February 2011


Posted by Duff

Next week will mark the one year anniversary of my becoming a mostly stay-at-home mom.

Here are some of my takeaways:

I thought I would be more organized when I had more time to be organized.  I was wrong.

Kids need to leave the house every day or will punchfight. At least, this is true for my kids.

Oatmeal is like a fungal infection. If not addressed immediately and completely, it spreads.

It’s awesome to wear lamb’s wool-lined boots everyday.  It also cuts down on the need for pedicures. However, I crave a visit to the nail salon with the fire of a thousand white-hot suns each day I slide my feet into those boots.  It’s the screaming (mostly joyful, sometimes not, it still rattles the nerves).  I need to soak away the screaming.

I like quiet. A lot. I like to think, and I used to think complete thoughts.  Imagine each of my thoughts, these days, as a carton of eggs.  Three are missing. Sometimes four.  If you’ve asked me to do something, please remind me.

I have, by far, the biggest head circumference in my house. My husband and Atticus can share hats. I’m not sure if this means my husband has a pin head or Atticus inherited my melon.  Likely both. The main point is, my head is enormous.

I didn’t use my crock pot nearly enough when I was working outside the home.

I get lots of hugs per day, lots of ‘love yous”.  These remind me, when I’m striving, planning and submitting for paid work, that nothing else I do, nothing else I accomplish or set as a bar that I haven’t yet reached and so judge myself, that I’m not so far from where I need to be.  I’m about as smack dab in the middle, if I take the time to notice, as I had always hoped to be.

Posted by Duff

It’s funny, how love reveals itself, both in the things you’ll do for others and the way they show you they care. 

I’ve never been one for Valentine’s Day. I’m a big fan of love, in general. I’ve done unrequited (lots of that) and loved and lost, and found love in unforeseen places, and I’m grateful for it everyday–but I’m not really one to go all out on the day I’m supposed to, because I don’t like to be told what to do.

I know, I sound like a sourpuss.  Believe me, I got the ass-kicking I deserved.

Last week, we added a new cat to our family.  I know, no one cares about the new cat, and it’s not a story of the love of a new cat. The meat of it is this: the cat likes my kids better than she likes me, and that’s fine. Except my husband and I were the ones who discovered the fallout from the cat’s discovery: diapers have some of the same ingredients as cat litter.  And the cat crapped on Valentine’s Day, literally.

She snuck into Atticus’s room when I went to check on him the night before and was stuck in there for the night, and well, Happy Valentines Day to me.  Atticus woke up, delighted by his companion. I was not so delighted by the surprise I found. 

Later that day, Atticus and I went for a walk in the melting snow. Thanks to the magic of smartphones and Pandora, as he stomped through puddles in his Buzz Lightyear boots, we got to listen to REM’s Fall on Me. Add that to the C’mon mama of a nearly two-year-old who beams at you with eyes as blue as the sky of an unseasonably warm day and you get what my grinchly heart much needed and got:

One of life’s perfect moments.

Posted by Duff

Check this out:

 

Yes, these are Slickles.  At least they’re not Suckles, which is what I thought the label said when I found the jar in my fridge yesterday.