I really wanna go to the beach today!! But with only the one vehicle and S at work, it's a no go. sigh...

So here we are at home. Maddie's reading a tractor catalog (my kids are weird, that's all I'm sayin'), Gage is upstairs playing games with his new bestest bud from a few doors down and Mace is wreaking havoc in here behind me. So things are going well right now...but I wanna go to the beach! Waaahhh! (and yes, this is a beach in Ohio so therefore not a real beach by any stretch of the imagination, but it's a big lake and there's sand so it counts as a beach in my book lol!)

Forgot how much I liked Firewoman by The Cult...

Anyway, I'm pondering this whole downloading music brouhaha. Let me start by saying I am a pretty ethical person. Karma and all that. But I can't stop myself from downloading music. I do get people saying it's theft and everything, but I don't find myself conflicted about doing it. I have no problem doing it. Just downloaded some Bad Religion and Coldplay a few minutes ago (okay, and can someone hold and intervention for me and my Coldplay obsession?). Why is this? Why do I see the theft/downloading connection yet I don't feel guilty in doing it? I dunno.

I will say that I would not have bought any of these albums. I'm too po'. So I'm not taking money out of their pockets, I'm just becoming a fan that I might not have otherwise had I just heard a few songs on MTV or something. I've developed a love of John Cale music, Rufus Wainwright, discovered Alphaville and deepened my love of the Crash Test Dummies. But I never would have bought or even known of the existence of some of this music. So I don't see the harm. I'm rationalizing, I know. Oh well, they can come for me if they want. As my mother says, they can't get blood out of a turnip.

Threat rating: High. The Bush administration is
concerned that it may not get a second term.
Therefore, we are going to change the rules so
that each Democrat vote only counts as 0.2
votes because Democrat is a shorter word than
Republican


What threat to the Bush administration are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

My oldest son is a man about the neighborhood this summer. It’s taking some getting used to.

Obviously, since we’re homeschooling we get a lot of flak from family about his needing to be “socialized”. Apparently, he’s going to be socially backward and not know how to forge friendships with other kids because we homeschool. Eyes rolling here. This kid is a friend magnet. These days I’m lucky to see him an hour or two a day. He’s out of here by 9 a.m. most mornings, after having been beckoned by the boys two doors down. They’re his friends of choice lately. Then there’s the little girl across the street, a couple older boys who were friends of the aforementioned neighbor boys, the girl next door who’s usually there all summer (partial custody arrangement) and the assortment of kids who live who-knows-where. It’s fascinating to watch. This is the first year he’s really gotten out and about in the neighborhood. And of course we’re trying to move. But I just know he’ll make new friends wherever we go. This is the kid who can go to McPlayland and have all the kids there following him like puppies within minutes, and not just kids his own age. He’s able to play with a veritable gamut of ages, from the 3 year old girl next door who just loves him, to the 15 year old who he likes to ride bikes with (nearby of course). I love that about him, that he doesn’t want to just play with other seven year olds, he’s an equal opportunity friend. He’s cool that way.

Of course the one thing this means is that he doesn’t need me as much to be a playmate, a secret sharer. It’s sad but liberating at the same time. Sad for me, but liberating for him as he can now choose who he does what with, he has more options. Unfortunately for me, this means some of those options will not be things I would approve of. He told me about this cool game he’d been playing with his two buds...I was okay until I found out it was Mortal Kombat. Um, no, Homey don’t play ‘dat. So I’m still having to insert my groundrules, which is harder to do when the ground is not my own. I trust that he follows our family rules, but I can’t know for sure.

Well, I’m off for a walk with Maddie and Mason, who are still young enough to need my constant attentions.

Just have to say how much I love The Scientist by Coldplay. Their music is so full of utter poetry...

Speaking of COLDplay, anyone ever catch the band Cold? Is the lead singer supa fine or am I imagining things. WoWoWoW! But with a name like Scooter...I dunno...takes away from the mystique.

I’m going to literally pull my hair out. Well, whatever I have that isn’t already falling out what with my postpartum hormonal fluctuations.

I have so much to do today and the rest of the week for that matter. I made a good sized dent in it this morning though. Let me make a list, indulge me (hey, I just wanna see that I did something this morning!)
-cleaned out both the junk drawer and junk cabinet in the kitchen and cleaned the misc paperwork off the top of the counter
-took care of an insurance problem that’s been hanging around for, oh, a year or so.
-checked into getting a home-for-sale ad placed on our local cable channel.
-got everyone fed, including the girl from across the street.
-cleaned out the kiddie pool and it is now filling with gloriously clean water
-gathered some good karma by giving away all my baby furniture to a neighbor’s friend (teenaged and pregnant and not getting support from her family)
-got the pile of dishes washed and put away

Okay, so I’ve done a bit. But it’s 2 o’clock, I should have gotten more done by now! We’re having an open house on Saturday so I still have a lot of cleaning and de-cluttering to do. Gotta move a coupla big chairs and a desk to my moms, have to put away the huge tote of winter clothes I just put together to make the closets look nice and roomy, need to dust and wash walls, keep the kids from making chaotic messes in every room, organize the kitchen cabinets. Lots to do and not much time to do it in. I mean, my oldest is testing my patience a hundred times a day and my youngest has decided that naps are no longer of importance in his life. Yay me.

This is getting stressful. We’re getting no activity on our house. It’s been up for sale for about 4 months now, and we’ve had some walk throughs but not one offer. And no calls for about two weeks. It’s quickly getting to the point where we have to do something.

I’ve done everything the sites and books recommend for selling your home yourself. I’ve put away pictures, decluttered big time and put all my small appliances away (leaving the kitchen counter bare). I’ve cleaned like a madwoman, or at least like I’m not accustomed to being the slob that I naturally am. I’ve cleaned and organized closets. Me, the person with the blackest thumb around, I’ve put hanging baskets, pots of flowers, annuals all around and on the porch. Plus we’ve priced it below market value just to get a quick sale. Obviously that didn’t work out as planned

Sure we got ourselves into this mess. Six years ago, why did I think we needed a bigger house with a bigger mortgage? I was still of the mindset that I needed to get ahead, keep moving up that proverbial ladder. So we got the bigger house, the minivan, all the accoutrements of an up and coming working outside the home soccer mom. But then I decided that wasn’t what I wanted, what we wanted. So we changed our working patterns, but not our lifestyle enough. We should have sold the house a few years ago. But we’ve just kept plugging along, thinking we could maintain everything with less income. Always a mistake. I’ve mentioned going back to work, but right now Scott is making more than I ever did or could at this point. So we pretty much have to stay as is. Plus Mason (who is 8 months today!) only wants mommy milk.

Now we’re wanting to sell and buy a modular home, put it on some land by my mother and brother and get on with our downsized lives. It will be a smaller home, but so much less stress. I can easily stay home while Scott works his reduced schedule. It will be bliss! But first, but first...we have to unload this house. Which will help us pay off all our debts. It’s not that we go out to eat, or go on vacations or that we spend a lot of money. The problem right now is that we’re already in over our heads so we’re getting further and further in debt each month, just paying basic bills. We already cook a lot from scratch, we don’t buy things we don’t need, we look for free or very low cost recreational activities...but at this point it’s not enough. If we don’t sell the house in the next few months, something drastic will happen. Not sure exactly what right now, I’m trying not to think about it. We’ll likely call a realtor soon, paying the commission is okay if the end result is a sold house. I’m having one final hurrah, a big open house next weekend, going all out with sending out flyers, advertising on our local cable channel, hanging signs everywhere. I just want to know I did everything I could have.

Stupidly, I thought parenting babies was the hardest phase of parenting. Surely it got easier after that, no? Sleepless nights, teething, poopy diapers...what could be worse?

Well, I'm finding out what could be worse. Parenting older kids. It's hard! And my oldest is only seven. But he's got the twin super powers of logic and back talk on his side. And I am a puny mortal, no match for such powers. When I tell him to do something and I see that flapping hand gesture (you know, to match my flapping mouth obviously) and the opening and closing mouth (you know, to demonstrate how my mouth is moving but apparently nothing of interest is coming out) I just want to scream! Where did this disrespectful kid come from?

At the same time, he's my first born. Still a baby in so many ways. And I think he's at that stage where he's trying to figure out if he's still a little boy or a somewhat bigger boy. He's testing boundaries...I just wasn't ready for my boundaries to be tested yet. Life just gets more interesting every day...sigh.

I had one of those moments today. You know, when you’re not sure what the proper reaction should be, you want to scream, cry and punch someone all at the same time?

One of the neighborhood kids, we’ll call her Summer, likes to hang out at our house. She’s one of those kids who can totally annoy you with her lack of social graces, but you try to overlook it since it’s really not her fault. I can tell by watching her family interact across the street that no one has taken an interest in teaching Summer the ins and outs of dealing with other people. She’s told me I’m fat before. Now, granted, I AM fat, but at almost eight years old most kids know not to just out and out tell someone that. She walks right into our house without knocking. She comes in even when we’ve said the kids can’t play right then, or we’re in the middle of dinner. She has no couth. But again, I figure she’s not been taught these things so I do my best to model good behavior in front of her.

Well, today. She came over and we were all sitting on the front porch. She was pushing Mason lazily back and forth in his stroller when she announced “my daddy touched my privates”. I didn’t think I’d heard her right. “What?!” I ask. Then she proceeded to tell me the whole story. A short while ago she had come home from her fathers (she lives with her mother and step father) and told her mom she hurt down there. Come to find out it was her father. I felt sick. I wanted to cry and scream and punch someone. I know things like this happen, but I’ve never seen it up close and personal before. I felt so very sad for her, for what she was having to process in that eight year old mind.

I know no one's reading this damn thing, but...or I should be glad because I can spew all kinds of things about people here and no one will ever be the wiser...bwahahahaha....

So I've started back on the weight loss wagon again. I quit around Easter and being the queen of accomplishment that I am, I gained back about 10 pounds pretty easily. I'm down a few and I mean to stick with it for another twenty pounds or so. Go me, Go me!

That is all...

Eight years ago this week, I was a very different woman than I am today. I was newly married, only six months in. We were only three months past having a miscarriage that was my first brush with the delicate divine I was trying so desperately to achieve. Eight years ago this week, we were trying to get pregnant again, not really understanding the enormity of the task. Eight years ago this week, I whizzed on a white stick and found out we were expecting our first child, Gage.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and who I was back then compared to who I am now. Sure I sometimes miss life being all about me. I admit to missing the ability to sleep in until however late I wanted, to being able to have relations with my husband whenever I wanted (and it was better back then, was it not?), I miss a lot of things about my pre-child self. But it seems like she was a different person completely than the one who sits here typing today. I’ve gone through an utter transformation in my views and thoughts on the world in general and my life in particular.

Who was I back then? A worker bee, a drone. I thought it was all about working a lot, “getting ahead” and being a grown up. I remember Scott trying to tell me it didn’t have to be that way, but I thought he was just not wanting to accept realities. He knew I just wasn’t ready to see the light just then. Looking back now, that woman was boring and going through life eyes closed.

But now....I think I see where we’re going, I don’t have to be responsible every minute, I can be a kid with my kids. I don’t have to know all the answers or even balance my checkbook regularly. I feel like shouting from the rooftops “I DON’T KNOW THE BALANCE OF MY CHECKING ACCOUNT!” I’ve let go of a lot of the notions I had back then about how life should be. I know now that it’s all open and out there and ready to be dived into. Okay, so many days I’m wading in the kiddie pool, but it’s nice knowing I can dive when I feel like it...I’m not stuck in the shallow end if I don’t want to be.

My life is full of boundless riches these days, and I do attribute that to my little family in many ways. They forced me to open my eyes and see the divine in the everyday.

After a recent disagreement with my family over the wonders of eating the flesh of other creatures, I’ve been thinking about the ever expanding chasm between myself and my family. It seems I’m questioned almost relentlessly over every decision we make, from vegetarianism to cloth diapering to homeschooling. I’m told there’s no reason to be environmentally conscious, as it doesn’t make a difference anyway. I’m told I need to toughen up my kids to get them ready for “the real world”. And no matter how much I explain why we do what we do, they continue to think we’re doing these things for no good reason. I’ve read reams of information about the decisions we make. No one needs to read anything to go with the flow, to send their kids to school, to use all the paper products they can buy, to eat meat and they never get questioned. I try to make informed decisions and I get flak about it.

I do know this is because the choices we’ve made are different, they differ from those our parents and our friends have made for the most part. I’m okay with other people making different choices. But it seems those who have made mainstream choices feel threatened by what we’re doing. Maybe because father culture is whispering in their ears; maybe because they feel that questioning the status quo is dangerous. Or maybe they just think we’re stupid.

I truly think that’s it. They really don’t listen to our reasoning for not vaccinating our kids, they don’t listen to our reasons for using cloth diapers, they don’t hear anything positive about homeschooling. They just think it’s weird and not good for our kids. Based on nothing but their opinions! They won’t read anything about these things, they just think because it’s different it’s ultimately not right.

I’m sad about this, because it really is making a difference in how much I want to interact with my family. No one wants to be questioned constantly. I don’t want to have to explain over and over that no, I don’t want my kids eating bacon. And it kills me that my family can’t respect my decisions like this. They try to undermine me whenever possible, by getting Gage alone and telling him how wonderful school is and how he really should go, by encouraging our kids to eat meat when we’re not right there. These things make me extremely hesitant to leave the kids with them for any length of time at all. They’re not respecting us as adults, competent enough to make our own decisions about our family’s well being. It’s at times like these that I feel like I could move to a more progressive community and never look back.

Assessment went swimmingly. Gage is doing really well, he's good to go for another year of homeschooling. Now just to figure out if I'm ready...

Wow, that was a really judgemental post, eh? I know I'm supposed to thank the Buddha for every person I encounter (and I'm assuming that extends to MTV-types) and look for their true Buddha nature. But shit, this stuff begs for commentary!

If I drive by your house at night, and you have your blinds open or drapes pulled back, I’m going to look in your house. I want to see your living rooms, your dining rooms, your kitchens. I want to see you through your decor. I’m nosey like that.

It’s this blind desire that brings me to sometimes linger on MTV and watch Cribs. This is the show where music artists/actors/misc glitteratti open their doors to MTV and take MTV and you on a guided tour through their home. It’s a dumb show and I’m ashamed to say I’ve watched it. I have to say that most of these people have homes that are as vapid and superficial as their music is. Case in point? Mariah Carey. Her house is just horrid; it’s all gold and shiny, and looks absolutely unliveable. But she takes them to her upstairs sitting room and says...are you ready for this?...”this room looks exotic, like a mirage took place here”. Okay then Mariah, a mirage “took place”? Um, no. I don’t think so. Learn to speak the language and please try to understand the meanings of the things coming out of your mouth. Ugh.

Anyway, one of my absolute favorite episodes was when they visited Moby’s apartment. It was just so normal, no outrageous stuff, no glittering gold crap. And my most favorite part? When he took them to his bookcase, and added that he’s never seen a book or anything on most episodes of Cribs. He’s right. None of these artists seem to have anything inside their heads. They all have big TV’s and cars and “stuff”, but nothing more. Nothing to show they’re even trying to grow spiritually. Well, that’s because they’re not. I think most celebrities are very young souls. It’s sad really, that so many people look up to these “artists” and they really have nothing to offer but songs; most of which are just odes to their odious lifestyles.

But I digress. It’s nothing new that I don’t like what Hollywood, and our culture as a whole, values and places importance on, but this show just takes the cake. I could try to be less judgemental and assume that not every episode is as bad as the Mariah Carey one, the Nellie one, the Missy Elliott one. Or I could just become a Hollywood interior decorator and put together these tacky houses for millions of dollars.

We’ve scheduled our first homeschooling assessment. It’s only a week and a half away. I’m very nervous.
In case you’re not familiar with homeschooling, this is the end of the year assessment where we sit down with a certified teacher and she reviews Gage’s “portfolio” of work for the year. She then tells us if it’s satisfactory or not and off we go. Sounds harmless enough, eh? Sounds like it should be easy, right?
But this is the first one we’ve ever done. So I have no idea what to expect or what to take. I don’t know what is going to come out of Gage’s mouth when she asks him what he’s been up to this year. I’m just nervous.
I’m ultra disorganized. To be honest, I don’t have a portfolio. I have papers stuffed into cabinets here and there and I’ve yet to pull it all together to see where we are. We tend to unschool, which means we follow Gage’s lead in our educational pursuits. He likes trains, so we get lots of train books (reading, spelling) and go to various places to ride trains (history, geography) and we let him play with software that lets him set up train systems and run them (cognitive abilities)...heck we even try to work trains into math (remember those story problems where train A leaves Boston at 10:00 a.m. travelling at 50 mph and...?). So we don’t use any one curriculum or have a set of workbooks we can take with us to show what we’ve been doing.

A part of me feels such pressure to put on a good show. But that’s not the point of this whole thing. The POINT is that we’re letting Gage be the master of his destiny, we’re letting him choose the path of his education. We’re getting to be involved, we’re getting to see those lightbulb moments (and the lightbulb blowing out and sparking and catching the whole house on fire moments...er..those not so great moments). We’re not homeschooling to show someone else what we’re capable of, we’re homeschooling so that Gage can discover what he’s capable of. So I need to stop worrying. I’m sure it will be fine. I’m sure it will...

Baby as Buddha

I've been reading my Buddhism books again, wanting to get back into practice, or into practice for the first time really. All the talk about harnessing the wild horse that is your mind got me thinking. I'm one who think constantly and my mind jumps around relentlessly. Sometimes I have to explain how I got from point A to point B in my thought processes.

So I realize that with a baby, you have to live in the moment, you have to think about right this minute. It's poopy diapers or teething or no sleep, but you're always thinking about THIS moment. So maybe my bambino is teaching me to live in the moment in his own way. He's forcing me to.

Breathe in, breathe out....

Anytime you can catch it, watch a large woman unaccustomed to doing yoga try the plow pose. I'm sure it was a sight to behold. Well, considering I didn't make it into the actual plow pose but toppled sideways as I tried to get my legs up over my head I'm not sure what pose I ended up in.

At any rate, I don't think you're supposed to do yoga while Joe from Blue's Clues is yammering on in the background, one child is trying to come up and nurse on you while your eyes are closed and the other is telling you you're "too chubby to do that". Alrighty then....

You know, I was thinking...

Maybe it would be good for a marriage to have temporary separations every now and then. Just to let the partners miss each other little bit, and be excited at the prospect of coming back together. A chance not to view each other as just pains in the proverbial ass.

Of course, then there's always the possibility they won't miss each other at all. That could be a problem....

Had to post something so that the big purple guy isn't the first thing that pops up...

Life is a roller coaster lately; up and down and all around. I feel kinship to all the manic depressives out there.

My bambino has two seemingly giant teeth coming in, I'm dragging my feet about getting my homeschooling group started, no one wants to buy our house...BUT, I got to sleep in for Mother's Day and had breakfast made for me, my kiddos are pretty happy and I get to be a stay at home mom for at least a while longer. Up and down and all around, it's still pretty good.