Color my world office
Otto is a visual person, and I am a make-with-the-many-words person. Somehow we manage to communicate pretty well, though occasionally I’m sure Otto wishes I would just stop talking and every so often I do feel compelled to ask how a visual guy ends up deciding that THAT shirt looks okay with THOSE pants. These are minor blips. On the whole we have managed to forge our own language, an awesome perk of having known each other for nearly two decades dozen years (whoops, hey, we’ve known each other over half our lives).
Today Otto surprised me by suggesting we go out to lunch, which was a rare treat. When we eat as a family the conversation tends to center around the kids and their activities and how really, I MEAN IT, when I said I don’t want to hear any more jokes involving barf WHILE I AM EATING, I was SERIOUS. We have not had enough time as just a couple, lately, and when we do get that time, we tend to be discussing heavy Necessary Stuff, and not just kind of enjoying each other.
Naturally I tried VERY HARD to ruin our lovely lunch with some discussion of Unpleasant Yet Necessary Things, but eventually we did come back to a less depressing topic: My office. Specifically: As we come up on the 6 year mark of living in this house, am I finally ready to paint it? read more…
Before the pollen: do all the things
In New England, March was always a month to bitch and moan about how spring was clearly NEVER going to arrive. Or there would be a couple of freak 70-something-degree days in amongst the snow storms. I still remember the year we got two feet of snow on April Fool’s Day, and with Chickie’s birthday being in the middle of April, every year it was a waiting game to see if we could have a party outside or not. One year the day of her party dawned warm and sunny, but I still had to go out into the yard with a shovel and break up an iceberg that hadn’t quite gotten the memo about the weather.
In Georgia, March is a mix of warm and cold, though “cold” is relative, of course. We’ll have a bunch of perfect, temperate days where everyone flocks to the outdoors, because by May it’ll be too hot, and April is the Month Of Pollen. For most of April, everything will be covered in a yellow-green powder that turns to thick sludge each time it rains. We are not yet in the “hey, the air is chewy” stage, but it’s time to break out the daily allergy meds and it’s only a matter of time.
Naturally, this means it’s time to Do Stuff and Clean Things because my allergy meds make me hyper AND because I lose the will to live once we start drowning in pollen. read more…
Weekend fun
And here we understand “weekend fun” to be synonymous with “dog torture.”
Licorice really, really, REALLY wants a walk from woulda on Vimeo.
This is not really a post
What this IS is a reminder that sometimes I post stuff on the Woulda Coulda Shoulda Facebook page that I don’t put here. It’s like a bonus reel! Hosted by the Evil Empire! Except no matter how evil Facebook becomes, it’s still the easiest place to waste time playing Scrabble with far-away friends, so I just can’t quite quit it (and probably neither can you).
So if you’re not a fan over there to see things like post updates and random pictures of things like my kid in a rainbow tutu, you might be missing out. Just sayin’.
That’s what nerd said
There’s quite a bit of sibling adjustment happening ’round here. The kids have missed each other so much—more than I think either of them realized—but both have grown somewhat used to being the only kid in the house, and so we are seeing some natural jockeying for position now that they’re together again.
For Monkey’s part, I think he has blossomed in his sister’s absence; he is the beta to her alpha, and with alpha absent, beta has discovered that he can monopolize the conversation if he feels like it (neat!). He is much more assertive now than he was when she left, and Chickadee finds herself a little puzzled as to why she cannot just steamroll over him at the dinner table the way she used to. She is also finding that he’s more entertaining than she remembers; whether this is due to absence making the heart grow fonder, Monkey now being a fellow teenager, or Chickie being more tolerant (or some combination thereof), I have no idea. But I’ll take it.
What has NOT changed is this family’s penchant for 1) being inappropriate and 2) torturing each other. Um. Yay? read more…
Just another wild weekend
It seems like—particularly after the first full week of reintegrating ourselves as a family of four and everyone managing work and school and stuff—the weekend should be a time to relax and unwind and simply have fun. We should… sleep! Watch television! Meet up with friends and simply hang around with no set goals in mind!
Well, I’m sure that’s what SHOULD have happened. You know, if I wasn’t such a giant meaniehead. But you know… I am Mom, hear me suck the fun out of everything. HOORAY!
It actually started with poor, long-suffering Otto. I’m sure Otto would’ve LOVED to loll around this weekend and watch cars go around in circles on the television. Instead, he got up at o’dark thirty on Saturday and started driving north. My covert flute escapades have nothing on what customers at some random Dairy Queen in Virginia must’ve seen on Saturday afternoon when Otto met up with my ex and transferred the rest of Chickie’s belongings to his car. So, really, Otto drove for about 17 hours straight, which means that everything else that happened here was leisurely in comparison. Right? Right. read more…
Reunited and it feels so goooooood
I want to say stuff about how it’s going with Chickadee, because I am so happy, every minute, and still whispering to Otto, “Is this real?” and surreptitiously pinching myself because it’s so much better than I’d dared to hope for, having her back home.
I don’t want to say anything about how it’s going with Chickadee, because if I’ve learned anything over the last 18 months or so, it’s that the things you think you can control or anticipate as a parent can change in an instant, in terrible ways, in ways you never considered, in ways that make people judge your family for things which truly fall under the “there but for the grace of God go I” umbrella (though no one wants to believe it could happen to them), and I am afraid if I shout “IT’S AWESOME!” from the rooftops, the good will end.
But mostly I want to say stuff because it gets better. It got better. And for a long time, I didn’t know if it would. I don’t want to not celebrate out of fear of the unknown. This isn’t the end of the story, but it’s a damn fine middle and worthy of celebration. read more…
Pssst! Meet you at the DQ on the DL
If the writing thing ever completely dries up, I’ve decided I’m going to sell drugs. It seems like a reasonable course of action, given that a lot of people probably already think that’s what I do.
Hang on; let’s back up.
Back about a year and a half or two years ago, Chickadee’s middle school band teacher made certain to tell me at a teacher conference or a concert (you can see this is really burned in my memory with utter clarity…) that “it’s time for a new flute.” I especially love this sort of thing because it’s not like “buy a new spiral notebook” but “hello, I barely know you, but please drop $1000+ on a new instrument because your snowflake should have one.” In fairness, Chickie had been progressing by leaps and bounds, and at a certain point you just can’t get any better on a starter instrument. The band director’s heart was in the right place. But Chickie overheard this and decided she NEEEEEEDED a new flute, yes please, now please, thank you.
Also this was right after we’d paid a lot of money to get her existing flute fixed. Because of course it was. (Insert martyred sigh here.) Her dad and Otto and I talked it over, and we decided that if she really wanted a better flute, we would pool our resources and get her one for Christmas that year. read more…
I have missed this
Offered without further comment, other than to say this is but her most recent observation on the oft-amusing experience of reconnecting with all the kids she’s known for years, some of whom have… changed… in her absence:
Life is messy and wonderful
You may have felt like I’ve kind of been half-assing it ’round here the last few weeks. (Alternatively, you may find it hilarious that I think you care that much. If you fall into this latter category, just skip ahead to the next paragraph.) Confession: I’ve been half-assing it here for the last few weeks. My heart and mind has been elsewhere, and some of the distraction has been emotional, but a lot of it has been logistical. There was just a lot to be done in a fairly short period of time, and I put my head down and tried to power through it, even while fighting back the fears that it wouldn’t work or it would work but there would be anger and unhappiness.
I’m pretty good with a mission, really. Give me a checklist and I’m a machine. Finish decluttering the house, CHECK. Contact the school, meet with the school, CHECK. Enroll with a new doctor, CHECK. Request records, CHECK. Gather an army, CHECK. Get advice, give updates, take a deep breath, CHECK CHECK CHECK.
Chickadee was supposed to come home for her school break on Friday. And she both did and didn’t.
She came home, but not for break. She’s home and she’s staying. read more…