Evilly turns all Scully sometimes.
Archive for February, 2010
Monster!
Thursday, February 11th, 2010Homemade Suet Recipe
Thursday, February 11th, 2010I’m making Walter Reeves’ recipe for homemade suet for my winged friends. Don’t want them going hungry in the snow, and i love the variety of birds a suet feeder gives me.
He also has a neat idea for making your own feeder. Not going to undertake that today. . . .
Busy and My Current Happy Place
Monday, February 8th, 2010Things are a little crazy in DogwoodWorld today. Fun stuff like oil change, kid drop off and pickup, dry cleaning, canvassing the n’hood while getting a “run” in (it felt like some kind of Survivor challenge, where you had to put the flyer in each mailbox in the fastest time. Lots of run, stop, run, stop. People gave me some strange looks.
So, posting might be sporadic this week with all the things i have going on (Dekalb education cuts, school newsletter, parents needing help moving big stuff around, Valentine’s day parties. You know. Life.)
In the meantime, think Mardi Gras. Think of wearing the fun Mardi Gras hat. It makes everything feel festive.
Love,
Dogwood Girl
Mardi Gras
Saturday, February 6th, 2010I’m attending a community planning meeting this morning to help save programs at my child’s school. Then helping my parents move some stuff at the new house. Then? Then, Todd and I get to go to our friend Lucy’s Mardi Gras party. Lucy is a Mobile native and they have a party every year. This is our first chance to attend, so we are very excited. Anyone have a great Mardi Gras-themed appetizer or side dish recipe?
And in honor of Lucy’s Mobile Mardi Gras party, i thought I’d post a link to information on the Library of Congress’ American Folklife Center’s website about Mardi Gras in Mobile.
I could seriously spend two weeks straight going through all the awesome stuff digitized at The Library of Congress’ site.
Bossy and Stubborn
Friday, February 5th, 2010This story will not surprise anyone who knows Rollie and me well. Rollie and I? We are just alike in so many ways. We can be a little intense. Focused to the point of obsession about things we enjoy doing. (God forbid you ask us a question while we are reading.) We don’t like to be told what to do. We are brilliant and attractive. (Okay, I just stuck in that last part.) What does this mean?
It means we fight like cats and dogs.
I know it sounds silly that I would argue with a six-year-old, but you haven’t argued until you have argued with Rollie. He really keeps me on my toes. Some days he gets the best of me. Some days he makes me cry. Some days I wonder whether he even loves me.
Last night, though, we got into an argument so absurd that it sent me into a fit of giggles. We were reading a book before bed. One of those Berenstain Bears books from Chick-fil-A. You can say whatever you want about Truett Cathy, but big props to him for not sticking another cheap, crappy plastic toy into the kids’ meals, and instead opting to give kids books. What a novel idea! Get it? Novel? I’ll be here all week, folks.
So, we are sitting on my bed like we do every night. Todd or I will sit in the middle, and Tiller and Rollie sit on either side. We still make a point to read to both of them, even though Rollie can read himself. We figure Tiller needs to get the same amount of reading that Rollie received in his first years. It is surprising how shafted the second child gets sometimes, and the way that the first child will complete tasks, sentences, and answers for the younger one, preventing the younger one from having to learn for themselves. After we read, Rollie will sometimes go into his room and read a chapter book on his own, until we make him turn out his light. (This also is absolutely nothing like me. I swear.) While we are reading with Tiller, though, Rollie will stop us if he doesn’t know a word, and we will define it for him, then continue reading.
So, last night, I was reading along, and came to the word “obstinate.” Rollie stopped me, but instead of asking what it meant, he said, “I already know what obstinate means. It means ‘bossy.'” (It’s always “I already know” with this kid – you can’t tell him anything.)
Me: “That’s great that you know this word, but it actually means ‘stubborn.'”
Rollie: “No, it means, ‘bossy.’ Mrs. Anderson told me so.”
Mrs. Anderson is his teacher, and she is awesome. She is also very smart and I figure that she knows the meaning of obstinate, and Rollie probably just heard her wrong.
Me: “Baby, you are really close to the meaning, but it means ‘stubborn.'”
Rollie: “No, it means ‘bossy’ and I know I am right.”
He got the unshakeable look to his face that he gets. It is a kind of “discussion over, I am not listening to you anymore, finger in my ears, singing loudly” set to his jaw. It kind of scares me. Meanwhile, Tiller is picking up the book that I had set down in my lap and is fingering through it, looking bored with the whole discussion. I realize we might be there all night.
Me: “Okay, well, it means ‘stubborn.’ You just look it up in your dictionary when you get to your room.” (Way to get the last word, Mom, I think to myself.)
Rollie: “I don’t have to look it up, because I know that it means “bossy.””
I am not sure whether the next part is due to my desire to help Rollie learn, or my desire to always be right. Not pretty, but it is probably the latter. I pick up my iPhone and google “obstinate definition.” I click on the Merriam-Webster link that comes up. I show it to Rollie. It reads:
ob·sti·nate
adj.
1. Stubbornly adhering to an attitude, opinion, or course of action; obdurate.
2. Difficult to manage, control, or subdue; refractory.
3. Difficult to alleviate or cure: an obstinate headache.
Rollie: “Well, that’s wrong. I know it means “bossy.”
Me: “Stubborn.”
Rollie: “Bossy.”
Tiller, wailing: “When are we going to finish the book?”
Me: “You’re right Tiller, let’s read.”
I begin to read, thinking about the argument with Rollie, and the fact that it was over the word ‘obstinate,’ and then i get the giggles. I can barely read the words in the book for the giggles, and the kids start giggling too, because how funny is it that Mama can’t stop giggling?
They ask why I am laughing. I tell them, “because it is funny that Mama and Rollie were arguing over whether the word obstinate means bossy or stubborn. Tiller, you can just call Rollie and me Miss Stubborn and Mr. Bossy.”
You can call us that, too. Miss Stubborn and Mr. Bossy.
The Grey Ghost
Thursday, February 4th, 2010As some of you know, I am growing out my gray hair. Now that it is growing out, it isn’t as gray as my stylist and i had originally thought it would be, and the growing out has not been as traumatic for me as I thought it would be. That being said, every time I see someone with a great new do and new color (I’m looking at you, Linda Vallance!), then I get a little itchy to go buy a box of color and go crazy.
That being said, I have gone this far now, I cannot turn back. I feel certain that I will end up dying it again later, because let’s be honest, all it takes is one moment of weakness to fall right back into the vicious cycle. And if there is one thing I am, it is weak-minded.
So, here is your grey ghost update:
There you have it. It ain’t pretty, but it isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I still have my color on the lower half of the strands, and I’m not ready to go short yet, and cut off all the color. But I do like that I said I was going to do it and I stuck with it. So far.
The Bright Side of Puking
Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010Tiller’s got the pukes. It all started Sunday before last, with Rollie having no appetite. Any parent worth their salt knows that when a kid has no appetite for something that they usually scarf down, then you will be dealing with puke within 24 hours. It is a law of nature.
Rollie was out of school five days last week. He had only one puke incident, but then had a fever for six days straight. He felt better on Friday (just in time for the weekend!). Tiller fell sick on Sunday night. Same thing. No appetite, fever, a little puke. Both kids also have a cough with this thing.
This sounds crazy, but I kind of like it when my kids are sick. No, i hate to see them scared or puking, and I hate the getting up two or three times a night to soothe them, and clean puke and change sheets, or to lie awake listening to them cough and worry about pneumonia or freak bacterial infections. Not that part.
But when they are sick, I am reminded how very much I love them, and how I couldn’t bear it if something happened to one of them. I am reminded that I am lucky that they are so healthy. Now that they are older, they don’t want to sit in my lap as often, or snuggle on the couch. I am chopped liver. But when they are sick? They want me, need me, even.
I am reminded of one time when Rollie was sick. He was about 18 months or two years, probably. He came into the kitchen where Todd and i were standing, and he looked just pitiful, and then he started throwing up. He had that panicky look that little kids get when they are vomiting. They don’t understand what is happening to them, and they feel like they are choking, and their eyes are begging you to fix it. Todd grabbed a towel, while I got down on my knees and pulled Rollie into my lap. His little fists were clinging to me, and he was puking all over the both of us, and the whole time it was happening, all i could think of was that there was not another person on earth whom I would let sit on my lap and puke all over me.
I was thinking, There is nothing that I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing.
Sometimes I Miss The Baby Days
Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010
No, I didn’t take this. It was probably my mom or dad. And no, it’s not me. It’s my sister, Lisa. Really reminds me a lot of my nephew Dash, though, so thought i would post it for her.
Also, see that jacket? I am such a packrat that I kept it and Rollie and Tiller wore it, too. You could get tetanus from that metal zipper, but my Mom and I like to live parenthood on the edge. See how she gave Lisa that sucker and made her climb the chair with it in her mouth? I have always wanted to daredevil parent just like her.
I miss those days when the Tills was little and I had a patio out the screen door of my kitchen. Her hair looks better these days, though.
Yes, this post makes no sense at all. None. This is what happens when I start looking at baby pictures. My brain gets scrambled by the cuteness and the nostalgia.
The Last Supper
Monday, February 1st, 2010When Todd and I were in Italy 2002, we made plans to see The Last Supper while were in Milan. (We flew in and out of Milan.) We planned ahead and reserved tickets for it, but the best laid plans are often screwed up by a Museum workers strike. So, we arrived at the church where The Last Supper is located, Santa Maria delle Grazie. The doors were locked up, and there was a note on the door, telling us in Italian and English that it was closed due to the Museum workers’ strike.
We stood on those front steps, and a few other tourists came up to the doors, including a Japanese group. It is always fun to try to converse with people when there is a language barrier. The Japanese spoke no English or Italian. Somehow we managed to explain to them that we would be unable to see the painting due to the strike.
While we were there, this guy came up the stairs. He had a moustache and a t-shirt and he just looked so obviously American. He clinched it when he opened his mouth and a very distinct mid-western accent came out; He sounded like a character from SNL’s “Da Bears” skit.
“What’s going on?” he asked?
Todd replied, “There’s a museum worker’s strike, so we won’t be able to see The Last Supper.”
Midwestern guy: “That’s too bad. . . I had heard that one is pretty good.”