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Showing posts from September, 2011

It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear. - Winnie the Pooh

Library Treasury; September:

"Now when we get books from the library, do we let our dog play with them?"


"Do we take them to the bathtub?"


"Do we take our books outside and ride bikes with them?"


Four year old girl: "And we don't take them into the toilet."

And another: "And we don't flush them down the toilet."

And another: "I don't write in mine but my baby brother does."

Four year old boy: "I punch mine."


We had a bird who made her nest in the eaves of our front porch. She went to and fro, gathering cozy bits to welcome her babies into the world. Her cozy bits were exactly what she wanted and nothing more. Occasionally, she would break for a bath in the puddle on the sidewalk. After the rain, she was on the hunt for the worms arising from their floody lairs.Those worms didn't quite like it. In so much rainwater. Although, the mama bird seemed to enjoy it, she would quickly return to her nesting because it was almost time. She got it just right.

After the baby birds came, she noticed some bothersome stuff here and some scratchy bits there. She didn't quite like it. In a dirty nest. She would tidy up between trips to the sidewalk for dinner, fussing all the while. Those worms didn't quite like it. In mama bird's beak. But she did what she had to do.

Old lady cats were younger then. Spry and clever. Our Hodges made her nest just beneath the birds, lying in wait. She had …

Her eyes make the stars look like they're not shining.

My beautiful baby daughter was a cuddler who shared my bed. She delighted me then with her chubby legs and tiny giggles. Even before she found her words, she communicated her determination for independence and even her stubbornness was thrilling. She sized us up and laid us out. Power to the pink people. She loved my arms best until she discovered her daddy's but I can't blame her for that.

Her chubby baby thighs morphed into long, lean legs that support a graceful figure with lovely skin, a strong heart and mind. Sometimes, she's a lovin' thing. Sometimes, she's kindly mean. Sometimes she's wickedly determined to get her way. She doesn't even know.

She shares:

This One found a secret note about the crush That One has and then This One got her feelings hurt and I felt really bad because That One was mean today and here's all the details because I need to tell every little thing on every little day since this is the last chance so relish the chatter an…


• When we go to mexican restaurants, I will fight you for the salsa. Truth is, I'm always making my people go to Mexican restaurants.

• I get really annoyed when my husband brings home the millions of hot dogs left over from this event or that. Truth is, I quite like it when he brings the white wine.

• If a bill collector calls, I'm going to save the number but not answer. Truth is, I just need to know who to bump to voice mail.

• I bought 3 pairs of pants I don't really like but it's seems so much trouble to return them. Truth is, shopping is too depressing.

• My kids share allergy meds so I don't have to buy both prescriptions. Truth is, somebody's meds are too expensive.

• I'm awkward at encouraging my offspring at competitive events and athletic prowess. Truth is, I'm much more impressed when they say funny things like "Cross Country's finest!" as they walk into 61st place.

It feels like home to me.

I'm not that good of a fancy girl although I fear it's a great disappointment to my daughter. One must don fancies from time to time but Fancy is relative. My fancy rarely includes heels or other such hurty footwear. Getting fancied up makes me feel like a cat in a room full of rockers. I literally embrace comfort in thick terrycloth robe form. If it weren't so socially inappropriate, I would wear slippers everywhere because why wouldn't all footwear be luxurious?

What I really like is jammies. Soft and old. New and crisp. Delicious, warm and cozy.

Time was, I couldn't get fancy enough. Football games, camping, doctor appointments or even shopping for more fancies. I never met an occasion I didn't accessorize. "I'm not dressed until I'm overdressed" was my preteen anthem.

A ludicrous and embarrassing example: Red crop pants and a brightyellow yellow blouse combined with enormous white beads, an enormouser white sash and white capezios and I&…

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

We don't live among luxury cars. Plymouths and Fords line our street and crowd the driveways. Interestingly enough, I see a Lexus in the middle of my street, just in front of a neighbor's house. This Lexus can't be bothered to pull to the curb. The brake lights are on, then off, then on again as it's driver is apparently anxious to depart. A passenger steps out from behind the darkened window, walks by the tree of my neighbor and to her door. He is admitted inside while the brake lights of his ride blink on and off and the Lexus creeps slowly ahead. The transaction only takes a moment or two, which is good, since it's a little late for a Lexus in this 'hood. It's bedtime for the 3 small children living inside the house of my neighbor.

Mama, you've had a rough life, truly, but now's the time for a Lioness to arise and leave the Victim behind because little girls recognize their own strength in you.

You're the only one.

The door slams and tires…

I go out every night and sleep all day.

Mornings are mean and ugly to us. I don't mind so much when there's sunshine and joy but hibernation becomes a viable consideration as winter clutches at me with her long, grey fingers. My misery is defined by rising from a delicious warm bed to undress and get into a wet shower knowing that eventually I must thrust myself out into the evil morning chill and possibly deal with an icy windshield. Time was, my determination to avoid the morning/winter combo was so strong that I would lock myself in my bedroom so as to obscure the fact that I was not preparing for school but dozing until the moment my ride arrived. Be assured, this is a frustrating scenario from the other side of the door and my offspring are payment in full for my years of misconduct induced by foreday foulness. On our best forenoon behavior, we are silent and slow, skulking about perfunctorily draped in fuzzy blankets until the bitter end when we are forced out into the mad, mad world of cheeriness. We have rob…

Wordless Wednesday: Current occupant of my birthday swing.

And we'll be jolly friends forevermore.

Granny had some glamour days. I liked to study a photo of her in her bedroom. She sported luscious, dark pin curls and fancy painted brows. Then I would turn to see myself in her gold framed mirror. Surrounded by blinding lights, I was pale and so were my eyes. It's better for puttin' on make up, she would explain. That's how they did it in Hollywood, see. In an effort to understand her world, I played with the fashion paper dolls she kept in the drawer formerly reserved for rouge and eye liner. Her smiles were rare but this seemed to please her.

Under a mystical spell, I find myself inhabited by the spirit of Granny. Her frown momentarily belongs to me and it's burden is tragic. Woeful but introspective. A tainted perspective. Her momma wasn't careful or diligent or delighted with her. Promise betrayed her. Passion was a trap. She was cursed and not blessed. Nevertheless, she must have had a Midas touch because she addressed all my birthday cards:

"To my gold…

Give peace a chance.

Lingering far too long one morning in my white terry, I hear a desperate knock at the front door. The door has a tidy, little, square window. It is cheap, painted with a red frame and a shooting star. I would have preferred our visitor ruminate a moment on my freshly painted star but she seems intent on entry. Which is how we came to have a non English-speaking, burqa-clad woman attempting to communicate danger by screaming:

Police! Murder!

It was at this moment three little boys fled down the hall and scrambled under a desk, a maple syrup cap and three plates of pancakes spinning in their wake.

Pajama panted Lovin' Man to the rescue. When an attempt to reach 911 is stalled by a Hispanic recording, we are frozen. The woman is wild eyed, now pleading in her native tongue. One can never quite prepare one's self for such a situation which is how we came to have a second visitor. This one, screaming profanities (English and otherwise) as well as Arabic, also failed to admire my …

New perspective on a different day.

I remember that morning as a Pink Palace day. We went once a month for homeschool class and to feed quarters into the robotic triceratops. I slept little and woke anxious because I was worrying about not being prepared. I knew I would need to pack a lunch for four and two were annoyingly picky. I never could trust my head not to ache so I should remember to put that Advil in my bag. Would everyone be able to find their shoes? A pair had gone missing. In the back yard under the trampoline? Trying to get out the door on Pink Palace day was running up a landslide. To my mind.

My heart jumped into my throat when I opened the front door to let out Old Lady cat and discovered that our other cat, Happy, had left a disgusting prize on the mat. She was a teen then and the old lady was barely middle aged. The rat lay motionless with his eyes slightly open.

Don't anybody step on it because I am not touching it.

With the morning sleep in the corners of their eyes, I scooted little boys off…