There are four people in my life that mean the world to me. So much that they get me to go camping with them (I’m terrified of bears), to dive in the swimming pool (I can’t swim), and to make four separate elements to a meal just so I know each one has something they like (picky, picky, picky – a bit of an overstatement, but true enough for some of them).
Those four people in my little world? I love them enough to go full-on Mama Bear as needed.
Which is why these days, I’m scared folks. So many things that make me scared for them. Scary stuff like
- rising water levels,
- lowering water tables,
- guns in schools, movie theaters, public places,
- Ebola and dysentery and cancer,
- Ferguson, Missouri and LA and New Orleans and it seems like everywhere!
- Iraq, ISIS, Gaza,
- Drug abuse,
- And about a million other things that make me nervous for my kids and husband.
No matter what news agency I check, something horrific is happening. Frankly, it gets hard to live with hope when the news is filled with so many bad, bad things.
So today, I’m just going to Google up some cute gifs of kittens and puppies, of unicorns of all varieties. I’m going to search out all the cupcakes with sprinkles and cans of whipped cream and make S’mores in the microwave and build a blanket fort with my kids.
Because I only get one life and one life with these people who matter so much to me. I don’t know just how many days any of us have together, but I sure as hell want them to be filled with as much goodness as I can find.
Summer is always a busy time for me, but this summer is making most summers look peaceful by comparison. Several months ago, Mister Soandso and I decided to sell our house. It is a long story made more interesting with liberal application of wine, but we are happy with our new plan for housing which includes but is not limited to the words: building, permits, construction, sub-division, &*^%, and storage unit.
We first started thinking about downsizing (primarily our mortgage payment rather than our square footage) last year and the whole family was largely on board with the notion of reducing the number of our possessions and such things. But as we got past the point of abstraction, it quickly became clear that not everyone was in the same place of boarding the “less is more” train. Read more…
Today marks the first day of summer break for my kids and it looks to be a glorious day here in the Northwest. I love it. But I wasn’t always such a big fan of summer break.
Growing up on a farm, summer break meant more chores. And lots more of the back-breaking work of a farm. Bucking hay bales may have given me greatly defined arms, but it was not picnic, let me tell you. For all of my young years, summer meant I had to leave school, which was my sanctuary, and be at home. So while my classmates skipped and sang their way out of the building every June, I left a bit more hesitantly. I much preferred the hard “mental” work of school to the hard “physical” work of the farm. Read more…
As a middle aged person, my influential years were supposedly the 70s and 80s, but I can’t honestly say that every decade hasn’t tremendously impacted my life. And perhaps it was because I was in high school and college during them, the 80s seem to be the sounds that come quickly to mind when I think of the songs of my youth. I may not have had “mall bangs” but I did have the rest of the 80s gig down – big hair, big makeup, Keds, pegged pants, layered collars, et cetera. And, of course, I listened to what now is “classic 80s” music.
Face it people, we may have had bad attire during the 80s, but our music rocked. Even the non-rock music of the 80s was pretty damn good. And probably because it is the music of my life, my life’s soundtrack if you will, these are the songs that really stay with me. The little ear worms that show up out of nowhere and stay on loop when I’m vacuuming or cleaning up cat barf. Read more…
I’m having one of those days. You know, the kind where you find yourself craving all the fat, sugar, and salt in the world. In other words, you desire an opportunity to eat your feelings. Or chips, salsa, and guacamole chased by a margarita, whatever.
It is seriously not my finest moment. Well, last night when I forgot to get Littlest from his friend’s house until 30 minutes later…that was probably a really not-fine moment. But today is ranking up there too. Read more…
Much of the world is talking about motherhood today in view of the impending arrival of the next member of Queen Elizabeth’s family. Having given birth three times, I hope that things are going well for you, Kate. Even when it goes well, it isn’t an easy process going from awaiting a child to being the mother of a child.
That connection between mother and child continues long after the umbilical cord is cut. In fact, an umbilical cord need not even have connected a mother and child, if the truth be told. Mothering is more in the day-to-day than the growing and birthing of a child. I believe in the connection between a mother and her children. That connection is apparent in every adult’s life when they realize they have said or done something exactly how their mother would have said or done it. (The same is true with dads.) Read more…
I have a teenager. Biggest is thirteen years old, his voice has gone to that crazy place of deeper valleys and broken crags; his feet seem too large for his body. There is no way I can ignore that he is a teenager very near the cusp of the man he will, one day and all too soon it seems, become. And yesterday, loving him sucked so much.
I suppose I should be more clear – I adore my son. I love him with all my old lady heart. And loving him doesn’t suck. Except when it sucks my old lady heart out and leaves it hurting. Read more…