Sick kid, and snow trip.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Sick kid, and snow trip. Current mood: sympathetic Poor Littleman is sick again- can't keep anything down. He's miserable, and though he's a real little trooper about it, of course taking care of him is taking most of my attention these past couple days. Thank goodness Billy was available to help us all through the worst of it! Today I've been juggling Littleman's needs and a trip to the pediatrician with also taking care of Sweetcheeks and trying to keep up with the rapidly replensihing piles of dirty laundry. Of course the worst initial vomit of this episode happened in the car, on a road trip, with sub-freezing temperatures outside. Not pretty. I guess this is the stuff that family reminiscences are made of! One day, we will tell this tale so we can shake our heads and laugh at our past misfortunes. Right now however, I just feel very, very sympathetic of my Littleman. Before all this began however, we were all having a blast in the snow. Yes, my fellow Atlantans, snow! We finally decided that we will probably not get enough snow this year for Billy to take his boys sledding. (Looking like we may get no snow at all) Billy has been wanting to play in the snow with them every year, and it never quite works out. So this year, we decided we would go where the snow is- without flying, anyway. We went to Beech Mtn. NC, because the Chamber of Commerce there manufactures snow on a hill set aside for sledding. (That way, if we missed out on natural snow, we'd still get to sled). We had beautiful weather and frigid temperatures, and the boys all had a great time. (Littleman definitely enjoyed it more than Sweetcheeks though- a couple of sleds, and Sweetcheeks was ready to go warm up!) Anyway I am very tired, and still have a few things to do before bed. I hope we all sleep well tonight. I will try to blog again soon, so I can write something more interesting. :)

Dust in a sunbeam

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Dust in a sunbeam Current mood: calm Today the house was quiet for a good couple of hours. It was wonderful. Billy took Littleman with him to a couple casual meetings, so when Sweetcheeks was napping I had the house all to myself. The radio was off, the dogs were outside and the most pressing chores were done. After tidying the kitchen a little I took a shower, read and cuddled under the blankets. For some reason I couldn't quite sleep, but just relaxing there and listening to the relative silence was very nice. It's only in these rare moments of quiet contemplation that the normally hidden sounds around me reenter my conciousness- birdsong outside, the creaking of the walls as the wind blows, some voices next door, the highway far off. Though the sun was pouring exuberantly through the bedroom windows, pooling and dripping light from every surface it touched, it's honey warmth was mere illusion- the air was crisp and quite cold, and I wrapped my blankets tighter around me. The birds made a riot of cheerful sound, and it made me happy to hear it because that means Spring is not really so far off now. Lying there, I was thinking about awareness- about really seeing, about being in a place. So much of the time I am consumed with concerns that are abstract, with realities in the future and with the mundane physical aspects of my environment. So much of my life is spent this way, trying to keep up with my responsibilities and conform to a schedule of sorts. So much needs to get done each day, that there is no time left to just be in the day. No time to recharge my soul in quietude. No time to while away with my boys, focusing on what they have to say to me or what little games they want to play. No time to watch the sunlight filter through the leaves, or quietly spend an hour watching the birds come and go at the feeder. No time to inspect acorns or make detailed analyses of dirt, no time to mentally catalogue the curve of Littleman's cheekbones or the shining curl of Sweetcheeks' hair. If it were not for photographs, I'd have no memory at all of huge chunks of the last few years. I feel like these things are slipping through my fingers, yet I am struggling to keep up with all the "real" things I must get done. I try to stop once in awhile to focus, to listen, but it is far, far from enough. I know things will improve as the boys continue to grow, as they get more self-sufficient. But until then, what? Am I losing precious treasure to the bank accounts, meal preparation, endless cleaning, dishes, laundry, running errands, damn tax preparation? To wiping dog feet, sweeping up cereal, folding diapers, brushing the teeth of a screaming struggling toddler? I don't know. I'm not sure it matters much, because this stuff has to be done. What am I to do? The enlightened thing, I suppose, would be to find transcendence in these mundane necessary tasks. Ideally I should find the zen in the everyday. But I'm sorry- it's just not there for me. If I try, I can find it in theory. I can understand the zen of picking up megablocks. But that's sort of an oxymoron isn't it? Transcendence is not about understanding. It is a state of being. Transcendence IS. Transcendence can be found in the dust motes dancing in a sunbeam, but only if you really see them. These days, I don't have time to see. My soul shrivels in blindness. OK, that sounds very bleak. It's not as bad as all that! Luckily, it doesn't take much for me to get a glimpse, if you will. After all, dust is pretty easy to come by in my house! And I seem to have a naturally cheerful disposition that resurfaces easily, like a cork. I have been feeling down for a few days, and I'm sure it's not totally over. But this afternoon, for a little while at least, I watched dust in a sunbeam, and I listened to the birds calling.

egg salad, speechless and the things they say

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

egg salad, speechless and the things they say Current mood: drained I made some excellent egg salad tonight. It all started when I accidentally put honey mustard in rather than dijon. I just went with it, and based my seasonings on what I had going. Turned out quite delicious! Here's what I used, in order of most to least: - hard boiled eggs, mashed up - mayo - honey mustard - grated carrot - sweet relish - minced garlic - lemon pepper - dill - coriander and cumin - sea salt If I'd had it, I might have added minced fresh celery or minced sweet onion. I almost hesitate to mention this, but it still has me speechless. Yesterday morning this was said to me: "I just don't understand what you could possibly be doing all day." (This comment in relation to all the assorted housework chores that don't get done from day to day). Um, EXCUSE ME?? Really, I just don't know what else to say. In their defense, the party in question has been helping out more the last couple days. But it's still awfully depressing. Sigh. However much time they take, the boys do offer little rewards to keep me going. The things they say and do. . . for instance, Driving along, we pass a motel. Littleman exclaims, "A hotel!!" "Yes, that was a hotel." I agree. He informs me, "A hotel is where you sleep if you're not camping." LOL! He'd better be cute, when his favorite phrase right now (I think it even surpasses "Why" at this point) is "I don't want to". Repeat ad infinitum. AAAAARRRGGH!! I just remembered that tomorrow morning is trash/recycling pick up, and I CANNOT forget to put it out tonight. So I'm going to do that right now. Let me know if you try the egg salad!

"my brain feels better"

Saturday, February 03, 2007

"my brain feels better" Current mood: busy "When I wake up from a nap, my brain feels better." Me too, Littleman. Me too.

a quote to ponder

Monday, January 29, 2007

a quote to ponder Current mood: restless "The postmodern notion that reality is only a construct- that we are what we program- suggests limitless human possibilities; but as the young spend less and less of their lives in natural surroundings, their senses narrow, physiologically and psychologically, and this reduces the richness of human experience." - Richard Louv, in Last Child in the Woods: Saving our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder

Post-novel funk

Monday, January 29, 2007

Post-novel funk Current mood: melancholy Brrr. I'm chilly. Whenever I finish a good book, particularly a long one, I am left with a disoriented, slightly depressed feeling. It doesn't matter if it's probably the fourth time I've read it (as is the case now, with Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix), nor if there are more books in the series just waiting for me to read them (as soon as I get my copy of Half Bood Prince back from Aaron). The transition back to normal life never seems to come easily for me. Compounding the problem now is the weather- when it gets cold, all I want to do is snuggle under warm blankets and read all day anyway. I'm glad I did a fair amount of that back when I had the time, because I'm not sure when I'll get the chance again. I read fast, but with constant interruption and having to stop to do necessary things, the book took me a few days to get through. Consequently, I have a lot of minor disaster areas left over from two little boys engaged in unsupervised play. Luckily they avoided anything too disasterous. But I still have my work cut out for me! My return key sticks. I don't remember ever spilling anything on my keyboard. It's very irritating. Geez, I feel unmotivated. By the way, I don't usually like short story collections nearly as much as novels, but I just read a very cool book of short stories by Neil Gaiman. It's called Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders. Any of you that like dark fantasy or unusual, inventive twists will probably enjoy these stories. And I admit it was much easier to finish a book of short stories in my limited, broken time than it is to complete a novel. The stories didn't leave me in a funk, either. Maybe I'll look for more short stories to read. Any suggestions? Oh, PS- my back is better. It hurt for awhile, but I only needed the brace a few days really, and the pain is almost all gone. So I recommend a brace, Tiger Balm, gentle yoga and accepting pain for a little while.

dinner tonight, and coping

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

dinner tonight, and coping Current mood: accomplished Mmmm. I cooked some roast lamb tonight, with sweet potatoes, carrots and peas. Delicious! I admit however, that I cheated- the lamb was pre-seasoned and ready to go, courtesy of Trader Joe's. Trader Joe's is like a much smaller, more selective and somewhat cheaper Whole Foods. They are new to the Atlanta area, and I went for the first time yesterday. I'll definitely go back, though only for select things- most of my shopping list will still have to be found at Publix or Kroger. Anyhow tonight I have enjoyed a lovely meal and the boys at least ate a few bites. (They've been picky lately). Now I am peacefully typing, sipping an Old Rasputin stout and nibbling Drunken Goat cheese. (delicacies left from holiday entertaining). YUM! The boys are watching Shrek. Poor Mr Sweetcheeks has some sort of virus, and I am keeping my fingers crossed that the rest of us don't get it. In the meantime he is cranky and feverish, poor kiddo. Still, it's quiet and I am relishing what peace I can find. I need it, after yesterday and last (sleepless) night with Sweetcheeks. You know, I have really had to relearn my stress-reducing coping mechanisms lately. I remember when I was younger and dealing with children, I was always so patient- I even admired their boundless energy, enthusiasm, experimentation and endless inquiry. It was fun! My childrearing philosophy requires adults to be patient with these tendencies in children, and even to encourage them. (within reason). This is how children figure out the world, how they build brain cells and learn how to interact with other people. It is how they build themselves into well rounded, functioning human beings. However. The reality has often been that my stretched, frazzled nerves simply can't take one more mess, one more question, one more demand. They are only being children- reasonably good children at that- but sometimes, it's all I can do not to scream. I have had to conciously remind myself to tune them out for a few seconds, close my eyes and breathe deep. I have to feel my connection with the Earth, remove myself from the immediate situation and conciously relax my face, neck and shoulders. I have to visualize my miniscule spot in the universe (there is a bumper sticker I bring to mind at these moments, that pictures the whole galaxy with a tiny arrow pointing to one itty bitty spot- it says, "You are here"). I may be the center of my own universe, but in the greater scheme of things my daily struggles will ultimately mean little. I can accomplish more by remaining peaceful than I can in getting stressed out. It just takes specific, careful effort to enact that belief in my daily life. I have sometimes been accused of being cold, uncaring and unconcerned with key things in life. I do not worry about things I cannot change, therefore sometimes it seems I am far too laissez-faire about important matters. There may be truth to this, for sure. (It's not always clear what we have power to change, and what we don't). However. I find that when I try to take things more seriously, I get so scattered and stressed out that I have difficulty functioning. I try to strike the balance so that I remain calm and flexible, while still taking control of what I can and being proactive for positive change. It's not always clear how best to do that, but I do what I can.