Love’s a matter of perspective
We went for a walk after dinner last night. Chickadee alternated inserting herself between me and Otto so that we couldn’t hold hands, grabbing one or the other of us from the outside and trying to pull us away from the other one, or marching up ahead in a variety of odd skips and flails. (Our very own personal Ministry of Silly Walks!)
I don’t know how the conversation started, but Chickie asked for an explanation of a situation we’d been chatting about, wherein a blended family was somewhat complicated by the fact that the eventual couple actually had a child together before either of them were divorced from their first spouses. It’s not really the sort of thing I thought I’d be explaining to my 11-year-old, but these things happen. And the problem, for me, is that the people in question have since been together for a very long time, and I felt like I needed to make it clear to my daughter that this is very much the exception to the rule.
“Just tuck this away for future reference,” I told her. “But this is something you need to learn NOW, before hormones take over and your brain rots.” read more…
That kind of day
When I woke up before Otto’s alarm clock went off this morning, I just had a feeling it was going to be one of THOSE sorts of days. I wasn’t sure why I felt that way; I just did. Sometimes you just know.
Today’s the day Chickadee goes to the allergist. Her rash is fading a bit, since she stopped eating wheat, but she still looks a little bit like she has leprosy. Of course there’s been precious little we need to run out and DO this week, so today—the one day we need to get up and out at a reasonable time—I looked up from my computer at 10:00 and realized she still hadn’t, you know, GOTTEN OUT OF BED.
It’s hard work, being her. And I’m all for sleeping in in the summer, but c’mon now. I woke her up and tried to jolly her into getting her sleepy behind into the shower, but she was exactly as delightful as you might imagine someone who was woken up at 10 and still tired might be. So that was fun. read more…
I have created a monster
Otto: So I was thinking, when we go camping this summer, we should go to Dearborn, Michigan.
Chickadee: [blank stare]
Otto: There’s some really cool stuff there. Like, Greenfield Village, which is set up like it was in olden times. And there’s a Ford factory tour, where you can see them putting trucks together!
Chickadee: [dripping with sarcasm] Oh. Boy. That sounds. So. Exciting.
Otto: No, really, it’s really interesting. I think you’ll like it.
Chickadee: [suddenly inspired] I have an idea! You and Monkey can go watch them put trucks together, and Mom and I can go get a pedicure!
Otto: [to me] Where did I go wrong with this one?
Chickadee: [with a grand sweep of her arm] PEDICURES ACROSS AMERICA! LET’S GO!!
I have glimpsed the teen years, and I am frightened.
Wheat-free and fancy
So, as I mentioned in passing, before, I went on this weird restrictive diet to try to clear up some issues I was having with my skin. (And by “issues” I of course mean “leprosy-like eruptions.” Gosh, I hope you weren’t eating anything when you read that.) For two entire weeks I eliminated a host of foods I love dearly, and I went heavy on the fruits, veggies, nuts (though not peanuts, because I already suspect I’ve developed a sensitivity to those, on account of my being a delicate flower and everything), and lean meats.
My skin cleared up. It was a thing of beauty.
At that point I concluded that perhaps I’d just been all out of whack with sugar and my glycemic index, and that probably my troubles were now over. I would just slowwwwwwwly add back in the suspect foods one at a time to confirm. I’d start with wheat, because it was the thing I missed the most, and also the thing least likely to be the culprit.
AHAHAHAHAHAHA. I am cute when I’m stupid. read more…
The best laid plans
There will be a gaggle of children arriving at my house, shortly, to partake in what is supposed to be a swim and tie-dye extravaganza, to celebrate the end of the school year.
We ran out this morning for latex gloves and rubber bands. Sure, some people get cheetos and pretzels for such a thing, but we’re all fancy and… ummm… rubbery.
Of course now the sky is dark and rain is imminent. Would it be wrong of me to lock them all out of the house, as planned, anyway? I mean, they’ll have the gloves. Their hands will be dry.
Oh, I’m just kidding. Probably.
Love hits the road
School is now officially out for the summer, and something wonderful has happened.
I’m positively THRILLED.
It’s not that I didn’t like summers, before, but this is the first summer I find myself really looking forward to in, well, certainly in my tenure as a parent. I’m aware that that sounds bad, but hear me out. When the kids were little and I stayed home with them, summer was no different than the rest of the year. When the kids were a bit older but I was divorced and working, summer was rife with guilt over not being able to take time off and relax with them, and then further guilt over not being able to provide them any sort of vacation. Two years ago, summer was all about moving and getting settled (exciting, but not exactly relaxing or without its own problems), and last year summer carried with it a schedule that pretty much guaranteed zero relaxation for anyone involved.
This year is different. read more…
They like to move and groove
It came as a total shock to me, yesterday, when we filed into the school for Chickadee’s “moving on ceremony” and I found myself tearing up a little.
I am not a terribly sentimental person under the best of circumstances. And as we already know, Monkey’s moving on ceremony didn’t exactly set me up to expect great things. But MAN OH MAN they put on the Ritz for the fifth graders, and it was impossible to stand there and not think about how my firstborn—who was once a baby with bright blue eyes and a cloud of hair standing up every which way with static—is now a young lady with piercing hazel eyes and a carefully arranged coif (“Mom! STOP TOUCHING MY HAIR!”), who is headed off to middle school next year.
My baby is in striking distance to teendom, and it’s both weird and wonderful. Also, it makes my eyes leak. Particularly when you play “Pomp and Circumstance” while making the kids file in two by two. read more…
The strawberry story
So, here’s the thing about strawberries at this time of year: They’re EVERYWHERE, here in Georgia. You can get them cheap at the grocery store, the farms are all advertising that they’re peaking, heck, we’re even growing them in containers on our deck.
Supermarket strawberries: Pretty cheap, right now, and decent-tasting. Not great, but not bad.
Deck strawberries: Completely free (we bought the plants last year), but taste like crap. Seriously. The brightest red, most gorgeous-looking berries? Taste like nothing. I will never buy these plants again. Yuck.
Farm strawberries: More expensive than the other two options (though not by much), but positively luscious, delicious, amazing, etc. If you’re willing to take the time to drive out there and pick, clearly the winner of the available options.
Plus, picking strawberries is FUN. Right? OF COURSE IT IS.
Ahem. read more…
Wild partiers we
So my folks are here and we’re totally taking advantage of their good graces.
The other night, my husband and I went on a hot date, leaving the children at home to torture play with their grandparents. Otto and I had a delicious dinner and then—heady with our freedom—went to Ye Olde Giant Home Improvement Store and bought… shelf paper. And planters. Because we are wild and crazy, and nothing says romance like looking at bathroom faucets you don’t even need.
And then yesterday, there were strawberries. That’s a longer story than I can tell right now, but suffice it to say that it was An Adventure. Accidentally. Not that anyone could’ve predicted such a thing, of course. Certainly not me. You know, the person who got us into the whole mess. But to make it up to my family, afterward, I baked a pie. That was a complete disaster. Yay!
Today we’ve already gone digging around in the garden, replanted a bunch of things, and rescued a salamander from the pool. It’s exciting around here, y’all.
Out with a bang
It’s getting to where it feels like I need a whole separate calendar just to keep track of the end-of-school-year events and happenings and places we are required to be and things we need to do. (For example: The day after school ends, incoming middle schoolers for the following year who wish to be in the band have to go fork over a few wads of cash, sign paperwork, and pick their instruments. Should you move to the district later than the day after school ends, one assumes you are relegated to playing tuba. In the corner.)
Today was a very special day wherein Chickadee and a classmate were allowed to leave school and go out to lunch with a teacher and various associated parents because of an award they won, so we went over to school and got the kids and assembled at a local restaurant for this positively decadent treat. “This is way better than anything I would’ve gotten in the cafeteria today,” the other kid said, around a mouthful of cheeseburger. read more…