray on the stain. Voila! Lord Honey and I had quite a dispute about whether or not we could wash Hannah's one and only pair of closed toed shoes, made by a manufacturer for use with orthotics, and Lord Honey's choice was to throw the shoe in the washer. I freaked about potentially ruining my best shoe option and the only one that can go to hippotherapy with a brace, and opted to hand wash the sole in the sink with Oxi-clean, figuring that poo is poo, and if I can wash baby poo, I can wash goose poo. It is, after all, organic. Lord Honey wondered why I let Hannah wander about the goose poo despite her penchant for sitting down without notice, but I thought it a good OT activity where I would stuff a large piece of bread in Righty and let her pull chunks off with Lefty. In my mind, I make every daily opportunity for two handedness something noteworthy. And since I now found out that one of my self created OT activities for Hannah, which involves saving all receipts and giving them to her to scrunch, toss, place on Mommy, and use to practice opening and closing her right hand, is now an activity worthy of OSHA scrutiny, since apparently most receipts contain high levels of BPA. So having removed BPA from every cheap plastic cup or bottle my girls drink out of, I have instead exposed them and jeopardized their future offspring by by encouraging their play with Mommy's little scrunchy papers. Arrgghh.

Enjoy the still life. More to come this month.

The end of something, but not the end of everything

NaBloPoMo is coming to a close. I can't say I am entirely sorry. I don't need one more self imposed "must do" to feel crappy about, so I won't be restarting NaBloPoMo for December, but I have liked some of the things I've written this month. I meant to post a special dedication to a sweater I have been knitting for a long time, but I haven't finished the sweater because I've been blogging every evening. There was something I wanted to say about my gratitude for the village that's raisin' up my with me, but apparently you guys forgot to come over and babysit so I could write children more. You are bastard people and you know how I feel about your ass-faces. And did you all notice that I never once posted about poop? I meant to. I may still.

Reflecting on the internet addiction, though, has been fun. I am still thunderstruck at how enchanting online interaction with perfect strangers can be. You are all very good for my mental health. Thanks!

The pie ate my blog post

I ate the Turkey Ala King.

I ate the pie.

I sat down to blog.

I fell asleep in front of the computer.

The pie made me do it.

A girl and her boy

She says they're getting married.







I hope he gets a better car soon.

Black Friday Haiku

Lo, I am afraid
of sales with lines out the door
and the shopping hell.

We stayed home, and worked
the girls and I, and darkened
no box store's wide doors,

But I will go out
on the day after Christmas.
Sock stuffers half off!

When the turkey has a bun in the oven

Don't tell the guests until the bird is showing. There will be a pregnant pause. Someone will want a cigar and naming rights. Tu-corn-hen, anyone?



The guests will keep a watchful eye for any other surprises.



And then they will eat stuffing.

Thanks to you, life

Thanks to you life, I now have two daughters, and two stepsons. And a husband, just like another big child, but who is nonetheless wonderful with all his Lord Honey ways. Nothing is much the way it was five years ago. This year has been my hardest ever in oh so many ways, and yet, it is my favorite year so far.

This year I am very thankful. My daughter's metabolic disorder now seems like something we can live with. The cerebral palsy kicks my bootie, but still, Hannah is such a delightful person that I can handle what comes our way. I think. Claire is a joy to behold and converse with. My job is not the worst, and I have a job to complain about, which is nice.
So I'll leave you with the lyrics to one of my theme songs, which you might know from Shrek, by the Proclaimers:

I'm on my way, from misery to happiness today.
Uh-huh, Uh-huh, Uh-huh, UH-huh.

Dream Weaver, I believe you can kick me in the can

So a week or so ago, I had an Obama sex dream. It was quite involved in terms of location and guilt over my marriage vows, and Obama was even sexier than non dreamy Obama, but I woke up feeling so, so guilty about Lord Honey. It took a few minutes for me to realize I hadn't done anything wrong at all, and I was in the clear, thus able to be absolutely normally bitchy in getting Lord Honey up and at his day. It was hours before I remembered I should have felt guilty about Michelle Obama, too! Last night, I dreamed I found a red headed brown skinned baby at a grocery store, and the people in the know determined that the baby could be mine. I kept trying to hang on to the red headed non-gendered baby, but as the baby was in a car seat in a grocery cart, the baby kept disappearing with faceless Hispanic women who also wanted a baby in a blue car seat. Over and over I got that baby back, even in a longish line for 'flu shots which caused no small amount of confusion for all the parents. Eventually I got the baby back and did my Thanksgiving shopping, but I still had to fight for ownership in the pie department. Neither of these dreams would have stayed with me had I not been woken mid dream, last night by Lord Honey doing the angry naked man foot stamp dance when he found Hannah had a surprise nighttime poo blowout, and, well, you know, finders keepers and all that. After he demanded I tell him where the extra jammies were (third drawer, like always) I was sort of enjoying the angry naked man foot stamping too much to get out of the bed and help. I did relent, and get clean bedding for Hannah, after the angry, naked man said not to leave toys on the stairs, and to remember he sometimes used the stairs in the dark. And if none of this had gone on, I would not have remembered this very odd dream baby. Odd because it doesn't seem likely I'd ever make a baby of that size, with that skin color, since I only make miniature translucent babies. Odd indeed, and I don't feel guilty.

The eatin' of the beast commences soon

Let's talk about food. Roast beast! Fit for a Grinch himself to carve. Yorkshire pudding! Mashed potatoes! Gravy! Steamed vegetables with butter. Creamed spinach. Dinner at Chez Ginger. I am going to admit this right now: I will eat a bit of the crispy fat from the skin of my roast beast. Yes, I will. I am in training for trepidation day later this week. Use it or lose it, they say.

Haiku Friday: Magical Thinking

It's not like Disney
a bit more like Tim Burton
It's kinda crazy

You think influence
reaches from your mind outward
and can change the world

We all do it some
some people more than others
full of the crazy

Highbrow and low brow, no wonder my sunglasses are always crooked

Tonight I enjoyed my children quite a lot, because it is so fun to see Hannah dance when she cannot yet walk, and to see Claire observe her sister and react to her is delightful. Hannah seemed to learn to say "Hi" quite distinctly but we'll wait for tomorrow for a verdict. I read to Claire and cuddled her in her bed and then cuddled Hannah after reading her a book and pointing out pictures and naming the objects for her review (moon, book, sky, mama and baby, bed). After a good long Hannah snuzzle I went to sit by the TV with Lord Honey, while I would knit Hannah's sweater with high-end Baby Cashmerino yarn purchased at the locally owned classy knittin' store, then I created an improved baby binky leash for Hannah out of whole cloth so it can bear her name for the day care regs without making her suck Sharpie ink into her nearly organic mouth all day. Then. Oh friends, then, we watched one of the few shows we can enjoy together, Bones, because it has a honey for each of us and is clever enough, and then, before I came upstairs to pump nearly organic breast milk for my nearly organic baby, then we watched It Only Hurts When I Laugh on truTV and I did laugh until I snorted at every pratfally, ball-crunching, bike flying, wedding cake dashing, roller blade rocket launching, animal attacking escapade they could show. I laughed especially at each segment where folks landed on their faces with a resounding smack. It is a sickness, I know, to be so entertained at others' misfortunes. And now you know this about me too. I won't buy my yarn at WalMart but I am happy to watch their parking lot for entertainment value. Wanna come over?

Shiny, shiny gold bling

Lord Honey has a new utility knife, the gold model. Note the gold trim, and gold tipped blade. Don't you just want him to be your . . . handyman? And yes TeacherMommy, he does carry it in his Carhartts. I have seen this man cut wood, metal, sheet rock, hose, tile, wires, plastic bits without regular names, and painlessly remove a splinter from my child's hand with such a knife. The last three or four were yellow and rather ordinary as such tools go. But this one? This one speaks to me. Now I go off to bed singing "the handyman can 'cause he mixes it with love and makes the world work good."

Girls who love books too much

Another NaBloPoMo copout brought to you by OMG I am so tired. Don't you like to see my daughters, books in hand? Good, me too. Gotta go nap on the sofa until bedtime.