20 posts tagged “life”
Abbey: Mom, I want to paint in the kitchen.
Me: Not right now, honey. Mumma just cleaned up the kitchen and I want it to stay nice at least a little while.
Abbey: But you can clean it again after I'm done painting, ok?
::headdesk::
In other news, I haven't been blogging (or even tweeting) much lately because the kids and I have all been varying degrees of sick over the past week, with Abbey having gotten it the worst. We ended up having to miss my nephew's first birthday party last weekend (and it sounds like they're all sick over there as well). I spent the rest of the week coordinating our joint-exhibit promotion with Imagekind, rolling out the new member list for EBSQ Juried Artists, and then the weekend doing a manual database audit. Fun fun fun! So right now, I just want to revel in my fabulously clean (and paint-free) kitchen table, read my feeds, and drink a cup of cocoa. At least for a little while before I succumb to Abbey's superior powers of persuation.
I've been having a bit of a "day" and have been kvetching about it with a co-worker. She shared the following wisdom:
Just wanted to show off the interview I did with Anne Zelenka (disclosure: she's on EBSQ's advisory board) for Web Work Daily:
http://webworkerdaily.com/2007/10/25/from-the-field-amie-gillingham/
Thanks, Anne!
I am awake. I am productive. My back barely hurts at all.
I am awake. I am productive. My back barely hurts at all.
I am awake. I am productive. My back barely hurts at all.
(wondering how many times I'll have to repeat it until I believe it)
Not having a terribly good day thus far, so to cheer myself up (and perhaps amuse you as well) I'd like to share Abbey's "greatest" made-up joke thus far:
Q. Why did the hippopotamus wake up the grasshopper?
A. To get to the grass!
(apparently, this joke is hilarious if you're 3.5)
Between my two adorable children, I was rudely awoken 7 times in the 6.5 hours they deigned to let me pretend to sleep. And now I am so achy I can barely move (thanks, fibromyalgia.) And I am so mentally sluggish that roughly an hour ago, I couldn't figure out how to make my microwave "go." I've also been very snappish with the children. This does not bode well for the day.
Sometimes I see your face
Stars seem to lose their place
Why must I think of you?
Why must I?
Why should I?
Why should I cry for you?
Why would you want me to?
What would it mean to say,
"I loved you in my fashion"
What would be true?
Why should I?
Why should I cry?
Why should I cry for you.
-Sting
Roughly a decade ago, this song was for me about personal heartbreak, a love affair gone horribly wrong, with me left suddenly alone without understanding why. It was about ache, loss, and defiantly thumbing my nose with false bravery as I tried to muddle on.
I haven't listened to The Soul Cages in a while, in part because I associated it with this time of turmoil. But I was listening to Sting's Songs from the Labyrinth (which I adore even more now than when I first blogged the album) and since this was next in my playlist, I went for it. Finally, we came to the above quoted Why Should I Cry for You. And I listened. Really listened. I still think it's a love song, and about loss. But now, I am wondering if it might be about Sting's dad. How could I have let my own personal crap overwrite something that seems so obvious to me now?
Have you ever hung your personal story on what, in retrospect, seems to be a rather inappropriate song?
Despite the best of intentions, Liam's first birthday didn't exactly go as planned. Which makes me wonder if that's simply how July 19th is meant to go for him. He was supposed to be a VBAC and ended up as a cesarean. An ultrasound the day before his birth confirmed everything looked good and clear and he ended up in the NICU with meconium aspiration for 2 weeks, with me not being allowed to hold or nurse him until he was a good 10 days old. I wanted so much for today to be, well, slightly more idyllic than it was. But it wasn't. He was teething and fussy and wouldn't nap. So I didn't get to do the birthday preparation activities that I had promised Abbey (aka baking a train cake and helping her to wrap his presents). Work was particularly busy today, too, so that didn't help. Since he was wide awake and seemingly happy, we went out for an early dinner and then errands. He was fussy at dinner, and I got to lug his off-the-chart heavy arse around while he drooled and slept on my shoulder at Lowes. And then, when we came home and it was time for bed, again he wouldn't sleep. So he got to play (and fuss) some more, had bathtime with his sister, and then 90 minutes after that, finally fell asleep. And was up again 20 minutes later. And is now, hopefully, asleep for the night.
He got no cake. No ice cream. Nor did we even get to wrap a single present for him (since Abbey has been insisting that she gets to help!) so thank goodness we're having a family shindig (and possible hootenany) on Sunday so we get a do-over on giving the small son a special day. Let's hope not every birthday of his goes like this! While I did snap some pictures today, I think we'll save the picspam for post-party on Sunday.
We were driving home from Abbey's post-op visit with Dr. Pav and lunch when we smelled a skunk. Abbey kept sniffing for it until we couldn't smell it any more. Kept asking if she'd smell another skunk soon. I told her to keep sniffing and let me know. She was quiet for a while after that, and I thought she'd dozed off. But apparently, she was deep in thought. A few minutes later, she chimed, "When I was a baby I had 2 more kitties and they were alive." "Yup," I confirmed. "And now they're dead," she informed me, then added as an afterthought, "Just like that skunk we smelled." Now, we hadn't mentioned that the skunk we smelled was probably dead, nor have we talked about death much, although she does know our one cat was hit by a car when she was a little over a year old. "How did you know the skunk was dead?" Bill asked her. "Because I love animals, daddy!"
Am I overly biased or is my child really precocious in her observations? She never fails to surprise me with her insights, that's for sure!
In other news, after I trimmed Liam's hair, which was getting a tiddly bit mullet-y, Abbey found a pair of scissors and hacked five inches off of her hair. She's lucky I was able to salvage it, although it's now chin-length. Sigh.
Note to Mena: see what you have to look forward to? Congrats! ;)
I was in the kitchen sort of staring off into the space of the backyard when Austin, an overly-hyper, seven-year-old boy who lives next door, started yelling from his back porch for Abbey, whom he always calls, "Abigail."
"Abigail! Abigail, come out here! Hey, Abigail!"
Of course, since the backdoor is open, Abbey can hear him perfectly well and came running into the kitchen.
"Mama, Aidan and Austin are calling me! I have to go outside!"
"In a little while, kitten; you didn't finish your breakfast."
"Oh, but we can have a pic-i-nic with Aidan and Austin," she stated confidently, much to my inner groan. I like the middle child in their family, Aidan, who is about 5 months older than Abbey and very quiet (and nice) when not egged on by the older brother. The sister is about 6 months older than Liam. But something about Austin rubs me a bit the wrong way, ever since he started making very misogynistic comments to Abbey when they first moved in about why Abbey didn't have a pink bike, or why Abbey played with Thomas Trains because they're for boys, or how she shouldn't have a wooden snake toy because it's a boy toy and she should give it to him so she can go play with dolls.
ANYhoo. Austin kept yelling for Abbey, so I stepped out with her on the porch.
"Hey, Abigail's mom! Can we come over to play today?"
I explained to him that Abbey just had eye surgery yesterday and she might not feel up to it. Then, of course, Abbey chimed in, "Today is a good day to ride bikes, don't you think?" ::headdesk:: So then I counter with, "Maybe later after Abbey finishes her breakfast."
At this point, I am about to shuffle Abbey back in the house because Liam is playing unattended two rooms away, when Austin starts shouting (as he's being shuffled back in):
"I love you Abigail, and I'm going to marry you somday! I want to kiss you, Abigail!"
Dear lord in heaven, I knew there was a reason I didn't like that boy! I am so not ready for this, lol.
