live from sublurbia

I found this from my “only child” days … just before gall bladder surgery and the conception of our youngest child … so glad we had this and other great days back during his last days as an “only” …

I’ve spent the last few days becoming re-acquainted with my son. Who has exploded verbally again, of course. Who is missing his daddy terribly, and stuck on his mommy permanently. I’d been down with the flu, and his dad was out of town.

I don’t mind, except for the difficulty in getting him down at night. My mom popped in to lend a hand; except for the tissue boxes in the recycle bin, the place almost looks … normal.

We went to the park Thursday, I got a good photo of him on the slide, and we had fun running around, up and down the ‘mountains’ there. Those little hills are just Wolfie sized; he can feel and see his accomplishment and loves to direct my play as well.

Friday I put him back in daycare after my pre-surgery appointment at the doctor’s office . Everyone at the office was impressed with his manners and behavior. He was just being his usual self in a new place – drinking it all in solemnly. A bribe of milk, graham crackers, and a rare treat, “holding tight” with Mommy didn’t hurt, either.

A while back, perhaps ten or so months ago, he started watching one of those serial kid shows, one episode with a scene where the main players are being sucked into a whirlpool and must “hold on tight” with all of their “viking might”. While singing a clever little tune about the whole escapade. Shortly thereafter, Wolfie and I began to have a few battles of our own as he began to test the universe and the bending of it to his will. This included a dislike of my placing him on my hip and strapping him in place with a sling.

Ever desperate resourceful, I dragged the tune out of my memory, sang the “hold on tight” part, and made up lyrics for the rest. A connection was born. His slings were now his “hold tights” and they were very calming objects to have, even when we weren’t using them to “hold on tight”. Continue Reading »

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Gosh, I’m not sure I even remember how to TOAST anymore, but here goes ….

I know I mentioned during one of my infrequent spring pop-ins that I joined the ranks of the unemployed earlier this year. Whee.

I have had some interviews, and some nibbles. Nothing I could take to the bank; mostly the jobs were far away but I’m so over that. I want to live in the city I sleep in. Consequently, the pickings have been slim, but I’ve managed to land a job that I can do from home a lot. Some travel, not the corporate salary I’d been spoiled by, but home-based writing, yay.

When it got really slow at the beginning of this month (no criticism of those who are employing me!) I signed up for school. I did it the wrong way, of course, jumping in randomly on the last day of registration and missing a few days (BAD IDEA in the summer). But I caught up and my grades are pretty good. I’m re-learning Microsoft Office (2007 version) and will probably get certified in it later this year.

But my book? I spent seventy bucks on that darn thing (if I’d registered earlier I could have bought it online for about $20). And I can’t sell it back. No one is buying it, anywhere.

Why? Continue Reading »

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I recently heard the sound of water running while out in the garden. I looked over my shoulder towards the sound, hidden, as I knew it would be, by the monolithic barrier that had appeared a few months ago. Large, healthy new branches peeked shyly over the fence of the adjoining yard, and everything clicked: The landscapers had been! The landscapers had been! My neighbor’s spa and patio was complete! Free mulch and sod for me!

I scampered down to the edge of their property to the zone traditionally set aside for things no longer wanted by its original owner. Sod! Mulch! Fresh! Free! And it was all mine, all mine! I made plans to fix the bare patch I’m sure the Home Obsessers Association is itching to send a note about, I plotted a spot to pile some mulch for my next compost pile, calculated how to get it from their house to mine, and which owner to ask and how to ask, depending on who appeared first. Continue Reading »

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_{Author’s Note: I wrote this out a long time ago, before I came up with the original TOAST (Think of a Something Thursday) format. We’ve come a long way, baybee!}

TOAST: Think of a Something Thursday

Long before I acquired my stable of shopping bags, and when I bothered to remember, I’d tell a store clerk trying to bag one or two items: “No thank you”. A habit borne of managing to accumulate too much junk (which I still do, adventure-girl/packrat that I am) but a habit that also fit in nicely with the Reduce part of Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.

When I was a kid, the grocery stores in my area were dominated by paper sacks. And that was it for a long time. They were great, useful – book covers, art papers, shipping paper, patterns, “canvas”. When plastic bags started coming around along with the advent of “bag your own” stores in my neck of the woods, the bags were your typical two handled affair seen today. Us kids adapted and used them to make simple box kites. Tie a string, find a gust of wind, and go. No sticks, no tails, no tape and paper and glue … But no sharks teeth or dragons, either. Nothing to paint or enhance. I think after one or two gos we were done and bored.

I started out my latest foray into self-bagging and non-plastic bagging like I do most things. In fits and spurts. (The hub asked me the other day how long my to-do list was. I asked in return, “which volume?”.) But I rounded up a sampling of totes I had anyway (I prefer simple totes instead of most diaper bags) along with the inexpensive reusable bags I mentioned the other day.

Surely there was one perfect bag to hold my ‘fancy’ cheeses, wines, crusty loafs of bread, and swirly pops for the kids, right? Be it a quick trip for a parents-only dinner or the restocking of the hurricane pantry, just grab a cloth bag and go, yes? No, not so much. Continue Reading »

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And here I’ve only run one! Just my luck. :)

Anyway, here’s an oldie but a goodie … Sticky Notes to Defeat the Mean Potties.

I have one answer for her. Post-it^tm notes. I always lose mine, but a headband or diaper cover works, too.

I occasionally am caught off-guard in an auto-flush bathroom without my little helpful squares; usually I’ll have something else (cloth wipe, cloth changing pad, other soon-to-be-washed garment) to work in its stead.

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Originally written January 2004 … unearthed for a “parenting moment” contest.

Sometimes I wonder about baby books.

Why don’t they tell you not to rub the baby down with a little curry powder?

So, as some of you may have heard, I had a fun morning. 11am I get a call from daycare that Wolfie has a red rash all over his tummy and backside and diaper area that came seemingly out of nowhere. I call the hub to consult, as he changed the diaper this morning. Wolfie had some rash in the diaper area, but not all over, this morning. Continue Reading »

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Day one, post one. Already into re-runs.

I have been planning my first post for three days, maybe four. Helvetica, our youngest, had had a bowel movement of epic proportions at daycare, and I intended to go on about the wonderous joy that is poop. Maybe work in a reference to the Madness of King George while I was at it.

However, our eldest, Wolfie, spiked a fever last night and a cough that had him barfing, keeping us out of work and school today. First time he’s really been sick for Dr Cool, first time he’s been very sick at all, since we left Mc Doctor’s practice and I locked in Parent of the Year 2005.

We spent the day going to Dr Cool, taking a rapid Strep-B test, and ruling out pneumonia with a chest x-ray (he liked the cow-patterned lead apron he had to wear). He’s resting now, with a heavy-duty cough suppressant helping him finally get some sleep, and I’m about to cork off as well. Dr Cool has Saturday hours; I need to call and get a follow up tomorrow. I’ve just spent the last hour looking for this message I wrote my friends back in the spring of 2005, and getting my camera phone pictures of the rashes and hives printed out to add to his medical record. Meantime, enjoy. I’ll write about poop later.

Continue Reading »

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