Public Policy, a la My Eight Year Old

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Think You're Tough?

Now I Know My Place in the Pecking Order

As her siblings trudged up the hill to the school gate, my littlest clambered up to the front seat of the minivan clutching her blanket, holding on to her beloved for a last few moments before the school day.

I gave her the moments she needed.

Finally ready for the day's adventures, she flung herself out of the car, threw the blanket on the front seat, hoisted her pink, peace-sign backpack over her shoulder and shouted a definite and robust I LOVE YOU over her shoulder before marching forth into her morning.   I answered back with "I love you too" and sped off down the hill, feeling warm and happy about having a daughter who so easily and enthusiastically expresses her love for me.

Our little exchange carried me into and through my day with a smile on my face.

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That night, on the way home from school, she giggled to herself as she was once more reunited with her blanket.  The giggles continued.  I asked her what was so funny.

"This morning, when I got out of the car and put my blanket on the seat?  {giggle giggle}  I said I love you, and you said it back?  Well...{giggles growing here}...I was talking to my blanket!  And YOU thought I was talking to YOU!"

Full blown belly laughs, now.

At least she had the decency to bury her face in her blanket to muffle the sound.

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And the truth shall make you sheepish.

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I Need Me

Well.

I am on day 6 of the flu from the 7th circle of Dante's inferno.

I've had high fevers, major night sweats, chills, aches, pains, congestion and coughing.  For 6 days.  Fevers?  Don't respond to ibuprofen or acetaminophen.  Coughing?  Has left me with bruised ribs.  Attitude: Baaaaaaaad.

And now, on day 6, when this MF-er is going to make me miss my mom's birthday lunch tomorrow, I am seriously pissed off.  Enough to use the phrase "pissed off," which is a phrase I really hate.

And I've learned that there's really only one thing I need when I am sick: ME.  I need ME.  I need someone to do the things I do.

There really oughta be a law against this sort of thing, this mothers-getting-sick thing.

The lesson here, of course, is to listen to my body.  Last Friday, I could feel myself getting sick.  I completely ignored the signs, and kept up my usual break-neck speed of work, kids, volunteering, cooking, cleaning, etc. for the entire weekend.  Hit a brick wall.  Again, and again, and again, and again.


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Let me be a warning to you: listen to your body, or your body will make you her bitch.


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Joy in a Jelly Bean

Nothing quite compares to the breathless excitement of a 6 year old girl, pounding into the house (because she pretty much pounds wherever she goes), with the following DROP EVERYTHING announcement:

"MOMMY!  I FOUND A HUMMINGBIRD NEST!  AND THERE'S A MAMA!"

I did.  Drop everything.  And ran out to the back garden with her, and there, on the Magnolia tree, is a tiny, perfect nest.  And there flitting in and out of the dark green leaves, is a very nervous mama bird, agitated beyond compare that her little babies have attracted so much attention.  

The nest is high, and at a terrible angle; we cannot easily see into it.  So for awhile, we don't know if there are any occupants yet.  She asks if she can stack a step stool on top of a rolling ice chest, so she can climb up and peek in.  I say no.  She asks if she can climb the tree.  I say no.  For the sake of the mama-bird.

Finally, we figure it out.  We wait for the mama to flit away for a moment, and then I stand on top of the step stool with her in my arms, and hoist her as far up as I can.

She cranes her neck, pushes against me to get ever closer, and is rewarded by seeing two tiny eggs, no bigger than jelly beans.

She spends the next two hours watching the nest, keeping tabs on where the mama is at all times, sometimes sitting on the eggs, sometimes flitting away for a few moments.

She doesn't even want to go on an errand with me.  She NEVER doesn't want to go on car rides with me.

Such is the power of little white, jelly-bean sized eggs.  Such is the power of hummingbirds.

And great is the joy of my daughter.

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FREE and Super Cute Valentines!

Secret Agent Josephine!  I love you!  You have answered my prayers and released me from those "licensed-character, drugstore valentines!"

Should any of you care to be similarly released, just click here for two adorable valentines designs, free and ready for you to print.

OH!  She also has a Kindle kitty book for sale here!

SAJ, you made my day.

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Mere Anarchy is Loosed Upon My House

Since both of us have gone back to work full time, weekends -- once purely the domain of back to back soccer games -- have taken on the added significance of being the only time we accomplish anything home-related.

• Laundry?
• Meal planning?
• Grocery shopping? 
• Changing sheets?
• Replenishing school supplies?
• Dog and frog food?
• Cleaning out the minivan?
• Gardening?
• Fix it projects?
• Quality time with the children?

All of that needs to happen between 6pm Friday and 11pm Sunday.

So what do I do if I'm sick?

Here I sit, on a cold and bright Sunday morning, with a fierce head cold, with one child sporting the glow of a 103 degree fever and barking like a pissed off seal, mourning the fact that we will miss the CYO Pancake Breakfast today and watching as all around me, the house slouches towards mayhem.

People are out of socks and chonies.
Children will need school uniforms tomorrow morning.
Legos are multiplying like rabbits.
Dirty dishes are too.
Bedroom floors have gone missing.
People will need to be fed today.
People will need to be fed all week, and Sundays are usually a day to prepare for that.

So...do I rest?  Or do I cook and clean?  

The answer doesn't matter.  It's the question itself that really matters, defining as it does the dilemma of the working mom.  There will be a price to pay, whatever choice I make.  I will be unhappy with something at the end of this day, either my health or my home.

How's that for an upper way to start a morning?  

There are people out there in the world who know how to approach dilemmas like this one with grace.  Clearly, I need some revelation at hand to become one of those people.

And yet -- I must arise and go now, for some rough beast is slouching towards the kitchen to be fed.


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Low On Time and Inspiration? Recyle!

I really miss blogging.  I really miss blogging about my kids, but they are keeping me too busy to blog about them.  Hmmmm...perhaps this is part of their master plan.

Anyway, I decided to recycle one of my favorite Poetry Spoofs today, because it makes me smile and because I haven't time for anything else.  And because sadly, it's still accurate, three years later.

Stopping By My Living Room on a Regular Evening

Whose shoes these are I do not care
Their stink and steam do fill the air;
They’ve been here for a week or more
Kicked beneath the comfy chair.

There are backpacks thrown behind the door
And cheerios stuck right to the floor.
Is that a banana, for the love of God?
This disarray is the stuff of lore.

My three year old must think it odd
To see me hone my staff and rod
When spying books and dishes--UGH!
And towels and clothing stained with sod.

She gives her blankey a tighter hug
To warn siblings of the coming thug.
She sees the quaking in my gait
And tries to hide beneath the rug.

It’s chaos that I truly hate.
But with children, chaos is my fate.
The laundry's always in a heap.
The order always little and late.

The mess is scary, dark and deep.
But I have a house to clear and keep.
And heads will roll before I sleep
And heads will roll before I sleep.

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My inspiration.

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