Friday, October 28, 2011

scared

We allow ourselves about 2 nights of junky TV a month.  Last week, it was Kooka and I snuggled on the couch, when we ran across an episode of Ghost Hunters.

The three guys and two mediums were exploring the Lizzie Borden house, at 2am.

I told Kooka we should turn the channel.  She begged me not to, and instead got me talking about the history of the place, and the trial, and before I knew it, 15 minutes had passed, and there was no way for me to take back what she'd already seen.

It was some scary-@$$ stuff.  Drawers moving, unearthly voices that were clearly screaming "Tell her about the girl."  "Lizzie did it." 

Nevermind that after Blairwitch, nobody believes any of this documentary style stuff anyway. Still, I told her it was time to shut this off.  It was NOT appropriate bedtime viewing.  What kind of mom lets her 9 year old watch this freak show this late at night? She rolled her eyes and assured me she was fine. (Punk on the other hand, took one look at the screen, looked disgusted at both of us, and bolted back upstairs).

So the show ends, Kooka goes into her dark room to sleep alone, calls out "goodnight mom."

WTH?!

I spent the entire night with a light on, holding Rico's hand and swearing there was somebody (or something) in my closet.

I TOLD her it was inappropriate bedtime viewing.

new game



Tuesday, October 25, 2011

truth

As Punk prepares to go on a three day camping trip with the entire 7th grade, I say to him.

"I expect that you will behave exceptionally, and that I will not get any phone calls telling me you've done something you shouldn't."

Him:  "Of course you won't Mom. . . . they don't have phones up there."

Monday, October 24, 2011

Thorncrest farm

We love to go to Thorncrest farm to pick our pumpkins. Kooka is the pickiest pumpkin picker. Punk loves the animals. Rico loves the novelty of it all. I love the family that owns the place. And Yoda, loved it all.











- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Thursday, October 13, 2011

stuff


I often think about the amount of stuff in our house.

I hate stuff.

Wait - I take that back.  I love stuff, everybody loves stuff. BUT, I hate too much stuff; I hate unnecessary stuff; I hate stuff that comes wrapped in three layers of plastic and two layers of cardboard; I hate stuff that clutters the closets and the counters and the foot of the bed.

I am constantly trying to get rid of things - which is funny, because people are constantly trying to give me things.  This is tricky for me, because try as I might, I can't seem to find the right words to say,  "Listen honey, I have trouble enough organizing the 4 mixing bowls that I allow myself to own, so while I appreciate you thinking of me while at the Kohl's 17-hour sale, I really don't need any beaded throw pillows, tangerine/musk ox shower gel, or 8 mint-in-the-box monogrammed handkercheifs." (Especially when the monogram is an F.)

I must look like some sort of "crap" magnet - because I seem to attract more stuff than I know what to do with.  And lest you think I sound ungrateful, I assure you - I'm not. It's just that too much stuff in the house stresses me out.  We love the generosity of our friends and family, but I'm just not getting why somebody buys pomegranate/goat-urine hand lotion in the first place - and why they think I need a bottle.

But I digress.

I make monthly trips to the Goodwill in an attempt to divest myself of the suffocating mound of clothes these kids seem to outgrow. Usually, I buy new things there as well - shirts for Yoda, snow boots for the big kids, jeans, sweatshirts - whatever.  And the other day, as I was looking around the house, I realized that Rico and I have furnished this entire house with almost entirely used stuff.  Everything from Craigslist, to Goodwill, to random things the old landlord said we could keep.  Even our new bedroom is almost 100% totally, completely recycled - which feels really good.  I sleep a little better knowing I didn't dump a bunch of packaging into a landfill, or import even more crud from a Chinese sweatshop. I'm not sure how environmentally sound the paint is . . . but seriously, we all have our limits.
before

after




one more time (and this time I mean it)


We really do have a life.

It doesn't seem like it from these lame blog postings - but it's true.  I intend to write about the reading hour and breathing room, and the things we inherited . . . but not until I finish this stupid logo.

Obviously I just was not happy with the purple one, or I would have posted it on the art in motion website.  So I retooled it a bit  - and I think this is finally, really, truly, probably it.

Input?

PLEASE!

Friday, October 7, 2011

grandmas

Yoda lost both of her grandmothers last night.  One 34 years ago, and the other has been gone just hours.

It would be easy to sit here and ruminate - to be upset for everything that she will never have, so instead, while Rico is in Florida (he made it just in time to say goodbye), Yoda and I will go celebrate Grandmas.  I will take her to the library and read her as many books as she wants, let her eat extra cookies, rock her a little longer at naptime, play peek-a-boo instead of folding the laundry. 

Today I will love her in all of the ways they want to - and never could.

Monday, October 3, 2011

one more time

OK - I think this is close . . . the guy is heads up, and the color is different.  Please tell me what you think, so I can finish this and get back to my life . . . .