Last Night

I'm starting to feel the weight of the enormous amount of responsibility that has been thrust upon me. It is hard to be an advocate for someone when I am knocked over from time to time by waves of intense grief at the situation I am standing in.
I've never felt quite like things matter as much as I feel like they do now. It's almost as if every move I make now needs to be fast, efficient because time may be of the essence. I feel like if I don't do a good job advocating for certain things right now, it will be too late to do so and all that wasted time will be on my head.
It seems the more I want things to slow down, the faster they accelerate, spinning into a nightmarish series of events that I have absolutely no control over--as any illusion of control I once had has been wiped away even harder with each new turn of events. Like a mirror with streaks--each swipe of cloth makes more of the streak disappear.
The one thing I do know is that God is in control of this situation. It feels somewhat like walking in on the middle of a chess game, trying to figure out how the players are strategizing. Perhaps I should stop trying to figure it out. In the words of Doris Day...que sera sera?

Either way, I still sort of feel like I'm in that nightmare where you show up for class and there is a test that you forgot you had. Totally unprepared. For almost everything.

(Should I see how many more metaphors I can use here?)

First day of school

Am I late? Did the alarm not go off? I woke up at 5 a.m. on Thursday. I had to be out the door by 6:40. The dogs get excited every morning when I wake up, ready to go outside. Their little toes loudly click on the floor--mocking me tiptoeing around trying not to wake Holden up in my 917 square foot house with the loud echo of their excitement on the laminate floor. I really have to get them to the vet to get those clipped. I am so tired.

From the other room I hear a wail. Holden awake at 5 a.m.? This could be a long day.

It seems like I'm always muttering obscenities under my breath (and sometimes quite loudly--luckily I have no neighbors) at the dogs--because of my large Siberian husky mix I have to go outside with the dogs in the dark cool morning and wait until he is done so I can get him inside or he will dig under the fence and run. I know from experience I can't just leave him one time because it generally ends up disastrous. Usually it involves me in my pajamas with wet hair and a kid in a footie sleeper racing around town futilely before I end up in tears calling my husband to come and help me find the damn dog. I don't use words that nice though.

Holden didn't blessedly fall back asleep as I had hoped he might, so I got him set up with a nice breakfast of scrambled eggs and milk and pulled his high chair into the hall so I could shower. I was feeling extra chipper on Thursday for some reason and didn't wake Tony up to do all those things for Holden so I could get ready.

Things were going swimmingly. Or as swimmingly as one can reasonably expect. It was 6:39 a.m. on Thursday. All I had to do was pick Holden up and walk out to the car--everything was loaded and ready to go. He was the only missing link. Oh, his sippy cup--I better grab him one.

I set him down in the kitchen, turned around to grab his cup and he ran toward the hallway. It will just be a second.* Famous last words of the mother of a one year old.

"Holden?" No sound.

"Holden?" I start walking out of the kitchen. (Door slams shut).

My pace quickens through the hallway to the bathroom door. I check the handle,

LOCKED! How did it get locked? I never lock it!!! And the way to open it is almost stripped and difficult to get open. And the toilet seat is up. Shit!"

Panic rising to my throat I run to the kitchen, grab a knife, desperately trying to get the tiny lock open, yelling, "Holden!"

Silence.

"Holden! Come to the door and talk to Mommy!"

Silence.

Those were the longest few seconds of my life so far.

I start banging on the door and dialing the phone to ask Tony what I can use to get the door open. He laughs when I tell him what happened. I start getting hysterical because I'm imagining the news article about my baby drowning in the toilet. And I can't get in through the window because the air conditioner is still in that window. He tells me to bend a fork, I desperately work the lock. Nothing. Frantically I'm yelling at the phone sitting on the floor on speakerphone,

"Which way do I turn the lock to open it? Which way?"

"Counterclockwise I think. I don't know." Tony says, then becomes quiet as I quickly explain to him that the toilet is open and I can't hear Holden. Holden won't answer me.

"What do you mean you don't know? Is it counterclockwise or not?"

Finally I hear Holden's little voice happily babbling behind the door.

"Holden stay here at the door with Mommy." I start crying and keep working on the doorknob. Holden starts crying when he hears my panicked voice on the other side of the door. Tony is on speakerphone and tells me he is coming home, just as I hear the click of the lock opening.

Thank God.

*Note to self:

Self,

It will never 'just be a second'. You should know better. Put a new doorknob on, lock the toilet, and maybe consider smoking a cigarette even though you don't smoke and haven't since you were a drunk 20 year old. No, because the next day you always felt like crap. And it makes your skin look bad. I can't believe you're 27 already, start taking better care of your skin for goodness sake!

Hugs & Kisses,

Me

what makes me feel beautiful...

Rocking and shushing my crying child at 3 a.m.

My hair falling across my bare shoulders

Sitting on my cement porch steps and watching the sunset

my husband wrapping his arms around me and kissing my neck when I am cooking

walking around the zoo with my husband and son

discussing at length where mommy's teeth, eyes, nose, and mouth are (and having my son point them out)

feeling the hot water of a shower after a long day

wearing big shades while driving

rolling down all the windows and singing really loudly whenever I hear Free Bird

laughing with my friends over good food and good wine

http://www.realsimple.com/work-life/life-strategies/inspiration-motivation/makes-me-feel-beautiful-00000000017777/page4.html

Under the Big Top

I've been juggling so much I should be in the circus.

The thing I find refreshing about older ladies is that they don't feel sorry for you. Most often what I get is an I feel sorry for you look from younger women. And sometimes in women up to about the age of 55. Then women after 55 just sort of shrug and look at you like, I made it through that...I know you can too. They make me feel like I, too, will weather the storm. Of course they have all had different storms than mine--being a single mother, losing a spouse, getting married too young, or being in an abusive relationship for too long.

I never really expect life to be fair (because what is fair, really?), I am not disillusioned by any of what is going on in my life right now. Yesterday my dear husband was asking me what I wanted for dinner and I couldn't answer. I told him I didn't want to think about anything or make any decisions. As I conveyed this message to him, I also said,
"You've known me long enough to know what I like." And he did a perfect job--rotisserie chicken breast and a side of the sweetest sweet corn (fresh) with a little butter.

I suppose the bottom line is that I am a very blessed woman. I have so many things that some others only dream of their entire lives. I guess a few bad things were bound to happen at some point. If I can just figure out how to keep all those balls in the air for a little longer, things will slow down. That's what I keep telling myself but things feel a little bit like they've been spiraling downward all summer. It's exhausting.

All that said I am still looking forward to the crisp air of autumn, to football season, celebrating my brother's wedding, starting school, and enjoying and appreciating my family as much and as long as possible as the shadows get longer and the days shorter.

CasseRole Call

This is unusual and not very much like me to ask for this sort of thing but I could use your help...I could use any (small) casseroles or baked goodies you'd be willing to provide, my dear blog readers. My stepmom is staying at a long term (weekly) apartment-like place that the Kearney hospital provides for family members of people in the hospital for a small fee but I don't think she's felt much like cooking or grocery shopping with my dad in the ICU she spends all her days there.
I just want to make sure she is getting good food because I know she's tired of fast food. I'd be able to help more but I've been running around like crazy. It doesn't help that dad is in Kearney and I'm driving there while taking care of a 16 month old and starting school this week.
So if you have any time or enjoy cooking/baking...I'd really like to do this for her because I know she's stressed out.

After 9:17

Sometimes at night after Holden goes to bed and when Tony is gone I take a long, hot shower with the bathroom lights off and the door open so that a small amount of light filters in from my bedroom. It is very relaxing. If any day needs to be washed off with some hot water, it would be this one.

I had a wonderful time until 9:17 p.m. That's when all hell broke loose. Before 9:17 I was having a fabulous day. A well deserved night out with the girls...we went to a charming small Mexican restaurant that has the best margaritas around (as far as I'm concerned), where most of the staff is actually Mexican, with red booths and darling abstract chandeliers--where when I sat down the waiter said (in broken English).
"I am Miguel, I will be serving you tonight."

I'm willing to toast two large strawberry margaritas to hearing a man say
"I will be serving you tonight" Now all I need is a foot rub.

After the wonderful dinner we went to the movie The Proposal, and I have to say it's been a long time since I walked out of a movie telling myself I was going to buy it on DVD--but I am going to buy this one on DVD.

Then L dropped the other ladies and me off at our cars in the Mazatlan parking lot (she obviously had to drive because of the two margaritas we each downed before the movie). I made it about four blocks before things started going very wrong. My husband had called twice. My brother had called during the movie (phone on silent). Now I know my husband and he would never call me twice while he was watching a baseball game with tickets behind home plate unless he really needed to get a hold of me.

As far as I can gather from each person I talked to--my stepmom, my brother, and my husband...
My dad had a seizure episode that they couldn't control this evening. That means he kept having seizures over and over, which is life threatening because the muscles in the respiratory system are not able to sustain that type of constant contracting for very long--they get too tired. The doctors decided to sedate him and intubate him. When I say sedate I mean it's essentially a medically induced coma so that his respiratory system can get a break from the seizures.
I can feel the pressure rising, I feel like a rubber band pulled too tight. We have no answers. I have several concerns that range from whether it's the swelling causing it (best case scenario), the infection causing it (middle case), or the tumor has progressed into grade 4 (worst case).

I don't even know what to do with myself.
Things were going so well until 9:17 p.m.

http://lifestyle.msn.com/your-life/bigger-picture/staticslideshowrs.aspx?cp-documentid=20738444

Pa Pa

This morning after breakfast Holden kept pointing outside saying,
"Sssssssha! Ssssssha!" (fish)
I tried to tell him that there aren't any fish outside right now, but he was insistent. Then he decided to try a different way of telling me what he wanted,
"Pa Pa!" (grandpa)
"Pa Pa!"
"Pa Pa!"
I told him tearfully that we can't go and see grandpa today but we can go this weekend (as if he has any understanding of when this weekend is.) He was talking about fish because there is a big fish tank at the rehab hospital my dad has been staying. But right now dad is in the other hospital so we won't see the fish when we go this weekend anyway.

The whole thing about Holden asking for grandpa and the fish was completely charming, but sad. He is so sweet.

Landslide

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f46rv5EWbAU

Some months ago I told you a lovely story about how when I was a 20 year old undergraduate at the University I used to go to Pioneers Park, spread out a blanket and lie in the sun to read my assignments. That particular memory got me wondering today:
Does pulling out of a drive thru, parking in the parking lot of Amigos, rolling down the windows of the Caddy, and picking apart a hamburger while kneeling on the passenger seat to feed my child who is sitting in a car seat in the back--does that qualify as a picnic? That's as close as I have come to one in many moons.

And also, he didn't eat the beef part of the hamburger.

Speaking of being a 20 year old--I constantly have the problem that the story of my DH and I meeting is fabulously cute in it's edited version, but I am so desperate to tell the unedited version! Some of you already know it, because you were there when I was at the tender age of 20. Let me tell you the edited version: We were neighbors growing up, he was my first boyfriend in 5th grade, we were leads in the school musical together our senior year and our first kiss was onstage. We weren't really friends in high school but met at a party after high school and decided we should start dating, got engaged, and here we are 5 years later. Cute, huh?

But oh, it was much naughtier (better!) and much more interesting than that my faceless internet friends.

Gosh I wish I could tell you the story. Maybe over coffee sometime, or lunch. But not on the internet, cause this is an open page you know! I may be crazy but I'm not that crazy.

Speaking of crazy, here is part of the conversation I had with my wonderful brother today,
"Did you make an appointment to see someone?" He asked. He was referring to counseling.

"Yes, I did. I have an appointment on Saturday." (I really do).

"Good. I think you probably need it more than anyone I know."

Uh, thanks bro. He actually didn't mean to call me crazy (though that could be the case), he just meant with all the insane amounts of stress I've had (more than most people in a short period of time) maybe it would help. He's probably right.

I know I'm starting to ramble, but it's my first peaceful and alone moment of the day so I'm basking in the freedom to think. Have you ever noticed that when you talk to me (if you talk to me) I have a hard time getting a thought out if Holden is in the room? So when he is asleep it's like a landslide.

Fresh from the Farmer's Market

Recipe for oven roasted zucchini (so easy)

1 medium zucchini
1 Tbsp olive oil
salt & pepper to taste

Heat oven to 375
slice zucchini
put on pan
drizzle each slice with olive oil (just a little) covering slice evenly
salt and pepper each slice
bake for 15-20 minutes or until golden and a little crispy

This recipe is delicious and I don't even like zucchini that much!

Lessons from little ones

I'm feeling a little guilty. It's because when I was pregnant with Holden I mostly subsisted on carbs (read: bread) and oreo flurries (poor man's blizzard). And prenatal vitamins.
So I feel that now, as my child grows, his penchant for bread--plain bread (hey-at least it's wheat) has a lot to do with what I fed him in-utero.

I did learn many lessons from my pregnancy with Holden
1) do not gain 12 lbs. in the first trimester.
2) do not feel guilty if you are physically unable to breastfeed because you had surgery and your kid has an attached upper lip that the damn lactation consultant should have noticed.
3) eat healthy when you are pregnant, you will feel better

There are many more. In my subsequent pregnancy I did eat better--there were no flurries to be seen except those falling from the sky and I gained 0 lbs. in the first trimester. We all know how that ended up, but it certainly wasn't for lack of trying to be a good pregnant person. I really can't lie, I didn't do it so much for Ally as I did for myself. I did not want to feel like a beached whale in the middle of the summer.

In my defense of the carb situation with Holden, when I am pregnant I can't eat any meat. It makes me nauseous to even smell it. At one point with Allison I think I had to leave a restaurant it was so bad (it didn't help that DH and my dad were doing oyster shots--it's as gross as it sounds--a bloody mary shot with a raw oyster in the shot glass).
But with Holden it was just pork and tacos that made me ill. I still refrain from eating pork. And taco seasoning, to my dear husband's chagrin. He says a taco just isn't a taco without the seasoning.

I realize I haven't had a post with any substance in a week. But I feel like my brain is moving very sloooow this week. Sort of like a computer with spyware. Bogged down.
I will try to get a real post up this week.

Midcentury modern

I have an incredibly talented cousin who does woodworking and I'm only posting these pictures for the purpose of showing him what I like so he will make me some nightstands :) So sorry to the rest of you (unless you need something made? Maybe I could drum up some more business for him while I'm at it! He didn't ask me to but I've seen the stuff he does and it is great!)

Two thousand words

Household Rules

I got on MySpace today because I haven't been on in ages. It's sort of like the other day I was in the shower and wondered, what ever happend to Furbies? I always thought they were kind of creepy but they seem to have just been thrown to the wayside, like a discarded banana peel in a trash pile. Sort of like MySpace.

I was looking at one of Tony's friend's wife's blog posts from myspace and came upon this list.
I had to post it here. Since I don't have permission to use her full name I will tell you that her first name is Stephenie, she has a couple dogs, a 3 year old and 2 year old twins (all boys). Enjoy.

Household Rules
1. 2 out of 3 wins.
2. Don't jump on the dogs
3. You can only play with your own penis.
4. Don't throw your food.
5. We don't bite our friends.
6. Don't drink "mommy's juice"
7. Butt or Knees in the chair at all times.
8. Toilet paper is not a toy.
9. Hammers are outside toys.
10. Color only on paper.
11. The hamper is not a motorcycle.
12. The vacuum is not a motorcycle.
13. The dog is not a motorcycle.
14. Neither of the dogs are motorcycles.
15. Your hot dog gets cut up until you go to college.
16. Peeing off the deck is acceptable as long as there is no one below.
17. No feet in the fish tank.
18. Just because mommy says something, doesn't mean everyone can use that word.
19. Nap time is mandatory.
20. Popcorn and watermelon seeds do not go up noses.
21. Don't feed the fish spaghetti.

This too, shall pass.

I sat down last night in my buttery, dark purplish-red leather lay-z-boy, intending to relax and read my trashy novel. Which is about adultery. I don't like it so far but I'm too far into it to quit now. It's a little like reading salacious gossip about people you don't know. I feel dirty just reading it, but that doesn't stop me.

I was sitting in the chair absently knotting my hair with one hand, like one of my college roommates used to do. She was (is) just the cutest little thing, extremely smart and reasonable--in fact, now she is a counselor. About 5'1" with dark brown silky, long, very straight hair. Back then we would sit and talk and she used to take one hand and make a knot in a strand, then the knot would slide out and she would do it again. It took me the longest time to figure out how to do it, and now sometimes when I get nervous or stressed I do the same thing she used to do.

So sitting there all of a sudden I realized (this is Sunday night, mind you) that I can't remember when I last washed my hair. I literally CANNOT remember. But before you think I'm too over-the-top disgusting I have to tell you that I have pretty great hair. It's just dry enough that I can sleep on it and it will look the same as it did (good) the day before. I rarely have a bad hair day, and when I do, it's long enough to just put in a pony tail. I can wear it straight, or on a good summer day, I can wear it wavy/curly as well. I love it. It wasn't so much that I hadn't washed it (because it looked fine, good even) but that I couldn't remember when I had (and usually I keep pretty good track of such things as personal hygiene). I can't wash it too much because it gets really dry, but I did think not remembering was a bad sign. Could have been last Thursday, I'm not sure.

It may also have to do with the fact that nearly every time I shower I have a kid standing in the pack and play (pulled into the hallway so I can see him through the open door because the little escape artist has started trying to climb out) screaming bloody murder. Sometimes when Tony is here alone with him in the morning I wonder why he hasn't showered by the time I get home in the afternoon. I shouldn't really have to wonder though, I already know the answer.

I washed my hair today. Nevermind that it is 80% humidity and 80 degrees. Now, when I said that my hair is wonderful/awesome I meant when I actually do it. That means either blowdryer or mousse/scrunch/curling iron. That does not mean take towel off hair, let dry. Ha. Today it looks similar to a brillo pad because that is exactly what I did. You know I don't want people around town saying I "let myself go" after I got married.

But seriously? I'm sitting here home alone with a one year old and three dogs. And no car, because we did some really poor planning this weekend. Believe me when I say--when I was single, and young, and used to spend $40 a weekend on booze (I'm a cheap drunk) and movies and dinner--that I never ever thought in the future washing my hair would be the highlight/lowlight of my day (pardon the pun).

Of course I wouldn't trade one day with my wonderful son and husband for all the weekends I spent languishing in bed, at a bar, in a restaurant, or in a theatre. But I enjoy looking back and thinking about those easy and carefree times in my life.

I walked to the corner store today (GASP-walked? on the highway? with a stroller?). I know, there is no other way to get there though. In villages I guess there are very few rules that govern the building of sidewalks. Or funds to do so. In fact, there are very few rules period. That is why there are trailers in the middle of town (yes, the metal kind) right next to regular houses. I think that is so weird. I walked out of the gas station pushing the stroller with my 32 oz. Diet Dr. Pepper in hand and rounded the corner before I took a long pull from the straw. Like it was booze and I was raiding my secret stash. But the humidity was 80% and I was on a walk (I can walk again with relatively little pain!).

And I was thinking about what Tony said to my Pastor when we ran into him before church, after dropping Holden off in the church nursery. The Pastor asked how we were doing and Tony said, "Ready for 2009 to be over." And the pastor said, "Don't wish it away." I don't know if my DH heard the Pastor say that or not, but I got to thinking about it today.

These are good times. They are bad, but good too. Holden will only be this age one time, and we may or may not get another shot at raising a kid so we should enjoy it while we can. He is an absolute delight and I don't want to wish these days away--even though all the other stuff is hard. I don't want to wish away these days with my dad, because even though I feel a little hopeless sometimes when I leave the rehab center, I know that his days may be much fewer than I had hoped. Holden may not be able to remember him when he gets older, so we should spend as much time brightening dad's days as possible. I won't have the freedom of staying home forever, so I should cherish it now.

The days are long, but the years are short.

Neuroses

Top reasons my dear husband thinks I should see a therapist.

1) As I explained to DH, every time Holden is with a sitter (my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, any person whatsoever) I worry that the person will give him hard candy, a hot dog, grapes, or the like and he will choke. And/or I will be there and not watching when they do this and they will come running to me (the one who knows CPR & the Heimlich) and I will watch my baby die. I know this is crazy. And extremely unlikely, but I still think about it every time.

2) Very similar to the prior imagining is this one: Babysitter will give Holden nuts and he will be allergic and go into anaphylaxis. Or get stung by a bee (and again, the anaphylaxis). Or maybe he will eat something with e-coli or salmonella because they give him undercooked meat.

3) I have a strong fear of death of loved ones. I think mostly because it has happened in the past and it sucked. And it will happen again in the future. Like DH said, it's inevitable. It just seems like it's happening a lot to family members while I am still at a young age. But I guess everyone is too young when they die. Unless they are over 100 and they die in their sleep. I think that would be ok.

4) I have severe abandonment issues because my mother killed herself. That type of death carries with it the fact that the person chose to leave. In effect, abandoning me. Thus the issues.

So those are the worst of it. I think that those are all pretty valid things to think about when I have been so close to pretty traumatic deaths. So I guess the question is: When do thoughts and feelings cross the line from neuroses to diagnoses?

In my defense, I still allow Holden to be babysat all the time. And I mean all the time (usually at least once a week or once every two weeks) . And at least I know I have abandonment issues, and I try to compensate by realizing that no, my husband is not going to leave me, and my family is not going to leave me by death or otherwise if they can help it.

And the fear of death thing comes from facing mortality, even feeling it. For example, feeling Allison moving when she was alive and then feeling her stillness. Feeling her death was something that I can't forget. I can't shake it. It's been there everyday since the Monday I last remember feeling her move. It's sort of like that last impression you have of someone. That's why I hate going to funerals with open caskets. I like the last impression to be good. And with Ally it was. We were lying in bed talking and I could feel her kicking. I reached over and grabbed Tony's hand for him to feel it. He felt my belly for a little while and then we shut off the lamp by the bedside and went to sleep. That's the last time I felt her.

We ordered her headstone yesterday. It wasn't too bad. A little closure for a very open wound.

The last few days have felt really good. I was driving today with the windows rolled down and enjoying the feeling of the wind and my longish hair on my bare shoulders. The summer has gone too fast and I'm trying to savor the last few days of freedom. Like a little kid who doesn't want to go back to school, I've been trying to pack in as many summer activities as possible. I even started a new beach read book but as I was buying it I already felt a sense of it being too late for beach reading because the summer is nearly over. I try to only read trashy novels in the summer because I can call them beach reading and get away with it.

All day long I was enjoying my day alone thinking funny, self-deprecating things to say on my blog and I sit down to write and not a one comes out. I am often silently scolding myself when I go out in public because I wish I would have brought my laptop so I could write down the funny thing I thought. I suppose I should save some things for the book though.

the book?

Fortuitous Click

Okay, if you happen to fall into one of these categories do not click on the link. 1) we are related in any way and/or 2) you are easily offended. Consider yourself warned. And I know I just made you want to click it even more, but seriously, don't. This is directed mostly at my wonderful brother who sometimes reads my blog.


http://fortuitousclick.blogspot.com/

Please excuse our mess (part two)

I think I'm having an anxiety attack. Not a really really real one, but a slight one. The kind where you have to coach yourself to just breathe.

I'm not sure why but I'm freaking out about every little thing lately. Like my dear husband wants to buy a freezer for $75 and it's wigging me out. For no good reason, since we can afford it. I just don't want to afford it. You should see my garage--well you can see it in the photo. Does it look like I have room for a damn freezer in there? I need to have a garage sale but I don't have time to have one and I can't move furniture at the moment (the knee thing).

Just breathe.

Don't even get me started on the basement. It was supposed to get cleaned sometime in March (I think I posted about it, do you remember?) I'm not going to post a picture because I'm sure you get the idea from the looks of the garage. I don't know why I have so much crap in there, I hate clutter so it doesn't make much sense. It's funny because whenever my dad walks (walked) into my house he says, "Where did you get this messiness gene from?"

The funny thing is that he essentially built a two stall garage in the back of his new house to store things. What things, I don't know. I always try to tell him I get it from him, but he doesn't believe me. I do have a definite propensity toward being a pack rat even though I try really hard not to. I just can't say no to something free. Although you should be proud of me because I did turn down a free piano last week. Amazingly.

I don't know if people think we're poor or if they just know they can pawn stuff off on me because I can't say no to freebies or what. Maybe both? I do think that Tony's family doesn't understand that we're not poor, I am just very very uh, frugal. I get that from my dad (which may also explain his pack-rat ways).

Also, the other picture is my cabinets half-painted because my mother-in-law got so tired of looking at the unfinished ones (see bottom half) (top half doors are painted but not on yet)that she came yesterday and painted them herself. Apparently unfinished projects bother her...but I can leave mine for years. Although it is refreshing when they are finished (or close to finished)(photo of my front flowerbeds).

Final picture is my sweet boy on our new (used/given to us by stepmother) leather furniture. He likes the suppleness of the leather, not that he can make the chair rock. Really. He is an enigma of a little man who can appreciate nice furniture (oooooo....aaahhhhh!!) and then dump some milk on it the next minute. So darn cute (except the milk thing).

I'm feeling better already.

p.s. the couches and chair are the kind of freebie that I love. I don't love the reason my stepmom was giving them away but I think she gave them to us in particular because for many years (like 5 or 6) in Dad and T's old house he made everyone use a couch in the family room that he bought for $2. It was sort of a cross between avocado and lime and about 8 feet long but the most comfortable couch ever.

Anyway, she knew that I refused to buy a new couch (the old green, dog smelling one I mentioned in a previous post). So I think she wanted us to have a nice one and not repeat history (however wonderfully frugal it may be).

p.p.s. I also got a free oak rolltop computer desk last week that I will post a picture of later.

p.p.p.s. My dear husband told me I sounded stoned in my last post.

The laundry fairy (and other suburban legends)

Once at a party my husband, talking about how the chores are divvied up at our house said,
"I just throw my dirty clothes downstairs and they magically reappear clean and in my closet."

Yeah, that's how it happens.

I think the laundry fairy is a tiny but incredibly strong flying fairy that emerges from the same Magical Maytagland where all the socks disappear. I like to imagine that in addition to the fairy in magical Maytagland there are also the evil sock-stealers that look much like the little gnome in my yard (only tiny) and I have at some point broken the 3 important rules with the little sock stealers: they must never see sunlight, must not ever touch water, and must not be fed after midnight (because of course they are like little mogwai). And they live with the laundry fairy in a beautiful lavender dryer-sheet scented area somewhere in the dryer vent tube.

I need more sleep. Lots more. Last night I think Holden had night terrors and I was dreaming of terrorists (for realz) they were trying to kill my family while we were at a church event by bombing us.

I can't lie, I would like to take a muscle relaxant and go to sleep right. now.

If you need me you can usually find me either knee deep in laundry or holed up in my room on the laptop. And someday I'm afraid that the little gnome-mogwai-terrorists will finally succeed in their plot to steal my peace of mind one sock at a time...





(And no, I did not already take a muscle relaxant.)

This last picture is after I got my hair done and slept on it. The highlights are not quite as light as I'd like. Ah well, I guess it's good because the less damaged it is the longer I can grow it out. The other ones of Holden are him sleeping in his new car seat on the way to Kearney. I was driving as I took those.

Safe, I know.

I'm still pretty down about all the stuff with my dad, I cry every time I leave the hospital. I hope it starts getting better soon. I think it might be unlikely, but I'm still hopeful.

On a good note we did get the front landscaping rock put in (finally) at our house. After a year of only black tarp down it's looking much nicer. And the top picture is my garden gnome: A little creepy but I believe necessary for every garden. Even a rock garden like mine. I tried to figure out how to move it away from the normal pictures but I am not technically advanced enough to figure it out at the moment.

So you get creepy/cute garden gnome first and then sweet sleeping boy and then me (with no shirt on?). Remember the 80's tube top in which I like to work on my tan? Well as you can see I am not tan, but I like to imagine that someday it could happen. Obviously I'm halfheartedly still working on it (did you notice the picture was taken inside not outside?).

Hope everyone is having a good weekend.