On Deaf's Door.

hee hayah. miss piggy yell. hi ... yah...
the loaner hearing aide is giving me pain, as I said. and now there is black stuff coming out of my ear. Mothers, Fathers, I am 36 years old so hold your judgements at bay for the next statement. I found said black stuff on a Q!tip. I am 36, not 4. so i can use them.
HubsJ, the doc, says black stuff is not made by the body and so it must be from the aide itself. right?!...what?! (no pun intended, but noticed, and appreciated)
Anyhow, and So, until Monday when I pick up my repaired digitalia, i am deaf. (mostly, not to be confused with Deaf, culturally).
It is a challenge and I am sure that I will cry multiple times before Monday. But HubsJ and the kids are off to a circus on Saturday and I can't go as I am preparing to work at the fundraiser for the nursery school which is that night... the hours do not mesh. And it will be good to hear less of what goes on there, most likely...I made a quilt that i will bid on myself because it gives me a warm and loving feeling. really, it does. I do have pictures so maybe i'll fit them in here somehow. ah.

     so the crying will happen in peace and quiet. :) the difference keeping me from hysteria and suicide ideation is that if facetoface and important? I CAN hear. I CAN. and that is a pretty big fucking difference, and makes humor very possible and even enjoyable.  black stuff aside.

AMAZING.

Hear Hear Har Har Har

the blasted hearing aide of my dreams has given up the ghost... it lies in a shallow unmarked box at the bottom of my purse. if you ask me to be entirely rid of it i will call upon miss havisham to 'do away' with you and your untimely remarks. ceaseless meddling. ceaseless.
so don't.
while an unremarkably demonic digital aide makes its way to me via postman, i am armed with the same style of hearing aide i wore until i was roughly 15, a behind the ear champion of all things large and bulky. and it hurts my ear to wear, and i feel myself developing lockjaw as i move my whole face differently while talking, sitting.  it makes me list to one side when walking. I'm not kidding.
ceaseless.
add to the physical challenge of the 2 oz. devil the emotional toil of trying to adjust to sounds all over again, again. sounds, do you know how fucking many of them there are?! do you?
so so many. i am exhausted by all the sounds i just don't care about. i want kid voices, and hubsJ voices and impending crash sounds and waking children sounds and really, thats it.  i don't want coat rustles, sneaker squeaks (unless they're on the countertops again...), i don't want key strokes, not even doorbells... just voices and impending dangers. is that so flipping hard?
I want to be called for jury duty so I can go give a judge the true, real story of why I cannot sit on a jury of my peers.  I want my day in court.

Lies and the Lying Liars who Lie them...

ah.  This morning, in order to get my 5 to go to school for the first day after spring 'vacation' I told him I would drive to his grandparents house  (35 min.) to get his bike and bring it back home. (35 min.) *(this is a bike that was purposefully left behind as they have good riding spots and I have a sidewalk with lots of traffic. purposeful. )
 As it was leaving my mouth, i felt ill. still feel ill. want it to be a lie, a flat-out, bald-faced mother LIE. want it.
This kind of bribery feels very ugly, this bartering with a small child for behavior that is acceptably just expected. eat breakfast, check. get dressed, check. go to school in the morning, check. yes? YES!!
but?! no.
so its me, the lying Liar who wants to be better at LYING.
oh brother, i wish i could reneg. all the time. the things i hear myself saying... 'if you keep BLANKING, I'm going to throw that BLANK out the window.

oh really? hmm.... go ahead, ask me if i've thrown miscellaneous crap out the window?
well, once. out into the front yard, from whence i quickly reclaimed said crap so that I wouldnt look like a trailerpark had entered my tiny front yard.  (nothing against trailer parks. )
but not usually... that would be a LIE, a threat with no intention of followthrough.
bully for me.
bully? me?
are mothers bullies? is that what we do? me? i mean, me? or are these boundaries really as good for kids as they say? or is that bull? i mean, clearly no, not bull. but why can't someone else figure out how to be the enforcer of this boundary? how do you do it in any kind of peaceable manner? true? kind? neccessary? holy smokes. i am A LIAR. 
me. yes, me.

I LOVE WISCONSIN!!

hello, 70s show shout-out. I do love Wisconsin. i do. I love it for being so mind-blowingly different from where I am right now.  I love the accent in the middle of the country up there. I love my Pamela Jo who lives out there and teaches me so much about the ways of the wisconsin.  and i love cheese. and I love the Packers, and the whole city of Green Bay for showing that profit-sharing and local things are really the best way to do it all, even football.
cheese. again. love.
but that is the end of my posting on wisconsin, for today.

I have been having that feeling, that as far as my parenting goes, I'm hovering at the edge of something vague and nameless and bad.  You know that feeling?  The suspicion that whatever you have fooled yourself into believing about your children or your control over your children may be just a bunch of crackpipe fantasy? I have the feeling that I am that mom, the one everyone at the school points to as they're leaving with their well-organized children... 'see, there they go again... if she could just Control them.... why does she let them do that sort  of thing... what is she thinking?... she's totally out of her element with them...'
My kids don't get in trouble at school. seem pretty happy in general when they are not tantruming in a wierdly mysterious and angry fashion.  right.
see the rub?
The grandmother of the quiet boy next door came to drop him off for play this afternoon, and says to me, 'you have to tell him you are the boss'.  this is from the middle of nowhere to my front door conversation. nowhere . now.   there is a language barrier and a hearing barrier, but i'd put 50 bucks down that I got it right.
right.
so now I have to spend my days thinking about why she would have said that to me, what my childrearing skills look like to others and why the hell it matters so much. because it does. it does.
ah. ha. aaah.

but I do love wisconsin. (i prefer unions to no-unions but whatever, i'm an american, i can feel how i want...)

I love my post-title choices.

(yes, the irony in today's choice is clear.) :)
I love inserting dashes between words and letting them become new. I love that my hubsJ has taken my 5 for a night to NYcity to see the lego store and the museum of natural history. I love that I am getting a chance to be deaf again because of a hearing aide collapse instead of a anatomical one.  I love that. the difference is astonishing. I love that my 3 is happy taking a bath alone for the first time in 2 years. . . I love that when I go to start a new post I've got generally no idea what is about to follow. I love that when I put my cursor in the Title box, all of the titles I have ever typed, align themselves neatly below. So today I find... 'somebody get grammie on the phone, please. . . and ...ramble on, woman... and ... askew... '.
these are cool. maybe i am?  words are.

I love that our house is in a shambles, will be again, forevermore perhaps. I love this orange sweater that I'm wearing, even the pills on its sleeves. I love wearing sweaters as it starts to get warmer... I love that boys these days wear those skinny pants with the saggy butts that look so much like denim mc.hammerpants that I can hardly stand it. I love that Shredder is so fantastically plasticized. (I love that I know that Shredder is the badguy in the old Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles series form 87-89). I love that he is resting his bones near my garlic and my paper towels. I love paper towels, but feel sad that I do. (paper, paper, trash, trash. linen! laundry. eh. ) I love that I have been ignoring my three to type here and now I will go face my punishment. my consequence. it may be dire. I'll let you know.

Last Night- a post of nothing and something...*

Last night, I confess, I had the desire to drink copious amounts of alcohol, as in, totally blitzed. .  . I also confess that, all humor aside, I really never feel that way, I don't.
But I wrote a lot of checks last night, and signed a lot of papers and fed my kids delivered pizza and waited for the realtor to give me more cause to write more and to sign more. I watched a Jackie Chan movie.
and I did not, in fact, drink copious amounts of anything. . . but I had a beer before dinner with a plate of cheese and crackers, none of which I shared with anyone.  i was the only adult at home and you now know the sordid truth behind/about my depravity. . . cheesehound?... a giant block of storebrand cheddar. I'm talking, crazy. crazy.

I am, we are... well on the way to owning a new house, in another town,  a house with a tire swing... a new septic... and a windmill. a windmill. its yellow, and white and wildly wildy. someday I might even have a picture to show you, should all the stars gather their forces to keep me sane while i live with my mother for a whole month {uh, make that TWO. damn septic.} while we wait for the new septic to exist, and for the house's occupants to move on out. a month.{again, TWO.} We four will fit into a guest room and oh, yes, the dog and the cat as well. hm.
windmill. white and yellow. breakfast nook. sunlight streaming.
just keep on keeping on...

Chakra Carol strikes again...

If you are imagining her with a cape and some sparkly sort of tiara type thing... you would be right on.  (although its all internal... )
Today's gem for me, paraphrased, mixed up, rethought, garbled:
The language isn't 'i don't deserve...', deserve isn't even a word in this instance. You are not a toddler, a small child being given an icecream for 'good' behavior.  this is God, this is the World.  You accept goodness, because it is from God.  Go with the flow, roll with the punches. ACCEPT what is.

woah nellie.

Found

The house we are going to buy/borrow/move into sometime has been taken off the market. this is because it is waiting for us. US.
My mind has been lost, as well as my heart and my good spirits, while i look around at the packing and the movement grown physical.
Apologies for what is ... are thrown and recieved and thrown again. what is, always so difficult to stomach when we are so far from 'practice'. . . what should be is all i can get my head around today, and so i spend my time grieving an unreality and     Jesus! get me out of this rut.

One of the things I keep falling back onto is the command of the world to 'listen'. LISTEN, damnit. All these prayers, wishes, longings thrown out into the skies without so much as a breath between... and without the 'time to spare' for listening for an answer... sheesh, something is a little out of line here.

Wouldn't it be great to build a chapel somewhere in the woods and just go to it once in a while? maybe thoreau's cabin would do... its not really that far from here, after all, and its about the right size.

why is it so hard to build the chapel into the day? children's risings notwithstanding, i can't get my moments to align for my quietude..i am praying for the quietude in the midst of a wilderness of children and their needs, and again, the battle against 'what is' rages on...

why is it so hard to acknowledge the chapel already built into the day? the one that exists in the deep breaths, the resting hands... the long blinks?

dude.

Chocolate Croissants and Sundresses

Spring is here.  There are daffodils and crocus all around, the lilacs are a-bud. A nearest and dearest has a completely unremarkable brain, according to an MRI. We love unremarkable, even while still full of questions. . . we love unremarkable. love it. LOVE.
Love, too, is in the air.  The morning doves in the backyard are downright aggressive in their chase.  The squirrel's tails are embarrassing in their friskyflirty. . .
We are climbing things, things that last year were out of reach. all of us. HubsJ can see the end of his crazybusy time, and we are looking through spring into the summer already.  The town to which we are going to move has a town beach.  !glimmers ahoy! beach! fairydust fairydust sis boom bah!
We know that we are moving, we are doing house inspections, box-planning, move-help begging...
There is a place for a friend of old to stay for a whole month with her lovey child, if she will...
There are things known, and to be known... and chocolate and sundresses are among them. hallelujah.

We wait...

in circles we pace. in hope we stay still. we wait. we wait. answers on the way, waiting... solutions and new understandings of the body, the family.
in circles we pace, in faith we still.