Twyla has decided that crawling isn't enough anymore. Now she thinks she needs to start walking! EEK! Ronan calls her Walking Bear because when she takes steps she holds her arms up over her head with her hands curled like claws. So cute!
She has also, apparently, become sick of mashing her food up with her gums, and seems to think that teeth would be helpful. She's ten months old and just getting her first tooth! Better late than never, I guess.
It really is, isn't it? I'm feeling better these days. Still not what most people would call good, but better is good enough for me! I've been taking cod liver oil and some adrenal glandular supplements (you don't want to know what's in those!) religiously, and I am seeing some definite improvements. I have more patience with the kids. I'm not even feeling depressed! I haven't had as many headaches, and my back stopped cracking a hundred times when I get out of the shower and flip my head over to dry my hair. That was a surprise! I bent over to fling a towel over my head, and was like, "Whoa! Something's different here!" I wonder what is causing that improvement?
And really, even with all of the health related shit I've had going on for the last however long, my life is still pretty great compared to many people. And since the holidays are coming up, I wanted to think of a way to pass along my good fortune. I am asking anyone who would normally buy me a gift for the holidays to instead donate to Africare. I'm specifically very concerned with the situation in Darfur. I truly hope that people will honor this request. Every year people ask what I want, and I actually have to think really hard to come up with ideas. So I obviously don't need anything too badly! What I really WANT is to feel good about being less of a consumer, and helping families that are in a really dire situation. I can't imagine what they must be going through. I am very lucky, indeed. I have a home, healthy children, access to clean water, enough food, and relatively good health myself. Hell, I even have a pretty awesome husband! What more could I ask for?
Marley had her birthday on Sunday. She's getting so big- I can't believe it! On the day she was born, I got to cut in line at the last presidential election because I was in labor. Luckily I had her to keep my mind off of the outcome of that one!
Here she is with her big bro after her first Ninjutsu class. Awwww!
And this was her cake. We went to a Day of the Dead party, so I decided to make a Mexican sugar skull inspired cake. I was pretty pleased with how it turned out.
It must be the outcome of the election- I feel AWESOME today! I'm happy, energetic, motivated- all the things I have NOT been recently. The weather is going to be spectacular again, so we're going to spend the day at the park. Seventy degrees in November! Even the weather is celebrating Obama's victory!
Read more...Well, I did do the thyroid test, and it came back totally normal. Well within the normal ranges. So it looks like I can rule that out. At first I was disappointed because I was hoping for something that I could just take a pill for and start to feel better. I know that seems ridiculous, and absolutely contrary to how I view things normally. But I have been at crisis point for the last few weeks, and I just want to feel human again!
I am now strongly suspecting adrenal fatigue. It fits with the myriad of symptoms that I've been experiencing. The symptoms are much the same for thyroid problems, and I fit this picture pretty much to the letter. I'm going to give up coffee. OUCH. I need to get more sleep. CRAP. That one is going to be tough. Most of the time I have to choose between a little child-free time with Scott in the evenings and sleep. Unfortunately, sleep is going to have to win most of the time now. I have ordered some high quality cod liver oil, as well. Some small steps in the right direction. Hopefully they'll make a difference.
I don't have the concentration to keep typing right now. I can't believe the amount of errors I'm having to correct these days. My brain is so foggy......
I mentioned a short time ago that I have been feeling depressed. That status has now been upgraded to "outrageously depressed and generally feeling like crap." It has gotten so bad that there are times that I feel completely paralyzed by it. I just can't seem to function properly. I sit down after the kids are in bed and start to dread the next day. I will randomly get this terrible sinking feeling in my gut as if I just remembered a huge bill I forgot to pay or something. You know that feeling? It's usually attached to some event or thought, but I'm just getting it out of the blue.
I began doing some research about ANOTHER health concern that I'm not going into here, and started making some connections with a bunch of symptoms I've been experiencing for a long time. I always just assumed that humans were just prone to feeling kinda shitty, and didn't want to be a whiner. But then I realized that almost all of the things that bother me are associated with hypothyroidism. Depression, forgetfulness, low sex drive, musculoskeletal pain, sensitivity to cold, dry skin, sweating less than most, headaches, heart palpitations, and more. Oh, and my mother had her thyroid removed due to a pre-cancerous growth. It was such a revelation to make the connection. I can't believe I never looked into this before.
So while I have no insurance, I really need to get this looked at, because it appears that my symptoms are worsening. I am more depressed than I have ever been- and it isn't situational. Things are pretty good for the most part. I just don't FEEL good. In fact, I feel absolutely awful. When Scott gets paid, I'm going to order a blood test and see what turns up. I feel so certain that the thyroid is malfunctioning, that I think I would be crushed to find out it's not. At least if it is, I'll know that this is a treatable condition. If the test results are normal, I don't know what I'll do. I just know I have to start feeling better. Here's hoping that I'm on the right track. Cross your fingers for me.
First off, I just have to say that I find the glitches in one of the final five cylon models appalling. The Tigh/McCain model's propensity to excessive blinking and twitching jaw is rather distracting to say the least. You'd think they'd have gotten those kinks worked out by now.
Then I just have to say my piece about ol' Joe the Plumber. As you may well know (or not depending on who you are), my own husband is a plumber. Or as some lovingly refer to him; a turd herder. And I heartily enjoyed that dastardly cylon congratulating ol' Joe on being rich. I literally laughed out loud at the tone of sarcasm when I heard him declare, "Hey, Joe, congratulations- you're rich!" And when I think about ol' Joe earning more than $200,000 a year, I want to scream, "Hell, yes! You ARE rich, Joe! Congratu-frackin-lations!" I would gladly pay higher taxes for my hard working hubby to be making that kind of money! Are you fracking kidding me, John?!
Scott and I are really enjoying the feeling that we are starting to get excited at the prospect of having Obama as the next president. This debate really brought that feeling to the forefront. I think I'm just as excited about hopefully voting for the winner for once! This will be the third presidential election that I have been of age to vote in, and so far, I've been on the losing team. Things are looking up, though!
I could go on, but that would be taking this milktoast blog to a level that I don't think I'm ready for. So for now, I'll just say, "Woo hoo! That was the debate I was waiting for!"
We had quite a scare yesterday. We attended a craft day at a friend's house, and just as we were readying to leave, Twyla started choking. I didn't panic, but I also didn't have that clear-headed call to action that you hear about. My brain just stopped working. Here was my baby turning purple, and I think I was just looking at her. Well, maybe not. It's kinda fuzzy now. I think I tried to reach into her mouth, but I'm not sure. One of the women there suddenly recalled the child CPR class that she had taken 15 years ago, and took her from me to try to clear her airway. She started to do a sweep, and tipped her head-down. The offending object must have come out of her airway because she regained her color, but seconds later, she began gagging violently. It went on like that for a little while (which seemed like an eternity), where she would seem fine, and then gag again. She threw up breastmilk and a tiny bit of apple, but I didn't think that had been what was causing the problem- it was really small.
Eventually, she was breathing fine, and no longer gagging. Someone had called 911 while this was going on, and because the home we were at is very close to the fire dept., there were firemen there almost immediately. An ambulance was close behind. It was so much commotion, and I can't recall any of the faces of the emergency responders. I was so focused on her. They listened to her lungs, and since everything seemed good, they left quickly.
I can't imagine what I must have looked like. Probably blank. I felt like I was panicking inside, but I don't think it was showing on my face. There were so many kids there, and they all seemed pretty shaken up by everything. I know I was. I just felt near tears all night long. It was so scary. It made me feel like my kids were suddenly very fragile, and that they could be taken away from me at any minute. I've never experienced so intensely the fear that my baby could die. That's just not something that has ever felt threatening. My kids have always been very healthy, and free from big accidents. So I was not prepared for how shaken I would be by this.
Today the mystery object revealed itself in Twyla's diaper. A pink sequin. It was a shiny beacon amidst the poo, screaming, " I could have killed your baby!" My god. Something so small and innocuous-seeming. I am so paranoid now that a stray penny or Lego could find it's way into her mouth and this time I might not be right there to see it. I wonder if I'm now overly worried about this because I just experienced a bad scenario, or if I SHOULD be worrying more than I normally do. Should I be scanning the floors every morning before I put her down? I don't want to raise my kids to be fearful of everything, but I also don't want to be so blase that something terrible occurs because I wasn't vigilant enough. Where's the happy medium? Or is there one at all? Am I just at the mercy of fate? This has really brought up so much more than I could have possibly imagined. I feel very uncertain. I don't like that feeling. I want to be a confident parent like I was yesterday when I woke up. But now I feel like I was an OVERconfident parent. Maybe I needed that smack in the face. Who knows. Crap. Just one more example of mothering being a hard job. The mental and emotional aspects are so taxing.
I'm organizing a great fundraising opportunity for the kids at church. It's called Trick or Treat for UNICEF. UNICEF provides emergency aid, health care, food, clean water, school supplies and more to children in developing countries. I'm excited for my kids to be able to help less fortunate children while they run around getting candy. Here's an example of the things that UNICEF can provide for small amounts of money:
$.28- Four boxes of crayons
$.13- a book bag
$3.00- a blanket
$4.09- 10 ready-to-eat nutritional supplements
$3.00- a tee shirt
$3.80- a water filter
The amount of money that one would pay for a latte could ensure that children have safe water to drink. There are so many things that we take for granted. In light of the economic situation that the U.S. is facing, it's sobering to think about the millions of people who have it so much worse EVERY DAY. Each day is a struggle for many families to find enough to eat. I realize what an amazing situation I am in that I have the opportunity to stay home and teach my children, while many people are unable to provide their children with any formal education whatsoever. We are all so very fortunate- even in our worst moments.
Our group has it's own web page for collecting donations. If you can help even a little, please visit here. Remember that every little bit counts. What can you do without today?
I spent a little over two hours completely child free last night! Boy, did I need that! Helen Erikson, dance ethnologist, is in Kalamazoo for four days of workshops and three nights of shows. And though I am so sad to be unable to attend the workshops (Twyla won't stand for a separation of that length), it was wonderful to be able to see a small bit of what is going on. We attended a presentation about Guedra, a trance-inducing dance practiced by women in the Sahara.
Actually, Scott and the kids came to the show with me, but prior to that, he took ALL THREE of them to Ronan's Ninjutsu class so I could meet up with a few of my girlfriends for tea and treats beforehand. It felt so good to be in my house alone for a little while. I put on some makeup without a baby trying to climb up my leg, and got in the car without putting little people in seats. When I got there and got out of the car with just my purse, I felt like I was forgetting something! I even turned around and looked in the car window to see if there was something left on the seat.
I really did need that. I can't even express how much I needed it. Anyone who's ever been a stay at home mom will understand. Mothering 24/7 is really hard work. It's not so much that you're always doing something- even though you are. It's more that everything falls on you. The feeding, diaper changing, teaching, entertaining, bathing, and on and on and on........... It can be overwhelmingly draining. Especially when you'd like to sleep comfortably and restfully every night, but find yourself spending a good deal of it with a baby attached to your breast.
Don't get me wrong- I'm not complaining. Not really. I know there are some women who would love to stay at home with their kids, but can't do it financially. I love to stay home. It is the most rewarding "career" I could possibly imagine. But the hours are long, the vacation time non-existent, and the pay is crap. : ) I just want people to realize how HARD it can be. We deserve respect and admiration for the work we do, but we seldom get it. So I'm giving myself a pat on the back, and one to any other full-time mothers who may be reading this. And I'm also thanking my husband for willingly giving me a much needed break. Thanks, Honey. That was actually pretty easy, huh?
This is what my wall looks like every time I draft a new morning circle time repertoire. I'm probably cheating by Enki standards, since it seems to be expected that you should be able to memorize all of these before introducing them. But, hey, I'm not exactly getting paid for this, you know? I'm pretty stoked just when I get organized enough to make sure that we're doing seasonally appropriate activities, let alone committing them all to memory. I do memorize some of them just during the process of going through and learning the movements that go along, but there's a lot of material there, and I seem to have fewer braincells to use for that sort of thing every season. I think it's mothering induced loss of brain function. A friend once told me that you lose IQ points with every child that you have, and I don't doubt it for a minute!
So what is on these numerous sheets of paper? Well, it's a secret Enki formula that I can't reveal unless I'm willing to give up my first born son. And since at this current moment I'm very eager to do just that, I'll let you in on the secret.
First of all, we do a few opening songs/verses that just get the blood and breath engaged. Basically this means that I end up looking like a complete freak to the mailman who always parks right out front of my house just as we're skipping around in a circle like mad, singing Sally Go 'Round the Sun in front of our large picture window. Next we do some midline crossing activities that involve moving forward, back, right, left, up and down. Then we engage the base senses: the vestibular through spinning round and round, and then proprioceptive via froglike hopping. We work with naval radiation during movement like a basic yoga "boat" pose. We also include academic games and bean bag activities. Next comes Spanish practice, and a few fingerplays. I have a space that will soon be filled with a form drawing walk, as well. Probably beginning next week. And then we close the circle by walking a spiral in and then out while speaking a verse. All of this has a purpose (other than to confuse the hell out of me)- it's strengthening their neurological development, and creating new pathways in the brain. Important stuff!
Not complicated at all, huh? When I first started using Enki, I thought I'd never figure all of this out, but now coming up with a new circle time is starting to become second nature. Wow! I am really amazed at how much the kids like to do it, too. On those off days when I am totally disorganized and really late with breakfast, they keep bugging me about when we're going to do morning circle. So I must be doing something right. Even if I do have to tape papers all over my wall to get through the whole thing!
I'm a total Halloween nut. I love it so much, and I look forward to it every year. I think I like decorating for the holiday more than I like anything else about it, though.
My wicked potions.
I'm collecting Spooky Town houses and figurines. I just started last year, and can't afford to buy more than one at a time because those durn things are expensive- even when they're 40% off!
Maybe I should dust once in awhile!
More cobwebs, and the last person who crossed me. Muahhhhahhhhh!
And speaking of spooky- this is what Ronan looked like when he woke up the other day:
Damned bugs! As if lice weren't insult enough, a rogue skeeter attacked my boy in his sleep. Can you believe how swollen his eye is?! I don't know why mosquito bites swell up his face so badly, but they don't do that on his body. Yeesh, it looks like I clocked him in the eye!
This is exactly how I feel. We went to the St. Joseph County Fair last week, and there were a number of "exotic" animals at one exhibit. I don't know if this guy is a small kangaroo or a wallaby or what, but he was quite obviously in need of a deep rest if he was willing to lie balls up like that with all of those people around.
I've found myself in that exact same position (minus the balls) on the couch for the past two days at some point in the afternoon. I just feel completely exhausted. I've been feeling depressed, anxious, burnt out, and a number of other unpleasant emotions. Which is a shame because it's so beautiful outside, but I can't really enjoy it. Partly because I have spent the last few days treating the kids for lice, and washing pretty much everything that can be put in a washing machine. If I wasn't feeling emotionally drained enough, those little bugs in the kids' hair sealed the deal. Fortunately, the problem seems to be resolved, but I'll be on the look-out for the next few weeks at least.
I think a big part of my negative emotions right now is that I haven't been getting enough exercise. I had to stop going to dance class a few months ago because Twyla is battling separation anxiety somethin' fierce. I took Diego out for a long, fast-paced walk last night while I listened to the Splendid Table podcast, and I felt much better for it. The problem is, depression makes it SO HARD to just get out there and do it. I know I'll feel better once I get moving, but I pretty much have to force myself to get going. So I'm going to try to walk the dog every night when I put Twyla down to bed. Gotta start somewhere, right?
No, Scott didn't get a vasectomy. It wasn't that kind of snip. Since I had Twyla, my hairclip has been a nearly inseparable part of my identity. My hair was getting really long. And my baby was, unfortunately, born with rubberized fingers that were somehow magnetized by that long stuff growing out of Mom's head. So I resigned myself to frumpdom until she figured out that I do enough pulling out of my own hair for her to not have to worry about it.
But then I decided to wear my hair down the other day when Azzie and I took all our kids to the fair. Just for kicks. And while I sat nursing Twyla on a bench, listening to the pigs squealing like they were practicing for the slaughterhouse, something became illuminated- my hair. The sun was shining full force on my long locks, which made it painfully obvious that it looked like total ass. That shit was fried! I guess that's what happens when you go 9 months without a real haircut.
So I decided that it was time for a drastic change.
But obviously it doesn't look very drastic because not a single person mentioned it at church today. Probably because with a clip in it every single day, it could be any length at all, and no one would be able to tell. Oh, well. I love it. It feels so much lighter and healthy. I even hennaed it last night, so it feels super soft, and looks great in the sun. Much unlike it did the other day!
It just occurred to me that my last two posts were about Ronan and Twyla. So I thought Marley deserved her time in the tiny, pinprick-sized spotlight that is my lame ass blog.
I know that sounds bad. But really- I'm tripping out over her physical abilities! Sure, many people are rolling their eyes at me saying this. I mean, it's not exactly uncommon for a baby to be sitting unsupported at 5 months of age, and then crawling before 7 months. BUT IT IS SO FOREIGN TO ME!!!!
Ronan was my first baby, and I didn't mind that he was nearly 7 months old before he could sit on his own. Then, three and a half months later, when he crawled, I was delighted at his development. Marley came next, and followed a very similar pattern. They walked at 12 and 13 months respectively.
Twyla is just 7 months old, and is not only crawling, but mobile enough that I occasionally lose track of where she is in my house. Then a couple of days ago, I was chatting on the phone when I watched little Stinkerbell sit up on her knees, reach well over her head, and pull up to standing at the coffee table. Take into account the fact that my other two children were just sitting at this age, as well as Twyla's itty bittyness, and I'm left with the feeling that she's just too little for this sort of thing to be allowed. In fact, I think I would wholeheartedly discourage it if I thought it would work. A baby that just sits like a lump in one spot is much easier to watch than one that is often found under the table, attempting to eat the morsels dropped by her older siblings.
I wonder what she'll be like when she's older. Will this developmental pattern continue? Will she be later to begin talking because she's so busy moving? I think Ronan and Marley were more vocal at this age. There aren't a whole lot of consonant sounds going on with Twyla yet, though both of the other kids said their first words in their eighth month.
And to top it all off, the little turd has BLONDE HAIR! WTF?! Yep, she's definitely freaking me out.
Ronan has been working with pattern blocks as part of his math practice. I am always astounded by the complexity of his creations. I realized that I should be taking photos of these, because they are REALLY cool. After the first picture I took, I asked him to put a piece of white paper on the table before starting so that the contrast would be more visible.
I love that he starts with one central block and works outward, placing a block on one side, and then the other to make sure both sides are identical.
In other news, Ronan has been making great progress in his Ninjutsu class. He will be testing for his next level on Saturday. He's going for another stripe on his yellow belt, and then it will be training for blue belt. I think all of the leaping, rolling, and midline crossing is doing wonders for his neurological development. He is very focused while in class, and also while doing his homeschool work. I'm so proud of him, and so glad that I'm fortunate enough to be able to stay home and be his teacher. Wow, I can't believe I just wrote a post without one cynical comment. I guess I'm proud of me, too!
I know, I suck at keeping this up. It's been a busy couple of months! We're off to Wheatland tomorrow, which is always a blast, but heralds the end of summer. Homeschooling is in full swing for us, and I'm going to try to get my butt in gear and write about that more. I also started attending births again, after a 6 month dry spell. It's good to be back. Off to do more packing, but I thought it was high time I updated, or people might start to think I had died. Not that anyone reads this, but hey, you never know.
Read more...
She just keeps getting cuter!
Ronan earned a stripe on his yellow belt.
If only the older two were as crazy about each other as they are the baby.
With Twyla and Kim at a Donna the Buffalo Show.
My baby's losing teeth. Waaaaaahhhh! Where does the time go?
Rag curls for my girly girl.
Twyla's starting to crawl. Holy crap!
My performance at Weed Dance Weekend. So much fun- definitely the highlight of summer!
I'm not implying that my placenta is a sweet treat, simply that I did have to move it over to fit something else on the freezer shelf. I'm assuming that pretty much anyone who reads my blog will understand why there is a placenta in my freezer. If you don't understand, well, I'm sorry for having disturbed you.
The kids and I went to a public park today and shook the hell out of an enormous mulberry tree. Shawna mentioned in her Herbs 101 class that the best way to gather mulberries was to spread a tarp on the ground, climb the tree, and shake it like mad. Well, I did climb the tree, and tried to shake it, but the trunk and limbs were so thick that very little happened. So I decided to climb back down and try shaking the branches. Bingo! We ended up with a lot less than I thought we would, but it's a start. And, hey, they were free! Berries are freakin' expensive! I figure I'll go back in a few days to see how many more ripe ones succumb to my shaking.
It's getting to be the perfect time of year for popsicles, too. A handful of mulberries, some homemade yogurt, and a bit of stevia should make a great smoothie pop. Let's hear it for urban foraging!
Check out the new playlist on the left, under the kid's pictures. Now you can be exposed to the amazing amalgam of musical styles that rock my world! Thanks to finetune.com
Read more...Okay, here it is. I actually measured the ingredients this time, so I can share a REAL recipe. Gasp! This must be the first time I've ever made something on the fly and then written it down! I hope you like it as much as my kids do!
1/2 cup cornstarch
1 1/2 tsp. stevia powder*
2 cups cooked and pureed pumpkin
4 cups milk
2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. vanilla extract
Put the cornstarch and stevia in a saucepan, and pour the pumpkin and milk on top. Begin heating this on the stove over medium-high. Whisk thoroughly and continuously. It will start to thicken, and when it does, make sure you're whisking the bottom really well. It's done when it reaches pudding consistency, or when the whisk leaves marks in the surface. Remove from heat and stir in the cinnamon and vanilla. Voila! Wasn't that easy? It's delicious hot or cold. Enjoy!
*Stevia extract would be a much smaller amount, but you'll have to figure that one out for yourself if you want to use it.)
I love sugar. Way, way, way too much. Some nights after the kids go to bed, I'll be struck with a craving for sweetness that leaves me rummaging about the cupboards for a stray chocolate chip or any other morsel containing sugar. But I know this is an unhealthy love affair. I need to break it off. I've found a new love- stevia.
Now, stevia and I have done our little dance before, but I have always looked at it as a less than satisfactory replacement for sugar. This is mainly because I was always trying to sweeten my coffee with it. This is not the best way to get to know stevia. For whatever reason, the bitterness of the coffee and the bitter undercurrent in stevia make for a steaming hot mug of nastiness. But since I drink at least one cup of coffee everyday with sugar, and am trying to slim down a bit, I decided to try again with stevia. No luck. Stevia in coffee still sucks ass. But it's rather good in tea! I knew that! How could I forget?! I've often thought that it would be worth moving to the south just to have sweet tea available at every restaurant. But the massive amounts of sugar in that tasty beverage would probably be enough to kill a small child. So stevia and I began to see each other more often- behind sugar's back. My tea was wonderfully sweet without the extra calories from sugar or honey.
Then I started thinking about sweetening desserts with stevia. That has always seemed very daunting since stevia is so much sweeter than sugar, therefore the mass is much less. How would that effect baked goods? Well, I still don't know about that, but I am definitely going to experiment after the great success I had this morning.
The kids and I were very hungry when we woke up today. As usual. I had NOTHING with which to make a standard breakfast- no oats, no bread, no eggs. What I did have was some raw milk and frozen pumpkin puree. Hmmmm.... I thought about pumpkin muffins, and then remembered that I had no eggs. I recalled a very easy and tasty recipe that Amy had turned me onto some time ago. It was a chocolate pudding made with cornstarch that takes very little time to make. What the hell, why not? I got out a pan, dumped in some cornstarch and stevia, poured milk on top, and added the pumpkin. I whisked like mad as it heated to avoid lumpiness. It thickened nicely, and I finished it with some vanilla extract and plenty of spicy Vietnamese cinnamon. The moment of truth...............
Holy crap! It was delicious! Smooth and creamy, sweet and spicy. Perfect. I poured it into bowls, and after a brief stint in the freezer to take the edge off the heat, gave it to the hungry little munchkins. Boy, were they impressed! Ronan even called Scott to tell him that I had invented a new food, and that it was really good. Sweet success. Next time, I'm going to try to pay attention to how much of everything I use and write it down. The world needs this recipe! I'll be back with more of my stevia exploits. Just don't tell sugar. I'm going to keep it around just in case.
Yesterday a man walked by my house, which sent my dog into a barking frenzy. This is a pretty common occurrence, but it's annoying none the less. So I opened the back door and shouted an admonishment to Diego. The dude paused in the street and asked if Diego would bite him. I assured him that he wouldn't, and that he was furiously barking because he wanted to be acknowledged. I really believed that- Diego's tail was whipping back and forth in an apparently friendly manner. And he's quite possibly the most friendly dog you'll ever encounter. But when this guy put his hand up to the chain-link fence to be sniffed, Diego snapped at it. I was shocked! I have never seen him engage in aggressive behavior. He obviously thought there was something off about this guy, and didn't want him entering our territory. Well, it turns our Diego had a pretty good read on this fellow.
I try not to judge people on a first impression. But sometimes, said people make that very difficult. I came out to the fence to apologize, carrying Twyla. I felt a bit strange because I was braless and wearing a tee shirt and my hubby's boxer briefs that had served as my pajamas the night before. It was only 9:00am or so, and I had yet to eat breakfast, let alone shower. So this stranger got to see me in all my bed headed, National Geographic breast swinging glory. Yes, awkward. But things were about to get even more awkward. He insisted on guessing Twyla's age. He stared at her and started saying bizarre things like, "Can you tell me how old you are? Give me a sign." As if she were going to reply, "Can you believe I'm only 3 1/2 months old? Amazing how well I speak, isn't it?" Or maybe he expected her to pull a David Blaine and somehow implant the answer in his mind.
We only spoke for a few minutes, as he needed to catch a bus, and I was anxious to get inside before any of my neighbors saw me in my pj's. As we exchanged names, I proffered my hand confidently over the fence, as I usually do when meeting new people. He didn't shake my hand. He reached out slightly and perfunctorily brushed my fingertips with his. And he said, "That's how I do that."
Huh? I was momentarily confused. I muttered an insincere "Nice meeting you," and retreated to the safety of my house. What the hell was that about? I couldn't stop thinking about why he didn't just firmly clasp my hand, as I expected he would. Was he a germophobe? I mean, I know I was looking pretty haggard that morning, but I obviously wasn't suffering from leprosy or scabies! Was he just too damned cool to shake? He felt the need to "slap me some skin" to demonstrate his awesomeness? Or was it something else? A big "F*** you" to the cultural standard of hand-shaking? That was the feeling I was left with. And it really got me thinking about the cultural norms in the U.S.
Some things are automatically expected of us. Most people expect to shake hands when they meet for the first time. By choosing to forgo that ritual, the dude that nearly got his fingers chomped by my dog caused me to feel as though I were on uneven ground in our interaction. He got the upper hand by making me feel as though I was attempting something that was beneath him. I didn't like how that made me feel. I left that encounter thinking, "What a weirdo." No wonder Diego tried to bite him!
Sometimes I think people shun typical expectations of behavior and/or appearance simply because they think it undesirable to conform. I find this exceedingly annoying. The fact that something is a cultural norm doesn't mean that anyone who follows it is a weak-minded conformist. I have many ways in which I deviate from the status quo. But there are reasons for my deviant behavior in those cases. I don't refuse to do something just to raise eyebrows and prove my individuality.
In the "natural" community, there are cultural norms that tend to be very different from the mainstream. I meet many of them, but not because I'm trying to impress anyone. I get really irritated when discussions about nursing toddlers becomes a competition to see who nursed the longest. That defeats the entire idea of meeting a child's needs through breastfeeding. Having a mutually beneficial nursing relationship with the child based on both party's needs is what is really important- not how many years it continues. There are so many examples that I could give of people flaunting their choices as though they can't wait for someone to question them on it. There are people who relish the fact that they do so many things that are contrary to traditional social standards.
I am not one of those people. I do what I do because I want to- not because I give a shit what other people think. I have strong beliefs which often lead me down a very different path than the masses, but I don't feel the need to shove it in people's faces. But there are other ways in which I do follow the cultural standard. I shave my armpits. And my legs. I know that there's not any real reason for this practice other than aesthetics, but I still do it. I like the way I look with hairless legs and pits, and I know that's because I have become accustomed to seeing it on others. I have come across women who judge me for that. I'm all for women choosing to keep their body hair intact if they want to. Why would I care that they do? I know I have also been judged by women in the natural community for wearing makeup at times. Or for thinking Martha Stewart it totally bitchin'!
The thing is, I don't really care if people think I'm stupid for participating in common cultural practices. Maybe that guy outside my yard doesn't care what I think about his disdain for hand-clasping. Who knows. Maybe I'm the one being unfairly judgemental. I think I'll ask Diego.
"So, Diego, how should one behave when meeting somebody for the first time?"
"Duh. Just sniff his ass."
Ah, yes. Perhaps the dude would have responded more positively to such an approach. I'd just say, "That's how I do that."
My beautiful nephew was just born on June 1st. Isn't he precious? And motherhood suits Azriel- she's absolutely radiant! Congratulations, Azzie and Josh!
Look what I got for Mother's Day! Isn't she beautiful? 
I'm still planning on getting the phoenix chest piece done, but since Twyla is too little for me to leave for hours, I figured this lovely lady could keep me company in the meantime. Do you think this is what Dub-ya had in mind for the stimulus checks?
I'm falling apart. Not even thirty, and I feel old. Latest on the list of ailments that have plagued me over the last few months: gallbladder issues. Trust me, gallbladder attacks are just as much fun as you've heard. It pretty much feels like if you could die from abdominal pain, then you would be doing just that. But since abdominal pain alone can't really cause you to expire, you just writhe around on the bed or floor wishing that it could. Or in the case of my last attack, you may find yourself jumping up and down frantically and pacing/running around the house as if you could somehow get away from it if you were quick enough. Sounds like a riot, huh?
And as bad as having the attack is, there is an aspect to trying to avoid an attack that is nearly as bad- eating low fat. EEK! My god, why do people put themselves through such torture voluntarily? Let me start by saying that I truly believe that eating a low fat diet is unhealthy. I'm hoping that I won't have to continue eating this way for long because, frankly, I'm STARVING! I don't feel full after eating tons of steamed vegetables- unless they have butter on them. A couple of bowls of borscht don't seem to cut it, either. But it probably would if I could add the ground pork to it, instead of making an unsatisfying low fat version! I just want a burger, dammit! I don't want a TURKEY burger! What is the point in that? I might as well have a sawdust burger! Why does the universe hate me? Please, please, please, great spirit, god, goddess, or anyone else who might be listening- come deliver me from this hell on earth!!! And bring some butter cream frosting.
Ronan got his yellow belt in Ninjutsu last night. He had to demonstrate all the skills he learned as a white belt in front of his entire class and all the adults present. He did quite well, and we're very proud. We are really impressed with the confidence and discipline he is acquiring at these classes, but mostly, we're looking forward to the day when we can use our little Ninja to seek revenge against the jerk that did this:
Yes, that is the picture window in our office. Thankfully the chunk of asphalt that was thrown only broke one of the panes of glass, but it's still going to cost us a pretty penny to replace it. Scott is really funny when he tells people what happened. He says that someone threw a brick through our window. Which implies that 1) the object thrown actually went through the window and into our home, and 2) that said object was, in fact, a brick instead of a piece of asphalt. He tends to exaggerate a bit. And the story usually gets more dramatic with each telling. We figure that in about a week, he'll be telling people that someone threw a Molotov cocktail through the window and he had to stomp the flames out with his bare feet.
I'm currently learning a choreography that is danced with a veil. Since I haven't done much veil work, I was borrowing one from my teacher at class. We decided that I really should get one since she sometimes forgets to bring an extra, and dancing with an imaginary veil looks pretty strange. So I looked online and found them ranging in price from $30-45. Ouch. Needless to say, I can't afford to spend that on three yards of silk. Being the clever gal that I am, I decided to see how much an undyed piece of silk in the proper size would be. Dharma Trading had what I needed for a measly $13 and change including shipping. I busted out a little tie dye kit I had bought last year, and ended up with this:
Woo hoo! Great job, Raina! You can't see it, but I'm giving myself a hearty pat on the back.
Now all I have to do is practice the choreography until my arms feel like they're going to fall off from flinging that veil around, and I might just start to lose some of the extra baby weight I'm carrying around. Which is exactly what I aim to do since Shawna, Amy and I are going to have a "friendly" little competition to see who can lose the most poundage (in a healthful way) in 6 weeks. I added those quotation marks in the previous sentence because I know those bitches are ruthless. I'm using "bitch" as a term of endearment here, but really, you gotta watch out for those two! So wish me luck- I'm going to need it.
Okay, so I guess rockstars probably don't often drive minivans. But if they did... they would probably buy a new one. Well, this one isn't new, but it's as close as I'm probably ever going to get to owning a new vehicle. And it's a beauty! This purty little thing will soon be in my possession, thanks to my wonderful grandparents. They bought it with us in mind, and are selling it to us for WAY less than it's worth. They are, undoubtedly, the two best grandparents in the whole wide world.
They got to meet Twyla for the first time yesterday. They were at their condo in Florida, where they do things like fishing, eating oranges, communing with the gator in their back yard, and buying cars for people. I wanna grow up to be just like them.
Who doesn't love a good poop story? We've all got 'em, but rarely share them. Especially not on the Internet. But I'm going to anyhow, because I think we need to break down barriers, and be honest about the normal bodily functions most humans have in common. As a mother, I have the opportunity to break down those barriers with my children's poop stories. You didn't think I was going to share mine, did you? Nope. I don't poop. Just ask my husband.
Our first tale begins and ends where many poop stories do; the bathroom. Our youngest daughter, Twyla had started fussing, which is her way of telling us that she's got to go. I held her over the sink and said, "sssssssssssssss," which is our way of telling her that she's cleared for takeoff. As usual, she peed, and pooped a little bit. Now you're probably wondering why we're letting our baby poop in the sink. And to that I say, "Breastfed baby poop is easy to rinse off, and I don't want to bend over the toilet every time she has to go. Thank you very much." I tore off a bit of toilet paper, and wiped her cute little tushie. She was cradled in the crook of my arm as I turned to leave the bathroom. But wait! Twyla had a little surprise for mommy! It seems she wasn't quite finished doing her business. If you've never seen an infant poop outside of a diaper, then it may surprise you to know that they can go with the force of a jet engine. And this is exactly what she did. All over the wall, and the white towels hanging on the rack. Think horizontal geyser. When she was finished, it looked like Jackson Pollack had suddenly become enamoured with the color "mustard yellow" and decided that our bathroom would be the perfect spot for his latest work of art. Ah, the joys of elimination communication. At least I didn't have to change a diaper.
When Ronan (our first child) was a baby, he pooped constantly. Every single time he nursed, he pooped. I remember waking up numerous times a night and changing him before sitting down to nurse, only to have him poop again. The cycle would continue: change diaper, try to nurse him to sleep, change diaper again..... So it was quite a change of pace when Marley came along. Right from birth I could tell it was going to be different with her. She never pooped during the night, and often went long stretches without going at all. At one point she went a week without pooping, and I decided it was time for me to take some action. I knew that Epsom salts could be dissolved in water and taken internally for constipation, so I thought I would try soaking Marley in a bath with them. I filled the tub, stripped us both down and got in, prepared for a long soak. She was obviously enjoying herself; kicking her legs and waving her arms in the water. Little did I know how quickly the Epsom salts would have an effect! After only a few minutes, Marley started to poop. And not just a little. This was the accumulated poop of a week without going. I shouted for Scott to help me, thinking he could grab her while I jumped out of the tub. I could hear him coming to my rescue as Marley's poo continued to flow. It was floating on the surface of the water like so much yellow pond scum. Finally Scott pounded up the stairs, but alas, his intention was not to help me escape the Sea of Poop, but to take the opportunity to make sure we would never forget this event. Yes, he had a video camera. So much for the heroic knight coming to the aid of a damsel in deep shit- literally. This man has still got it coming to him. I have not forgotten. He's lucky I don't tell some of his poop stories.
I admit it- I'm a Harry Potter geek. A Gryffindork, if you will. So of course I found this amusing. You'll either think it's funny, or think I'm a total nerd. But I'm okay with that. Enjoy!
Today we went to the Frederik Meijer Gardens to see their annual butterfly expo with our homeschool group. The indoor gardens are kept very warm and humid, so it was like a mini visit to the tropics. There were butterflies by the hundreds, and even tiny Chinese painted quail running around. I actually almost stepped on one of the quail as it walked out of the undergrowth. I'm really glad I didn't- that would have ruined a lovely day. And more than likely, my favorite shoes.
Here we are, enjoying the ambiance of a room full of an obscene amount of butterflies, and about as many humans. I hate spring break. When you're used to being the only people with kids out and about on a week day, it is uber annoying to suddenly find that everything kid friendly is packed with people. Especially when you forget that such a thing as spring break is occurring. There should be a warning message sent out to homeschoolers as spring break approaches.
Heard about Rothbury? What? You haven't? Where have you been?! It's a ginormous festival in July including acts such as Widespread Panic, Phil Lesh and Friends, Modest Mouse, Gov't Mule, Primus, and the list goes on ad infinitum. By the way, "ginormous" was recently added to the Miriam Webster dictionary, and I've been dying to use it. And this festival is being held in *gasp* my home state of Michigan! It would seem that attending this festival would be a no-brainer. Well, that's what I thought, too. However, it seems my dear husband, Scott, is less than enthusiastic about me bringing our (by that time) 5 month month old baby. I don't see this as being an impediment, but he wants to be right in the thick of the action for many of the acts, and doesn't feel comfortable leaving me to stand on the sidelines with little Peach. So we've been going back and forth about this for the past month. Leaving Twyla with someone (like we would be doing with the other two) is out of the question at that age since she's exclusively breastfed, and the fact that being more than 50 feet away from my babies at that age causes intense physical pain and emotional distress.
So I came up with a possible alternative. Truthfully, I thought Scott would nix this idea; leaving me free to attend Rothbury while giving the appearance that I am willing to negotiate. Clever little wench, eh? I told him that the only way I would agree not to go would be if I could get the ginormous phoenix tattoo on my chest that I had been wanting for years. Now, Scott is totally on board with the idea of me *having* this tattoo- it's the thought of actually *paying* for it that he balks at. Being that it will probably cost a good bit more than the $250 for a ticket to Rothbury, I thought he would just give in and buy two tickets. Well, to my surprise, he agreed. Damn. Now I'm in a quandary. In the immortal words of the Clash: should I stay or should I go now?
I want that tattoo, I really do. I was just watching a Tribal Fusions DVD, and I know that if I ever strayed from Egyptian bellydance into the world of tribal fusion (as is quite possible at some point), that I would earn serious street cred with that tat. But right now, when it's still 35 degrees out, bummin' around a festival site with my baby in a sling while it's 80 and sunny is insanely appealing. Alas, what's a girl to do? I suppose I'll have to eviscerate a small animal and seek the answer in its entrails- what else?
What should I be doing right now? Laundry. There is a small mountain of it in my children's room. And a full hamper in mine. There are two baskets of clean laundry that need to be folded and put away. There are drawers of clothes that need sorting to get rid of that which doesn't fit. My 7 week old baby's clothes are still in a plastic trash bag in my closet. We even have a dresser for her in the garage that can come inside as soon as I make room for it. But..... I don't like doing laundry. In fact, if Laundry were a person, it would be my nemesis. So, while baby Twyla is sleeping, I am instead starting a blog. The laundry will be there when I get done. It always is.
So now I'm wondering what in the world I'm going to write about that anyone in their right mind would want to read. Well, probably nothing. My life seems pretty hum-drum at the moment. For example, the most dangerous thing that has happened lately was that I trod on a Lego yesterday. If you've ever done so, you know that stepping on a Lego hurts like a bitch. I was unfortunate enough to have it take off a flap of skin at the base of one of my toes. See what I mean- not exactly exciting blog fodder. But I'm sure I'll be able to come up with a lot of boring, mindless drivel, if that's your kind of thing. Cheers!
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