Life is Art

I keep thinking I'm not some filthy New Agey Port Townsend heathen hippie but my choices bely my judgments. Next thing I know I'm home birthin', compostin', and out come the cloth menstrual pads (a year after my son is born, I am fertile again. Yay?). How lame. I get accused of being too redneck by the locals, and too granola by my hometown and college crowd. Good thing I don't really give a damn what they think, KWIM?

As if to solidify the Happy Homemaker stuff, I am currently working on a new Tutorials section of blog... I have a frou frou girlie toddler item I'm sewing on currently - the third rendition of a baby bunting w/ears & tail. In this case, a patchwork lamb for a little girl named Mary (in unison: awwww!). Seriously, it's not as barfy as it sounds. A bit matchy-matchy for my taste (I didn't pick the fabric, my client did). I was toying with the idea of sewing something for Sophie more along my lines (I'm thinking a lime green corduroy cat) but my husband nixed it. Sophie is always asking me to sew her a ninja costume. Anyone know where I can get a pattern, size 3T? I thought not.

I've got ONE beer for the evening (Red Hook ESB I love you!) and I'm not letting my lips touch it until I'm done blogging. Where is that Homer Simpson beer opener my father got me for Christmas all those years ago?

I had three Tinies all day today: my 1 yr. old, my friends' 2 yr. old, and my 3 yr. old. My friend was desirous of childcare because she is pregnant and ready (mentally, anyway) to have this baby - definitely needs time to nap and nest, whatnot. Picking up her child, I was looking at her body (gives new meanting to the word "gravid") and thinking of what a strange mental place she is occupying. I remember it: body heavy with child; nerves keyed, sluggish yet sleepless; cranky - it's hard to understand unless you've been there, but there is a part of you that truly believes you are in some Twilight Zone where you will never have this child. It's what has to happen, I suppose, for a woman to be ready to face the trials of labor.

Another curiosity - today went perfect. Even with an extra kid and the normal course of errands - and pouring down rain. Nothing happened I couldn't take care of easily; kids had a great time; got everyone napping at the same time. Even Dog took a break from naughtiness (he feels badly about tearing up my strawberries, I can tell). So my question is, why is it my days can be blissful or completely hair-pulling?

For dinner - making a little snowpea soup and asian cabbage salad for dinner.

np - The White Stripes' Elephant

So. I feel rather poorly right now. It came on about an hour ago - driving home from picking up Dog at a remote location (don't ask). Lit a cigarette (I'm trying to make this a smoking week) and had to put it out immediately as it made me feel ill. WTF? Got home - hungry but nauseated. Nothing sounds good. Not alcohol or medicine, even. A superhot shower with Dr. Bronner's Peppermint Soap didn't help. Blogging in bed is helping, sorta. Some early bedtime and cuddling with The Husband will probably be even better. I need some time to tell him about my day, which had quite a few snags. Sometimes I honestly think my kids would be better off with a wire-monkey momma.

my Easter doll:

I sewed the skirt last night before bedtime & a movie (Stage Beauty - an odd film, but Billy Crudup is the cutest li'l thing I've ever seen). Today: got family to church; deep-cleaned kitchen. Currently working on reversible lamb jumper for gal-pal's 2 y.o. daughter. For dinner: meatballs; pasta; green beans.

I may be a half-assed mom in some ways but I am going to be a kickass Grandma one day.

My parents leave at 5; time for a family walk. We bundle everyone up and take to the small trails in the woodsy areas around our home. My daughter gets a rare turn in the jogging stroller, bundled in a quilt sewn by my mother. My eleven-month-old son is happy in his backpack, looking over my left shoulder. This is his preferred mode of transport. His eyes are green, cheeks flushed in the brisk air, and I can smell his milky breath. I feel blissful. Accompanying us is our neighbor's dog, who we are sitting for 10 days. He is a Naughty Dog at times, but I love him. He chases off a larger dog in the park; then is beset by (count 'em) three daschunds and a whippet - turns tail and flees. Sometimes I think dogs don't mind if it's themselves who come out ahead, they just like figuring out who.

The Husband and I review our weekend so far. Despite the in-laws - and the dogsitting - and the morning full of babysitting our friends' child - he and I have had a few moments to ourselves. A morning shower together while Nels napped and Sophie played on her own in the living room. Time in the car with three (relatively) quiet little ones, and now this peaceful, invigorating walk.

Arrive home. My doula friend has dropped off our voice recorder gadget which she borrowed for some of her birthing clients. In reviewing what files to keep and delete I hear the powerful, painful sounds of a woman in advanced labor. Her vocalizations are long moans, pained but in control. I hear whispers in the background. Long moments of silence, playful laughter - some of it by the laboring woman. Listening in feels intimate, almost sexual. What a beautiful sound track for one of the most amazing passages in our lives.

The kids have been great. We had an extra little boy for the morning - Sophie's good friend Chance. Right now, the little ones and the older ones are all napping. The Husband and Brother-In-Law are in the living room talking over good coffee.

In other news, Ralph updated our site with some cool formatting. Yay, Ralph!

family: good.
day-to-day life: difficult.


i should have given you a reason to stay...

When you're courting as poor college students your beau buys you flowers and a dinner out. Later in life, kids out of the house, 20th anniversary: plane tickets for a Euro trip.

When you're raising young children together, he fashions a toilet-snake out of a wire hanger and somehow fishes out the diaper liner you accidently flushed. My hero!

Yeah, the Husband fixed the downstairs commode yesterday - which has turned out invaluable, because the upstairs one has problems as of this morning. Something wrong with the arm in the tank. I can't get to it because I have two (or more) kids hanging off me at all times. Both chilluns extremely clingy today.

In other news: making dinner for a family with a new baby; yay! it's the weekend; parents coming up for a day trip tomorrow; Easter with the family

np - Erykah Badu's "Booty"

Just at a dear friend's learning how to worm compost. This gardening thing is very humbling. I am not usually at "the bottom of the class" on any subject. Mostly because if I find myself there I usually quit really fast ("Duh! I wanted a challenge I could do!" - L.S.). Anyway, with a lot of hard work and help from friends I am slowly getting food to grow on my property.

On a different note, my blog is great, but I can't write everything I *think* or *do*, due to its public nature. I live in a small town and some of its members read this damn thing. But MAN, I totally want to write about how I kicked a dog in the face today! Whoops, did I say that out loud?

Nah, not really. No canine abuse: in this case, today, a victimless crime. Anyway, I shall struggle on with the endeavor to journal online without getting myself into trouble with friends. Or the law. Tee-hee!

np - Muse, various albums

Today was the most brilliant wakeup in so long. All four of us in bed; sunlight filtering in. The Girl scooting up to her brother and kissing him on the mouth: "I love you, Nels." Everyone waking up cozy, warm, and loved. These are moments in your life you will never have the same again.

After story time at the library, I had four girlfriends over with their babies (all girls!). We ladies are coming out of our winter hibernation. In catching up I can't believe how much everyone's lives are in flux. Pregnant, cranky and nervous; workaholic husbands, marriage trouble, friendships strained. To look at us from the outside we seem so boring. But there's so much going on. Ralph came home for lunch to a roomful of 9 females (Nels was asleep in his room). He took it in stride.

Big date night for The Girl and I. First: sushi with Sindee and Julie. Edamame and rice for the wee one. Then some window shopping; a steamed milk; a carousel ride; and to the movie (Robots - great voice talent, little else to offer).

My life is full of love and I want to hold it in my heart.

you were the mother of three girls so sweet
who stormed through your turnstile and climbed to the street
but after conception your body lay cold
and withered through autumn and you found yourself old

can you tell me why you have been so(sad)

he took a lover on a faraway beach
while you arranged flowers and chose color schemes

can you tell me why you have been so sad?
can you tell me why you have been so sad?

the girls were all there
they traded their vows
the youngest one glared with furrowed brows
they tenderly kissed then cut the cake
the bride then tripped and broke the vase
the one you thought would spend the years
so perfectly placed below the mirror
arriving late you clean the debris
and walked into the angry scene

it felt just like falling in love again
and it felt just like falling in love again

can you tell me why you have been so sad?
can you tell me why you have been so…

It is so frickin' unfair that by the time we get the kids to bed, get the house cleaned up, and attend to whatever personal business we need to (meaning email, phone calls, IMing, blogging, sitting down with a book, bathroom time, etc.) my husband and I are about out of time. We have to choose between catching up on our day, getting the sleep we need, R&R together, or - uh - "intimate time". Our late evening choices also need to be sandwiched between what I call the administrative details of the house - who's going to pay what bill, run what errand, buy which groceries, take the kids when and where. If we choose to do anything at all besides sleep, life is that much harder when The Boy wakes up anywhere from one to five times during the night.

OK, enough bitching. I bred 'em, didn't I? And I love 'em. And hey, I'm slowly training my 3-y.o. how to babysit my 1-y.o. With much success, I might add.

On an entirely unrelated note - I am *so* irritated I like something that just came out with props in Wired. Lame. Lame!

np - Iron & Wine's "Jezebel"

Damn. It's hard to get to church* (*p.s. their website sucks - can I offer up a redesign?) every Sunday with Two Tinys. It involves a lot of nursing, rocking, distraction, and heavy lifting (in the case of my bewheeeemoth yearling son). But I think it's well worth it. Since Ash Wednesday we (or at least I and the child[ren]) have had perfect attendance and it is paying off for our family. It feels good to be tapped-in again. We're too busy not to go to church.

Another Sunday event we attend regularly before services is a communal breakfast hosted at a friend's house. While both events have similarities - warmth, fellowship, philosophy, and decent coffee - I find it very strange and a bit jarring when we transition from one event to the other. It's the Smug Liberals vs. the Comfortable Christians.

The hip Spirituality in these parts (amongst the agnostic / New Age-y / spiritually lazy / what-have-you crowd) seems to consist of a smattering of "love and light", happy-horseshit vagary, intellectual arrogance, and some Philosophy 101 without too much investment in study, prayer, and stewardship to those outside their own comfortable circle. This group derives their smugness (and hence recieves permission to blast religious types) by their self-held tenet that their personal credos don't presume to tell others how to live their life (except, perhaps, not to be so intellectually foolhardy as to perscribe to a particular faith with utter sincerity). Hence anything as mundane as Protestantism (or even Christianity in general) is looked upon as dour and unsophisticated and a bit embarrassing (while the same snobbery is not applied to anything Eastern or general "dabbling"). Well, fair 'nuff - a backlash, I suppose, to all the pro-JC bumper stickers and pontifications by vocal-minority far-right politicians.

So then on to my church family, where I encounter a different set of vexations which may or may not have roots in the same anger, fears, and stored-up hurts that I suspect my "pagan" friends are manifesting. In my church circle the Wiccans / New Agers / Seekers / Just Plain Assholes etc. are looked upon as spiritually lost, lonely, egotistical, and beneath it all: feared and vilified. The party line is we are supposed to invite them to church, help them in their needs, pray for them, and seek intimacy with them; but a few years ago at a Christian dinner group when I revealed I actually *roomed* with one and considered her a friend I was met with gasps of horror (and, to be fair, a certain degree of curiosity and a good group discussion after the inital reaction passed). The churchies long to meet others at their needs and share their experience of Christ, yet are overly afraid of what it might mean to really open up to those different than they.

There's endless justification and backstory behind why both groups hate and fear one another. These days I am wont to listen to my friends and try to figure out how to integrate my separate lives. One problem is when I "come out" to either group I am either regarded with vague disdain (or out-and-out hostility) for the personal bit of naivete I've offered or dropped as a trusted friend (this by the liberals), or suspected of being a fairweather Christian for my political leanings (by my churchies). <sigh!> The funniest, yet saddest piece of it all is that both groups are levelling equal amounts of vitriol, inflated righteousness, and ignorance at the other - all the while nursing old wounds and failing in their self-assigned missions to learn to care for one another.

So. Yeah, I feel unheard as the odd girl out sometimes. For now, my family is doing it old-school: going to church every Sunday and throwing in with the heathen mobs the rest of the week. Perhaps one day a friend from one group will cross over with us to The Other Side.

It makes me angry and depressed to see fathers not caring for their children. It's not the guys' fault, either. Strong, smart, capable women I know are letting this happen. Everyone pretends like it isn't really going on. But these ladies are still taking most of the weekend and evening care of their child. Men do 12-hour days at work and Mamas, working or no, feel like single parents. Women go off for a week or weekend to their mom's, friend's, wherever, and it's assumed they will take the kids with them. The guys stay home because of course - they have to "work". I know a couple who - when daddy wasn't working - still had their kid in daycare. Why is this stuff happening?

I guess it's easy to put it all on Money. Or that Dad Needs A Break. Or the vague agreement that Mama *is* getting a break by going to her family's house with her child[ren] - (she's not). I wonder - why not, even once a year - can't Mama get away for a while? If it means childcare for the kids, or half-days for Dad at the office, is that so crazy? Lost wages are a hardship - but what is the value of a woman's / young mother's feeling of independence and autonomy? Is family survival jeopradized without a day or two of income, when the return on investment is the kids can get to know their father, Daddy can learn how to competently run the household, and Mama can get a break? Who the hell knows, you might have fun.

I think this sort of thing changes face as kids get older and can dress, feed, toilet themselves. Not to say the household becomes more egalitarian: just the inequities change form. It's depressing. Our family are pioneers in the matter of daddy-care. I just wish we didn't feel so alone in it.

Today: coffee date with CK, errands for Abbi's Blessingway, visiting The Husband at his place of employ. Then the gauntlet of shopping for a week's groceries with two babies. Whew. I am walking out of the store, kids in cart, feeling shellshocked. Then I think of the many full-grown adults who wouldn't even be able to do what I just did. I smile. I lift my kiddos into the car and give them each a kiss on their gleaming, healthy foreheads.

np - M.I.A.

Yes, that's me you just saw. Driving by in your hot-ass cockmobile. Yeah, I'm putting the garbage out. And yeah, I'm wearing an apron and those elbow-length yellow gloves. You know why? Because they keep me from getting mucky. Yeah, muck. It's what I do. Sweeping. Dishes. Toilets. Wiping noses. Mopping up messes. Scrubbing off crayon marks. Cleaning the fridge. One day you'll have to do it too. Or you'll have a wife that bitches to and about you because you DON'T do it.

Motherhood occupies some holy pedestal for so many Americans, in theory. Then why does the practice involve so much muck?

Cleaning the fridge is easy when you're poor (tomorrow's payday, and not a day too soon!). At least we have two full jars of pepperoncinis (WTF?). I just cooked the last fresh vegetable in the house for breakfast. For dinner, under duress, I have the ol' brown-rice canned-beans canned-tomato plan up the sleeve - flavored with the old white-trash standby, Canola Oil.

Despite some hardships, today is a day where I am digging this housewife thing. So you, Mr. Hotass Car, can put that in your bong and smoke it.

np - Transatlanticism
Today's playlist: Van Morrison, Anna Ranger

Ahhhh... the joys of the Dynamite Roll. Coupled with a frosty Red Hook, truly a delight. Another wonderful date night where I come home to a freshly-bathed baby, happy toddler, and a calm home. Lots of dinner dishes, but oh well. I know he'll do them while I watch a movie with our little girl. I have a Good Man.

Today I busted my arse on uploading the Breeder content. Three issues down, one to go. And I need to mess with the Blogger template. Yes, I am uncool for using a blog template. All youse coding snobs can come over and watch my kids while I fuck around with html.

Speaking of blogs, I may be seducing dear gal pal LoRo to start her own web journal. Our fellow diner and close friend CK is working on her own project (which she's been stewing on for some time). Our takeover plans were all discussed at our super-important business meeting where I mostly snorted a combo of crazy-ass hot sauce and wasabi (the ahi is only incidental for a sinus steam cleaning).

OK, enough for my tired/unispired posting. Soapy and I are going next door to watch Napoleon Dynamite. Whatever I feel like I wanna do, gosh!

it's only 1 PM but it feels like later. i'm pretty beat. took a round-trip bus ride with the kids to see The Husband downtown at work. then home to more feeding, cleaning, potty, diapers, the works. plus The Husband neglected to take out the garbage. Again. the kids have been great, thank God.

i just mopped my kitchen floor. it's one of those chores i actually enjoy. most of the time i am in an entirely different housecleaning triage involving keeping kids.

things i like today:
adium (thanks, Chris!)
my kid's overalls
my Swiffer
my skanky cup of Yuban (budget's tight, no more designer coffee)

np - dusty springfield's "what's it gonna be"

Right now I'm downstairs type-typing away as my husband bathes our oldest child. Any minute he's going to thunder down here and glare. Will he be mad? Because I know he's been reading my blog while at work, and enjoying it.

What's new? Well, my three-year-old is an obsessive singer and right now her top hit is the Starlight Vocal Band's "Afternoon Delight" (I'm repressing a shudder as I write this). What can I say, it somehow happened while listening to the Starsky & Hutch soundtrack. And speaking of music, today I discovered several of my Pedro the Lion tracks are corrupt on my iPod. Very, very sad.

In other news yesterday's Top Secret mission was a success. I downloaded the whole Spiderland album by Slint for Ralph. He seemed to like it. Maybe it makes up for him missing the Linux User's group meeting tonight?

I'm actually posting to my recipe page these days. Check out my cabbage rolls. Really good.

Current crutches:
avacado, egg, and cheese breakfast sangich at On Common Grounds
Twin Peaks (only at the end of Season One, so no spoilers!)
dynamine roll at Sentosa (or, "Satan's Middle Finger Roll" due to hot sauce)
red wine (a perennial for myself)
pinching my children's bottoms (sooooooo nice)

Fallen out of vogue:
cigarettes (so last week)
chocolate (only while Jodi was here)
breves (only with Abbi)

While waiting for My Current Favorite Sandwich at Jordini's I flipped through The Stranger and came upon a nice little gifty to get for my husband. I'd say more, but I know he reads my blog. Hint: it's an album. Problem: if it ain't in the iTunes store, I have no idea how to buy it. 'Nuff said.

Things went off well for the little girl yesterday. We had a lot of guests, a lovely cake, and a few out-of-town visitors as well. Most of our guests knew of and respected our "no gift needed" policy, but some friends brought her a few great books and miscellaneous gifts. My parents and brother were here half the day and very helpful in running after kids, food prep, and pizza-stealing. Unfortuately the day really wore Jodi and I out, so on our last night together we were too tired to watch a movie or hang out. As soon as the kids were in bed she and I took to the sheets ourselves.

Sophie's favorite book these days is a Richard Scarry compilation. It's very sweet. She woke up in the middle of the night and asked if I would read to her about Couscous, the Algerian Detective.



Ralph is feeding the kids, then it's time for nap. We are out of coffee! My current cup was made with half the necessary grounds. Lame.

Veggies and fruit are ready in the fridge. Pizza's ordered and will be delivered. Birthday cake, on it's way to the park at 3. Beverages: water. Will be delivered along with cake. Little girl asleep for an early nap.

Party preparations, going well.

This morning was one of those great wake-up days. At about a quarter to seven, our little girl pads into our room and quietly rouses us: "I have to pee." I am vaguely aware of my husband getting up with her to help. A bit later I hear breakfast noises. At 7:30 he leaves for work after kissing me goodbye. I am still in the land of slumber. My son has managed to get in our bed again sometime in the early AM; he snuggles in close to me and I am gradually surfacing, hearing the clank of spoon against bowl in the kitchen. Our guests aren't awake yet. Sunlight streams in through my bedroom window and peace is in the air.

At about 7:45, my son starts to toss a little. He knows he is in bed with me so he does not fuss. Finally, he sits up and rubs his eyes. And rubs them again. I am warm in bed, content to watch him waking up. After a few eye-rub repetitions, he sees me, smiles and crawls over for a kiss. We talk and I pet him. After a few minutes of loving I pick him up and go into the bathroom for a pee, take him into the living room and set him down. Sophie greets me good morning and goes back to her hot cereal. The kids are content and my morning feels great. Time for a cup of coffee.

At 8 our guests start to stir. Cyan shares in the hot cereal; Jodi has some toast. In the next 45 minutes we get our kids ready, clean up breakfast, trade shower time while the girls are treated to a few read-aloud stories. The Mamas are ready and kids are in their coats. We load the kids up and the neighbor dog Dwight joins us. With everyone strapped in and content we head out to a favorite coffee house / cafe for breakfast sandwiches which we take to H.J. Carroll Park in Chimacum. Dwight frolics and eats what the kids don't; moms enjoy sustenance and conversation. Time to head into town again, so six full tummies and one four-alarm tantrum later we are on our way back. I drop Jodi off to visit her mom and take my kids home. Potty; diaper; snack; a few stories; a nursing; bedtime for Nels. Cyan and Jodi arrive and we take the little girls out to water Sophie and Ralph's strawberries, 14 plants that are flourishing thanks to the TLC from our little girl. Then it's time for milk, a short story, and nap.

I have a lot on my plate these days. It's taking discipline and careful planning to not get overwhelmed or screw up and forget something important. I could be worried about the big party for Sophie tomorrow - of which I haven't bought or planned food or cake yet - however I think that's going to come off fine. I could also be in a state about our week's guests and entertaining them - but luckily Jodi and I have a good time together just doing our normal routine. No, instead what is looming large is my friend's Blessingway (which is an imposing event and in about eight days) and a few sewing commitments due before Easter, not to mention a couple sets of out-of-town guests on their way in the next couple days. Cripes!

I have always prided myself on keeping my schedule at a normal pace. I am also fortunate in that my husband can literally handle anything that comes up, usually in a remarkably fast and efficient manner. But every once in a while things loom up and get a little tricky. I am just glad right now NO ONE is sick or being a pain in the ass! (fingers crossed).

OK, Jodi's making brownies. Caffeine and chocolate - has sustained us through our week.

This morning we fare even better. The Man gets out the door to work on time; Jodi and I even manage to get the three little ones dressed, fed, and cleaned up with a minimum of fuss. Jodi does the breakfast dishes while Kelly packs the diaper bag and greedily grabs three minutes in the bathroom to slap on some makeup. It's 9 o'clock sharp and time to head out the door to catch the bus.

I love that the bus goes right by my house (Grant & 14th). We bundle Nels up in hat and blanket and walk with two girls and a stroller down to the corner. Abbi shows up just in time and joins us with her 2 1/2 year old Liv. The bus arrives: three mamas, four babies, two fetuses, and $3.75 later we are seated. Jodi and Abbi sit in the back with the toddlers; Nels is up front with me. He eyes a beautiful malamute with golden eyes who joins us on the first leg of uptown. The girls are all content and Abbi and Jodi catch up on pregnancy and home life. We arrive at our stop uptown and haul our asses off the bus, me holding everyone up as I fuck with the giant stroller which I still haven't figured out the perfect way to ascend and descend the bus steps. Of course, I am often offered help in this endeavor by kind strangers and this morning is no exception.

We hit Sweet Laurette's for coffee and the bakery for our lunch and dinner bread needs. Diaper change #1, Liv. Nels falls asleep. One child, easy to maintain. At the bakery the girls each get a wheat roll to munch on and then it's off to the bell tower for the view. The girls scrabble around in the gravel. Mamas speculate on the outdoor smoking, and drinking, and sex that has probably occurred on this historic site (hey, that's what we did when we were young and white trash). We head downtown through a treacherous hill trail toward our destination: Pope Marine Park.

At the park: playtime, a wee beach pee for Sophie, diaper change #2, Cyan. More snacks for Moms. Port Townsend is a pain in the ass when it comes to food to go, especially in the morning. At 10 AM all one can expect to find are many variations on nutritionally and energetically bankrupt (albeit delicious) starchy sweets. Kelly and Sophie venture forth and find something with some protein and some steamed milk for the girls. The girls play; climb; swing; slide; beachcomb; eat. Back to the bus stop. A bus ride and transfer. More fucking with the stroller. We're home, and goodbye to Abbi and Olivia.

Jodi and I plant the girls in front of some TV to make lunch. After we eat we clean kids up, read, snuggle, and it's time for naps. Diaper change for Nels, a little playtime, and then nursing peacefully off to sleep. Time to break out the chocolate and coffee for Jodi and I; we've earned it.

So starts the first morning of a new partnership. For a week it will be Jodi and I corralling our three little ones and she's knocked up to boot. Things are going well so far. The two girls are ecstatic to have a playmate their own age and are still high off the fun of a new friendship. Sophie is alternately bossy and helpful to the littler girl, much more scattered than usual and less of a help to Mama. Cyan is a willing accomplice.

The Man leaves for work a few minutes late at quarter to eight, toothbrush poking out of his mouth. Then it's on to Jodi and I to get ready for the day. Changing diapers. Helping with the potty. Putting hair up. Dressing three kids. I get my brood ready and Jodi and her girl are at the table for breakfast #2. Michelle arrives to help with housework while we're out, so I let her have care of my children for my 15 minutes to myself. I step into the shower and experience a few wonderful minutes of washing my face, scrubbing my scalp. The hiss and splash of the water obfuscates whatever the hell is going on out in the living room. By the time I am dressed and my hair dry Paige is here too. It's time to go. The ratio of four adults to three kids allows us to get carseats, kids, diaperbags, etc all loaded up in the car in a timely fashion.

Stop at the husband's work to pick up some cash. Drive through for coffee. Head to playschool. Kids run around; parents steal an hour for "class" in the next room. Normal chit-chat: how to get our kids to eat, unfairness along gender lines of parenting, sex (or lack thereof). There are two husbands there and they valiantly stick up for "their side" of the whole mess. Three of the women at the table are pregnant. All of us are looking for a safe place and strength in numbers. We head back to the kids' room and sing, pack everyone up, head home.

Groceries and then home for lunch: sandwiches, pickles, carrot sticks, tomato soup, milk. Kids are winding down; lunch is cleaned up; children are changed, nursed, soothed, read to.

I figure Jodi and I have twenty minutes to talk with no distractions before it's time to get back to work - wash diapers, do laundry, figure out dinner, do dishes, and get our kids to the grocery store again before heading home to cook. Forseeing this brief respite we have stocked up on good coffee and some bistro cookies (carefully hidden from the kids).

Time to enjoy a break.

Don’t bother saying you're sorry / Why don’t you come in? / Smoke all my cigarettes again Everytime I get no further / How long has it been? Come on in now, wipe your feet on my dreams. You take up my time / Like some cheap magazine When I could have been learning something / Well, you know what I mean. I’ve done this before / And I will do it again C’mon and kill me baby / While you smile like a friend Oh and I’ll come running / Just to do it again. You are that last drink I never should have drunk You are the body hidden in the trunk You are the habit I can’t seem to kick You are my secrets on the front page every week You are the car I never should have bought You are the train I never should have caught You are the cut that makes me hide my face You are the party that makes me feel my age. You're like a car crash I can see but I just can’t avoid You're like a plane I’ve been told I never should board You're like a film that’s so bad but I’ve just got to stay ‘til the end Let me tell you - that it’s lucky for you that we’re friends.

thanks CR

OK, it's been a while. But it's time to blog.

What's new? We're liking the new, happy, spring-ish weather. Gardening and stuff. Sophie is growing her own strawberry plants which she faithfully waters, talks about, and expounds on to any stranger who will (or won't) listen. Sophie turned three last week (*and* weaned *and* potty-trained). We're having a little get-together for her at Chetzemoka park.

We also just put out a new Breeder in Feb. We have enough content for a March issue which should follow soon. This latest issue was featured in the latest Vigilance, a local indie rag with a much larger distribution than our pathetic readership (5,000 to our 200). Will fortune and fame find Kelly and Amber in their most worthy enterprise? It remains to be seen, dear reader.

My good friend Jodi should be here within a half hour! I am so excited. She and her 2 year old daughter Cyan are staying for about a week.

Labels: family life, friends, party animal, Sophie, writing