Rock and Roll

If there were a place in the world which could maintain this glorious weather, i would go... family or no.

and yesterday was a completely hellious taste of deep august and I lost my mind in the heat. utterly.

but today... today was all glory and the promise of roses. . . very strangely up and down in terms of homelife, my older son kicked me in the neck during a tantrum when I was picking him up from school. I was so upset at the unprovoked attack, I almost cried. I told him I didn't want to talk to him at all and he could just wait til we got home... He hardly cared. I felt very teenagery and teary about it... and was really upset for a great deal of the afternoon. Also had to deal with the feeling of wanting to spank him but not doing it because there were so many people around and I was worried someone would acuse me of abuse. I don't feel it is, and I wasn't mad but upset and just hate that I have to explain what I think is a rare but effective parenting tool. anyhow.

so it was something of a tough lunchtime transitionto nap ... and then...

C. was lying down on the sofa with his feet in my lap, talking to himself. I started to listen when I heard 'poop' talk.. why? i have no idea. . . but he looked at me and said, 'mom, i'm not talking to you, i'm talking to God..'. oh, i say. He asked me if God gave toys, if he could ask for toys, and I said God was more likely to give feelings, like happy, healthy, etc. but C. could ask for toys if that is what he really wanted, but he had to think about it first,to be sure thats what he really wanted... he murmured a bit and looked at me and said, 'God said 'sure'..'

Curiousity kills the cat/mama... "So, what'd you ask for?" A drum set like the boy in San Francisco.... LINK HERE... the young son of a friend from high school who has died... oh dear.

Next he asks... 'does God talk back? what does he sound like? '

and here is my moment of Grace for the day. . . I had to stop and think about it. . . because to me its an orchestral drumming, a thumping on the chest of percussion of any sort but a swelling majesty of movement and moment.

so i told him. and added that it might sound different to everyone. he was quiet for a minute and said, 'its rock and roll to me, mom, rock and roll'..

LIONS of spring... LIONS...

I'm getting mad...

why is it that all these things which were originally designed to help mothers have become the enemy? pacifiers, which soothe babies... evil.
formula... which allow mothers to rest and allow someone else to feed the baby...and are not full of chocolate.... evil.

what?! thats like saying that laundry machines actually make more work for mothers or that dishwashers are evil because you actually have to rinse the dishes first so you're doing twice the work. do we believe that?! crock of shit. CROCK OF SHIT.

pacifiers do not secretly pinch babies while they are falling asleep...siblings do. do we get rid of them or tie them to mother-guilt? no.
formula does not cause babies to hate their mothers or give them autism.... it should be viewed as like a protein drink to get the baby through a tight spot, thats all... gatorade for the newborn...
its not as if you are giving your neonate a can of pepsi.

if we began to see these things as helpful, not necessarily tools for bad mothering, wouldn't life be a whole lot easier for us - and then maybe we could figure out how to breathe during the course of these events and maybe even be more available to the children as a regular human being.... ? maybe we could even rule the world and send someone to power besides hillary.

Today is what I've got. . .

frogface mama.

Last night I went to a cocktail-like party - we won tickets and it was free drink and appetizer mingle to celebrate the website kidoinfo.com , which I actually like a lot. . . . there were lots of women my age and its been so long since we've left our pawtucket digs, I was on the look out for fashionistas and hipness in general. I think I was expecting some New York. But the East Side is what it is, I guess. All the hip was the same sort of hip. I'm not exactly a standout myself, but I do like to see standouts... Some of the folks were parents whose kids go to school with mine, and they were by far, the hippest. Made me feel slightly cool by association. I did have some good conversation regarding mothering, and I did re-meet some people that I like. and I liked it. Its always good to be talking to smart people who know a little or a lot about what you're on about. I am not exactly a social champ, and I think I handled my lack of hearing fairly well. I definitely have a love-hate relationship with crowds at this point. At least my hair was clean. IT may be all that I can do to get on the path towards hip, or, on second thought, it may be steering me away from hip. not sure anymore.

blagh. boring.

- last night both boys slept in their OWN beds for the ENTIRE NIGHT! stop the clocks. If this is what happens when I leave for a few hours, guess who gets to leave every night? EVERY night.

- J's about to go away for a week long conference and it'll be nice to have a set routine for the week but we'll miss him and the boys will freak out as they realize the longevity of the trip but we can stay up late and all sleep in the same bed if need be so getting by won't stress ME out. . .

-I have gotten past financial hysteria. I'm working on chanting my way through our lack of money and werewithal... realizing that we have plenty for today. and I should just make it a point to 'look away' from the other days. Today is what I've got. and J's office might be spartan at first, but then we can slowly add chairs and exam tables and so on... his patients already love him. they'll forgive him the starting point. . .

FLIP FLOP WEATHER

i'm not sure what i think or how i feel about this latest turn of events. as an instant to instant replay, it would be fascinating - so very changeable. As I flip and flop around- can't even think to type clearly or use grammar as more than a pause-building tool. stop-gap-measure.

our application for the loan was denied.

j was offered a part time job a half hour later, for which he is interviewing as I type.

maybe its good to not take on the extra debt.

maybe I'm not meant to know what it is like not to stress over money, maybe its part of my character.

I'm concerned about paying for bills a few months from now. where is the safety in your home if you put it on shaky ground?- so says the Cancer in me.

I need not be concerned about a few months from now as there is nothing I can do about it and it may ALL be different by then.

I'm sick with disappointment. I'm relieved to not be waiting anymore.

I wonder how much my disappointment is tied to knowing I've let things slide in anticipation of being able to write big checks and pay things off... what the hell are we going to do about the sewer bill?

Russell, Russell, he's our man...

It's official, the news has been broadcast. Russell Maret is a bonified genius.
He's listed under design. I wonder if my kid's auction invitation is worth more now? hemm.
WAHOO RUSSELL!!

quickie for dinner, and not the exciting kind.

My husband has a wonderful job which is fulfilling and challenging and will eventually even earn him a great salary. (eventually being a rather Key term here as we wait for news on a loan application) However, one of the downfalls to his job is a slight unpredictability of schedule. Frequently he calls and is not coming home for dinner until 6, 7, 8... and its three when he calls. So there. No kids waiting in the windows for Daddy, etc. I think I'd be able to handle it better if hubby were not the primary COOK! in the family. Those three, four o'clock calls just kill me and I spend the next hours madly (and by that I mean, angrily) trying to figure out what food we have, whether I need to pack up and drag the two children to the grocery store or whether i've got enough change in the change jar to make a fried food trip.
tonight was one of those nights .
but ! here is a recipe for the best peanut sauce ever. ever. and you can put it on pasta with all the veggies you have left in your veggie box and/or whatever meat you've got and serve it hot or cold or with a salad or whateva. tonight i was a rockstar. we had carrots with broccoli and spaghetti all slathered in a light and fantastic peanut sauce.

so here it is:
Take the time to slowly mix a
Half cup of Peanut Butter
Half cup of hot water
then add...
2 TB soy
2TB sugar
3 med garlic clove
1 tsp ginger
2 tsp cider vinegar

SERIOUSLY. EXCELLENT... my thanks go to Darcy McConnell, mother of twin three year old boys, about to finish her second year of medical residency... knows what a fast healthy meal has to be. easy, damnit, easy.

vacation, wooooo hoooooo

okay, should fancies of blue waters, tropical drinks or swaying palms be entering your head- please go there and do not read on...



today is tuesday . one day into a weeklong 'vacation' and I am in a near panic because IKEA's kids room is closed on tuesdays and thank GOD! i checked before we drove an hour to find out in person. but now i am stuck. I was dreaming about ikea last night and leaving the three year old in the playland while i browsed... I've got no money AND am short on energy-burning ideas that don't require my thirtyfour year old self to climb swingsets and junglegyms to retrieve said three year old. but I am willing to drive . and shop and eat. so , what to do...



I've got this assignment from chakra carol that I'm supposed to be working on - those CDs -
and I've got to send her a letter to explain why I can't go any further. Of course, a personal failing. I cannot be a person of love and light for the world, evidently. My sister was driving with me this weekend as we made a mad dash to Maine to visit my grandmother, thinking it was a 'last time' . My sister tried to get me to look a little bit more at that assertion, which is precisely what the CDs try to do. SO- I'm going to make a little detour from the cleaning cleaning cleaning futility, and look at the damn things again. I'd prefer to go to IKEA and use my credit card to pretend everything was just glorious and full of 'clean lines'...

'clean lines' laundry lines

GOD BLESS THE SWEDES

my brain may in fact be dead

okay, so last time, i was saying how i'm fine with my 'glimpses' of myself. well, bull.

i am wierdly fixated by the new colorations of my kitchen floor. between the pee from children and dogs and the spilled iron-laden apple juice, it is a place of tremendous disgust. It was my intention today to photo lots of things throughout the day so i could show what i did and battle off the sense of doing nothing nothing nothing. and i went through , count em, 8 (that would be EIGHT) batteries looking for one that would actually light up the demonic camera. - never to be found. called my husband in a placid and dangerously quiet hysteria to say that i did not know what to do with the children today and needed ideas. keep in mind that today is the first sunnyand warm day in fucking ever. he is a man who should be on the very edge of his seat, almost at all times.

i took a drive to another mothers house and am very relieved that i did. we had a good and not crazy time with each other and around the kids. but now i'm home. and one is sleeping and the other, smaller one with great need for sleep, is not.

I spend way WAY too much time on cleaning things. someone please tell me why the place still looks like noah's ark after the rains had been going for a week or so...

damn feminists

i wonder, if when I was taking my feminisms classes in college, if they had brought in some mothers with young children to talk about their view of feminism, what depth it would have brought to the discussions. Could I possibly have understood? empathized? Stored away the knowledge of a woman's role in the family and been less shocked by my reality? or is it all too dependent on experience? is there no way to learn from others? or- does knowing change the reality? make one more accepting, less fraught with resentment and dismay?


Sunstruck penguin ... There is another blog I've been reading in which the mother of three has just begun to paint again after the youngest hit 2 1/2 . She is excited and happily 'done' with the creation of more children. . . I don't know if we're done, I suspect we may look at that in the next six months or so, I am feeling like maybe i'm finally learning how to handle two... how to fit in another? I've only just seen glimpses of myself these last years and generally speaking, I'm fine in those moments of 'glimpse', fine with myself and who I am. It is the quiet moments in bed before all hell breaks loose (on the days when we even get those..), the moments when I sit in the bathroom at bath time and really look and watch my 3.5 year old sitting nakedly in front of the mirror wearing a helmet and telling me he is a helicopter driver. The helmet completely covers his face and his tiny body is just energy at its most kinetic and static simultaneously. The alighting, a quick passing-by of peace, thats what those moments are for me...

Moments when I can hear the poetry in my husband's thought processes, and truly hear it! over the din of complex resentments and dismally repetitive patterns.
I regularly forget that these moments exist, from minute to minute, I forget.