HOLY CRAP where have I been?

My last blog was Dec 6Th??????

I'm fed up with snow up to my arse and this winter wonderland shtick! I haven't been to the gym in about three weeks and all I want to do is eat cheese and escape into my wine (whine) glass.

I'm wound up this morning and I'll say what I need to say while I can, Gibson is upstairs watching cartoons so I'll type quickly....

WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO OUR KIDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Beauty pageants, baby pageants, toddler pageants all creep me out! There's a show called Toddlers and Tiaras, an exploration into the world of baby pageants. Have you seen the video gone viral of the "mom" having her 5 year old's eyebrow waxed? Yeah, that's a hoot! The poor little girl has had it done several times. She screams as the wax is pulled off her forehead. Her "incubator" says she usually just holds her down and pulls it off herself....Mommy Of The Year Award.

How about the mom who punished her 6 year old for lying, by casually reaching into the medicine cabinet and pouring hot sauce into her son's mouth. She does this on a regular basis because when asked what happens when he fibs he says " I get the hot sauce." The video then shows his second installment of corrective behavior adjustment, a cold shower. The mother was a guest on Dr. Phil. If media outlets are true she is to be charged with child abuse. Both of these videos are online and I am purposefully not posting them here.

Remember Mary Kay Laterno? She's the teacher who had sex with her then 12 year old student. She spent time in jail, has two girls by him, now teenagers themselves. Mary Kay and Villi are married and her son by her first marriage has made her a first time grandmother. Of course this was a "news" story covered by TODAYshow's Meredith Vieria. What a struggle that was to watch! It seems Mary Kay is whacked out on some sort of serotonin uptake and still doesn't seem to comprehend the criminal, predatory nature she exhibited so long ago. Her husband Villi seems somewhat more lucid and the segment portrays them as one big happy family. Maybe they are, only she knows how and if she's made her family, and extended family whole.

I knew someone casually in college, a friend of a friend. He was busted several years back for accessing child porn. Don't remember if he was downloading or distributing. Whatever the details are, he is serving time in prison. My husband and I debate his sentence. He thinks it's ridiculous to be jailed for pornography. He argues the guy never did anything, never touched a child. My argument; how do we know he never touched a child? I too, don't know if he did. Does viewing kiddie porn lead to physically acting out? I don't know enough about the psychology behind it, I don't have any data. I just know that children are vulnerable and child porn is so much more sinister than adult pornography.

I'm by no means the best mom. I have a pretty low tolerance for patience. I tend to get a bit loud and irritated at my two kids. I huff and puff when they make a mess in the kitchen. I want to pull my hair out when they get into one of their famous hitting battles like two Rockem Sockem Robots. Hell, I almost throw a hissy fit when my kids call out "Mommy" just as I finally sit down with a juicy cook book in my hands.

I think the best thing to come out of some of these headlines is simply to remind me that these little people are simply kids. They're not little dolls for us to primp and put on display. They are not some sort of animal that will learn behavior by fear. They are an extension of us and want the same as we do, simply love, respect, attention and comfort.

I'm about out of time. Lola is screaming for me to come upstairs. Gibson just emptied a bottle of Crest Pro Health Mouthwash on his bedroom carpet. This kid has great timing! I'm gritting my teeth! I love my kids, I love my kids, I love my........

Yes Lola, there is a "Santa."

I knew sooner or later the question would surface. She is five and profoundly curious, I just was not ready for it... "Mom, some of the kids are saying there's no Santa. He's made up like the Tooth Fairy and parents buy the gifts." She wasn't looking at me as she wondered, she continued her scribbles at the dining room table.

Oh crap! Think fast! It is a dilemma. Are we dishonest to tell our children these myths? Are we harming them, creating false hopes? We know the time is so fleeting, they are so little for only so long. The days of footie pajamas and story times and selfless snuggling will end, replaced by self consciousness and peer pressures and children who are growing up.

"Well, what do you think?" I thought it best to ask her, before I added my two cents, hoping for a bit more time to think. "I'd like to think he's real" she said. "Me too, he's real like the feeling you get when it snows for the first time, real the way cookies smell baking, real in the way you hug someone and it makes them happy and it makes you feel happy."

I'm glad she's made her own choice to believe a little while longer. I still believe, don't you?

I See Colors.

I had just read a story to Lola. We're trying to have her in bed by 8-ish lately. She seems to be more agreeable in the morning. Rocket science for parents!

We usually then have this great in depth conversation, our best at her bedtime. It's her way of stalling the inevitable. "Mom, I hate Cameron, he pulls my hair and pokes me on the bus." I asked who Cameron was and told her boys can be a bit silly like that. I told her to give him the most maniacal look she could muster and then tell him to stop or she would eat him for breakfast. She laughed. "Let's not use the word *hate* OK? That's a really strong word to use."

"When I say the word HATE I see the color BLACK. When I hear or say the word SHIT, I see the color RED." Her family rule for Sean and me, is to not have us use the word shit around her. She rules with an iron fist that kid! "Lola, that's what I mean, those are really strong words and your mind and your body are reacting to them by seeing colors in your mind!"

She excitedly propped up on one elbow, the bathroom light across the hall nudging into our private conversation, she squinted, "Mom! You get me, you really get me!!!!"

It's been a while, but I'm back.

Lola's rules for driving.

1. Never wear an eyepatch while driving.

2. Never wear a blindfold while driving to your cousins.

3. Never, and I mean NEVER eat while driving, especially a burrito!

Walmarted Again :(

Little old Greenfield is fighting the Big Box war! A Connecticut developer is (hoping/praying/scheming/plotting/eating our young) planning to build a 135,000 square foot discount store along the French King Highway. Oh the horrors and gnashing and wailing that resound throughout our Pioneer Valley!

Greenfield is a bucolic little town full of charm and hippies, street kids, whole grain families of all shapes, sizes and orientations. There are organic awesome groceries stores rubbing economic elbows with larger, stockholder-ish grocery stores. There are old buildings seeing new interested owners reviving downtown. There are used bookstores, coffee shops, art spaces, adventurous dining (a BBQ joint is opening in the spot now vacant because the Thai restaurant found a larger spot.)

There are families. Gay, straight, off the grid, on the grid, solar panels, family beds, breastfeeding, organic farming, organic thinking....Got Hope? End This War! Love Makes A Family! Farmer's Markets downtown now accepting Food Stamps (now renamed something else?)

You have Mercedes Station Wagons parked next to Smart Cars, parked next to 20 year old Subarus, parked next to Hybrids, parked next to recumbent bikes, parked next to Volvos, parked next to vintage beater cars with a few Mini Coppers to add spice.

You've got students, business owners, bankers, bakers, moms off to the yoga class. You've got your professionals in their ubiquitous white dress shirts jaywalking to their next triumph. You've got the middle class (tightly in the middle...) You've got the Super Comfortable, you've got the struggling who aren't sure about the next day.

You've got your locavores, sensuously rolling in the local fare of this great valley. You've got your McDonalds junkies, Dunkin Donut freaks....Why buy organic fruits and veggies? There's nothing wrong with the artificial coloring in my kids yogurt! You've got vegetarian neighbors, backyard gardens, Kill Your TV, NPR, This Old House.

You've got summer carnivals and Autumn fairs. Two day music festivals. Arts, crafts, Harvest Suppers, local folks and tourists. You've got humanity eating, sleeping, growing, producing, engaging, loving, fighting, living, dying, starting, ending, driving, walking, crawling, building, tearing down, and CONSUMING.

Is a proposed Walmart really going to be the stick in the spoke of Greenfield? Sure there are the stories of underpaid employees, ill treated, overworked, lousy health insurance plans. There are the reported sweat shops run by child labor to produce the Hanna Montana t shirts. There are the tainted deli sandwiches eaten by many. Remember the "news" story a few years back....Donald Trump and then wife Ivana back to school shopping at a *gasp* Walmart!!!!

If you are outraged, then by gum do something about it!!!! Traffic will be a crazed mess on my street for certain!!!! I am not a Walmart fan (I have shopped there. My 5 year old wanted a Hanna Montana backpack for school. That is another story all on its own!) but I can say gratefully that I am not at an economic state to be forced to spend my earnings there. Is anti Walmart sentiment a bit of classicism? Who are the people that shop there, their annual income? Some will say "have you seen the people that shop there?"

Locals are hoping to have the proposed square footage reduced. Lots of Big Box meeting are scheduled locally so all can have their say. Living in this area has made me mindful and fully supportive of spending my dollars as locally as possible. I remember our first snowstorm in our new house and buying a shovel at the local hardware store (long closed now.) I was so proud of myself for spending $17 on that shovel when I could have driven to Home Depot and spent maybe $10?

Is it possible that all can coexist? It's not going to be built smack in the middle of downtown (thank God!) Maybe there are families hoping for employment, health insurance, and less expensive goods. Their everyday worries far outweigh traffic snarls and the insidious global takeover of Walmart.

Sadly, the world is not a fair playing field.

Just my humble opinion...

This Is Too Good To Make Up

"Mom, some people in other countries eat sheep brains, I wouldn't because my belly would be filled with sheep memories."

All Of This In Five Minutes

"Does it hurt to have babies?" I'm not going to sugar coat this one...in the simplest terms I told Lola it hurts like a shot hurts, only for a while. HA! "Mom, why can't I adopt instead?" Of course I said this was also a way to do it if she wished. I told her she had lots and lots of years to think about this. From my lips to God's ears! "Just adopt for me and let me have the baby. I don't want it to hurt."

"Are superheros real, like in the cartoons?" "No, not with superpowers, X-ray vision, super heated rays blasting from their eyes to melt walls, super power wonder twins activate!" I told her there are REAL superheros. People that help others and make the world a better place. Maybe teachers, doctors, nurses, people that give to those who don't have much. "Like Santa and you and Daddy."

To be ranked with Santa...not bad.

Holy Crap, Or IS It?

We're back from a fantastic, well deserved vacation in Ocean Pines Maryland. Sean's youngest brother,his wife and son live about two hours from there. It was just what I had wished for. Lots of quality beach time and playing in the waves with Lola. Gibson loved the ocean but only in our arms with wave mist tickling his toes. I had more time to get to know my sister in law, who I've always know was a great woman and a devoted mom.

Driving back to Massachusetts was nothing short of hellacious! What Map Quest said would be a 7 and a half hour drive turned into a death rattle of 10 plus hours!!! Traffic was creeping by and we'd see the same irritated drivers with that "just wanna get home" weary expression on their faces. The kids were troopers, watching their DVDs, coloring, sleeping (Gibson), and playing with their stuffed animals. Gibson would hold Pup Pup up to the window and say "I see the pool!" whenever we would pass a body of water. He called the ocean the "pool" too!

We were navigating through New York, lower level, George Washington Bridge when the kids began to sing and make screeching noises together, trying to out decibel each other. Reading directions and making sure we weren't heading into Harlem was a bit dicey and we yelled at the kids to be quiet until we were out of the city.

Under quiet duress, Lola noticed lots of great buildings. She asked who made all the buildings. I told her people, architects, etc. I explained about blueprints and the machinery and bricks, windows, all the stuff needed to fabricate a building. She's often said she wants to be an architect or a rock singer when she grows up.

"Does it hurt when God makes people?" We were gloriously free from the sooty confinement of I 95 and on our way to I 91 when she asked this. "You know, when people are here, when they were born from God." Oddly enough, I never mention the word "GOD." Sure, when she tags along to Mass with the ending promise of a donut, she may have remembered a thing or two, but I usually speak in the "Jesus" lingo to her. The sweet, humble, young man who was the cute Italian ceramic babe nestled in the hay under the Christmas tree. The Jesus who is the Shepherd finding the poor lost baby lamb caught in the wicked bramble. The Jesus who is kind, likes to share his toys, not lip off to Mom, and eats his veggies and doesn't wipe his boogers on the pillow case at night, kind of Jesus.

I could feel Sean instantly tense up at the wheel. "I don't think it hurts him at all baby bear." She persists "But how does he do it?" I suggest by way of women having babies. "But why have babies all the time? Why does he let us do it that way?" My head is spinning and I don't want to dig myself into a religious tar pit. I would rather like to get out of the blankety-blankety car, have a couple glasses of wine and revel at the fact we are finally home!

"Because he loves us and it's his way of wanting more people to love each other and not be lonely." I felt pretty smug with my answer and Lola wanted her Simon the Chipmunk stuffed animal she won at the Ocean City Boardwalk.

Later that evening (10 and a half hours later, as fore mentioned) Sean said he wasn't really happy with my answers and didn't want his kids having any false ideas. "Do we really know there is a God?" "Are YOU really certain? I want her to make her own conclusions and not have her believing in fairy tales. I want her to know of other religions and other ways. I want her to have discussions with people and be aware there are other opinions and beliefs."

Sean and I have oil and water views on organized religion and subscribed belief systems. We've made it work so far, after ten years of living together, then a marriage in a Catholic church (thanks Mom), ten additional years of wedded bliss, baptism of both our children into said church, weathering heated arguments about my beliefs and the trauma (mostly self made) and all doubt and good 'ol Catholic Guilt!!! I can say we respectfully agree to disagree at most times. Do I know God exists? I sure as hell hope so. I've lived on this, thrived on this, denied this, banked on this, run away as far as I could on this, bet ponies on this....It's all I know. Am I brainwashed? Blissfully indulgent? Afraid of that huge hand coming down from the clouds to bitch-slap me or smote me.

Do I know God exists? I don't, I guess I really don't. What I do know, what I know deep in my heart, and I know that throbbing organ pretty well by now; I know I wish I were a better person. I WANT to be a better person, I'm just lazy. I want to do better in the world, to make a better world. I'm just lazy. I want to be loved and to love. I want to not judge. I could care less if someone judges me. At the end of the day I know oh so little. Yet, I plunder on, walking the walk, talking the talk, smoke and mirrors and all that gussied up stuff that makes me feel better.

Once in a while, just a small glimmer, a nugget of truth embeds itself in my brain. I look at my two children. There HAS TO BE A REASON for them, a tangible reason they free fell into my lap. I look at my husband, so complex and so readable at the same time, surely this person was meant for me, and just me. I look at nature, such a gift, the people around me, who love me, truly love me. This I know is all true and tangible. All bets are on. This I am taking to the track.

There Aint Enough Calgon In The World...

Someone tell me, remind me it gets easier? There are days I cringe at the word "MOMMY!" I literally have to barricade myself in the bathroom and throw myself down on the floor, rocking in a fetal position for a few minutes before I have the courage to venture back out and become "MOMMY!" again!

Lola is into raging fits and blaming everything that goes wrong on me. She gets out of the tub and she's wet and cold, it's my fault. We go to the playground and she gets sand in her shoes, it's my fault. She gets marched up to her room for a well deserved time out, YEP, it's my fault. The other day she screamed and called me a "stupid loser!" That vitroil rant earned her another 15 minutes and no TV that night. She fights with me when I brush her hair. She didn't want a ponytail and got syrup in her hair at breakfast....AGAIN, my fault.

The best way to handle these is to also give myself a time out. Gibson has resorted to throwing everything and anything her can get his hands on. He throws his heavy Tonka trucks at Lola. He lobs his sippy cups at Lola's head. He hurtles his plates and bowls to the floor, usually with food still in them. He's taken to spitting his milk out and allowing it to waterfall down his chest and belly onto the floor. He's reverted back to using his fingers in his applesauce and creating his own hair elixir with mashed fruits and cracker crumbs. And I thought sand was hard to get out of his hair!

He loves to play Sean's drums in the attic and will scream "Dums, Dums" until hes's almost passed out. He screams "bathy" at the top of his lungs and rams his head into the bathroom door if we don't open it. Best of all, he takes off his diaper and flings it anywhere he likes. This is most often followed by peeing on the floor or rugs. We've started potty training, silver lining I guess. He found a Coco Puff wedged in the sofa cushion, pointed and said "poop!"

He's insists on clinging to me at every chance. He pinches and hits Lola when they're in the convertible back seat. The car is fairly small and there is less than six inches between their car seats. On the way to the grocery store today I had to pull over and referee their hitting, squabbling, bare knuckle brawl fest.

While Gibby finally took his nap, I thought I'd put off vacuuming and bake banana bread with Lola, some quality mom/daughter stuff. That Betty Crocker moment resulted in a time out for Lola, in her room with no DVD privileges for the rest of the night. The banana bread smells great though. Maybe I'll lock myself in the bathroom with a book and a loaf of that!!!!!!!

Big Thoughts About Babies.

"But how do the babies get in the tummy anyway?" Lola asked this again today. Last month she wanted to know why I wanted children and why we chose to adopt Gibson. Not an easy question to answer. Why did I want children? I was never one of those girls who dreamed of growing up, getting married and having children. I never really thought about it.....until I met Sean and he was eager to have a family far sooner than I was. I felt I had worked hard to become who I was, I was finally comfortable with myself and had quelled all my demons (at least summoned them far, far below for another time.) Having children would change everything. Most selfishly it would change ME!

Two kids and a few years later.....THANK GOD it changed me!!!! So, back to the birds and the bees with Lola. She then asks "Will I ever have babies?" We're driving home from Gibson's first hair cut. "Sure, If you want to have babies..." She's quiet, I study her in the rear view mirror. I know she's really mulling this one over. "I could have two, one for me to take care of and one for Jakey to take care of." Jake is her neighbor, partner in crime, shorter sidekick, preschool buddie, and like Burton and Taylor; they've been stormily married and divorced several times.

"But how do babies get in the tummy anyway?" I told her once before, as simple as possible about anatomy and how the two are needed to make a baby. She knows the correct terms for both sets of anatomy but proclaims loudly she owns a "Pagina!" She doesn't believe it's fair to only have one name and likes the combined sound of both!

Lola has a simpler explaination about babies. She likes to imagine everyone is born with a small, wee baby in their tummies and when you are a grown up, and you decide to have babies; you simply let it grow!

Shave and A Haircut.

I thought summer was supposed to be lazy, spending tranquil days in the shade, cocooned in a hammock, sipping a Mojito, great book in hand? Oh, wait....I have two kids......

Gibson had his first REAL HAIRCUT today!!!! He has the greatest, and I mean the greatest hair! Super curly and it just springs out of his head, these perfect corkscrews of follicle joy!!! Picture Tigger bouncing on his tail in The Hundred Acre Woods....you get the idea.

Ethnic hair is a bit labor intensive. It needs conditioning and picked out several times a day and nightly. I use all natural hair products without parabens and all those nasty laurel sulfates that strip hair of natural oils. I'm on top of this one! Then I noticed the back becoming matted, the curls were turning into dreads in the back, no matter how much I picked or conditioned.

I phoned a place nearby, Global Cuts, who specialize in ethnic hair. I was assured by Leslie that Gibson was in the best of care. We walked into what appeared to be a classic men's barber shop but with a funky edge. Framed posters of Jimi Hendrix covered the walls, black and white photos of 60's and 70's jazz greats shared space with a large map of Africa, mini flags from all over the world framed the mirrors.

Gibson sat on my lap as the cutting began. I had hoped a few matted strands could be dealt with easily. Leslie suggested a decent trim and said the regrowth would be even healthier. I expected Gibby to be squirming and fussing as she picked through his hair. He did great, I was the one sweating as his black curly locks cascaded to the worn tile floor. Lola said he didn't look like Gibby, that he didn't look like Baby Gibby anymore. I took photos of his abandoned tresses covering the floor and photos of him with his new look. He kept patting his head saying "hair cut!" and then clapping for himself.

He looks older to me now, and I have to say I miss the curls. They will come back and I'll know to be more vigilant with his styling. He's growing up and it makes me a bit sad. I'm not sure what I'm longing for; his curls or that precious time before his trim today. I look at him and my heart breaks, my little Gibby is changing, morphing, growing into a little boy who is becoming so sure of himself at only the age of 2. Lola says Daddy will definitely like Gibby's "new do."

A Cookie In One Hand Is Better Than None

Lola is onto me!!!! I bought Chips Ahoy, Reduced Fat. She and Gibby were munching on their before bed snack. "Mom, these aren't the cookies we've had before." She extended the cookie out before her eyes and gave it a mistrustful once-over. "What do you mean? They're the ones you wanted me to buy." "No, there's something funny with them."

When they are babies, it's easy to make sure they eat veggies and fruits. I find the older they get, they develop color aversion to certain foods. Green to Lola means NO GO!!! I made her spinach ravioli the other night and she noticed suspicious green specks of vitamin goodness. Once in a while she will eat corn on the cob. As a toddler, she loved grape tomatoes and avocados. I'm overjoyed she at least eats apples and blueberries!

Out of desperation and fear of rickets and scurvy, I made fruit smoothies and added two containers of pureed carrots. "Mom, why does it look orange?" I said "Oh honey, that's the color of the fruit." I served it to them both in fancy brandy snifters with straws. They loved them, for about three seconds and then abandoned them. Newman the mutt gave an appreciative wag after licking them both clean.

Last year, maybe several years ago? there were two popular cookbooks giving tips on providing veggie laden meals and snacks by hiding said unpopular food groups into everyday dinners. I'm torn, do you surprise attack and become the "sneaky chef" or do you teach them veggies are good for you, join a farm share, let them help you pick fruits and veggies still warm from the sun.

It continues to be an ongoing battle when Lola wants cookies or chocolate for breakfast. She knows she will get "the look" from me and be handed a yogurt drink and an organic blueberry breakfast bar. I'm not a complete food Nazi. Once in a while if she's running late, I send her out the door with Sean: a cookie in one hand and her toothbrush in the other.

Birdie Blues

Almost every spring, a robin attempts to play house atop the pillar of our front porch. Some robins begin the nest process only to leave under cover of night, their nests half built, a gaping hole with grass and twigs blowing in the warm breeze. It must be the activity of the house that makes them so unsure. I wonder about the birds that build under noisy train tunnels or choose sun scorched street light posts in busy downtown cross sections. They seem to stick it out, or tuck it under, or whatever they do in that nest?

I watched a tentative expectant birdie begin the building. She would fly to our porch with beaks full of grassy brick and mortar. Last week she added some tissues we had left on our side porch. Sean wanted the nest down last week. He's freaked out by birds in general and the poop is unsanitary and gross. I asked him to leave it alone, hoping eggs had been laid. I wanted the kids to see the nest and eventually babies learning to fly for the first time.

A few days ago while Mama Bird was away, I grabbed a step stool and my camera. I hovered the camera above the nest and captured some gorgeous pics of three perfect, bluest of robin egg blue creations. Nature is an amazing study.

I remember several years ago I miscarried our first pregnancy. I was five months along and we had named the baby and received Christmas gifts from family while visiting in Pennsylvania. We lost the baby that New Years Day. That spring, I watched a bird build her nest. Sean knocked it down with a broom and disposed of it in the woods. I watched that bird come back to her roost and take in the horror of no hope, no home, no babies. I knew how she felt; raw, drained, ripped empty, confused. I sat in the hallway and cried for almost two hours.

I showed Sean the photos of the eggs and it triggered that memory. You never forget, you sometimes talk to your spouse about it, even after seven years, and two beautiful children later. Most days I feel slightly like those eggs, soon ready to hatch. I am resilient: yet feel a scuff, a peck, a small crack kept under control.

Boom Boom, Out Go The Lights!

Power outages are a bitch! Some sort of mini tornado swept through Madison Circle (as well as Franklin County and beyond) and played twister with trees and power lines. Walking the neighborhood the next day was a bit eerie with plucked out trees and intricate, one hundred year old root systems pulled from the earth like baby carrots.

Live wires were everywhere and people surveying the damage. I wandered around in my pajamas, coffee less and wondering if preschool was axed for the week. Other folks crept out of their homes looking up at the sky and then the front lawn carnage below. My newly planted perennials held their ground well.

I thought of New Orleans and other areas hit by disaster and thanked God it was nothing like those events. Crews began to arrive on the scene with trucks, blocking access to our circle and firefighters were stationed at all entrance points. Every now and again, one of them would knock on my door to use my bathroom, clomping up the stairs in their heavy, yellow gear. My neighbor had to show up for work, so I babysat her son. Other kids seemed to hone in on my house for a play date. The afternoon was filled with kids, snacks, and water play in the yard.

Sean was home early with flashlights, lanterns and dry ice. Lola was distraught, no cartoons and no computer. I would flick the light switch on in the pantry only to be reminded we had no power. By day three we were all pissy! I could not suffer through another night of whining kids wanting cartoons, warm wine, and Scrabble by lantern.

3 AM, Sean wakes me...."Everyone's lights are on except ours!" I was dreading cleaning out the fridge and throwing away groceries bought the day before the storm. Sure enough, the next morning, everyone was basking in electrified, glorious, artificial light. All were having freshly brewed coffee, reading their papers, sending e mails, making phone calls to other happy full wattage friends. We were still acoustic.

We needed to call an electrician and fast! Memorial Day Weekend was looming and our hopes were fading. Sean made at least 15 calls from the yellow pages. (Amazing, the phone book: we never use the phonebook, we just Google the number!!) A half hour went by, then the cell rang. An electrician was on his way!!! It seems the storm blew, completely fried our breaker panel. We were fully restored within 20 minutes! I hate to see what our bill will be, these guys charge extra for weekends, and holiday. We brewed a lovely, hot pot of coffee, had steaming hot showers and turned on the TV for the kids. Lola was so happy she kissed SpongeBob, leaving lip prints on the screen.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO ME!

Hey, I just realized yesterday was my ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY as a blogger!!!!!!!

Soccer Stinks!

I have a mean hankerin for bacon this morning! Opened up a packet of Oscar Myer Center Cut and it's in the oven as I write. Is there nothing better than a well behaved toddler happily playing, bacon smells wafting through the house, sun shining in through the windows, a luke warm cup o' joe at my side: I expect to hear the screen door slam and the sound of children jumping through lawn sprinklers. I should have never quit my gig at Hallmark Cards!

Lola wanted to try soccer camp this summer. I was going to sign her up then thought she may not like it. A YMCA employee suggested we try it and then pay the $35 or $40 fee. Wise suggestion on her part! Last Tuesday I picked Lo up from pre school and we headed to the college field. We were a bit early and we watched nets being set up and soccer balls being unloaded from the back of a small van. I brought Gibson's plastic lawn mower and some cookies to keep all occupied. It was a chilly, damp late afternoon and I hadn't thought to bring a blanket or lawn chairs.

Parents soon starting arriving with kids in tow, the kids wearing Y Soccer t shirts and shin guards. We had already missed last Tuesday's first introduction class where they apparently handed out the required goods. Two of Lola's classmates showed up and she was so excited. I said hello to parents and kids settled into groups. One of Lo's friends Mom is a soccer coach so she took Lola with her to form their team.

Lola seemed to be having a blast, running around with her friends. Gibby and I moved closer to the end of the field where her group was, watching them pass the ball with their feet. In the middle of one of the drills, she grew bored and wanted to play with her friend Cameron. I told her Cameron was on another team and practicing like she was doing. She began to get cranky and wanted to roll down the hill. "I don't like soccer, it's boring! I want my friends to be on my team! I don't like that woman telling me what to do!"

I will admit I was really disappointed. Not in Lola so much, but because I thought this might be something good for her, a challenge, something physical, something she could learn and have fun with. She tends to shy away from things if she feels she can't do them. I was hoping this would be a sort of confidence builder. With her recent diagnosis of sensory integration "stuff" I was hoping this would benefit her.

We walked away from her team and up the hill. She was crying. "I want to play soccer but I don't like that woman telling me what to do!" I told Lola this is what is expected. "You have to learn to play soccer and she's the coach, so you have to pay attention and listen to her to know the rules of the game." Such is life, and I worry Lola may have difficulty listening to authority and following rules. Am I worrying needlessly? She's only five. She cried in the car for a while and Gibby was upset because Lola was upset. I didn't say much on the way home, just thinking about the events.

We got home and she wanted to color, have a bath and dinner. "Are you upset Mom?" "No honey, I guess I just wanted you to have fun and at least stick out today's practice until the end. Hey, at least you got this cool t shirt, and at least you tried soccer, I'm proud of you for trying something new!" I gave her a hug and she couldn't wait to show Sean her t shirt and tell him about the "soccer day."

Ah....Love

I took a call from a friend of mine this morning. She crabbed and bitched for a while about nothing in particular. In my best British accent I asked her "Who pooped in your flower bed this morning dearie?" She paused and asked if this has ever happened to me.

She began her tale. She had just put her 10 month old son down for bed for the night. She and her husband had dinner and several glasses of wine. He cleaned the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, while she took a bath and changed into her pjs. He came up to floss his teeth before checking his emails. "How bout a quickie before you retire for the evening?" she said standing stark naked in the bathroom doorway, trying to hold in her baby paunch and look sexy in the harsh hallway light. "No way, I just had a couple glasses of wine and two helpings-I don't think I have it in me!"

As nonchalantly as could be: when you're naked and needy, she said "Rain check tomorrow?" She sulked off to bed with a book and could hear him downstairs watching HGTV probably caressing a bowl of Chunky Monkey or Cherry Garcia.

Marriage can be hard, taxing, frustrating. Intimacy: same deal! My husband's Aunt told me she has (*WARNING* ADULT CONTENT TO FOLLOW AFTER NEXT PUNCTUATION MARK!) "fuck you" sex with her husband. When they're mad at each other and accidentally bump into each other in the hallway she says "Fuck you!" He replies in kind. Cigarette anyone? Maybe it's more amusing when she tells it?

What Can I Be?

I have baskets and baskets of laundry to do and I should scrub my tub and bathroom floor. Instead, I think I'll blog to you and then have some iced coffee on my side porch while Gibby is still napping.

I've been trying to stick to a consistent bedtime for Lola. Sean is usually home from work between 7 and 7:30. Some nights, 8:30. On those nights, Gibson is in bed and we squeeze in some time together over wine talking about our days (Sean and I, not Lola...you know...the wine...) Once Lo is in bed Sean and I have dinner around 9, leaving us, as a couple little time to communicate.

So, up to bed go we. Lola spied a book on the table "Twenty-Odd Ducks" Why, Every Punctuation Mark Counts! Great colorful illustrations and tongue in cheek education about duh...punctuation! I was hoping for more insight into colons and semi colons. Anyway, I read her the book. She didn't understand why every two pages had the same sentence but different pictures. (The magical use of punctuation and how it carries a meaning!)

We finished the book and I rubbed her back for a few minutes. "OK, mom has gotta go spend time now with Daddy and have dinner." Several whimpers and small kicks to the bed, "You know what I hate about being 5? When I grow up no one will lay with me at night!" Very sweet, if tragic, insight about growing up for Lola. It's such a push-pull age for her. She wants all control and says she wants to be the boss, yet she realizes she'll lose something by growing up.

"You know you will always be my baby, even when you are an old lady." I soothed her hair away from her eyes, so big and blue. "What can I be when I grow up?" She's told me she wants to be an illustrator, an architect, teacher or rock star. "Eliase has two mommies, I could be a mommy just like you!" I told her that sounded like a great idea. She told me she could help take care of Gibby. She was silent for a while and I thought she had fallen asleep. She turned over and said "But what if Gibby grows up too?

That's my worry, they are growing up too fast and I barely have the time to catch the memories.

All Is Quiet Upstairs

A new follower!!!!! Thanks Elaine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gibson was eerily quiet this morning. We've opted to remove the baby gate that leads upstairs. He enjoys climbing the steps and he's quite agile even with his sippy cup, blankie, and Pup Pup. The other morning I was taking a shower and he greeted me with a plate of scrambled eggs I had made for him minutes earlier. He lost not one chunk of egg on his way up!

Someone forgot to flush the toilet and Gibby had a hay day playing in soggy toilet paper, smearing it all over the floor and walls..gross! Lola's favorite quote lately, "I'll never understand babies!" On one particularly exasperating day she quipped "Well, he can't get any worse."

Gibby will enter day care sometime in mid June, two days. It will give me a bit of a break and spend some quality time with Lola. We've decided not to enroll her in her day care's summer camp, instead have her home to have fun at the lake and play dates with friends. I may regret this decision. She can be a handful, very temperamental, and prone to over reacting to situations.

Through some intervention we've learned she may have SID, Sensory Integration Dysfuncion. Yea, I know...very scary to me! The term defines someone who has difficulty with processing sensory input. It has to do with the central nervous system not operating smoothly and Lola working super hard to integrate her senses. Children with poor sensory processing are more likely to over react to everyday stuff, lose control, and take longer to calm down after a tantrum. We took her to an occupational therapist who determined her core strength and balance are rated low. In a nutshell, all of these things are tied together.

The more I'm reading up on this stuff, the more "Ah Ha!" moments I'm having. She is craving more stimulation because she lacks these stimulus feelings elsewhere. She's incredibly loud, and dramatic and playful. Her "I GOTTA BE ME!" moments as I like to call them. She tends to freak out at the movies because of the loud trailers shown before the movie. Her shirt sleeves have to have a certain length, now she hates wearing leggings, she battled last winter with her teachers over snow pants and boots, she hates, HATES, having her fingernail and toenails clipped, she has recently gotten over her fear of scissors and had her tresses trimmed. Again, these all have to do with heightened senses and her ability to process them (or so I am trying to puzzle together?)

In short, a bit of a modulation issue...different kids have different temperaments and most times hers clashes with mine. Great learning tool for me, to model my reaction to what is really going on with her, figuring out why she is really hesitant to try something or defiant on some days, wanting all control most days.

It's Sunday night, and we've just had an enormous battle getting Lola to bed. I set the timer and said ten more minutes. She screamed, had a raging hissy fit and said she hated her life. I have to be firm and show no emotion. She's had a big weekend. I'm hoping she doesn't wake Gibby up. This post has taken me several days to write which is not the norm, usually I bang one out.

I'm going to stick to my parental guns, seek help, and continue reading my books from Amazon. Lola's school behaviorist stopped by Thursday for a visit. I love her insight and she truly loves kids and agrees Lo is a fantastic kid. Who wouldn't? She is!!!!!

Iggy Pop at 62 - Times Online

Iggy Pop at 62 - Times Online



Ah...Iggy...you still have my heart! Lola picked out her own clothes this morning. A vintage Rolling Stones T shirt and a cute pair of denim capris with embroidered flowers down the leg. She wanted to know if she could wear my old Ray Bans to school. Of course!