Three too many

When I say things have been crazy here lately I'm not just talking mood swings and busy schedules. This past week has left my home in a state of upheaval. It began last weekend with the loss of my daughter's beloved, Sallica.

I've been having a rough few weeks. I'm not sure how to explain what I mean by this. I'm doing Ok some days and others, I just cry and fume. I don't know about what. I mean, to hear me talk you'd think it's all horrible, but the reality is, it isn't! Life is good, I'm healthy, I want for nothing. Partly I believe it's that undeniably human part of me making myself miserable. It's that I LONG for more. I have enough clothes, but they're not nice clothes or sexy clothes, just the basic jeans and t-shirt attire. I want another bathroom so that my children don't have to fight over who goes first while I fuss at them and remind them to take turns, meanwhile despising them both because my bladder has backed up into my eyeballs and I really just want to pee first! We're a family of five and we live in a house, that perhaps, people did 100 years ago with large families, but now it seems too modest. I want a bigger kitchen so I feel that I can invite people over and have dinner parties. I have enough food, but I want better, healthier food that I invest my own sweat into and prepare with my own two hands. Finally, I want more time in a day. I want time to sit idly by while my children knead and mold playdoh, help them write and perform fairy tales, or read Goodnight Moon just one more time instead of rushing to get everything done and still having my chores and responsibilities spill over into the next day. I want to spend more time with my husband who I stay angry at, not because he doesn't try, but because there IS work to be done and he must provide for us or we wouldn't have all the things that we have. He allows me these precious moments with my children and, most days, I'm so bitter and blinded by all the things I'm NOT doing, that I fail to remember what it is that I am BLESSED to be doing!!!

    Throughout my days and some of my extra minutes at the end of the night, I read blogs. I have an obsession with other people and my ability, or lack thereof, to relate to them . I'm sure a great many people do and this is why blogs have become so popular. I'm the type of person that slows down when I drive by houses with the lights on. I love a glimpse into someone's life. I love to see husbands and wives making dinner in their kitchens or an ornate Victorian dining room that houses an old hutch filled with beautiful China. I love to speculate and create imaginary story lines for these stranger's lives. On subways and trains I make eye contact and smile at people and then I close my eyes and become them. I imagine what they may think and feel. I even wonder what I look like through their eyes and if they too are thinking about me and my life. Of course, they probably aren't. But blogs, Oh, I love blogs! When I read about the pain, the careers, the difficulties, the heartache, and the immense love people experience I feel so at peace, so fulfilled, so...NORMAL!

My favorite blog is Sweet Juniper. An intelligent, cosmopolitan couple share a blog and allow all of us a glimpse into their homes and their hearts. Between the two of them, they are able to articulate every emotion I have ever felt around child rearing. I could never be as eloquent and conversant in as many areas, as they seem to be, with my accumulated life experience. Dutch and Wood, as they refer to themselves, are amazing people and parents, struggling with the same issues most of us face and only some of us acknowledge. You must go read this blog! None of them have captured my exact sentiments the way this particular post does. Enjoy!

This past week Ayda and I shared her last bit of warm, sweet milk. Me the maker and she the recipient of a liquid that means more than just sustenance. Nursing takes time out of our busy schedules, nursing takes tolerance, nursing takes a toll on our bodies, beyond that of pregnancy, nursing takes a mother's constant presence and finally nursing takes pillows, a cozy spot, and a lot of cuddling. I am happy that we have moved on to a new phase of our relationship, but this, being my last child, is also sad and I need to take time to acknowledge it. I will never again be the sole source of nutrition and dependance for a baby. I will never again feel the pain, intensity, and empowerment of childbirth. I will never hold up clothing so tiny, fresh from the laundry, and cry at the unbelievability that anything could be so small. I will never again call my husband to share first words or steps. I will never again hold another wet, new soul to my bosom and sigh and cry in awe of the life that myself, my husband, our love, and God created. As much as I want this freedom, this autonomy from my children, I also mourn it.

Nova: "Mom, I want eggs to dye."

Me, Gasping: "Why, Nova, that's such a mean thing to say!"

Nova: "Why Mom, what did I do?"

Me: "You said you want eggs to dye."

Nova: "I do, I mean it."

Me: "Well, I don't think that's very nice."

Nova "Mom, cut it out!"

Me: "You could just say something like, I never want to see another egg for the rest of my life! But, NOOOOO, You have to go and say you want eggs to dye!"

Nova: "Mom, that's not funny."

*Heh*

I start torturing them with my idiocy when they're young.

HAPPY EASTER!!!

At my son's school today Ember had one of her many, in a day, meltdowns. I can say one thing for her and that is that she is consistent. There are certain times and situations that I know will ultimately result in an all out limp bodied, writhing, crying, snotty, screaming, gagging on her own phlegm little girl. The time is ALWAYS between 3 and 4 pm and the situations are anything that involves playing with children she doesn't know well or being hurt in the most infinitesimal way. She puts on performances that far surpass any Hollywood actor to date. She can convince almost anyone that something is broken, going to fall off, or needs immediate medical attention...that is, anyone but me. I have gotten good at responding to these scenarios and help her with her yogic breathing and calming imagery in these times of crisis. BUT, even the best mother has her breaking points.

Today when we picked my son up at, well, you may have guessed, Three o' clock, she was doing pretty well. I had myself convinced that, perhaps, those dreadful days of dragging my child out of the school yard red faced and on the verge of tears were over. She was running and tagging children when THEY wanted her to, as opposed to her old routine of barking at everyone like a dog and gnawing at their ankles in between eating mouthfuls of dirty brown snow. This 3 pm pickup has been the bane of my existence since Ember became a toddler. I always grab my son by his shirt collar, close my eyes, run like hell through the crowd of parents, and dive into my car getaway style through my window before the ticking time bomb explodes. As soon as my wheels hit pavement Ember is fast asleep. Whew!

A while back my husband encountered a questionable gentleman in his computer store. The man was well dressed and making many inquiries on computers and different hardware. Kelly had no reason to suspect that this man may perhaps bamboozle him right in front of his face. On no less than three occasions in one visit to his store the gentleman tried to steal things. First it was a pen that was also a USB stick. Then it was some kind of connecting cable. By the man's third attempt my husband had given up on calling him out. While the man got wrapped up in a cell phone conversation my husband stealthily removed the stolen merchandise from the man's pocket. Kelly never said a word to him, but continued to watch him as he walked through the parking lot. The man began patting his pocket and realized that he had, once again, been made a fool! My husband says that this man occasionally returns to the store to converse and, since his first visit, remains by the front of the store with his hands in his pockets.

Today my children and I were driving near their Daddy's store and we saw this particular gentleman. I said, really not thinking, "there's the man that stole from your Dad! There goes a dishonest man." This, of course, caught the kids' attention. "That man", they echoed and pointed? My son immediately made the astute pronouncement that this man looked to have money, so WHY would he steal?! My four year old daughter only heard that someone had messed with her Dad. She put on her scowl and knitted her eyebrows at the perceived injustice.

"I wunna get tuff widd him!"

"What?" I answered back trying to hide my smile.

"You know wut I do to him, Momma? I wud put him in a cage and cober it wif a cwof..."

"Then I'd wave da' bees at him!"

"Oh Goodness," I say.

    Nova has been so inspired by the Spiderwick Chronicles that he is, once again, tirelessly drawing at his art studio. Some may also refer to this as our kitchen table. Most of the drawings I've shown so far are things that he made over two years ago. I'd love to dig up some of his older illustrations and stories and let you read the things he made up as a tot. I have never seen a child so inspired. He used to feverishly pace back and forth skipping and jumping as he dictated the content of each page for his books. What always amazed me was his creation of the drawings before the story. He'd hand over a full 10 pages of drawings and begin, immediately,  erupting with verse for each picture. He never stopped to look at what he had drawn he'd just dictate and then say "Ok, flip the page, this part goes with the next picture." These stories could take anywhere from an hour to several sittings to complete. I have kept all of them in a box to show him when he is older. They weren't always incredible stories, but I was amazed at the way they took form and the expressiveness on his characters faces. I will be sharing some of these in the future.

   For now, I'd like you all to meet Queen Best...

Not much going on around the home front. I've been so busy I can barely sit still. It truly is amazing what being a stay-at-home mom really means and it sure as hell ain't stayin' at home! I'm always running somewhere or doing something. Even when my intention is to stay put one of these little darlings decides it's time to projectile vomit or choke on their own phlegm and I'm off to the docs. Luckily, we've avoided too many doctor visits but have been running around between two schools, the gym, the grocers, the baker, AND well, no, not the candlestick maker's, but, you get my drift. My wonderful, kind, loving, supportive, and driven husband had a birthday on Monday. Some of you may be wondering what I gave him? *Get your mind outta the gutter*

Well, first I made him rub my back and scratch my head while watching an episode of Lost. Yeah, I know, totally better than an orgasm. Then, I proceeded to decline any and all physical contact to let him know that I WAS NOT happy with him. I told him how much I love him after a mile long list of criticism and anger was unleashed. Gee, I wonder what I'll get on my birthday? Maybe he'll punch me in the eye and introduce me to the daughter he's sired with the lady down the street? Yippee!