Easiest costume in the world

Also known as "Grab the kids, give them their tools, and hit the streets."

We had such a great time this year - I'm feeling kind of ill, but you know, when they're this little, you just cannot miss Halloween unless your hair is on fire and even then, it's a fine line. We hit about 10 houses, which is at least double what we managed last year, and the boys made a haul! They even said they'd share their candy with me and, true to their word, they picked out some fine chocolate (read: Snickers Bars) for me. Right on.

Now, to keep from stealing the rest of it when they are asleep ... 

Happy Halloween!!!

It's October 31st, All Hallows Eve. Halloween. That's Jake the Jack-o-Lantern over there. He's a good jack-o-lantern and graciously allowed us to carve him, scoop his innards out, and toast his seeds all without cutting or burning ourselves.
Pretty good, I'd say. And, with cinnamon sprinkled inside and the candle blazing, he makes the house smell just like Autumn should smell. Welcome, Jake. Hang out for a while. You're pretty groovy.

It's scheduled to rain tonight - just as it rained last year. Man, last year sucked out loud. I was in one of my "NO WIRE HANGERS" moods and poor Stealth and Duck were just about convinced that the ghouls and goblins were not out on the streets as they had been told, no, they lived in their house and looked like Mommy. That was worth at least 3 years on the therapist's couch. Damn.

This year, things are much different. This year, Mommy is much more Zen. It's a tangible difference. I'm happier now than I have been in years, I'm so much more relaxed, and it shows. And I hope that my boys can see it. They deserve it the most.

Tonight we'll brave the wind and rain and cold together, all four of us. We'll be making memories that will last forever. And, as we come home and sit down to some warm food and laughter and the endless examination of candy and goodies and treats, I'll be grateful for this holiday, for my family. And, I'll wish my own ghost, the ghost of the Demon Mommy, a swift trip to the afterlife. She's not needed here anymore.

Phoenix

"I isolated myself from people and things that might tear me down."

 

These words were spoken by a teenage girl in San Diego when asked how she made it.  She was featured on a national morning news program today.  This young woman made my heart swell.  She made my brain stretch.  She made my faith and belief in humanity take one more step.

 

She and her family spent the last couple of years homeless, having nothing much to eat, no where to live.  5 of them trying the best way they can to survive.  In a community where a mind boggling number children in the school systems are homeless, where over a thousand of this girls classmates are in trouble with the law, where the drop out rate is raising faster than The Monkey's disapproval rate, where almost 2/3 of teenage girls end up pregnant, this young woman graduated high school with straight A's and is on her way to  college.

 

She is a Phoenix rising out of the ashes.

 

My mother has always said, "Self preservation is the key."  She's absolutely correct.  One must do what one has to do to take care of ones self.  It's not always easy, but it's always necessary.  No one can succeed for us.  No one can pull us out of our ashes but ourselves. 

 

I think about the young girl in California.  I know that she's just one of many people in the world who share the same story.  And there are other stories that also deserve to be told.  Millions of them, perhaps.  An organization which is very close to my heart has a slogan: "Behind every decision, behind every choice, is a story."  We all have stories.  We all have had defining moments where a specific choice has changed the courses of our lives.

 

We all have Phoenix moments of our own, don't we?  Moments of rebirth, recreation.  Moments of change and growth and hope and uncertainty.  Moments where we know that we can never (and should never) go back, we don't know what the future holds, but that we refuse to fail, refuse to be anything but successful, no matter how hard it is.  Sometimes that means accepting things we don't want to accept, sometimes that means accepting people we don't want to accept, and sometimes that means isolating ourselves from folks and things that we cannot accept.

 

Sometimes it's easy to stay in the fire pit.  Sometimes it's easier to just stay down and not rise again.  I know that there have been times in my life that I've stayed in the ashes longer than I should have.  I can see places in my past where certain decisions I made took my life places I'd rather not have gone.  I can also look back and see where I some how chose the right thing, took the right path, and my scorched, seared reality again took on a shine and glowed as if brand new.

 

Taking a look at my emotional plumage, I can see that I still have some burned and singed feathers.  I have some that are about to fall out and I also have some that are brand new, regrowing.  There's some shiny patches and some gnarly spots.  It's a work in progress - but it's getting better.  I'm rising a bit higher and higher out of the pit every day.  It's hard work, but I can do it.  We all can do it.

 

How are your feathers?  Have you checked them lately?  I should check mine more often than I do.  I should do a personal inventory more regularly.  After all, I have to shake all the dust off before I can fly.

 

 

 

 

 

CELEBRATORY WISHES

HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY GAROO GAROO GAROO

 

HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY ANNIVERSARY DDFF & CF!!!

 

May the best of your todays be the worst of your tomorrows

 

May you continue to rock hard for another trip around the sun

 

May you always feel the groove in your souls and the beat in your feet

 

May you always know that Mamakohl loves you all to bits.

 

 

Damage

"Psst. Mama. Mama. MOM!"

"Yes, Duck, what is it?"

"Um. Mom. Um. Well, you see, the lamp in the living room. Um. We're so sorry Mom. There's been some serious damage to the lamp. And we're sorry."

What a lovely turn of events. It's about 6:05 in the morning and I've just recently crawled back into bed after chasing Duck down at 5:15 and telling him that it's way too early to be up. I spent about 20 minutes cuddling with him in his own bed and then finally allowed him and (now awake) Stealth to get up and start the day. As I quietly rummaged through my drawers to find warm pj pants and a sweatshirt, I hear B stirring. Sure enough, as I walk past the bed on my way out, his arm shot out and pulled me back into bed. Let's see here. My options are to crawl back into a warm, inviting bed with my warm, inviting husband or get up into the cold living room with 2 small boys for endless rounds of train bowling (don't ask) and "Mom, I need!" The bed won out.

Until the damage.

Turns out that the lamp shade in the living room (a beautiful rice paper looking thing) had slipped off the brackets or something and was laying directly on the light bulb. It's hard telling how long it had been like that, I have no idea. What I do know is that when I finally made it out to investigate, the thing was smoking, flames were just starting to be apparent, and there was a lovely burned hole in the lampshade. Shit, that is some damage, now isn't it?

Having taken care of that and having made some coffee and kiddie coffee (hot cocoa with marshmallows,) I started my day thinking of damage.

Damage is really an interesting concept, when you think about it. I mean, it seems so simple and self explanatory, but not so much. Damage is not deconstruction, it is not ruin, it is not an end all be all situation, it is not irreparable.

Damage is, in essence, motivation in tangible form.

The lamp shade was damaged, but fixable, and it motivated me to finally secure the brackets that have been loose for a few months now. Have a fender bender that results in a little damage? That will motivate you to get those brakes replaced on time. Hell, have a hurricane that floods an entire city, kills thousands, and leaves thousands of others homeless? Well, that might motivate you to rethink and redesign those damaged levees, eh?

But damage happens to things you cannot see or touch, yes? What about that?

A damaged heart might motivate someone to rethink limitations and boundaries and expectations. A damaged sense of pride might motivate someone to give humbleness another thought. Damaged trust might motivate someone to rethink how open they choose to be and they might also rethink who deserves their trust.

Damage opens up opportunity. And, if looked upon in that way, if the opportunity is taken, the end result is most often better off than the original thing that got damaged to begin with.

My high school years were pretty tumultuous (yeah, I know, who's weren't?) My parents were splitting up, my self worth had pretty much taken a nose dive, it was rough. One day, my father sat me down while I was in the middle of a self pitying, blame everyone, teenage rant.

"Let me tell you about the theory of Quantum Physics" said my Dad.

"OH Dad, not now. I know you loved teaching math and science all those years ago, but can't you see I'm in the middle of a crisis here?"

"Yes, I know, but I'm your father, now listen to me. The Theory of Quantum Physics states that the world, the universe, is expanding. Slowly, bit by bit, year by year, each planet, each star, each mass out there in space is drifting further and further apart from each other. It will eventually be so far apart, that it will shatter all former limitations and groupings and arrangements. The universe is destroying itself. The universe is falling apart."

"I can relate, Dad. My life is falling apart which is why I don't have the time or desire for a science lesson."

"Yes, I know. Now follow me here. The reason the universe is falling apart is so that it may come back together in a higher order. Things have to be deconstructed before they can be reconstructed. Things have to fall apart and get worse before they can get better. So, when you feel like your life is falling apart, it's because it really and truly is. But it's falling apart so that it might come back together in a higher order."

Now that's some damage control, eh?

I've carried that conversation with me for 12 or 13 years now. It has served me more than just about anything else I've ever heard, read, or said. Coming together in a higher order? I can dig it.

As I look around my house, I can see all kinds of damage. The stairs leak a bit, we need a new roof, the kitchen needs new flooring. My older son is needing a bit more of a sense of autonomy, my younger son is needing a stronger sense of independence. My marriage is showing the wear and tear that comes from not spending enough time together. Damage is all around us.

"It's falling apart so that it might come back together in a higher order" says a voice in the back of my head.

Damn, one of these days, we're going to be awesome!

Props

Props go out to VJ today for knowing the value of art and creation.  Thanks, VJ.  Your friend, C, will be getting a lovely handbag shortly. 

 

 

Blue Skies

I woke up this morning singing Blue Skies. I gotta say, that's a pretty wonderful way to start the day. I feel light as a feather, optimistic about the future, loving life.

Sometimes being true to yourself can hurt other people. That really sucks. No doubt about it. I don't enjoy hurting folks, I don't get off on upsetting them, I don't aim to piss people off. But it happens sometimes and as long as your actions weren't tainted with malice, as long as you are honest and true to yourself and coming from an honorable place of stating facts, well, you just cannot control how other folks feel or react. I laid my head down last night with a clear conscious and with the weight of the truth off my shoulders for the first time in a long time and, well, let's just say I slept great.

I met with a wonderful couple last night who are going to have their second daughter any day. I love being invited into peoples homes, into their lives. Last night I was offered a glass of wine, several opportunities to laugh (I tell you, sometimes the quiet ones are the funniest,) and left feeling warm and hopeful for their upcoming birth. My gig brings me into the homes of folks of all different social and economic classes and folks of all different ages. While it can be a little intimidating sometimes (after all, I'm just a college drop out living (for the most part) paycheck to paycheck and I often find myself in homes of folks in the upper 6 figure incomes,) I have always been welcomed with open hearts, arms, and minds. What this proves to me is that class and economic lines really mean nothing and people are just people, no matter where you are or what you do. If you are good at what you do and you offer your very best, well, it's all an even playing field. Coming from a background of very limited means (now, don't get me wrong - we always had everything that we needed, but often times not what we wanted,) this is an amazing opportunity for re-writing my opinions of self worth and it's association with status. I've been re-writing it for a few years now and I have to say my opinions are a far cry from where I started out. In fact, those dividing lines have all but completely disappeared. Viva La Progress!

(VJ, let's hit one of those cocktail parties when you're home, shall we? Just don't wear the black suit - I cannot handle it! Oh Oh, but shout out to you for your top secret activity today!! :-) )

DDFF has been working through some issues in our profession as of late. That sister is between a rock and a hard place and I'm not envious of her. But, with the grace that is her style, she and her partners in the situation have found a good middle ground. I have nothing but lovely and hopeful thoughts for you DDFF, and you know I got your back, baby.

I have an all night date scheduled for this weekend. Provided that I'm not at a birth (crossing fingers,) I think I'm going to take B out for dinner and then either bowling or to shoot some pool. Simple, active, warm. I'm looking forward to it. We could use some time.

I love my kids. LOVE them. Guess I've said that before, eh? I just look at them and marvel at how brilliant they are, how loving and caring and conscious. I know I can take them anywhere and they'll be fine. I know that I can trust them to have a conversation with an adult. I trust them completely to take the lead in their education (at this point) and they have led me further than I would have ever dared to go. They're amazing, these little sponges. Stealth has all but learned how to read. Because of the way we practice spelling with Duck (spelling words and whole sentences out loud, etc.,) Stealth has learned to not only recognize words by sight, but also by hearing the letters. Yesterday, I spelled "Duck, do you want to make some cookies?" and Stealth started screaming "COOKIES, Mama, I want to make some COOKIES!" I think he can read much more than he's letting on. What a booger! I'm in so much trouble.

I'm taking a little break from my Kohleidoscope orders to make a few things for myself. It feels good, I gotta say. And not a moment too soon - it was 32 degrees here last night. BRRRRR.

Jill continues to send postcards and I love it. SO do the boys. Yesterday we were watching a video on the animals of the African Plains and the boys asked if Jill made the video. So funny. Anyway, Jill, Duck and Stealth expect you to bring a monkey AND a hippo with you when you come to visit - so plan your carry on luggage carefully.

Occasionally I find a new little product that I just love. The Swiffer Sweep + Vac sincerely rocks. With hard wood floor, two little boys, and endless amounts of wool and mohair floating around, this thing has become a little life saver for me. Now, I haven't had it long enough to report on the parts that suck (surely there must be one or two,) but for now, she is my new queen. Gotta say, however, that every time I use it, I think of Mark. I'm sure he would be so pleased - he must like that about as much as he likes Karaoke. ;-) And it reminds me that I gotta make him a black skull cap. Crap, I suck - I mentioned that 4 months ago. Sorry, dude. I'll get right on it -as soon as my floors are clean.

I swear, I go to the freaking store 4 times a week. RIDICULOUS. I gotta plan better. And I have to write better - I'm hoping for a deep post tomorrow - or at least something worth reading.

I suppose I should get off this computer and go about living. Come on, Willie, you and Trigger have plans for the day.

Nothing but Blue Skies do I see ...

A random assortment of thoughts

This weekend was rather, um, shall we say, thought provoking. Not the kind of thought provoking that usually ends in some deep revelation about life or anything, but thought provoking in the sense that I spent a lot of time thinking about how that sucked, this rocked, and wondering why in the hell some people never seem to get it. EVER.

I have no answers, but since this is my blog and I can write whatever I want, I'm just going to start listing a few things that occupied my melon over the last few days (and maybe some this morning, too.)

First things first - Mamasan had a scary inconclusive mammogram a few weeks ago. Now, for most folks, this wouldn't mean beans, but we have a history of breast cancer in the family and not exactly the best health on other fronts AND Mamasan is on hormone replacement therapy, so an inconclusive / questionable mammogram is cause for concern. I'm pleased to say that a repeat scan this morning seems to have cleared up the issue and everything is fine and dandy (except, of course, for Mamasan's squished breast - I'm sure it had happier goals in mind to accomplish today besides being able to fit through a mail slot.) The complete and final okay should come within 24 hours or so, but it looks great. YIPPEE.

The shit is hitting the fan with regards to B's situation with his addict friend. Friend is a generous word, frankly because an addict slowly loses friendships and replaces them with resentments. The snag comes in the form of employment - the addict to whom I refer is a co-worker (technically a superior to B, although in name only, not in practice.) Just got off the phone with B and he told me that it's going down. NOW. And that B has been told to "keep his head down." I'm DYING to know what is going on, but will have to wait until I'm filled in. What an interesting family dinner we'll have tonight!

The race is on for 2 clients I have right now. One was due last week (first time mama -usually go a bit late,) and one due on the 3rd who has a history of going early and who is already 3cm / 90% - and isn't even in labor yet. They are both hospital births. DIFFERENT HOSPITALS. This could get interesting.

Some people never get it and they probably never will. Past behavior is the best indicator for future behavior. I'm not surprised - but it's annoying as all hell. I read in a schmaltzy Annie's Mailbox clipping the other day the following (about an unrelated topic): "You cannot expect them to remain an unending well of comfort." . I hope like hell I'm not the only one who read that - I know of a couple of others who really need to read it and understand it. There are folks out there who will just bleed you dry - just to prove to themselves that someone cares. I'm bone dry, folks, thanks so much. Your life is falling apart? I don't care - I cannot care anymore. You continue to make the same childish, selfish, ignorant, immature, asinine choices that continue to drop you on your ass in the same horrible places. It must be working for you, you must be getting something out of it, or else you would stop doing the same damned thing. I've given you folks everything I can give you - you're on your own.

You cannot see or hear something that some one has and then just decide to make it your own. This applies to catch phrases, favorite songs, a particular style, and even friends. And yes, there are folks out there who will just snag anything and everything from someone else just so they don't have to do the work to gather up their own. It is just not cool. Some folks say, "Well, maybe it's a compliment." Nope. "Wow, what a great shirt" is a compliment. "You make the best lasagna in the world" is a compliment. "You're such a good friend" is a compliment. "I'm going to take bits and pieces of your life and try to make them my own" is not a compliment. Which leads me to...

I'd rather have the whole world pissed off at me and be happy with myself than have the whole world love me and hate what I see when I look in the mirror. The only person I ultimately have to answer to is myself and, if you know me, you know I'm one tough cat. I find that I spend more time lamenting things I have said and done in the past that are just out of character - things that I have done to please people, to win people over, to try and find myself (yeah, see, I said in the past because I haven't lived that way in a long, long time.) Just last night I was feeling really crappy about something I did when I was 11 years old. I mean, good night Irene, that was 18 years ago! But, the event that clouded my mind was an event that took place because I was trying to be like someone else, trying to please folks. In 29 years of life, I have very few things that I regret that came from my own truth, but loads that have resulted from trying to live someone else's truth. To thine own self be true, you know? So, world, go ahead and set up your "We hate Mamakohl" fan clubs - I don't care. I won't be joining your membership roster.

I am blessed beyond words because I have wonderful things in my life. I have exciting opportunities, a great career (two?,) a plenitude of amazing and rockin' friends, a terrific husband, awesome kids. I am the proud owner of a mortgage. I have a really positive outlook on life ('cause I have learned how to set limits and care for myself) and, while I hate to admit it, the truth is that I'm really a hopeless optimist. I believe that anyone can change and grow and have a great life (unless you've burned me and if you've burned me, well, see above.) The problem comes when folks ask me how to go about getting all that I have. I have no idea. Honestly. NO IDEA. I know that I wasn't always like this. I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out when the switch took place, what precipitated it. I don't know. I look in my past and see a time when I was so desperate for attention and acceptance that I jumped through all kinds of hoops to get it. I don't know when it changed. I don't know how it changed - but it did. Must think about this some more - if I come up with an answer, I'll be sure to post it. Surely, I'm not the only one wondering.

Buying something brand new that has to charge for 24 hours before the first use can be really infuriating to a woman who is all about instant gratification. No, dear friends, those things take batteries - I'm talking about a vacuum. Sheesh! Get your brain out of the gutter.

There is just about nothing cooler than watching a 5 year old stomp around the living room singing "Get up, Stand Up" along with a Bob Marley dvd. I swear. And then the 3 year old raised his little fist and sang," Well, everywhere is War." Sent chills up my spine. I love my kids. I just freaking love them. I'm so proud of them. Stealth is named after Robert Nesta Marley and he knows why. We love Bob. Sandie, if you're still reading, I imagine you've had very much the same experience.

My sons are going to eat me out of house and home.

I'm stopping here. I gotta make some grilled cheese and soup for lunch and get to work on a hat and scarf set for (GASP) myself. I have several orders for Kohleidoscope - but Mama got take care of herself, first.

And my brain rattles on...

Weather School is Cool

Today we had Weather School with our homeschooling group.  One of the local news stations offers this program to schools and educational groups free of charge.  It's pretty cool.  I nearly had given up, however, because the guy was 30 minutes late.  Lovely.

 

When he did show up, things got a little nutty.  There were probably 25 home schooled children there, ranging in age from 3-11.  Duck, in his crazy way, found that the guy's tie was most interesting - and eventually, the meteorologist just took his tie off and gave it to Duck for the duration.  I'm told that one of the mom's got a picture of Duck in the weather man's tie.  Sheesh.  I'm so proud.

 

Regardless, he was very receptive to the kids.  He brought lots of fiber fill (like the inside of pillows) and gave some to each child so they could better understand 3 different types of clouds (can't beat hands on learning.)  He answered questions and got on the floor with them.  It was wonderful.  Stealth and Duck and all the other kids learned lots (what is fog?  what happens when there's severe weather during a football game?  Where do you hide in a pumpkin patch when there's a tornado?  You know, the essential questions of life.)

 

It was approaching 11:30 in the morning and he mentioned that he had to go back to the studio (about 15 minutes away or so,) for the 12 noon live news broadcast and he invited us all to go with him!  UNREAL.

 

So, we all piled into our vehicles, carpooling when possible, and drove en masse to the studio.  I couldn't believe it, but all these kids and their parents crammed inside the studio (not behind a window) and watched them do a live news broadcast for 30 minutes.  This meant sitting still, being quiet, not running in front of any cameras and lifting up dresses or dropping pants.  This is big time stuff for some of these small kids.   Every single one of them (my two monkeys included) behaved better than I could have ever possibly imagined.  We got to see the green screen that they use for weather, got to see the robotic television cameras move around the studio unmanned.  We got to see the control room and the teleprompters and all that so cool stuff.  And, after the newscast, the kids got to go back into the studio and check themselves out on the green screen.  Hell, even the adults were impressed with that.

 

It was by far much much much cooler than anything I could have planned to teach them today.  And it didn't cost us a dime (okay, it cost me the price of two ginormous cookies I gave the kids as bribes to keep quiet in the studio during the broadcast.)  I'm so blessed to have my homeschooling group.  I'm so blessed to be able to teach my children in this way. 

 

And, should I ever be in a pumpkin patch during a tornado, I know what to do.

 

Way to go, Weatherman, you've just won 3 new fans.

Jo Jo goes to work

This is a new hat that I have made for a special project. I have written about Jo Jo on the Kohleidoscope blog. It's good to finally put her to work. It's hard to tell, but the hat has a rolled brim. 

Windows have no limits

Did you see it?  Did you notice?  Probably not and that's cool.  But it's there.  Take a second and see what is different.

 

Give up?

I changed the name of the blog.  No longer Corners of My Mind, it's now Windows of My Mind.  I got to thinking - corners are VERY constricting, limiting, ending.  Once you're in a corner, you cannot go forward, only go back.  My mind is not like that - or, at least, I don't want it to be.

Windows can be closed or open - but there's always the option to go beyond them.  Always.

 

 

Hauntings

"Nature is a haunted house - but Art - is a house that tries to be haunted."
--Emily Dickinson



I found this today while cleaning out the boys' bookshelves. It's from National Poetry Month of this year, sponsered by The Academy of American Poets. I thought it was appropriate, what with Halloween coming soon.

It makes me think - "a house that tries to be haunted." Art tries to sneak into the attics of your brain and rattle around around in there, stirring up dust and long dead people and feelings of your past. Art may disappear from view, but it never leaves your soul. Art, indeed, is haunting.

BOO! 

New pictures on Kohleidoscope

2 new bags posted on Kohleidoscope today.  Stop on by and check them out.

Bragging

TODAY I'm going to brag on other people. TODAY I'm going to appreciate. TODAY I'm going to give credit where credit is due.

On with the show.

My business partner and dear dear friend, DDFF is making a HUGE change in her reality, she's taking a huge step in her career. My partner is becoming a midwife. She's going to catch babies for a living. She'll be testing with NARM in a couple of years, has her preceptor already lined up. Birthing women, get ready, you'll soon be getting a remarkable, wonderful new option. Love and Kisses and Praise for DDFF. My heart's just bursting with pride for you, Mamasita. Everything as it should be.

Jill wrote a post about her husband that changed my outlook on my husband. I've loved Jill for 15 years now (damn, I'm old,) and she just keeps getting better and better. I'm so scared for us - she's coming to the US for Christmas and I'm telling you, we're going to kill some brain cells in celebration. You know, things get a little crazy Down on Cripple Creek.

Velma is coming home for a month over the holidays. This thrills me beyond words. HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY. Oh, yes the bragging part of Velma. Check this out.

JenPen is a rocking professional woman and I love her to bits. With her Master's degree in education, she's actually EDUCATING children, not just schooling them. She is an amazing cellist and lord Almighty, the girl is fun to be friends with. Whooooo, White Lightning! I love you, toots.

Stealth appreciates things, too. Just this morning he said, "Hey Mama!!! Hey Mama!! Snots are sticky and they taste good, too!!" sheesh.

Duck has started reading my mail to me. And recipes. This is awesome. If I need extra hands, he can read while I work. And he's getting pretty damned good at the math stuff, too, so pretty soon he'll be balancing my checkbook and such. I love that little guy with the big brain.

B is doing something really hard for him today. In order to save his friend's life, he's going to rat him out. Addiction is a terrible terrible thing and sometimes you have to do whatever you can to help someone pull themselves up out of the cesspool. I know how hard this is. Believe me I know. It takes courage and strength and love - 3 things my husband has in abundance. I love you Monkey. You're doing the right thing.

As for me, I'm making money doing what I love. I'm loving the people I make my life with. And I'm making life be something I love. Amen.

Have a great day, all. Be good to yourselves. Listen to lovely music. Eat delightful foods. Read something that stretches your brain. And pat yourselves on the back -you're doing the best you can.

Fire in my head

A few weeks ago, I mentioned that I was having a hard time.  There was an overhaul coming, but I had no idea what or when or where or how.  Scary shit, eh?  I mean, honestly, we could be talking about maybe I would wake up one morning with new vision for my future or maybe I would wake up one morning with an infected and unremovable cyst on my ass the size of a space ship.  Either way, some things would be a changin'.

 

I'm pleased to announce that the overhaul has commenced and I have escaped the cyst!  Wahoo, that's 29 years and counting!

 

The overhaul, it turns out, is all in my mind.  My thought process is changing, my perspective is morphing.  Sometimes I think that my brain is bi-polar - long stretches of inactivity and depressive behavior followed by rapid insane bursts of creative thinking, cognitive reasoning, explosively grasping onto new concepts.  My behavior doesn't so much mimic that pattern, so I think I can successfully avoid the lithium and continue to rely on my own *ahem* herbal cures, but my brain - dear Elvis on velvet, my brain is a whirling dervish.  Things are making sense left and right, the answers are coming like those annoying rapid fire tanks on the 4th of July - non stop, without warning, and firing in all directions and sometimes hitting the gross of bottle rockets - read: more ideas- and sending them flying everywhere, too.

 

The last 36 hours have pretty much been like the tank hitting the bottle rockets which happen to get the stash of dynamite we have hidden in secret locations in case the rapture comes and we're left here (seriously, can you image how much fun it would be to blow crap up with all the other remaining sinners of the world?!!?!?  DDFF, don't worry babe, we've got enough for you, too!)  Okay, all crazy writing aside (and no, we really don't have any dynamite, dammit,) things have been going like mad in my brain.

 

I wrote yesterday about how I realized that my funk was not honestly directed at my husband at all, it was seriously all about me.  SO true.  The longer I mulled this around in my head, the more I realized that I was just being an ass and avoiding the issues with myself (after all, isn't it easier to demand that someone else change than to change yourself??)  I started making changes yesterday and I'm telling you, my outlook today is so much better. 

 

(Taking a moment to drink my coffee and decide which direction I want this post to really go.)

 

In effort to make this easy on myself, I'm going to just kind of list some of the ideas that have come through my head.

 

You cannot get what you want unless you ask for it

Sounds like common sense and it's something I tell my clients all the time, but it's harder to put into practice in your daily life.  Yesterday I posted that I need to get out more and be more social and that it will probably mean that I'll be spending some evenings without my husband on a regular basis (remember, he's not fond of people.)  This is something that I so clearly need, but I was a little spazzed out about telling B about it.  I mean, really, telling your spouse that you just have to get the hell out of dodge on a regular basis, which means leaving him at home with two small children, is not the easiest thing in the world to do.  But you know what?  Last night I just laid it out for him and he said, "FINALLY.  I've been wondering how long it would take you to see that you are feeling stifled."  You'd think I'd have throttled him for holding onto this information for so long without telling me, but honestly, I would have dismissed him had he tried to fill me in.  Damn, he's one smart cookie.  So, ask and you shall receive.

 

Making it through the day is wasting your life

Some email conversations with my sister spawned this one.  Now, if you're reading this (and I know you are,) let me just say right here and now that I struggle with this in my own life, so I'm not just writing about you.  You were just the punk that lit my fuse for this realization.  I cannot count the number of times I've had thoughts like, "Oh lord, just a few more hours and this day is over," or, "what can I do that will take up x hours?"  Most often, it all boils down to just wanting to get through the damned day.  But why?  I mean, what's going to be different about the next day?  I'm not talking about waiting for that glorious income tax refund check to come in or if your best buddy is due to arrive in town next week.  No, I'm not talking about looking forward to those moments that we all anticipate with childlike mania.  I'm talking about the "I'm dog assed tired, I don't care if you've already had Mac & Cheese three times this week, you are being loud, so let's just make it to bedtime RIGHT NOW," kind of making it through the day.  Guess what?  Tomorrow you're going to get tired again, you're going to have to feed the kids and that blue and yellow box will again look appealing, and yep, they're going to be loud.  It's the same thing. The only way that it's going to be any different is if you make it different yourself, and since that's the truth, why the hell are you waiting for it to happen TOMORROW???  (I'm using the collective you - I mean you, me, and my goldfish.)  Do something different today.  RIGHT NOW.  Don't try to make it through the day - try to make more moments in the day.  No one is going to change your reality other than yourself.  Don't waste your life trying to make it through.  It's not going to happen tomorrow.  It's not going to happen just by chance.  Carpe Diem!  Go get some sushi.

 

When you are really really really angry with someone, when you're just about as frustrated as you can be, hug and kiss on them.

Okay, I'm talking about friends and family members.  You're not going to see my driving up to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue with a big wet one for The Monkey.  I struggle with feeling angry and annoyed and fed up with my kids and my husband (is this news to you?  If so, you need to read more often.)  Sometimes I forget that the kids are just tiny little humans who are new to this life and sometimes I forget that my husband is just a man (oh Tammy Wynette, sing it, sister.)  When they are driving me insane and I want to smash dishes, I find that best way to get rid of that horrid feeling is to just love on them.  It may be about as appealing as voting republican, but it's what I need to do.  I swear, if I want to strangle Stealth and I go and pick him up and kiss him, I feel his soft little body, his warm breath and baby soft skin and I remember.  If I want to run B over with his own truck, I can hug him and kiss him and remember.  If Duck won't shut his mouth and I've heard the same saying over and over and over again, I can kiss him on the cheek, look into those blue eyes, and remember.  Rage is what happens when we forget that we love.

 

You cannot get what you do not know how to give

You'll never know what it's like to be loved unconditionally unless you can love someone unconditionally. You'll never have deep and true friendship unless you can give deep and true friendship to someone else. Your kids will never be understanding of you unless you are understanding of them. You gotta give to get. But you have to be careful and you have to give *exactly* what you want.  You cannot give sex and expect to get love.  You cannot give rules and expect to get respect.  You cannot offer up Spaghetti-o's and expect to get Spinach and Ricotta Mannicotti.

 

 

 

I could go on.  It occurs to me that I've been doing work on the computer for a few hours now and, well, that is a craptastic way to spend a Saturday morning.  After all, if I want my kids to be attentive of me, I need to be attentive of them. And, I'm sure there will be more brain fireworks in the coming days - I gotta make sure the firewall is secure.

 

 

 

 

Quote of the day

"Stealth, I am NOT a hippo!!!!"

         - spoken by Duck

further thoughts

The post yesterday about my cape and Lex spawned a lengthy email conversation with my sister. I don't think that she would mind me writing that she is a single mother of three, living on a limited income (aren't we all - let's all take a minute to thank The Monkey for that one,) and dealing with some pretty heavy trials and tribulations that accompany ex-husbands (child support, custody, court dates, etc.) She's got it rough, without a doubt.

She found it imperative to point out to me how golden and Rosy some aspects of my life are compared to hers. I cannot disagree with her. She's right. SO, to all of you readers who may have found my post yesterday to be selfish and perhaps petty, know that I understand that I'm luckier than many people out there. I am blessed, unquestionably, because I do have a wonderful husband and partner (annoying and ungrateful though he may be,) he is a stellar man, I have a roof over my head, food in my belly, and the ability to avoid punching a time clock in order to raise and educate my kids. To those of you who don't have those things, my hat is officially off to you.

I still feel, however, that I have the right to have my own complaints and issues and gripes. After all, no one has a perfect life. *No One.*

With that thought in mind, I spent the hours between 3:40 and 5:00 this morning mulling over my displeasure in my life. Sometimes my brain will just wake me up like that and demand some attention. It occurred to me that I'm just angry. I'm full of rage. This has been an issue with me my entire life. I remember being just a little girl, still in a school grade that could be counted on one hand, and my mother told me that I had my aunt's temper. I thought this was awesome, but then my mother looked me dead in the eye and said, "No, Sarah, your Aunt's temper is enough to kill a person. That's not cool." Yikes.

While I have not ever killed anyone (tick tock goes the clock,) there are times that I do get so angry that my body literally shakes and my eyeballs kind of pop out. I'm a small woman, but I pack a lot per square inch. I've not really found a fail proof way of dealing with this rage, although as I get older, I get better and better. My biggest problem with my rage is not how I express it, it's that I often displace it.

DDFF and I were talking the other day about my current sense of annoyance and boredom with my husband. She mentioned to me that I am not alone in my feelings, that she and several of our other girlfriends have gone through, or are currently going through, much of the same situation with their men. I sincerely appreciated hearing this. But then my wise and wonderful friend mentioned something to me - that for some of these folks, it is often dissatisfaction with themselves that births dissatisfaction with their mates - they're not really bored and pissed off at their men, they're bored and pissed of at themselves. See, isn't she brilliant?

Turns out, yep, I think I'm in that boat. I DO absolutely have legitimate complaints about my husband's doings and not doings, I won't disagree with that, but they're not new. He's never ever been the one to dole out compliments, to say that he appreciates things, to remember where the dishwasher is more than 2 days after he finally found it. I've known these things about him for going on 7 years. Why is it so critical NOW?

I've been having dreams every single night this week about old friends from high school and college. In these dreams, I'm always out doing something with them, laughing, having fun. I'm active and interactive. I'm around a lot of people. I wake up feeling so refreshed after these dreams and as my day starts and I get back into my daily groove, my refreshing feeling wanes away. Same ol' Same ol'. Why am I having these dreams NOW?

Both of those questions can be answered quite simply - I'm bored and angry that I'm bored. I'm a very social being. VERY SOCIAL. I have always had a large group of friends, always have had plans every weekend. I thrive on interaction with other people. My husband, on the other hand, is anti-social. The idea of going to a party makes him want to peel his skin off. For the last year or so, I've stopped being social. I've stopped going out with my girlfriends as regularly as I need to, I've stopped going to parties and lecture and functions and gatherings. For reasons that I do not need to divulge here, my husband has felt the need to stay out of social situations even more strongly for the last year and I honor and respect that. In order to support him, I stayed away from those situations as well. I've stayed at home about as long as I can handle, however. I think I've hit my wall. I am bored. And I'm angry that I let myself get bored because boredom to me is like Kryptonite to Superman. It kills me.

So, B, I get it. You see my cape. You know it's there and you think it's lovely. I know that because you haven't used it as a shop towel. It's still intact and functioning. And, I know you'll be supportive when I wear it out on the town soon - not only does it make a good PB&J sandwich, it just screams out for dancing with the girls.

Kohleidoscope hits the West Coast

I met with my friend, David, today.  David is the founder, owner, and artist of Ozark Handspun.  After months of trying, Ozark Handspun will finally be sold in Mid-Missouri at Hillcreek Yarn Shoppe.  WAHOO!

 

David is entering a fashion show at a yarn trade show in San Francisco in January.  He will be show casing his yarns and hopes to open up exposure to Ozark Handspun (I gotta say, however, that he's doing a damned fine job of it already - selling in something like 37 states and 2 other countries!!)  He has asked me to make part of the ensemble.  Yep.  I'll be making 2 items (which, out of respect to his business, I'll be keeping under wraps) that will go along with items he's making as well as items that my friend, Velma, is making (I think this is how it works.)

 

Regardless, in less than 6 months, my stuff will be on stage in California.

HOORAY!!!

 

Don't you see my cape, Dammit????

It was my morning to get up with the boys today while B sleeps in.  My husband rolled over, shoved me with his elbow and said, "Duck is hungry - you better get up."  Mornings are not his strong point.

 

I get up and listen in horror to the pops and cracks that accompany aging (and I'm only 29!!,) and realize that the nasty cold that has been flying all around me, touching here and there, has finally come in for the kill and I'm as sick as a stray dog cleaning up after a county fair.  I make it to the bathroom, blow my nose, and nearly pass out.  Fuck.  I don't have time for this.

 

By now, Stealth is up and coughing.  Poor baby.  The boys have been dealing with this cold for a few days now, but with amazing grace - never has anyone (other than me) whined about being sick.  Anyway, a round of medicine for everyone as the rattling cough joins the clan.

 

Immediately, upon realization that I'm sick, too, the boys scramble to the books shelf and pull out their favorite book, 1000 Facts on the Human Body.***  They hunt around until they find their favorite pages.  Duck loves the ones on conception, pregnancy, and birth (imagine that,) and Stealth really likes to look at the anatomy of the ear and teeth.  While they got stuck mulling over these pages again and again (seriously, in a week or two they're going to know more about anatomy than I do - and I studied it in college,) their original motivation didn't elude me - they were looking for ways to make me feel better.

 

Hoping for some good news or at least something that will make me forget how crappy I feel, I turn on ol' Bob The TV.  Apparently, B was up watching The Dukes of Hazzard and pigging out on ice cream after I went to bed last night - Bob was still set to CMT.  I sit down with a paper napkin for my nose (out of Kleenex,) and heard these words:

 

She's never pulled anyone from a burning building
She's never rocked Central Park to a half a million fans, screaming out her name
She's never hit a shot to win the game
She's never left her footprints on the moon
She's never made a solo hot air balloon ride, around the world,
No, she's just your everyday average girl (but)

She's somebody's hero
A hero to her baby with a skinned up knee
A little kiss is all she needs
The keeper of the cheerios
The voice that brings Snow White to life
Bedtime stories every night
And that smile lets her know
She's somebody's hero

She didn't get a check every week like a nine-to fiver
But she's been a waiter, and a cook and a taxi driver
For twenty years, there at home,...

 

 

Suddenly it hits me with full force.  I'm the hero of these two sweet angels sitting on my couch, eating apples, rubbing snot on the arms of their PJ's, and reading and looking for ways to make me better.  It's so sweet it hurts.  Their soft eyes and warm hands and sloppy kisses.  It should be enough that they appreciate me.

 

But it's not.

 

The fact of the matter is that I'm angry and resentful that other people in my life do not understand what a critical role I play, they don't appreciate it (me,) or if they do, they've taken a vow of silence. Thank you is not something I hear.  My job is not to do the dishes and the laundry and the grocery shopping.  My job is to raise two boys into men.  It's hard work.  Beyond hard work.  The hardest job there is.  And yet, I still get the usual, "What do we have to eat?"  This idiocy of this question is always compounded by the fact that the asker is always standing in front of an open pantry full of food when he asks the question.  "Babe, do I have any clean jeans?"  Yep.  I'm the sole keeper of this information.  "So, do you think you ought to get a job?"  Don't get me started.

 

To these small people who've only been on this orbiting rock long enough to see the full trip around the big ball of fire a few times, I'm a hero.  They love me and appreciate me and value me and want to help me.  They think I'm magic when I can turn a hot dog into an octopus, a paper towel roll into a rain stick, the stuff in the box into macaroni and cheese.  With a kiss, I can make the ouchie go away, I can make a blanket and some chairs turn into Fort Knox in a flash, I can answer the hard questions. 

 

My boys see my cape.

 

Sometimes I wonder why I'm married to Lex Luther.

_______________________________________________

 

*** Barnes and Nobel has a whole series of these 1000 Facts books.  Located in the children's section, these hardback books are REALLY cheap and incredibly educational.  Lots of great pictures, wonderful organization.  A great buy.  And yep, DDFF, the educator's discount DOES apply.

 

Talking with the fish

 

Wanna Hump? Nah, I have two of my own.

 

Ooh La La Okapi

you sassy thing

Witnessing the birth of an activist

***DISCLAIMER***

The following post is not endorsing, advocating, or preaching the viewpoints of animal rights activists, vegetarians, or vegans NOR is it blasting hunters, meat eaters, etc.  I have my opinions about these matters and I'm sure you do, too.  I respect your views and your right to have them.  This is about my son, not about politics.

 

I've been trying to step back and watch my children from a distant perspective lately and I've been amazed at what I've seen.  They are getting older and much wiser and I'm realizing that they don't apply to "the rules."  There are certain things that they are ready for at a much younger age than I was, a much younger age that some other children might be.  They are much more aware of what is going on around them and they seem to be much more capable of integrating different ideas and concepts into their daily lives and discussions.  As a result, I've been letting them watch parts of documentaries with me - documentaries on the women's prison system, on deafness, on homosexual parenting, adoption, slavery, and more.

 

Most children, if given the chance, will set their own boundaries and limits with regards to what they can handle.  My children have grasped this concept of self lead exposure with both hands and they do a remarkable job of listening to their own cues.  When they are interested, they come and sit and ask questions.  When it's too much for them or they've just had enough, they get up, kiss my cheek, and move on.  As their brains mull over the bits and pieces they have picked up, they come back and ask more questions - sometimes days or weeks later.  I'm telling you, these kids get it.  They understand so much more than I've given them credit for.  They can handle a lot.

 

Lately, Duck has been taking a deep interest in the plight of animals.  There is a commercial on TV airing these days about a "Hands Free Mouse Trap" that "Kills mice dead."  This really bothers him.  He doesn't understand why folks would kill a mouse.  To his reasoning, if someone doesn't want a mouse in their house, why don't they just put the mouse outside where it's supposed to live anyway?  After all, says Duck, the mouse is probably just trying to get back outside to his mouse hole and his family.  For days and days, we've been talking about this.  He feels we must save all mice.  ALL MICE.  He even wants to make Tshirts.

 

We watched A Natural History of the Chicken and he grasped onto the idea of free range chickens like most 5 year olds would grasp onto a candy bar - he's holding on tight and not letting go and the "candy" is all over his face and hands and comes off on everything he touches.  As he helped me prepare breakfast this morning, he asked me if the eggs we were eating were found in the grass on a farm or did they come from a metal tray under thousands of chickens?  I had to look him in the eye and, with tremendous sense of guilt and "Damn, you know better, Sarah," I had to tell him that yes, they actually were from the metal tray and the over crowded, neglected, abused chickens.  Imagine - getting a much deserved lecture from a 5 year old about responsible eating.

 

He asked for chicken nuggets for lunch.  I made them and he mentioned that he wasn't eating real chicken - these didn't have feathers.  Not wanting to back down on a really important lesson in life, I had to explain to him that yes, it was real chicken, that it did start out having feathers and a beak.  As the realization of what he was eating crossed his mind and sunk in, he ate a little slower and eventually asked for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

 

I am very careful to present both sides of every situation - even when it is about as pleasant as gouging my eyes out to give credit to my opposing viewpoint.  I don't want my children to believe what I believe in just because I believe it.  I want them to make fully informed choices for themselves - even if it is a different choice than I would make for myself.  It matters not to me if my children grow up to be vegetarians, vegans, NRA members, or members of the Sausage of the Month Club.  It's their lives.  I just want them to be educated.

 

Watching Duck comprehend these truths of life reminds me of myself - but when I was 14 years old.  I can see his brain going to those places mine went.  I can see him struggle to find the line (if, indeed, it exists,) between the human animal and other animals.  I can see him think before he acts, before he eats.  Where this will land us, I don't know, but I'm so grateful to have him as a partner on this journey.

 

I've always said that Duck will change the world.  I can see him doing it now.  He's already made a change.  Look in my refrigerator and marvel at the new residents - free range eggs.

 

Chicken, my dear, I hardly knew ye.

Okay, you have to see this. I know, I know, The Natural History of the Chicken doesn't sound like something that you'd intentionally watch. It sure didn't sound like something I'd be into. A couple of weeks ago, I found it at the library and I checked it out for my kids. Homeschooling takes all sorts of forms and I dig it. My kids get 1 hour of tv time a day where they can watch a movie (of some educational merit - and believe me, I can find education in nearly anything.) Sometimes they watch Fraggle Rock or Bob the Builder, but sometimes they get into documentaries (my kids, I tell you.)

SO, the chicken flick. Put it on today and I have to say, I was enthralled. It's political. It's humorous. It's informative. It's beautifully done and it does show case some classic nut jobs (think a crazy dyed haired woman living in Florida who keeps a chicken as a pet, feeds it Big Macs, and calls it her baby,) so I'm all for it. I swear, you'll never look at a chicken the same way.

Find it at your local library. Find it online. Just find it.

Cluck!

happiness is ...

paying all your bills either on time or early and still having your checkbook be in the black.  Wahoo!

With that done, I think I've been productive enough for one day.  :-)

 

Bath Time

Yesterday, MIL and FIL took us to the Zoo. We do it every year, or at least try to. Everyone has a favorite animal to see. Duck loves the elephants (3 of whom are pregnant by Raja - the little stud,) Stealth loves the zebras and giraffes. Me? I love the apes, the penguins, and the hippos. Oh, I love those hippos.

Curious as to how the water can be so clear with 3 or 4 enormous hippos in it? See those fish? They clean the water. To be totally frank, the hippos poo, their tails fan it around, and then the fish eat the poo. I'm not kidding. And then the fish clean all the heebie jeebies off the hippos skin.

Great partnership, eh?

I'm off now to revel in the fact that, while I may be the Mom and resident cleaner upper, I am not a fish living off a hippo.

Bi-Peds Unite!!

The Bonehead Comment of All Time

I am a mother, sister, daughter, wife, friend.  Doula, breastfeeding educator.  Designer (of sorts,) and fiber artist.  Homeschool educator.  And, believe it or not, I am also a Stay at Home Mom (this cracks my ass up - show me one flipping SAHM who ever stays at home and I'll eat my fucking shoe.)

 

That's about 5 full time jobs.  At least.

 

I mentioned to someone recently that I am feeling overwhelmed, overworked, under appreciated, exhausted, worn out, ungrateful, taken advantage of.  That I feel like screaming most of the time because I never get a moments peace, acknowledgment, or gratitude.

 

His response?

 

"So, you think you ought to get a job?"

 

If you need me, I'll be banging my head against the wall.

Praise for Waiter

I've been having a hard time lately. I know it doesn't seem like it - I'm writing about how successful both my businesses are and posting lovely pictures of my loved ones. In truth, I'm struggling. My life is headed towards a huge overhaul. I have no idea when it will happen or what form it will take, but it's coming and, like the Iron Man, it's often the preparation that is most grueling.

Waiter has been taking some time off, posting less than usual, due to a crashed computer. But today I checked him out and was given a gift. There aren't words for me to comment on his post - it doesn't need it. My opinion only matters to me. I think, however, that it will speak to many of you - in whatever ways you need it.

Check it out and let it sink in.

Pinup Profiles

Is this me or what?

Okay, so this was just fun. I was checking out the profile of a long time friend of mine on My Space and saw that she had this little picture and write up about her pinup profile done via a quiz on Quizilla. So, I checked it out, did the little online quiz, and this was my result. Dead on accurate. So, if you want to check it out and do your little quiz, you can do so here.

More pictures from the wedding

Okay, lots of folks have been asking for more pictures of the wedding. Here you go - all I'm going to share. :-) I did write a regular entry this morning, so if you want to read it, scroll down after the pictures!

Not long after everyone at the reception finished dinner, the dancing began. There was, of course, the traditional first dance, mother-son, father-daughter dance, the dollar dances. Shortly after that, FIL mentioned to me that he had requested a special song and dedicated it to MIL. It was their song - a song which has been their song for over 35 years. It was incredibly sentimental, especially since they've been going through a rough time. What brough tears to my eyes, however, is that he wanted me and B and my BIL and SIL to dance to the song as well. EVERYONE cleared the dance floor except the 6 of us, sharing one song, sharing the experience, sharing the hope that we'll all still be dancing together after 35 years.

Dancing

Stand By Your Man.

One of the nicest snapshots of me and my monkey.

My best girlfriend in the world, JenPen, and me. JenPen was B's first love, high school girlfriend of 4 years. She married B's best friend. It's complicated - a soap opera. It's fitting, though. Isn't she pretty?

Making sense of the senses

As humans, we are considered to have 5 senses - sight, taste, touch, hearing, smell. Everyone in my family has of these senses. Yes, some of us have senses that are stronger than others. My father's sense of hearing is deteriorating with age. My vision, as that of my siblings, is less than perfect and we use corrective lenses. I have an uncle who cannot smell, but miraculously can taste - he thinks this is a HUGE bonus in life. Some of our family members have what would be considered a perfect set of senses - no need for aiding them in any way.

But what if we didn't? What if one of us completely and totally lost one sense? What if it was a sense that, typically, was considered vital? Essential for safety? Societally necessary? What if deafness came into our family?

I just finished watching an amazing documentary that I've been wanting to see for a very long time. Sound and Fury follows the journey of a family through one of the hardest decisions they have ever made - whether or not to surgically allow their deaf children to hear through the use of Cochlear Implants. The story of two brothers (one hearing and one deaf) and their families (some members being hearing and other members being deaf,) dealing with the emotional struggle of having deaf children and wondering if the implant would improve their lives or would it destroy their sense of culture? One brother is hearing with a hearing wife and three children, two of whom are hearing and one is deaf. The other brother is deaf, has a deaf wife, and three deaf children. Interestingly enough, the parents of the brothers are hearing and the parents of the hearing wife are deaf! Emotions expressed span hope to rage to grief to shame to fear to elation. It's a gut wrenchingly emotional struggle and it brought tears to my eyes.

Hearing has always been so essential to me. I always have sound around. I am always listening to music or making music of my own while going about my day. I can be in the deepest sleep imaginable but if one of my children so much as sniffle in the night, I'm up and investigating. I depend on my sense of hearing to aid in my safety. I know when someone is behind me because I'm always listening to the branch snap, the pebble slide, the footsteps. I can tell when the water is ready for the pasta just by sound. I teach my children to appreciate and identify sound. Is that a cello or a violin? Is that a flute or a clarinet? Is that a dog or a wolf? Is that a "hey, nice to see you" honk on street or a "get the heck out of the way" honk (easily told by the length of the honk!) Is that a firetruck or an ambulance? Do you hear a train in the distance? Get off the track.

But if that option were gone, what would I do? Would I surgically alter them? Would I see it as giving them the best options and hope for life? Or, would I just dive deep into an unknown (to me) culture and expose them to everything that being deaf has to offer? Hard to tell. I just don't know. I can say what I think I would do, but it holds no weight. Until facing the issue, no one can say.

I have no real closure for this post. My brain is spinning. Today, I will thank my ears for working. Today I will listen to all the messages they send me. Today I will imagine what it would be like to not hear. Maybe some day, it will make sense.

Kohleidoscope - always changing

I created a blog for Kohleidoscope in order to eliminate the constant posting of photos of my pieces on this blog. Also, some potential buyers might not appreciate my editorial blogging (to say the least,) so it works well for showing my goods. Occasionally there will be little tidbits about knitting and felting or sewing or whatnot. Anyway, it changes pretty regularly, so if you want to check it out, you can do so here.

Sister Carrie and Brother Seth come to visit

Um, yeah, we look stoned, but we're seriously not.

Yesterday, my brother and sister of the heart, Carrie and Seth, came to visit. They brought with them my dear Maizie Moon, their beautiful daughter. I hadn't seen them in over a year. In fact, it was their wedding that I missed this past summer. I'm so glad to say that they are back living in my state and only about 2 hours away.

We spent almost 5 hours together yesterday, letting the kids play in the yard and then letting them destroy the house, while the adults chatted and caught up and laughed and cried and all that deeply joined friends do when reunited after a long separation. I was fortunate enough to help Carrie and Seth bring Maizie into the world as their doula, nearly 2 years ago. My partner was also there. In fact, this was our first birth together as partners. So much of what my life consists of today can be tied back to Carrie and Seth. We're connected deeply. Carrie is now pursuing birth work in her town and Seth is trying like hell to turn their plot of land (okay, 15 acres) into a sustainable organic farm.

I'm so blessed to have such wonderful friends - family, really. Welcome back to MO, folks. You'll have significantly less snow and significantly more mosquito's than where you've lived for the past year. And we're still lovin' you, so stay this time, okay?

Stealth, Maizie Moon, and Duck

I must be a genius...

because, apparently, I'm the only one in my house who can figure out how to use the dishwasher, washing machine, dryer, clothes hangers, garbage disposal, toilet brush, broom, telephone,  can manage the basic function of pick up toy - put toy away, who isn't stumped by the prospect of making a bed or a sandwich, knows that kids need breakfast, knows that Mom needs 5 fucking minutes to piss in peace, realizes that if there's something defrosting in the fridge and it's in a casserole dish - most likely it's for tomorrow's dinner and not for your late night munchies and, for the love of Elvis and Apple Butter, I damned well know how to flush.

 

Mensa, here I come.

 

Is it wrong...

to lock your children in their room and tell them to fight to the death? 'Cause they're driving me up the damned wall.