The Living is Easy

June 26, 2013

The distinction between the days of the week are being pulled into the summer pool of sameness and leisure.

Wake up slowly, breakfast, work, lunch, school, then pool, supper, bed. School consists of a workbook page or two (plus an Italian page for Red) and piano.

The current is strong and the envelope of water is dizzying. I don’t know which end is up.

The days of the week can drown. Summer, we come willingly to your open arms.


The Work At Home Mother’s Summer Vacation

June 23, 2013

I have two jobs right now, and while neither of them actually pay money (right now) I have two jobs. When the kids are at school I spent 5-7 hours a day on my jobs.

It’s different in the summer, but my kids are getting older and need me less. Many of our favorite haunts have free wifi. So that’s me, responding to emails at the park from my phone. That’s me planning and taking notes poolside. Thats me at the library checking out books for work instead of for leisure. That’s me letting the Legos consume the house each morning while I steal a little time to work.

So far it has been a great summer and I’m only a teeny bit behind my weekly goals.


Good Enough Homes and Gardens

June 5, 2013

I’ll never win any awards for beautifying my space. I’ll never be better than an adequate housekeeper. While I do not spend more time cleaning now than I did before, my self esteem regarding my ability to keep a presentable house is improving since moving to Texas.

In California it didn’t matter how recently (or well) I cleaned the apartment, it never felt it. It was a dumpy place. Not only was it not nice, but no one respected it: people tromped in an out with their boots on, allowed their children to squash goldfish in the carpet, and didn’t bother to clean up their children’s toys before thy left. (Often these were the same people who offered housekeeping advice.)

The temporary apartment we got out here was brand new. Even when Mt. Laundry was on the couch waiting to be folded and dishes were in the sink it never felt bad. It was a nice apartment. Everything was in working order, there was plenty of light, and people felt comfortable when they came over. Some people even offered to remove heir shoes before I asked. (One woman never removed her shoes despite my regular welcome of “come in! Take your shoes off and get comfortable.” But to have only one person ignore my shoe issues is not that a big of a deal.) Also, because we knew few people and had more opportunities for outside socializing, the apartment was not often ransacked by other people’s children. We were all better able to deal with the messes created by just Red and Blue.

Now that we are in the house, with the space it provides, we’ve lived a not only tidy, but almost spartan existence. When it gets “bad” it never takes too long to set everything right. We’ve got a lot of light, really great flow, and are pleased that this house really works for us and our needs.

Best of all, no one gives “the look” when surveying my home, no one offers cleaning advice, and people don’t come in and immediately tell me what they’d do differently if they lived here. It soothes my tender heart, and I’m starting to feel less like a failure.


From the Mouthes of Babes

June 3, 2013

Mother’s Day reports from my children, Red’s are in red, Blue’s are in blue (obviously.)

My mom is 33 , 32 years old.

My mom weighs 78 , 50 pounds.

My mom’s favorite color is dark shade of purple , purple.

My mom’s favorite food is salad , nanaimo bars.

My mom always says “Get Ready!” , “Clean up.”

My mom cooks the best orange chicken , food & macaroni.

My mom’s job is teaching piano so she can watch me at the same time , work for the family.

My mom laughs when my dad makes a joke , when I laugh.

If my mom had time, she would love to read , clean.

My mom and I like to cook together , eat ice cream.

My mom really loves when I give her presents , hugs.

I LOVE my mom she because she’s my mom , she cooks really good things.

 

To Mommy,

I love you because…

… you read to me.

… you gave birth to me.

… you give me book fair money.

… you buy me clothes.

… you take me places.

… you wash my clothes.

Happy Mother’s day!

 

Blue made one for me at school as well. But I lost it. It was hilarious. If it hasn’t yet been recycled I will add it in when I find it.


May 31st

June 2, 2013

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ve told you before: I’m going to live for a very very very long time.”

That is not what he’s told me before. What he’s always said is that he’s never going to die. This is markedly different for him – to admit mortality – but I don’t say anything. We both know how lucky we are. We both know that if traffic had been going just a little bit faster he’d be dead instead of just sore. I have to keep saying it over and over to wrap my brain around the fact that he got rear-ended by a semi, which is a quite different thing than being rear-ended by a Saturn.

There’s nothing like a little bit of perspective to change everything.


Come What May

June 2, 2013

One of the great things about growing up is seeing the cyclical patterns in your own life.

I’m old enough to know that May is a tricky month. It wraps me around and throws me things and by the time I hit June 1st I feel proud of myself for making it.

That’s all. If I made it to June, I’m golden.

This year it was no different. Yes, there were some really great moments and I hope to get my brain together enough to write them down here for posterity (or really just for my memories since I’ve been awol for so long now I’m pretty sure my friends have given up wondering what was in my mind.) But there were also some rough times. My brain is shot — I even missed the kindergarten Mother’s Day tea, one of only two mothers in the whole class who didn’t show up. It was on my calendar. It was in Blue’s folder. I obliviously worked through the afternoon and it took me two days to convince that poor soul that I was very sorry.

The final week of May ended in a flurry of one-thing-after-another. My children were unrecognizable entitled monsters toward whom I felt incredibly resentful, I was incapable of getting anything together, organized, or complete, and Blue ended the month puking which always brings me back to that May four years ago when we were in the hospital with him.

The final hours of May were so eventful they deserve their own post. Which I shall write now because I’m supposed to be doing the banking. The only thing worse than the storms of May is the banking.

Now that it is June my body is emptying all that stress and pain and exhaustion. I napped on the floor yesterday. I’m sleeping in. I’m recovering.