I've just discovered a new show on MTV called Newlyweds. Two singers have allowed a camera to be put in their home and to follow them everywhere. It's hilarious. I think the girls name is Jessica Simpson. I don't know. I'm really not into this kiddie scene and I didn't even know they were singers 'till Shelly told me but I am a lover of reality TV. So Sunday afternoon while I was sick, Shelly and I are browsing throught the dish network channels and there it was. Shelly said I had to watch it. So I did.
This girl is incredibly stupid. She didn't know that buffalo wings were from chicken. She thought it was true buffalo! And she asked her husband what kind of chicken lived in the sea! She's actually serious. It's just too funny. On one epeisode she went bowling with her husband and hated every minute of it.
At one point she retorts that there's no way she can keep her arm straight because she has boobs and it's just no wonder there aren't any good woman golfers. Her husband opens his mouth to say something and she quips back, "Well if there are good woman golfers then you can bet they don't have boobs! Her husband just sighs and walks away! I have to say she's extremely pretty and she can really sing.
I'm positively hooked on reality TV. Big Brother has ended while The Batchlor is just beginning. I love The Batchlor but I don't really like the guy they picked this time. I wasn't enthralled with Bob on the other show and I don't expect to change my mind.
Survivor promises to be a good one this season! Last seasons show I didn't get too involved. I thought that it was Survivor burn out on my part but the more I hear and read I've discovered that it just wasn't Survivors best year. But this year started out with a bang and I'm just sucked in!
Joe Millionaire is scheduled to begin this fall too. How in the world will I keep up! Something will have to give. It'll probably be the housework!
Too many shows. Too little time. I have no idea how I'm going to keep up with them all. I'll probabaly have to tape some of them. If shows come on at eight in the evening it interfers with the kids storytime and bedtime. I refuse to put my TV shows over the kids. I must admit though that I have rushed through many a story to get back to that stupid TV.
I know. I know. It's all a matter of priority. I must get my priorities straight. I'll put that at the top of my list for my New Years resolutions: Rethink Priorities!
Until then I'll probably still rush bedtime stories because Survivor comes on at eight! I mean what can a girl do?
While sitting at the table last night Anna Lise is heard to mutter, "there's a lion on the food chain." This quickly caught my attention. I had no idea she had ever heard of the food chain! I looked across the table to see what she was up to and was surprised to find all the tines on her fork loaded with carrots and peas that she was painstakingly putting on with her fingers as she climbed the food chain. It was wonderful to see that she is actually learning something at school! Of course this led us all into a fun game of making up our own food chains; each of us trying to get a more original food chain than the other.
There are a few local events coming up that I would like to make my readers aware of. How I would love to take part in these things. Joining in community events just adds to the richness of life!
Here's one that you might be interested in:
OREGON CITY COMMUNITY QUILTERS
Looking for a place to quilt, make new friends, and work on group
projects? We meet every first and third Tuesday of the month from 6:30-
9:00PM starting in September 2003. Saturday workshops are the second
Saturday of each month, starting 9/13. Oregon City Community Quilters
meets at the Buena Vista House (16th and Jackson). Come join the fun!
And here is a very fun one:
Ermatinger House Living History Museum
The Historic Ermatinger House will be serving Holiday Tea every Wednesday, Friday & Sunday in December. Reservations are required for the Living History, Victorian Holiday Teas. Call 503-650-1851 for more information and reservations. The Ermatinger will be open every Thursday, 1 - 3pm, September 18 - December 18.
These historical home tours and teas are exceptional. The ladies dress in period clothing dating to the time the house was in use. I've been through these homes many times. I'm considering getting a few of my friends together from church and seeing if we can't attend a tea. I just positively drool when I think about stuff like this.
Our pastors wife has started a Christmas in July that has turned out to be a fun time for us ladies. She also does a tea at Mothers Day. I try to never miss one of these events. As a stay at home mom I highly value adult conversation.
At a tea nobody says, " I fart, mom, I fart". (Wally) There's nobody rubbing snot and applesauce all over my arm, and my leg don't suddenly grow wet from apple juice seeping through the table boards. No it's just me and the ladies and our tea and scones. The worse that happens is that I excuse myself to "go potty".
I'm going to the doctor today for this sore throat. I've had it. I can't live like this. Theres so much I want to get done today. The most pressing thing is mopping the kitchen floor. My floor cannot go 5 days without mopping and thats exactly what has happpened! Only one good thing has come of me being sick. I lost weight! I lost a total of 10 pounds this week! Now I know that it was water. I wasn't born yesterday. But just let me be happy ok?
I am severly dehydrated because I couldn't swallow anything so now that I'm a little better we'll see how quickly most of that goes back on as my body rehydrates! Sigh!
Doc Childre and Howard Martin, The HeartMath Solution
Our mental and emotional diets determine our overall energy levels, health and well being to a far greater extent than most people realize. Every thought and feeling,no matter how big or small, impacts our inner energy reserves.
Well I must say my mental and emotional diet is quite poor. I cannot shake this terrible sore throat. My neck looks like a snake that's just swallowed a mouse.I am so tired. When I get sick I get depressed. I imagine all sorts of things and all of them seem real.
One thing I have not imagined, that is causing me untold frusteration, is that I have lost this entry twice now and have had to retype it. Oh don't say I should have saved. It was the saving process that lost the whole thing. I hate computers! I have now been thrown even further into depressions abyss. One can only take so much. I mean, here I am sick! Does this computer have to act up now? Why must all of life come crashing down at one time? Oh and get this! Wally, with precision timing, has chosen now to end his afternoon naps! Thats right. No naps. Now what do I do? I'll never have time alone.
I am depressed. I'm tired of being sick. I've got to get well. When I was younger I used to be depressed a lot. This lasted till I was in my mid twenties. I'm talking deep month long bad depressions. In fact, I believe that most of my teen age years were spent in the clutches of a deep emotional and pshycological depression.
I now live my life with only vague memories of the former me. But then I get sick! And bang! I remember. Depression haunts my every step. Its just waiting on me to get vulnerable and then it moves in for the kill. I'm vulnerable. It has moved in!
The work is so far behind. The funny thing is that I really believe that Greg went to work this morning congratulating himself on the fine job he did this weekend. I don't think he has a clue about all the chores he left undone. One of the most pressing is Anna Lise's spelling. Her test is tomorrow and I have not studied the words with her even once. Matter of fact, her entire homework pamphlet is due tomorrow and nothing has been done.
I just heard the neighbor lady talking to Wally. I get up to look out the window and there is my son, butt naked, walking down the drive to retrieve his sisters shoes. This isn't how I thought my life would be! All my fanciful dreams of motherhood; not one of them included my son running around with his wee wee hanging out! Not one! Oh mothers to be, come to me and I will tell you what motherhood is really like!
Oh mercy. he has now donned sister shoes and is clomping up and down clothed in naught but shirt and shoes. Where, oh where, is his mother?
Ok. So I've been sick. Incredibly sick. I'm having hot flashes as I type. My head is still spinning. I have canceled my babysitting for tomorrow. Greg has been taking care of the kids and, in a modified sort of way, the house.
Oh it's lovely to see him stomping around here trying to keep up! I haven't hardly done a thing. But there now. He doesn't need help. How hard can it possibly be to keep up with things around here? Now If I had a real job then I would know what work is all about.
Well since it's so easy to keep up I decided I wouldn't jeapordize my journey to health by lending a hand anymore than I had to. So I ensconced myself on the couch and called him to settle all the kids fights and to grab Wally as he heads out the door, to bring me a glass of water etc etc. Yesterday he spent a goodly part of the day on the internet. I was not happy. But then all that time spent on the internet is yet more proof of how little time it actually takes to run a household.
By evening the kids really needed some attention. Wally was wondering around like a motherless orphan. Did I get up to entertain him? No! I was now reclining in piles of pillows watching a wonderful show on TV. I guess I did help in a way. I mean I found a pen and paper in my bedroom and wrote Greg a note. That was help. It said, "Wally needs some one on one. Could you please stop and play with him?" I gave the note to Wally and commissioned him to deliver it to daddy who was still upstairs in his office. It worked. A few minutes later I heard him come downstairs with my poor baby boy. The effort required in writing that note set me back about two hours. I was soon dozing in a nyquil induced coma, my sweat drenching the bedsheets.
At dinner he took the kids to McDonalds. Things must not have gone to well because they arrive home and Greg comes upstairs to hand me a hotfudge sundae. Anna Lise is behind him crying her eyes out. Greg leaves and I cuddle my little girl. She informs me that she wanted to bring me the icecream but Daddy says she can't be trusted because she was naughty at McDonalds and then she spilled her pop all over the floor at the store. Hmmm. Maybe playing mom isn't going as well as one might think?
Greg says nothing to me about it. After all. what is there to say? This is an easy job. It doesn't even bear mentioning such a trifle. He's got far greater problems at work. And it's just too bad Wally won't sit and watch videos longer. I don't know how many times he tried to get him to watch a video! Wally was not interested. But there now. Thats most assuredly because the poor kid has to watch videos all the time when moms in charge.
Today the Big Daddy veneer is cracking. He takes the kids grocery shopping. While he's gone Shelly drops by. She and I go upstairs to watch a movie on the bigscreen Tv. I confided to Shelly that this could easily be the straw that breaks the camels back. He's been gone for three hours. But I'm not worrried. How hard can it be to get the weeks groceries with two kids along? Bah, Nothing to it. So Shelly and I enjoy our show.
The door opens downstairs. The bad vibes come sweeping in. I knew instinctively that I had better go down. As I enter the kitchen I get a side ways glance from Big Daddy. 'Twas meant to send shivers down my spine and thats exactly what it did, only--- ssh-- it felt good. You see my spine was breaking out in uncontroled sweats and the shiver actually helped!
Greg makes some off handed remark to Anna Lise. demanding that she go help bring in the groceries, after all he has already bought them, carried them to the car, carried them out of the car at home and is now putting them away, with no help from anybody. Shelly comes downstairs and mentions that she's hungry. "Well," Greg says, you've got food at home. You can go home and eat." With tears in her eyes Shelly gathers her purse and leaves. I had warned her that Dad would not be in a good mood when he got back. But did she heed my warning? No. So she left with her feelings hurt.
Greg proceeds to put away the groceries. I try to tell him how he has hurt Shelly. He retorts that there's not a thing wrong with what he said and nobody ever gives him the credit for what he does around here! The credit for what he does around here? Do I hear an echo? Oh now I know he's begining to feel the pain of the housewife and mother. This is getting good! So I say sweetly. "why dear, what great thing have you done that I should bow down to you?" I get no response. Just a banging of groceries.
So goes the household. There's really nothing to it! And I agree. It is pretty easy if you never cook a meal, if you never gets the kids dressed and put them to bed again at night, if you never vacuum the floor, or make a bed, or water the garden and yards, or if you leave the tomatoes to cook in the sun so they're not even good for ketchup, if you leave the apples rotting on the ground and never rake the leaves, or if you never sweep or mop, or pickup the kids clothes and toys, or if you never do any schoolwork with Annalise or read the kids a story, or water the flowers that have now died in the wheelbarrow out front, and if you never give the kids a bath or wash their hair, or change the sheets, or take Wally potty, or if you never clean out the fridge, or bake the cookies, or soothe hurt feelings, or comfort the saddened, or bandage skinned knees. Yeh it's easy! He's right. I mean how much work can it be?
Bah to one and all. Greg has just proven that taking care of a house and kids is incredibly easy. If you don't believe me just ask him!
There's really nothing to it!
I'm sick. Sore throat,- chilling,- hot flashes,- nauseated,- headache kind of sick.
My girlfriend came and picked up my kids for the day. There's no way I am able to take care of them. I'll hopefully be back tomorrow.
I found this saying on the internet. It goes right along with some debates we'e all been haveing over on JD's sight.
Katherine Paterson
"Thus, in a real sense, I am constantly writing autobiography, but I have to turn it into fiction in order to give it credibility."
I didn't get too much done today. For some reason I just couldn't seem to function. I think part of it is my diet. My husband decided he would diet with me and so for the last two days I've done fairly well. Yesterday afternoon the kids were cranky and so was I. Wally had not left the house since Sunday and was beginning to feel cooped up. Everytime anyone put their shoes on or combed their hair he'd come running. Over and over he'd repeat, "bup bup?" Thats wally for "bye bye".
When Greg called to say that he would be late due to some leaky valves at work, I decided to take the kids to McDonalds and give us all a break. I ate before we left so I wouldn't be tempted to cheat on my diet. I stopped at Starbucks and bought myself a caramel frappacino. It was not cheating because I had counted it into my calories. So while the kids ate their happy meals and played on the slide I sipped my coffee and enjoyed my October issue of Better Homes and Gardens. It came in the mail weeks ago but so far I had not found time to read it.
This little time out was good for the kids and for me. We came home a little less snippy then when we left!
Wow, am I ever having fun with the weekly fifty bucks I receive from baby sitting. I feel perfectly rich! Wally is all into police cars and guns and badges. I'm not sure how much I should foster this current love of his but on the other hand I want him to enjoy being a little boy. So he has a couple of guns, and a badge but no police car. Tomorrow I will buy him that car.
Greg doesn't like me to shop at Toys R Us because they don't sell guns and have joined up with some anti gun group. Do you notice how often I am vague on details? I don't really care what they have decided to do about guns. The only thing that effects me is that they don't sell them. Thats really all I care about. I don't need to know all the whys and wherefores. It just means I have to buy my guns at Walmart or Fred Meyer; no big deal.
Greg is a different sort of person. To him it is a big deal. He owns guns. He polishes guns. He lovingly melts the lead to make the bullets for his guns. He target practices with his guns. He joined a gun club with his guns. He has a beautiful safe for his guns. In the safe he has made a shelf specifically designed for his guns. He loves his guns!!!
He can't wait to take Anna Lise and Wally to the gun club with him. I am not so excited.
My dad had an old 30/30 (not sure how to write that?). It stood for years behind the old organ in the drawing room. We were scared of that gun. If it tipped a little while we were cautiously cleaning we were petrified. When Pop got home he would soberly right the gun, once again explaining how deadly it was. We listened wide eyed and afraid. I don't know if we were more scared of the gun or of the whipping we would get if we ever dared to touch it! Of course as we got older and wiser we realized that it actually needed bullets to kill. To this day I don't know where Pop kept those bullets.
Pop was not a hunter. Oh no! This gun was for killing beef cattle and pigs and stray dogs. Pop never target practiced. The critters were his targets. I remember huddling at the upstairs window with my sisters while Pop tried to shoot our cow. There he was below us in the orchard, stalking the cow from every angle. The cow, being a tame old beast, just contentedly kept on chewing her cud. Pop finally found the perfect angle and raised his gun.
The moment had come!
Bang!
We ducked under the window and waited. Nothing happened. Just as we were getting up we heard it again!
Bang!
Again we waited. Not hearing anything further we got up and looked out. Wouldn't you know it, there was Pop, pushing with all his might on that old cow; his gun hanging useless at his side. There the cow stood, feet firmly planted under her. That old beast; she didn't know she was suppose to fall over dead.
Now I wish I could tell you the end of this story but I can't. I repeat, "I am not given to remembering details." The end result was that the cow eventually ended up in our freezer. She was ground into hamburger and cut into steaks to feed us during the long winter ahead.
The real unnerving thing about this is that as kids we knew exactly which packages of meat belonged to which cow. Some cows tasted better than others. We called the cows by their names as we fried them up. Our cows were named things like Frackle, and Dancy, and Brownie. Frackle made terrible meat. No one liked it. One could smell the awfullness of her as she sizzled and popped in the pan. We older girls refused to eat her!
Now I suppose you can find fault with Pops method of killing cows, but on the other hand, he was only doing what he had to do to keep meat on the table. If that were to happen today there would be animal rights advocates crawling all over our place. But back then people had to do what they had to do to survive. Life was different and times were tough.
So I guess I really should be glad that my husband goes target shooting. Should Costco ever close it's doors, should the local Fred Meyer go bankrupt or the Thriftway burn to the ground, he at least will know how to shoot a cow.
They say, "home is where the heart is." I've been thinking a lot about this lately. Every fall my heart and soul turn homeward. Now you would argue that I am home all the time. Yes, thats true. But... my heart isn't! All too many times I lose sight of why I am staying home with my kids and why I have essentially chosen to homeschool Anna Lise.
There's something about the shifting of the autumn winds and the cooling of the nights that brings new focus to my life. I feel invigorated at this time of year. All summer my brain stagnates. I hate the heat and as my body shuts down so does my mind. And just the time I think this is all there is to life, I awake one morning to a misty fog. I run to my window and pull open my blinds. Fall is here. I am alive. I have new purpose.
I feel my heart beat and I know it has come home. There's work to be done. In the coolness of the morning I pick my tomatoes. I stop to check the pumpkins. They're right on schedule. Soon they will be leering from my front porch step. The corn is beginning to dry out. A few more east winds and it will be dry enough to tie into a shock for my fall display.
My kitchen smells of spice and onions and tomatoes as I cook down huge vats of ketchup. The yeasty aroma of baking bread hangs heavy in the air. I pull out my crockpot to slowcook my dinners. Cold salads and grilled chicken have been replaced with beefy stews and potroasts. Winter squash finds it's way to the table almost every night.
I worry now about my daughter. She's struggling in school. If it were not for her evening homeschooling she would be totally lost in her class of 27 kids. I want to bring her home and keep her here. I want long evenings by the fire reading books. I want her at my kitchen table studying while I churn apples into sauce. I want her there with Wally and me. That's where she's suppose to be. I'm giving her best hours to a system that I don't trust. I'm a teacher. I have taught many kids how to read. I want to teach my own now. I homeschooled my oldest daughter Shelly after school until the 4rth grade. I can do this. Anna Lise is coming back to my hearth at Christmas.
I know this because the fall winds have cleared my mind.
I need to find more time for my husband. I'm scheduling a date night once a week. I need to show him how much I love him. He loves foot massages after a hard day at work. Now that summers gone I will spend time rubbing his feet and back. He's a wonderful man. I love these misty fall nights when we lie in bed and just talk. The mist, the rustling of the wind, the harvest moon, all seem to lend themselves to quiet talks, to deep reflections, to the sharing of dreams and the setting of goals.
I now know why I have chosen to be a stay at home mom.
It's fall and my heart has indeed found it's way home.
There were nine of us kids; five girls and four boys. I am the next to the oldest. My mother; with some sort of mystic forsight, had us in clumps. The five girls came first followed by the boys. Over the years this proved advantagous in many ways; we would become choker setters for Pop, nurses and nannys for our baby brothers, housecleaners, dishwashers and laundry maids.
Our house was a huge old beast that groaned in great travail as it tried to withstand the fierce winds that blew off the Cascades. For a hundred years it had stood there. It boasted 30 some odd rooms. Nobody seemed to know exactly how many; everybody just added on as they saw fit. Here a bedroom, there a closet. It really didn't matter as long as it was functional and served the purpose.
Through the years the east and west walls began leaning dangerously outward. Pop easily solved the problem by running a logging cable from wall to wall. It had a little winch on it and every year or so it had to be winched a notch tighter. Cardboard boxes of stones strategically placed served as the foundation. There was nothing to serve as insulation. The wind blew drifts of snow through the cracks in the windows and under the door. I received more than my share of whippings for not replacing the rolled up rug that was kept under that drafty old door.
No matter how poor we were or how hard the winter we could always afford masking tape. Windows were taped shut along with unused doors. Broken window panes were fixed with cardboard and still more tape. It was masking tape and the old cable in the upstairs hall that kept the house from total collapse. Oh yeah, and those old carboard boxes of stone.
*******
Well you have all just been treated to the unedited version of the first couple paragraphs of my upcoming book. The book has no title yet so I can't even tell you what to watch for in your local Barnes and Noble. Ahem. Just keep your eyes open. You'll see me soon.
I have always wanted to write a book. I have had short stories and articles published through the years, but never a book. I never went to high school so I had to teach myself to type. I found an old typewriter of my dads in an unused room upstairs. I proudly dusted it off and declared it mine. There was no ink left on the tape in the old thing. I found a typing book in a box of books the public library had discarded. And so began my typing lessons. If I hit the keys hard enough they would leave indentions on the paper and I could see what I had typed. I spent many hours up in that tiny storage room pecking away in my pursuit for knowledge. But there now. Thats another chapter in my book.
I must go pick my tomatoes and water the flowers. Shelly stopped by a little earlier. She's not feeling well. I think part of it is that she's scared. Seems she was cramping all night with pains hard enough to keep her awake. She's lying her on the bed in my study. (For those who don't know, she is 6 months pregnant with her first child.) So between the pain and lack of sleep she's pretty much undone. Wally just climbed on to my lap long enough to pee all over me. His night diaper just couldn't hold anymore so I got the over flow. Being a mom is not all it 's cracked up to be sometimes!
My bones hurt. My feet hurt. My back is killing me. Im plagued with a nagging headache. This is me. This is me in the morning before Ibuprofin. This is me in the morning before coffee. I am old. Everything is going south. I hate it. Do I do anything about it? No. Why? I'm not sure.
I keep telling myself that if I would just get out and excersize and if I would just lose this weight, I could then live a long and happy life; a life free of pills and pain. But having the head knowledge and applying that knowledge are beasts of a different color. Soon it will be Christmas and everything I vowed to myself last holiday will lie like broken pottery at me feet; all my hopes, my dreams of that little black dress, my dreams of dancing at my husbands Christmas party, all will mock me.
I have been lazy. I have tried one diet after another this year, never sticking to the same thing for more than two months. I have only myself to blame. Is there still hope? Barely. I have three months. In those three months I can lose twenty pounds or I can stay my same old fat aching self. It's all a matter of choice. I need to buck up and do something about this now.
Today I take my destiny in my hands. I am going to make use of these next few weeks and actually lose some weight. You read me! Thats exactly what I will do!
Hey, I have a joke to tell you. Have you ever heard about the dyslexic antagonist insomniac? He lies awake all night wondering if theres a dog! (ahem) Just thought I'd throw that in in light of some converstaions we've been having over at foldedspace.
Well last night was the Emmys! I hate the Emmys. Do you realize how much money is flaunted and worn at that thing? The old lady that plays Raymonds mother in Everybody Loves Raymond had a ring on that was valued at 5 million bucks. She had a bodyguard there with her because of that ridiculous ring! You take the cost of the jewelry and the designer dresses and there would be enough money from one night at the Emmys to feed the entire known world!
It takes most of us a lifetime to make the same amount of money that a lot of those people make in a week! Something is incredibly wrong with the whole thing.
I mean here I sit. All I'm asking out of life is a little black dress from my local Pennys store to wear to a Christmas party! Oh yeah, I'd like some new living room furniture too. I about forgot about that. Oh and I want to be thin! Have I told you all that I'm too fat? Well I am. I'm just too fat!
It all comes down to this. I don't want those Emmy women's jewelry. I don't want those woman's fancy clothes. I don't want their cars. I don't want their jobs. But... I do want their figures! And that is something within my power to give to myself. How badly do I want it? We shall see. We shall see.
Todays entry will be short and sweet.
I'm upset about that lady in the news who faked her own rape. Why under the sun would someone do this? They claim that she got nine thousand some odd dollars from some sort of victims advocate group. But I can't see how that would compensate for this sort of lie. The Oregon City police have dropped the case but the Tigard police are still pursuing it. Dumb, dumb woman!
A twenty-two year old girl was just raped in her apartment the other morning. The story is that she arrived home at about 1:30 in the morning and was raped. I feel so badly for her. The world is a big enough place for our daughters when they first start out. We as moms are petrified of this very thing. I'm always telling my daughter to lock her doors.
I taught my daughter to lock her car doors when she gets in. I've trained her to always check the back seat for intuders hiding there. I've drilled her over and over about the dangers in the big world, and yet... what does she do? She leaves her door open on the deck that is just off the master bedroom. When I confronted her about it she informs me that it is just too hot and anyway she lives on the second floor. Big deal! She's a beautiful young girl and I am worrried! (Even as I write this I worry that some freak will read it and find out where she lives.) Well don't worry, weirdo, her door is locked tight now because the weather is cold. So forget it!
I'm one who checks my doors over and over before going to bed. I never sit in my car waiting on my husband that my doors aren't locked! I carry pepper spray on my key ring. My husband has even taken me to the gun club and taught me how to shoot. I put a board in the runner of my sliding doors at night. And no matter how hot it is my childrens windows are never open at night.
I'm a freak about safety.
Daughter, if you read this, take it as another gentle warning from your mom!
Ok thats the short part. Here's the sweet (but naughty) part.
Anna Lise was sent to her room for disobedience this morning. Once she was in her room I could her talking to herself. I crept down the hall to hear her better.
She is laying on her bed. Her little brother followed her in and is sitting on a little stool beside the bed. Anna Lise is crying and here is what she said;
"Wally, I used to be part of this family but now I'm not. You still are but I'm not! Mama and Daddy don't like me. (Pause) All I did was spilled a little eensy bit of milk. I can't stand this! I just can't stand this! Wally. go hit mama in the butt! (She stops and crys harder) I just wish I was still part of this family!"
Now this is one dramatic little girl! It wasn't but half a minute later she was playing a tickle game on her bed, so she wasn't as traumatized as it sounds. And by the way, she was sent to her room because she poured the milk when she was told not to, not because she spilled it. Anna Lise has always been given to drama. But we love her. And she truly does belong to this family!
It continually amazes me at how much coordination and organization it takes to run a household efficiently. When something happens to break that coordination the whole thing crumbles.
My kids have been sick. I'm feeling snowed under. Apples are needing to be made into sauce. The tomatoes are growing out my ears! I must make ketchup and salsa again soon!
I don't feel well today. I'm afraid I've contracted the kids disease. I'm chilling and just plain miserable. I cannot afford to be sick. Theres so much to do.
I need to synchronize calendars around here. Now that may sound like a funny thing to say but let me explain. At our house we have a church calendar, an Awanas Club and a school calendar for Anna Lise and a Moms Club calendar for me. Then there's the regular calendar of doctors appointments and babysitting schedule etc. All those calendars must be collected and data stored on just one in order for me to operate effeciently. This month is all hodge podge. I have to check all the calendars everyday. It's a very inefficient way to run my household. I must get that all put together.
I have badges to be sewn onto Anna Lise uniform. I have pants to take up in the leg for Greg. Everybody has mending waiting to be done. I hate to sew! But I must. We cannot continue to be this disorganized.
Anna Lise now has homework that is sent home once a week. Every night I practice her spelling words with her. Every night I must log how long I have read to her and include the titles and authors. She has math to do. And every afternoon I teach her phonics. She has an Awanas manual that I have to work through with her weekly. This includes memorizing about four scripture verses a week; a very difficult task for Anna Lise.
I babysit three days a week and still try to find time to get Wally to his playgroup. On Sunday I work in the church nursery. There's the inevitable laundry and dishes (which I have been washing by hand all week. Our dishwasher is broken and my ever diligent husband is researching the many makes and models and features available. I wish he'd just buy!)The housecleaning is a never ending chore in a house this big. Some where, midst all the work, I need to find time to read my book clubs selection for the month. I haven't even started it!
Tomatoes, apples, sewing, homework, playgroups, clubs, dishes, cooking, laundry, cleaning, baking, garden, flowers, babysitting.... it never ends.
As always I marvel how anyone can have a career and still run a household. I could not. I'm sick for a day and my house has collapsed.
Excuse me while I go curl up with my blanky. If only I could have a maid!
I was raised a pacifist. To retaliate using force was strictly forbidden. We never said the Pledge of Allegiance in our school. I didn't even know the words to the pledge until I was in my mid twenties; and then I learned it because my daughter taught it to me. As a pacifist we were all registered as CO's. At school and at church we were actively drilled in how to respond should we be drafted to war. After all we were citizens of a heavenly city, not citizens of the United States.
We were taught that there could be hidden officials who were watching your every move, trying to catch you in an act of violence. Even your speech could condemn you to war. The story went a round that one man was in line (? what for now? I don't recall) any way there he was waiting to be processed for war and somebody in the line told a story about how a friend had stolen something from him and the CO answered that he would have beat up his friend if he had pulled such a thing. Immediately the CO was pulled from line and told that in truth he was not a CO and they had caught him. The guy he had been talking to was an undercover somebody or other and if he could beat up his friend then he did believe in violence and off to war he went. Scarey proposition! We listened wide eyed and afraid. We were no where near the legal age to got to war but we were scared!
When we reached 16 years of age we were told to write out our "conscientous objectors" veiw on war and get it filed with the state department so they would know that we hadn't just claimed CO status at the last minute.
At school the teacher would read us stories of the goriness of war. In the fifth grade our teacher read to us a book entititled One Boys Battle. It was published by our Mennonite publishing house. It was about a boy who went to war despite his early training, and how much he regeretted it. We listened with rapt attention. I can remember begging the teacher to read through lunch time. Many times she did.
At that time the nation was still caught up in the Cold War and the mere mention of the Iron Curtain was enough to strike terror to our souls. Our greatest fear was that our own United States would be taken over by Communism.
We played out scenarios at recess where the big boys were the Communists and we were the Christians they were hunting down. The game was pretty much like hide-and-go-seek only the stakes were much higher. If we were caught we would be tied to the posts in the playshed and "burned at the stake". Of course there was no real fire but that didn't stop us from standing by the post in our imagined ropes and singing at the top of our lungs;
"Faith of our fathers living still, in spite of dungeon, fire and sword, oh how our hearts beat high with joy when e're we hear that joyous word; Faith of our fathers, holy faith, we will be true to Thee till death!"
Bravely we sang while the flames consumed us. Before long we were slumped dead against the post. We had died for our faith!
Today it is a different world. I now salute the flag in assembly. I sing patriotic songs in church. I am a registered voter! I am Proud to be an American!
I still live my daily life as a pacifist. Could I ever kill if I had too? I don't know. Am I raising my children to be war pacifists? No I am not. But I'm not altogether sure that I'm doing the right thing. When I see the boys being killed in Iraq I wonder if we all wouldn't be better off as pacifists.
I don't know.
As I was sitting here waiting for my incredibly slow computer to dial in to MSN I had to wonder how many people still "dial in" these days. It's just so time consuming. My husband has strong feelings about paying for DSL or some other such thing. (see how puter literate I am? some other such thing?) He's funny about stuff like that. We do not have call waiting or caller ID either. And just because the phone rings is no excuse to answer it! He's a hermit, a recluse, an introvert. He's everything I am not. But I love the man and because I love him I sit here and read my book while the computer does it's job.
My computer is in a front bedroom in the far reaches of the house. To reach it I must travel down a medium size hall from my bedroom through the living room and a little play area, into an entry hall, up fourteen stairs and down an extremely long hall to my study way down at the end. ( I have ran down those stairs no less than eight times thus far in this entry.) I have two windows in here, both facing the street. Being a rather curious person I am easily distracted by neighbors pulling in out of their driveways. Some would say I'm nosey, I would say I'm just on the alert.
You see most of the people in my little cul-de-sac work away from home; therefore, I have no choice but to keep track of things in the neighborhood. I would not be a good neighbor if I did not. As a result of my diligence I can now report to you all that my neighbor lady almost never gets her kids to school on time. What an injustice to the kids!
Oh mercy, there goes the neighborman on his motorcycle. He's a regional manager for Value Village. Most of the time he can be found in his garage polishing his motor bikes. He's an avid hunter, so between hunting and keeping his bikes in tip top shape he scarecly ever has time to go to work. This morning I am glad to see him on his way. He tells me that he has five years in which to use up his vacation days or he loses them. He has 10 more weeks of vacation days left, plus the weeks he will accumulate in those five years. Hmmm. Must be nice! Thats the problem with being a stay at home mom. You work 24/7 year round. You must even take your job on vacations with you!
And speaking of being a parent, I have a parental dilemma. My daughter wants to go to cheerleading camp in the hope that she can some day be a cheer leader. Now I can hope that she changes her mind but I doubt that she will. What girl hasn't dreamed of being a cheerleader? For once I'm facing an issue that I have no strong feelings about. I'm sure that is due in part by the fact that I never attended a day of public school in my life and I really don't know all that it entails. I know that it is a very competitive sport and that worrys me. I don't like the idea that these girls must wear short little frilly skirts and all be a certain size to qualify. I do, however, feel like it would be a great incentive for a child to get good grades. Have any of my readers ever been cheeerleaders and can you enlighten me a little as to what all is involved in this?
Newsflash: Aurora, Oregons Antique Capital, is putting on a benefit breakfast Sunday with all you can eat omlettes and pancakes. It's to be held at Fir Point farms. Now here is a cause I can get behind! I love Aurora; it's tree lined streets, and quaint little shops that boast such names as, Carolines Cottage, Main Street Mercantile, The Common Way, The Mohler House, Home Again Antiques, Time After Time. I mean can it get any better? They have the most awsome quilts at their quilt shows! The entire town just wraps itself around you; a complete embodiment of the days when life moved at a slower pace and people stopped to greet each other in the street.
I also love Fir Point Farms. But I will tell you more about that as we get nearer to Halloween. We love taking the kids out there for hayrides and apple cider donuts! I can't wait!
It's twilight; that time of day when everything takes on an etheral, mystical feel; when time and eternity seem to blend into one. The day is reaching quivering tentacles out to the horizon, bravely trying to keep it's grip on the world. It will lose. A new day will soon rise above that very horizon. Today will be just a memory. I sit here in the twilight enjoying my little nook in cyber space. I feel a bond with this web page. I think of it as a quiet little coffee spot where I can retire to write and converse with old friends and new. The orangey reddish hues of this page give it a cozy feel. Warm fuzzies find their way into my heart and being when I come here. My weblog has become my friend. I just want to burrow in on these cool evenings and chat with you all. I like the feel of this place. Am I wierd or what?
Three nights of getting up with sick kids has finally taken it's toll. I'm stumbling around here like a drunk. My head hurts and and my tail spins. I can't take much more! Anna Lise is going to school today. I finally feel like she's past the worst of it!
I hate mornings like this one. Anna Lise cried and cried because she didn't want to go to school. I had to force her into her clothes; stuffing her hands methodically into each sleeve. Things were tense and time was tight. I need to allow more time to get her ready. The allotted time is perfect if she's cooperative. If not? Well I'm sunk. I combed her hair while she ate breakfast.
Just as it was time to go to the bus stop I realized that her fundraiser was not only still here at home, but that I hadn't even made out an order! It was all due back yesterday. I quick sat down and wrote out an order for christmas wrap, etc. It had to reach $25.00 so she could get the "free" bracelet.
She grabbed her book bag and her coat. I shoved the order into her hands and sent her out the door just as the bus was coming down the street. Relief! She made it.
I came back inside to enjoy the morning newspaper and have a cup of coffee. As I entered the kitchen what to my wondering eyes did appear but her little pink lunchpail! Immediately all the little Bratz dolls on the front flap started yelling in unison; you're the most disorganized mom on the block, why can't you get your act together, you're always running behind. I wanted to scream! Now I have to get my sick little boy dressed and run up to the school with that lunchpail!
I spent two and half hours last night at my daughter's school open house. She barely had time to show me her little reading corner in the classroom before I had to hurry out to talk to the speech therapist. Although Anna Lise is six years old she is talking at the level of a three and a half year old. I spent 2 hours answering the therapists questions and signing forms. They have more tests to do on her to see if she qualifies for speech therapy before they set up an IEP for her. My understanding is that her IEP will include 30 minutes of speech twice a week. I hope thats right. Originally they had said 20 minutes once a week and I was not happy! I cannot see how that little bit of time in a group therapy session is going to make any difference. I'm just waiting to see what happens. I have little confidence in the public school system. I give them till Christmas. If I don't like what I see by then, I'm pulling her out and homeschooling her.
Yesterday afternoon Wally and I picked up apples in the orchard. It was a beautiful afternoon; the kind of afternoons that come only in the fall of the year:
Breezy, warm with just a hint of coolness, apples still wet from the rain, leaves brittle underfoot. It was a perfect time to bond with my little son. He loves working outside with me. I tried to mow the yard but the mower quit after two rounds. I think there may be water in the gas. I inadvertently left it out in the rain the last several days.
I want everyone to know that today I get my first paycheck in 7 years and 9 months. Thats right. I hve been out of the work force for precisely that long. Now that I am babysitting I am making money for the first time since I got pregnant with my daughter. Today I get paid exactly $100. I feel rich!
Tomorrow I go shopping! Today I make applesauce.
I did positively terrible on my diet yesterday. I cannot stay away from those three musketeers. It's beyond human endurance. I love three musketeers! I love chocolate! I'm thinking that maybe a chocolate diet is the way to go.
Today both my kids are sick! Anna Lise is home from school again. At least there has been no puking since yesterday morning! Anna Lise is still sleeping and Wally's in my bed watching Zuboomafoo on Public Broadcasting. I like that channel. I never have to worry about what the kids are seeing when the TV is tuned to channel 10. Guess it would behoove me to send them a little money. I never have. Hmmm! Maybe I should do just that!
I've got my coffee here at the computer with me. I vowed I would never do that again after a major accident I had a while back. In that little mishap I managed to spill my coffee and short out a wireless mouse, thus rendering the keyboard useless! My husband was not the happiest I can tell you. But as every other promise I make to myself this one too has gone by the wayside. My coffee is up here with me again, only now it sits to my left so I won't accidentally grab it thinking it's my mouse!
Today I am going to stay on my diet perfectly. I really truly am. Not one bite of a surgery morsel shall enter my mouth today. Oh, and Greg bought mini little candybars for the kids lunches; three musketeers to be exact! One of my favorite kind. They are so little it becomes easy to reason that one won't hurt, but 5 candybar wrappers later I realize that one does hurt! My diets down the drain and I have a splitting headache. You see I have hypoglocemia and am not suppose to have any sugar. Does it stop me? No! I'm totally lacking in will power.
So in the news this week we see Ben and Jennifer Lopez calling off their wedding. I don't see what the big deal is. I have never viewed Ben as some sexual icon. In fact, I hardly see him as handsome. Now I really don't like him because according to MSN's little news link, he's the one that called it off! Men!
You want to know who I find sexy? Probably not but I'll tell you anyway. (Now it goes without saying that I find my husband the most sexiest man on the planet) I think Raymond in Everybody Loves Raymond is a sexy dude! I used to be head over heels infatuated with Richard Chamberlain but now that he has gotten so old and now that the news is out that he is gay I've lost all attraction for him. I always found Michael Langdon to be a sexy man too. I loved his hair and that crooked grin of his. But maybe the all time sexiest is Tom Hanks! Now there's a man! I see him on the radio calling back to earth, "Houston, we've got a problem!" I get shivers up and down my spine. Thank God he was on that spaceship or we for sure would have lost another set of astronauts to the blue yonder. Yep. He's my man. Sexy in every way!
And back to the part about Richard Chamberlain being gay. Thats such a waste of a good man. My favorite comedian has always been Ellen Degeneres. Now why on this green earth does she have to be gay! Now she's getting her own talk show this fall and I can't even watch it because she's a lesbian! How fair is that? Couldn't she just have stayed in the closet so I could have my conscience clear while I laughed at her jokes? I just wish I didn't know about it, cause she is just sit-me-down-slap-your-leg-rip-roaring funny! Thats just my luck in life. I like so few people and the ones I do like all have something wrong with them.
My biggest icon of all time was Princess Diana of Wales. Look what happened to her? She died in a car crash! The day she died my phone was ringing off the hook. One friend was in her car on the border of Idaho and called to see how I was doing! Everybody knew I would be devestated. And I was. I was clinging onto every word the news had about her. When they finally announced that she indeed had died... I'll never forget it. I was standing in the middle of my living room and I just screamed! The tears started coming and I couldn't stop screaming! My husband came and put his arm around me. I mean it was awful. I have vowed to never have an icon of such magnitude again. I have a library full of every book ever written about her. Friends have brought me sachets and key rings straight from the gift shop of Kensington Palace! I had planned to some day go to Europe and walk the ground that she had walked and see where she lived and just soak in the very essence of her. Now I don't want to go. It's just so sad.
I have no luck. My icons are all either gay or dead! I have to be the unluckiest lady around!
It's a beautiful fall morning! The wind is gently stirring the drying leaves in my cherry tree. The breeze has sort of whispered through that tree all summer, now however, it makes a rattling, arthritic sound as it sorts through the dying leaves. The air is sharp and smells faintly of maple and spice and of things dying. But it's a lovely sort of dying. The smell of apples, left too hang withered on the limb, blends with the musty smell of black walnuts lying thick under the gnarled tree in my old garden plot. I love these kind of mornings! Smoke curls lazily from chimneys long unused. Leaves that once lay open to the breeze are now curled in on themselves in a brave attempt to stave off the bite in the morning air. Fat bellied pumpkins lie on their backs like pregnant women, carrying the seeds that will create new life in the spring.
This is a morning in September. This is a Sunday morning in September. I've always loved Sunday mornings. There's a newness to the morning that is different than week day mornings; a sense of completeness; a sense of rebirth.
As we gather round the breakfast table I can't help but think over the days just passed. Once again God has brought us safely through another week. My son, whose hair is usually standing every which way, is actually drinking his juice like a civilized little human. It seems he knows that his hair is freshly washed and brushed and that he will soon be donning his little vested suit and tie.
Anna Lise regails us with tales of the latest stickers she has earned in Sunday School and how many prizes she will be winning as a result. She's a little magpie as usual. She's never quiet and even the sort of peaceful calm that descends as a result of it being Sunday, never seems to find it's way into her little soul.
Greg and I linger over our coffee till it's time for me to put the finishing touches on the Sunday dinner that I will pop into the oven to cook while I'm at church. Because the weather has turned cooler I've been adding hot biscuits to our meals. We all love steaming buttery biscuits spread with fresh strwberry jam. It's one of my greatest comfort foods so naturally it is becoming one of my families favorites too.
I linger for just a moment at my kitchen window. I feel the heat of my coffee seeping though the mug I hold in my hands. I thank God for my family. I thank God for autumn mornings. But most of all I thank him for peace; peace in my heart and in my home.
It's a Sunday morning in September. All is well!
One time, years ago, I was going through a great depression in my life. My mother thought that it would be a good idea for me to see a psychiatrist. So once a week thats exactly what I did. In the course of my psychiatric treatment the Dr. gave me some big old long test that was suppose to sort out trouble spots; those spots in my life where I was abnormal. (Back then I was pretty normal other than the depression. Nowadays I'm just one big blob of abnormality and no one would even think of trying to "normalize" me!) Anyway this test showed that I was actually quite normal. There were only two things that raised a red flag!
I was off the chart in my great desire to control my environment and my life. I feel like that has pretty much resolved itself as I have grown older. I'm sure getting married and actually having more control of my life took away that desperation.
In the tight circle where I grew up you were pretty much an "old maid" if you had not married by the time you were 19 or 20. Looking back on all this I think that was a huge part of my fear. I was already 21 at the time I was seeing this psychiatrist. I was definitely a "leftover blessing" as the church was want to call it. To make matters worse I was a pregnant leftover blessing!
Chances of finding a husband were pretty slim. And if one didn't find a husband?
Well there was definitely something wrong with you! No one thought about it that a girl might choose to stay unmarried; probably because no one in the strict Mennonite church in which I was raised, ever would have chosen a life of solidarity. The Mennonite church was all about families.
So her I was; pregnant, unwed, depressed, tired, lonely and back living at my parents house. I was very grateful they took me back in my pregnant state and all, but nice as that was, it did nothing to curb my desire to be in control of my own life. In fact, I think this only lent itself to my abnormal cravings for control.
The second thing that showed up was this: I was easily irritated about small things. Now that is still with me! I even get irritated at things that have no effect over me and my life. But they irritate me beyond belief.
I get irritated at people who try to tell me how to raise my kids when they only have toddlers. This one will make an entire entry in my log sometime. It's a continual burr in my saddle. What makes them think they can tell me how to raise my child when I have been parenting for 21 years and they have been parenting for a whoppin' 18 months? Grrr! Oh boy! They tackle the wrong person when they start critizing my kids.
On the other hand, I will seek out friends who have successfully raised children and ask for their advice. But puullleease! If you are a parent of toddlers, do NOT try to tell parents of teenagers how to raise their kids. You have no idea what you are talking about!
Ok back to things that irritate me. I get irritated by my doorbell ringing when the kids are taking a nap. I get irritated when my friends copy my decorating style. I get irritated when they buy the same refrigerater, the same granite for the counters, the same bedset for their nursery. I know they say that copying is the sincerest form of flattery. But I don't need to be flattered in that manner, thank- you! One lady even tried to do her daughters entire bedroom exactly like my daughters! That irritates me!
I get irritated at people who brag on their kids and their husbands till you want to puke. Which brings me to my morning brunch. This morning I attended a ladies brunch in which about 10 of us got together at one of the homes and had a potluck brunch. There is one lady that always brags on her herself and her entire family! This morning was no different! She kept telling us how wonderful her husband has been through the years; how he's always made her feel so protected and all the little things he does for her. And now he's taking her on a 19 day Carribean Cruise. When everybody gasps and say how delightful that would be, she then clasps her hands in front of herself and says, " AAAnnnnd get this! He just bought me a Hummer!"
Ok by now I'm irritated. Must we always listen to how great her husband is?! It just brings out the litle kid in me. I want to stomp my feet and say, " I do not like green eggs and ham, and I do not want your little man!
I love my husband. I am not envious of anyone elses husband. I do not want to be married to anyone elses husband. I do not want to hear about how sweet your husband is in private. I do not want to hear how great he is with your kids. I do not want to hear how much he adores you. I do NOT like green eggs and ham! You got it?
And besides, what compels you, dear lady. to continually brag about your husband? Could it be that he's not so great and you don't want anyone to know?
So am I easily irritated by small things? I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions!
I have just returned from running errands all over town. I returned some pants to Kmart that I had bought for Anna Lise. They were much too big! It's the second time I have returned jeans to Kmart for her. I hate Kmart school clothes this year for little girls. It's all so stupidly funky. Everything has ties on it made of strings that my dad used to use for lacing up his logging boots! Whats with it? And half the pants look like the kids have spilled paint down the front. For those ridiculous pants you have to pay more than just the regular jeans!
After going to Kmart I went to Toys r Us to return yet another pair of jeans that were too small! Too big, too small, too tight, too trendy, too flared; always something wrong! Which brings me to my biggest petpeeve; lo rise pants! Lo rise pants on a 6yr old?? Get real. So here I am trying to fit these pants onto Anna Lise and the dumb things wont snap because they're lo rise! I can just see it. All across the city kids are jumping and twisting and twitching every which way while harried mothers try to cinch them into their lo rises! We're all trying to snap these pants over fat little toddler tummies. Their normal size is now way too tight and the next size has such a long leg it's sweeping the ground. You can't take up the hem because they're flared. It's so frusterating. Why can't the little kids be little kids for heaven sake?
Now I have no such problem with Wallys clothes. Why? Because little boys don't have to be sexy!
After returning these jeans I went to Target and bought Anna Lise a tan jumper from the school uniform section with a darling burgandy rust colored sweater. Now don't get me wrong. Target is about as trendy as they come. They're great for finding uses for Pops boot strings! But they at least carry the Catholic school uniforms. Now I'm not Catholic but I do like their school clothes! I'll do whatever it takes to get my little girl looking like a little girl instead of a mini Brittany Spears.
My frusteration continues as I try to transplant those fall perennials. I don't have enough flower bed space! I don't have enough dappled shade. I have too much shade. I have too much clay. I don't have enough mulch. On and on it goes. And now I'm truly frusterated; theres a fly that keeps swooping down as I try to type. Well at least I can do something about that! I'll kill him! If he would have bugged me on a better day his life may have been spared but since he insits on making my head his landing zone on this my day of frusteration, he shall die!
Now that the weather is a little cooler I'm getting excited about dividing my plants and moving some that are not thriving where they are. I love flower beds and gardens. I recently added a new perennial bed smack dab in front of my sunroom. Because it was such a hot spot I found all the flowers that could thrive in desert like conditions and that would grow about 3 ft tall and placed them in front of the big window. Well that little flower bed has just finished it's second summer and now I have to take a bunch of it out. There are taller plants in front of smaller ones and some plants have found the spot to be just too hot for their taste. So today I will be digging up that flower bed.
I keep a cutting bed of flowers in my vegetable garden; cosmos, zinnias, batchler buttons, etc. My vegetable garden is almost done for the year. It would be totally over if it were not for the 8 tomato bushes I planted that are now heavy with tomatoes. Tomatoes are everywhere; in the garden, in the fridge, in the veggie basket on the center island, and on the window sills in the kitchen. I need to can salsa and ketchup here real soon.
I must go. The children are waking up and another day awaits. I have to stay off the computer pretty much today because my headache is still with me.
Today has been rather cloudy and dreary. A drizzly rain has fallen half- heartedly all afternoon. I spent most of my day on the computer and ended up with a severe headache. I do that every time I'm on the computer for more than about an hour. I'm not sure why that happens but it's very annoying. I haven't been in the best of moods today. I just feel so blah. I attribute it partly to the weather and partly to the fact that I have spent too much time on the computer. I enjoy reading weblogs and responding to e-mails and doing research but it always leaves me feeling low in spirits when I spend too much time in those kind of pursuits.
So here I am; headache and all. My 2 yr old had his first real fit tonight. His 6 yr old sisiter is going to first grade now and he is not handling it well. He seems bored and tired all day. Tonight she started in a local Awanas Club . It's a Bible club that meets at a little community church down the road. When I dropped her off there Wally cried the entire way home. He called her name over and over and literally got himself so worked up he was screaming and gasping for air at the same time. When we got home I sent him to his room and he continued to throw his fit for about 5 more minutes. My baby is becoming a naughty little 2 yr old. Why can't they just remain their sweet little selves?
Tonight when I came up to my study I was amazed to find the light on in the spare bedroom. I thought maybe the kids had gotten in there at some point during the day. I marched in there not a little upset! And lo and behold, what did I find!? The light had not been left on at all. The room was bright with the setting sun! I mean incredibly bright. There was a beautiful sunset tonight. I just felt a calming in my spirits as I stood in that room and soaked in the evening light.
I needed to be calmed!