A little of this, a little of that

I don't have the gift of follow-through. Or a lot of uninterrupted time, for that matter. Tres, in particular, likes to come glomp on me as soon as I sit down to type. "Help me, help me Mommy!" she says, begging me to hoist her onto my lap, where she proceeds to jump up and down on my legs and cover my eyes. It's awesome, let me tell you. Not surprisingly, this leads to half-finished blog posts.

Well, dangit! I'm tired of putting off their completion any longer! Also, I am too tired to actually complete them. So here you go:


Career Goals [from about two weeks ago]

Uno, having watched Babe this morning, has decided that as soon as she's old enough she will run for President of the United States on a platform of vegetarianism. And also the important issue of lemonade vs. water in drinking fountains (she supports lemonade).

Dos continues to aspire to be a soldier, though she hasn't yet settled on a particular branch of the military.

Tres told me yesterday (even before seeing Babe!) that when she grows up she wants to be a baby pig. Or maybe the letter N.


Favorite Things [from last weekend]

I am not as, um, special as Oprah, so I will not be giving anything away. Sorry. But seriously, how awesome is this stuff?

Have One on Me by Joanna Newsom - The eccentric folk harpist is an acquired taste, an artist people either love or hate with little in between. I get that. I've loved her since I first heard Sprout And The Bean on college radio in West Texas, but this latest album of hers.... Wah! It's so lovely, lyrically, musically. It feels like the soundtrack to some wonderfully moody afternoon, a solitary drive on back roads or a walk in the woods. I don't know. It's just fabulous. I can't say enough. (I started by downloading On A Good Day and Occident, but in the end I had to get the whole thing. Anyway, those are good places to start.)

Clickin' Moms - I just added a banner for this forum to my side bar. I follow lots of photographers' blogs for inspiration and appreciate the articles at Digital Photography School, but in terms of direct, supportive and helpful interaction with other photographers of all levels, Clickin' Moms is the place for me. It is a subscription-based forum, but the price is small; at (IIRC) around $6 per month, I think I get way more than my money's worth. (And despite the name, not all the forum members are moms. Most are, but it's certainly not required!)

eShakti - Have you ever thought to yourself, "Wow, that dress would look great on me if only it had (any / shorter / longer / different) sleeves or X neckline instead of Y..."? As one whose religious choices can narrow her clothing options, I can tell you I think that all the freaking time, lol. Though I imagine a lot of women do, actually; what flatters one body type doesn't suit every body type. Well here comes eShakti to the rescue! They offer customizable women's clothing in sizes 0-26w to which you can make adjustments (sleeve, neckline, hem length, etc) or get a more precise fit than you would elsewhere. I've never ordered from there, as I just stumbled on the site today, so I can't speak to the quality. But the prices seem very reasonable, especially considering the service they offer.

Cook This, Not That!: Kitchen Survival Guide - We eat out way too much. Way too ridiculously much. I picked this book up at the grocery store after Uno conned me into making a fancy dinner for Valentine's Day and needed a good recipe for roast chicken. That recipe, and others I've tried since, are all very easy and tasty -- and all have (along with the main photo of the completed dish) a small picture of a comparable meal from a restaurant with a note about how many calories the restaurant version has vs. the one in the book. HOLY COW. No wonder I'm not skinny, lol. Long story short, this cookbook is a very handy reference and a good motivator to cook at home!

[There was supposed to be more stuff after that, but I've forgotten now what it was. :-P]


Depressed [from a couple nights ago]

Uno is terribly homesick; she tells me every day how much she hates it here, how much she misses her old friends and the mountains and the Taco Bus, how mad she is at Grandma for smoking (she knows that among our reasons for moving was the precarious health of DH's parents who live here; Uno's 7yo brain has interpreted that to mean that it's all MIL's fault that our lives were uprooted -- *sigh*).

She has random stomach aches. She never wants to go to school (though she continues to do well, and she has lots of friends). I've talked to her teacher, who says that Uno does fine during the very structured moments or the wild and crazy fun of recess -- but that she'll sometimes find Uno silently crying in the in-between times when she has a moment to herself to think about things. When she asks what's wrong, Uno never says anything more than, "I'll be okay. I just miss my mom."

Which is odd, because at home she's always mad at me. I don't love her enough; I treat her like a slave; I couldn't possibly be her real mother or I wouldn't behave the way I do with her.

None of this was an issue before Christmas break; she seemed to have adjusted just fine to the move before then. As I said, she has lots of friends; she's constantly being invited to birthday parties. Her teacher doesn't believe she's being bullied by anyone, and Uno insists nobody has been mean to her. She's just ... homesick.

I don't know what to do for her. I feel like I should know; I was a mopey kid, too. I remember writing a note to the world when I was about her age -- a plea to someone, anyone to notice me and love me. "I feel like everybody takes me for granite," the note said. My smart-alecky brother found it tucked at the bottom of a tree where I'd left it. "People think you're a rock?" he asked. Cue humiliation and further mopiness.

Of course my childish melancholy evolved into something more pathological as I grew up. Uno (any of them, really) has a strong genetic predisposition to depression, if she doesn't have it already. I don't want that for her, but I don't know how to prevent it -- and frankly her outbursts irritate / anger me more often than stoke the fires of my compassion. How terrible is that? I just want the whining and melodrama to stop; I don't want to see the worst parts of myself reflected in her. (So you see, she's right: I am a horrible mother.)

So far my strategy has been to assure her that it's okay to miss our old life. I remind her how much we loved West Texas, but that we came to love the Mountain West too. I let her know that I miss our old home, too, and my family and friends. I try to reminisce in a positive way, and then brainstorm with her the things we like about our new life here (a movie theater closer than an hour away! A bowling alley! The other side of the family that we rarely saw before! Beautiful National Forest land! Fireflies in the summer! Snow days for no good reason!).

[I meant to write more, but I'm sure this is enough. Any ideas / experiences from my friends in Comment Land?]


* * *

Well, that about clears out the recent unfinished posts. I'll finish with some fun baby-isms from the increasingly grown up (2yo) Tres to lighten the mood:

Helicopter = hellodoctor
Hippopotamus = happomotomus
Ice cream = hice cream
Small baby dog = puppet (a mix between puppy and "I want to pet it," I believe)

:-)


~RCH~

Quote of the Day

Narration on American Idol: He did well in his first audition in Orlando, despite a difficult upbringing....

RCH: Why, what's his story?

DH: He was difficultly up-brought.


~RCH~

Free Will Astrology

Back in the day when we were geographically close, my BFF Beckle and I had a tradition: Any time we went to lunch at an establishment that carried the [Salt Lake] City Weekly, we would each take a turn reading aloud the other's horoscope from Rob Brezsny's Free Will Astrology column. As I've mentioned before, his are always entertaining and very often meaningful and, while I don't check them every week, I do take a peek from time to time when I remember to.

I really like mine for this week:

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22)

A friend of mine has woven her life together with a Leo who doesn't fully appreciate the ways she expresses her adoration. She asked me to use my bully pulpit as a horoscope writer to convey a message to her lover, and I agreed, because I think it's excellent advice for all of the Leo tribe this Valentine season. Here's what she said: "Just because somebody doesn't always love you the way you wish they would, doesn't mean they don't love you the best they can and with all they have." Are you willing to consider the possibility that maybe you should take that plea to heart, Leo? I hope so, because then you'll be able to get some of the good loving you've closed yourself off from.


And now for you, Beckle, and also my other BFF, K2 (I am very drawn to Bulls, apparently! :-) )

TAURUS (April 20-May 20):

In my view, 2010 is the year you should expand your world. That could mean enlarging your circle of allies or building a bigger web of connections. It might mean broadening your appeal or widening your frame of reference or opening your mind to possibilities you've been closed to. It may even involve extending your territory or increasing the range of your travels. However you choose to expand, Taurus, I urge you to put love at the heart of your efforts. Love should be the fuel that motivates you and the reference point that ensures you're always making smart moves. For inspiration, memorize this line by poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning: "I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach." In your case, Taurus, "thee" should mean the whole world.


I'd say that both of those are good advice for anyone. :-)


~RCH~

I'd tear my hair out, but that would only feed their delusions

Oh my goodness, these kids. Aaaaiiieee!!

Uno is out of control with the melodrama. One day she's threatening to move out of the house (and into the garage) because I don't love her enough to take her to Sonic; the next day she's bursting into fountains of tears at the thought that she might someday -- in say, five or ten years (and even then only if she wants it) -- require orthodontia.

Sample correspondence from my first child (spellings original):

To: Mom
From: Uno

I will be mooving becaseu i was good today so if you donte whant to hav me fine then fine bye.

[heart] Uno

A week ago Dos built a snowman with the inch or so we had in the front yard. She invited us out to look at it upon completion. "Wow, Dos!" I said. "You did a really great job!"



Uno's jaw dropped. She put her hands on her hips. "I can't believe it," she said. "That's the meanest thing you've said to me all day! You love Dos more than you love me because she builds snowmans!"

What? What?!

I can't win with that one.

Dos, on the other hand, is a solid brick of stubborn. When she doesn't want to do something she'll smile as if she has heard you and agrees and then -- right there in full view -- she'll do just the opposite of what you've asked. Often she giggles in her open defiance. Makes me FURIOUS.

Tres is an insomniac. One day last week she woke up about an hour past bedtime and stayed awake until 3:30 in the morning. I brought her to the living room to sleep with me on the couch so she wouldn't wake up her roommates / sisters, but she had no interest in cuddling with Mama. I tried to supervise her nocturnal adventures, but I couldn't keep my eyes open much past 1am. I tire easily these days. DH checked on us after using the bathroom in the middle of the night; I was dead asleep, he said, and Tres was chillin' in the kitchen, coloring lovely pictures. (Thankfully on actual paper that time.)

Last night she woke up at 4am demanding cartoons and PopTarts.

I've felt like I'm coming down with something lately -- all tired and achy everywhere -- but it occurs to me that maybe I'm just worn out from trying to sleep with an uncooperative, wide-awake Tres on the couch every night.

So. These are my children.

This morning got off to a slow start, as most mornings do with us. With time running out, and feeling that familiar mix of exhaustion and panic, I scurried around Uno and Dos, heckling them to stop messing around and start eating their breakfast. Tres shadowed me, tugging at my pajamas and lobbying for her own set of needs (Sesame Street! Princess Pull-Ups! Hice-cream!). I threw together some quick lunches, checked backpacks, found coats, grabbed a hair brush and a squirt bottle to tame the bedhead and then--

"Holy crap, Uno!"



I noticed for the first time that she had chunks of super short bangs interspersed with the regular long ones; a large section of hair had also been lopped off over her right ear.

And then I remembered the Hair Fairy.

Yesterday afternoon, Uno and Dos had repeatedly snuck up behind me to pull individual hairs out of my head. When questioned, they said they were collecting as much hair as they could to put in an envelope for the Hair Fairy (or Hair Very, if you're Dos). Apparently this mysterious sprite collects gifts of hair from under sleepy little girls' pillows and, in return, leaves a stuffed animal from one of those arcade claw machines.

Yeah.

"There's no such thing as the Hair Fairy," I told them. "Now stop yanking my hair out. I've already got a headache and that doesn't help."

From Uno: You don't want me to get a prize from the Hair Fairy, do you? You don't love me! You're not my real mother!

From a smiling Dos: Sure, Mom.

Me, a few minutes later: "There is NO SUCH THING as the Hair Fairy! Stop pulling my hair!"

"You just don't know," said Uno. "The Hair Fairy was born after you were already a grown-up, so you don't know about it but I know it's true!"

Oh my goodness.

Back to this morning: I inspected Dos's hair as well; she, at least, had the good sense to have Uno cut a section in the back where it's already layered and much less obvious. But oy vey.

I ranted and raved. I thought we were beyond stunts like this, I told them; this is the sort of thing four-year-olds do, not smart, school-going five- and seven-year-olds! Grrrrr.

"Did you get your claw machine prizes, at least?" I asked, and was met by sheepish downward glances.

So let's state this one more time and for the record: There is no such thing as the Hair Fairy.

Meanwhile, as I'm lecturing the older girls about staying away from scissors, I notice from the corner of my eye that Tres is sucking on a bottle of hair detangler spray.... I assume I grabbed it away from her in time; she doesn't appear to have been poisoned.

UGH. I love these kids but some days I want to run away from home -- and farther than the garage, even. I promise I'd come back. Eventually....


~RCH~

This is my Andy Rooney impersonation

(Sixteen years after the fact. Because I'm cool like that.)

You know what I hate? I hate the song "Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls" by TLC. I heard it on the radio yesterday and it's been bothering me ever since.

When it came out in 1994, everybody loved the song. Oh, it's so catchy! Oh, it's so inspirational! What a great message! What message is that? Let's review the chorus:

Don't go chasing waterfalls;
Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you're used to.
I know that you're gonna have it your way or nothing at all,
But I think you're moving too fast.

Supposedly it means you shouldn't chase after flashy / material things, or that you shouldn't let yourself be taken in by the lure of the sexy Bad Boy. Or whatever. But what does it really say?

I'll tell you: Stick to the rivers and lakes that you're used to. Don't move beyond your comfort zone. Don't look for adventure. Don't reach beyond your own or others' expectations. I know you think you're better than your present circumstances, but dude, you're not.

That's what passes for inspiration? (Or did in 1994? LOL.) It's condescension couched in pseudo concern (bless your heart, I'd just hate to see you get hurt!) and it's just about the worst advice I could think of to give anybody.

So here's my advice, though sadly it will not be sung by three hot women of questionable sanity:

Chase those waterfalls, sistah. Scale mountains. Dream those impossible dreams whether or not you ever fully achieve them, whether or not you get hurt in the process. I mean, not that I want you to get hurt -- but if you're playing things safe, how much can you really expect to gain from your experiences?

So there you go. Dream big, live big, says the stay-at-home mom eking out her quiet Midwestern life while referencing decades-old pop songs.

Yeah, I'm definitely cool like that. ;-)


~RCH~

Pimpin' the cause

Those of you on Facebook may have seen me beg you to vote for the Gwendolyn Strong Foundation in the Chase Community Giving contest over the last week. Big, big thanks to those of you who have voted already. You rock.

For the rest of you:

The contest (pitting lots of very deserving charities against other very deserving charities to win $1 million for their cause) ends tomorrow, January 22nd. I wanted to ask you one final time if you'd take a teeny, tiny moment from your day (seriously, it takes less than a minute) to support the Gwendolyn Strong Foundation in its quest to cure Spinal Muscular Atrophy, or SMA.

SMA is the most common genetic killer of babies -- which sounds melodramatic, but it's true: 1 in 40 people is a carrier. SMA leaves its sufferers with little to no muscle tone; they can't do normal things like sit or stand unassisted, but more importantly they can't even cough. A simple cold can be (and sadly, often is) deadly because they can't clear their lungs. 50% of babies with SMA die before their second birthday, most often as a complication of respiratory illness.

It's a terrible, heartbreaking condition. One of my very good friends, Cass (she of Bahamas, Bahamas, Bahamas fame over there in my blog roll), has two children diagnosed with SMA, her twin babies Kyle and Lauren. Here they are:



Adorable, no?

This isn't just a vaguely good cause to me; it's personal. I've watched these kids grow. I saw Cass struggle for answers when they didn't hit any of the usual milestones -- rolling over, crawling, sitting -- and then struggle for answers of a different sort when hit with an actual diagnosis. I've seen how hard Cass fights to advocate for her children now. She, they, all the families affected by this condition, deserve a break.

SMA research is close to a viable treatment and/or cure. Tantalizingly close. Will it be in time for Kyle and Lauren? I hope so. A million dollars from Chase Community Giving would go a long way toward furthering that research and blessing the lives of these two and so many others.

The last time I checked, the Gwendolyn Strong Foundation was nowhere near first place, but don't let that deter you from contributing your single vote. Chase Community Giving will also give $100,000 to each of the five runners up (so that would be charities in 2nd through 6th place tomorrow when voting ends). $100,000 ain't a million, but it's definitely not nothing. Every little bit helps. Every vote counts.

You can make a difference without any real effort on your part -- just click a few links! Vote to cure SMA, and then spread the word loud and far. Please.



Thank you.


~RCH~

Snow Day!

Yes, folks, the big blizzard of '10 has hit our town. We woke up to inch of snow on the ground (centimeters and centimeters!) and a gaggle of excited newscasters reeling off area closings on the morning news. This, folks, is the damage for which they canceled school:



Note how heavily the trees are weighed down with snow and ice. Note how you can mostly not see the ground beneath (pay no attention to the little speckles between the far tree and the fence).

All together, now, let's roll our eyes.

Now because I'm a Rocky Mountain girl and a snob about such matters, I would like to show you what does not constitute a snow day in the town we just moved from:



Seriously, folks. I grew up in the Salt Lake City area where the lake effect regularly amplifies the amount of powder (and/or slushy, sloggy flakes) that fall and where people have actual hills to drive around on. In my 13 years of public education there, the district closed school exactly TWICE: Once (the day my sister was born, yay!) for hurricane-force Spring winds and once, during my senior year of high school, for a single day after 14 days of continuous heavy snow that threatened collapsed roofs and left five- and six-foot drifts piled everywhere.

We got plenty of snow every winter, but we did not panic. Geez.

Now, I'd understand closing schools here if there were any danger of ice. I used to be agnostic about ice storms ("I'm from the Rocky Mountains! We had six-foot snow drifts! What's a little ice? Losers!") but my first year in Kansas City, we got a doozy that I had to drive home in. Alone in my car. Over hills. In the dark. TERRIFIED. Ice really is a different beast, and not something to be messed around with no matter how much experience you have with it. But that isn't the case this time. This snow is dry, powdery fluff -- no moisture in it at all, let alone under it. You can't even make a snow ball with the stuff.

Whatever!

Oh well. Must end now because the girlies are begging me to go outside; they want to make snow angels before it all melts away. I guess I'd better let them enjoy their Snow Day. :-P


~RCH~