Apparently best enjoyed with friends behind the sofa
When I was in third grade, I lived in Montana. I did not ask to live there; it just “sorta happened.” Those older than, and in charge of, me tried to offer tradeoffs to why life in the netherlands was a fine thing. “There are great people here! Lots of space! So creative! Lots of horses!” What got me – the cinnamon rolls. So large that I could never finish, so the Main Person responsible for me moving to the Hinterlands (a male, engineer, and still on the quest to understand emotions) would swoop in, consume the bestest and most gooey center, and laugh. At me. Each time.
The same person who introduced me to Star Trek. And vengeful behavior. Just in time for the holiday season.
Who found this game at Target? For a decent amount of money off? And then searched online and discovered it’s a sold-out product? And has won all the times playing, so far? Me: that’s who.
Without having had the middle of my cinnamon rolls for SO many years.
[Retrospective. I'm a slacker. Ask my college advisors, all four of them, if you can find them, mwahaha]
Prep for popcorn and cranberry stringing.
And just as my eldest has to wait until mid-day to find the Advent Calendar filled with the daily activity, so will the readers of this site have to wait for daily pics. Cause I have three kids. And I’m an introvert. And blahblahblah, excuses: just enjoy.
A few days ago I logged on to our library’s online catalog for my usual check: What’s due? What’s almost due? What can I renew and eek out a bit more time? What can I say boldly, “Why YES! Your Captain Underpants book is DUE! It must be RETURNED! GO! NOW!”
I also have to check the balance of how many holds are in, how many holds are coming, and do we have room on our cards. Yes, we should have our own dedicated shelf at the library. No, we don’t. Yes, isn’t it great that our last name happens to be the section that the public gets to see while checking out, and that our last name is unique enough that the public all know who’s taking up all that space. People: the Gourmet cookbook and Peanuts ultimate collection are BIG BOOKS. Talk to the publisher.
Dork, I know. But it gets worse.
When I was checking our family accounts (remember? I was doing that, before the rant about the exposed nature of our reading material), I saw a notification written in lovely, light-blue lettering above the card’s record. “Change to CCRLS holds policy: In order to keep the libraries’ workflows manageable under reduced staffing, CCRLS will be lowering the holds limit for individual patrons to 25 holds at one time. This change will take effect November 1, 2012. Existing holds will not be affected. Thanks for your understanding.”
Understanding. They think I have understanding. Do I? I don’t see it… Maybe I left it in the pile of summer clothes yet to be sorted that are piled in the garage.
Some may think: twenty-five holds?! That should be plenty! But not for my household. My kids READ. I READ. We READ. Really, we should be on one of those “READ” posters, holding books about Ninjagos and Strawberry Shortcakes and Big Nates and Carnivorous Vegan cooking. Just like every other American family.
Don’t worry: I have a plan. And I’m sure you’re just aching to know. Who wouldn’t? Anyway, cards will be assigned “genres” to put on hold. Hubby’s card will be used for long-standing holds: popular items, like the latest movies or best-sellers, that trickle in with little rhyme or reason. JJ’s card: chapter books, graphic novels. Abe’s card: subjects – Lego, Star Wars, knights, ninjas, Avatar. My card: well, that’s for me. And Little Miss? She will be getting a card ASAP, which will be all about colors – pinks and purples and reds from Strawberry Shortcake, My Little Pony, Pinkalicious, and whatever else will help make our boy-less mornings more manageable.
Hmm, I wonder if card holders are limited to humans only: we do have a cat…
Recently a friend asked me about podcasts. “What should I listen to? I’d like to pick your brain.” Besides the fact that the image of picking and brains doesn’t sound too delightful, I found myself in a conundrum. What type of podcasts are you looking for? Spiritual, health, mamas, organization, motivation, educational, dorky: so many podcasts have emerged since I started listening when my middle child was a wee, non-sleeping babe.
So: podcasts. I’ve recently been listening to Seth Godin’s podcast: a condensed version of a training seminar for crazy talented, soldout entrepreneurs. I’m not sold out, and I don’t have a slush fund, but the idea of dreaming about purpose – the hows and whys and whats – really got my idealistic side happy. Perhaps there’s a place for a fully functional mama, doing household and “other” things in the world, both creating and using offerings to help her daily life. Perhaps…
“No gluten, no dairy, no tuna, no eggs. No gluten, no dairy, no tuna, no eggs.” My middle child chanted this from the back seat the other day as I elaborated the doctor’s news to my husband.
See, I’ve had wonky body issues. So I went to a doctor who specializes in wonky. He took lots of blood, later some saliva, and came back with some supplements. (Apparently the body actually needs vitamin D and iron to function. My body missed that memo.) My thyroid is a lazy bum while my cortisol levels are a bit on the over-achiever side.
Things had settled down some after two months of no gluten, dairy, or tuna (yes: tuna. Wonky body). But not totally settled. So, last Thursday he decided: no eggs. The food intolerance test had come back with that as an issue on top of the other things, and two months ago he explained that generally it’s a false positive (something about vaccines being delivered in egg whites, medical speak, yada yada yada, keep making eye contact with the doctor and smile so he doesn’t see the slow death taking place inside at the thought of life without whole wheat tortillas, string cheese, and yogurt. Simple foods for a simple girl).
So. No gluten. No dairy. No tuna. No eggs. Low carb. High protein. Frequent meals. Three kids – *active* kids. Homeschooling. Working from home. Trying to live local and sustainable and organic and affordable. And format my pic of the day for Instagram and make it through all the seasons of Stargate before 2013.
To say I was bummed with yet another restriction was an understatement. I told my hubby and my mama (who was in town at the time. Poor mama always bears the brunt. Nothing says, “I love you and thanks for birthing me” like a constant verbal dump of the junk.) that I would be sad for a day, and then I would be fine. But I wasn’t fine.
So I Facebook whined to a group of local folks dealing with food allergies. One person responded, “ I find it easier to think about what you CAN and should eat, rather than what you can’t…meat, beans, quinoa, corn, rice, lentils, nuts, seeds, veggies, fruit. Create meals around what you can have, rather than trying to make what you used to make.”
Ding ding ding! We have a winner!! I’ve been so fixed on the Chant (no gluten, no dairy, no tuna, no eggs) that I haven’t focused on what I *can* have. So I’m going to. Starting here.
Grocery Outlet has Flax Milk on sale: half gallon for three bucks. Tastes great in my morning Rainbow Light Protein Energizer shake with added hemp seed, cinnamon, and berries that I picked and froze last year. And it’s the time of year that these berries are ripening again, so I’d better get to making room in the freezer.
Maybe I should make up a song listing what I can have, so I can remember. Like this flashback from my childhood (which I did try to memorize at that time, cause I’m geeky like that).
The other day my middle child told me that he wanted to steal my coffee card. “To drive to the coffee place and get my favorite coffee drink and BURP!” And he was going to go to the store “and buy ALL the soda and drink it ALL and BURRRRP!”
My oldest son told me he can’t wait to go to college “so I have a car and watch tv all day.”
I think my youngest already owns more accessories that I do.
Gosh, they make being an adult sure sound like fun.
And he finds cool stuffs on the Interwebs.
He makes crazy sounds.
And his friends know how to clap.
What more does a person need in life?
Yesterday my husband was sick. Head cold and, um, digestive issues.
Which meant my kids got to spend a little extra time with their favorite parent: La Tele (if I call our television by its French moniker, that makes it a cultural experience, right?). We have a few movies checked out from the library that I’ve been trying to get them to watch. Because this is how it works:
“Mom, put [insert title] on hold, please!”
“Mom, it’s screentime. We’re going to watch something on Netflix.”
“You realize we only have that movie for a week, right?”
“Mom, what happened to that movie?”
“It was due.”
Insert general weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.
Doesn’t that sound delightful?
So yesterday I told them they had no choice with their extra time with La Tele: they were going to watch “Despicable Me”. With me. Because by the time of the arsenic hour, that was pretty much self-descriptive.
I rarely watch La Tele with the kids: I don’t sit still real well. Neither do they. That’s a whole lot of wriggling on the couch. But I attempted to sit and enjoy our time together.
Hubby came downstairs later. I was busy throwing things together for dinner for those with stomach issues and tastebud issues. “Did you enjoy the movie? I heard a serious guffaw down there.” “What? Yeah, I guess. Some of it is funny. I was mostly being wooled on by Boo: sometimes I don’t even realize that she’s on my lap – when did she get up there? And for how long? Geez … OH, there was a funny part! There was this little girl, and the cranky old bad guy who adopts her and two other girls, and they’re at a fair, and she sees this unicorn and really wants it, and he blows apart the game to get it for her cause it’s rigged, and she growls, ‘It’s So Fluffy!!!!!’ Yeah, that made me laugh.”
You can laugh along with me right here.
The little girl reminded me of a cross between me and one of my besties: Hannah. After high school I cleaned Hannah’s room, and when I’d move things to the junk pile, she’d tell me: “Nooo! I need this, or I’ll dieeeee!” She may have been right, but we’ll never know.
As for me, I admit it: I have a giant stuffed animal – not a unicorn, but a bunny. My Nana bought an Easter dress for me, and after spending a certain amount at the department store, the bunny was less. There were bunnies ALL over that store, and Nana was determined my brother and I needed one. My mama sacrificed and bought herself a new dress so Matt could get a bunny. Because I have the bunny Nana bought: I watched the clerk put it in the bag and made sure that one stayed with me. As it has: for over two decades.
Some people have body pillows; I have my bunny, and I believe he’s done wonders for keeping my back in alignment at night. Plus, he’s an awesome head prop while reading.
I love the sheer joy of the little girl in the moment. She doesn’t want the unicorn for practical purposes, for personal edification, for social betterment. She wants it and LOVES it because it’s fluffy.
It’s time to find some more fluffy in my life. FLUFFY!