DAY 11 Megalodon attack

I could call this day two of vacation bed ...  but let's move on. 
Here is a conversation between my 5-year-old and 6-year-old girls while in the car yesterday.  Unfortunately, I do not have visuals to accompany this post.

6:  What's that?
5:. It's an  'X.'
6: No, it's not.  an 'X' does this, that is a 'K.'
5: Oh- I wanted to make an 'X'
6: What's that?
5: That's my friend Journey.
6: What happened to her?
5: She got attacked by a shark. (very matter of fact storytelling)
6: (excited by this news)  What kind of shark?!
5: A megalodon.
6: A megalodon!  Did she cry?
5: No.
6: NO!  What? What did she do?  (seems pretty concerned about this situation)
5: She just called her mom.
6:  Called her mom!?  No way!  She would have died!  She has to go to the hospital! 
5:  Nope, she just called her mom.
6:  That's not real. Anyway, megalodons aren't alive anymore. (somewhat perturbed by this story)
5:  (nothing to say) (totally indifferent to her sister's rollercoaster emotions)
6: What's wrong with Journey's eyes?
5: Shark bite.
6: What kind of shark? Was it the megalodon again?
5:  No, I don't know,  just a shark, a grey and white one.
6: Grey and white?  Maybe it was a GREAT WHITE SHARK! (very excited about this idea)
5: Maybe, yeah- it probably was a great white. (willing to concede)
6:  What's that?
5: It's a 'Y.'
6: I don't think so, 'Ys' so down like this.  That's an 'X.'
5: Oh, ok. I thought it was a 'Y.'

My question as I was driving was first, "Megalodon? really?" and second- what the heck kind of picture did my child draw?  I know it clearly included another child who had endured multiple shark attacks and a few misshapen letters of the alphabet, but what else was going on? Most girls just draw rainbows and flowers!

Imagination is wonderful. :)

DAY 10 vacation bed

I had a really hard time getting out of bed this morning.  There were a lot of factors at work.  The biggest factor being I AM A LAZY PERSON.  Sure, I've been sick (with a cold) for a while.  I'm tired in general, I'm on vacation, I totally lack motivation, I knew there was nothing I HAD to do, my bed was so warm and comfy.  So, after I did get up at 6:00 and bundle the kids all off to school and daycare, I went back to bed at 7:30ish and didn't get up until almost 11:00.  But, it is still morning, so I can claim I got up this morning . . . 
Sometimes I think I would like to be a housewife- then I have days like this and I think, I wouldn't be so good at it after all- I would just be in bed all the time. :) Now I'm up- I have a list, and here we goooo!

Day 9 work clothes

Did I come to work today wearing blue monkey socks, black sweat pants, a purple tank top under an orange blouse, with a pink scarf and a blue sweater?  The answer is yes. 

The reason is that I just don't care.  I am experiencing my yearly cold/allergies-  which if left unchecked will turn into a respritory infection. 

I'm coughing and snotting, I'm hot and cold, I'm tired and I have a sore throat.  I've lost my voice, which is bad news for a teacher- and I just have to make it through next week to recieve my much anticipated break. 

** counting the days **

day 8 Thanksgiving 2018

Worst 30-day

challenge blogger ever!

I actually totally forgot about my 30-day challenge.  That’s how I am.  (*squirrel*) So easily distracted. 

I had 24 people over for Thanksgiving.  1- 13 pound turkey- fried, 2 racks of ribs-smoked, 1- 12 pound ham- precooked- barely warm-  74 rolls,  3 kinds of cranberry sauce, carrots,  mashed potatoes, broccoli rice (cheese) casserole, spinach casserole, candied sweet potatoes, roasted brussels sprouts, cornbread dressing, and ‘frog eye salad’  all before be started  on the 2 pumpkin pies, pecan pie, apple pie, pumpkin bread, and cookies. All made possible by a bottle and a half of wine- shared by only my sister-in-law and me.

Actually, it was all potluck style- which in my opinion is the only way to host Thanksgiving.  

day 7 tiny shoes

My niece recently lost her son.  He was born way too soon.  He lived only a few hours and passed to heaven from his mama's arms.  She grieves deeply for him.  She grieves in a way only a mother who has lost a baby can understand.  Fathers grieve, and grandparents grieve, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins all grieve.  Friends and other family members grieve with a mother- but a mother's grief is a hole that can never be filled.  It is literally an emptiness inside of her.  It is empty in her womb and empty in her breasts.  Her arms are empty, but her heart is so full to bursting.  It is full of indescribable sorrow that makes her forget to breathe, it is full of anger, and questions and it is so full of love for the tiny person she carried inside her body.   She loved him because he was.  She loved every moment of him.

Then he was gone.  He shouldn't be gone.

He shouldn't be gone.

Today I was at the thrift store.  I saw a tiny pair of baby boy shoes.  They looked new, but they were stiff with age. I wanted to buy them, but I put them back on the shelf.

They broke my heart.

I had a son who never wore shoes.

My grief lives in me.  It's not always raw- as it was at first.  It can still take me down.

He shouldn't be gone.

Michael Eugene Burnham 2.8.16

Day 6 Advent boxes

When all the school supplies were on clearance I had this great idea.  I should get all the kids crayons, markers, colored pencils, pencils, a drawing pad, glue etc and give them an "Art Advent" box for Christmas.  I tell you I am full of excellent ideas that require quite a lot of prep work.  So, I spend much of my weekend sorting tiny buttons and pompoms into project size containers.  I think it will be fun for the kids, and me as I'm *planning* on making instructional videos for most of the projects.  I think each video will be less than five minutes. 

There are many things to do this time of year- I would like to find a good Santa for pictures- ASAP after Thanksgiving so that I can get them some pictures printed and send out Christmas cards earlyish this year.  I always get about halfway through and say 'screw it- I don't even care anymore.'  But- baby's first Christmas and all- gotta make the effort.

Soon it will be time to get out the Christmas tree(s) and nativity sets.  I've got a thing about trees.  I resist getting a big tree (it's always little people with little fingers wanting to touch things and pull them down- I might be able to do it next year.) So- I have full on collection of little trees. It's like a mini forest up in here by the time we're done.  I also collect nativities- I think there were a dozen plus up last year.  I'll clear off the bookshelves and the mantle for them.

I've already got my Christmas socks on.  I start legit Christmas shopping in July.  This is what it's all about.

day 5 FAIL

So- 30 day challenge- who said it had to be 30 days in a row?  Well- probably me.  That was the intention. 

The other day when I realized that I had forgotten to write, after I had snuggled into my bed, before I closed my eyes,  I thought, 'Some people would get out of bed and grab the computer and get to writing. . . some people would do that ... not me (close my eyes).  Never me.'

Then the next night when I realize again that I had forgotten to write again, after I turned off the light, before I had gotten in bed, I though 'Some people would turn the light back on and go grab the computer and get writing  . . . some people would do that . . . not me (get in bed). Never me.'

Oh what would I have written? 

I should have a list so I don't forget my ideas:
Being the dummy in the room
My burden of stuff
Gill Village and government cheese

I'll need to think of more, because at it turnes out, not every day is an adventure.

day 4 midterm elections

Voted.  Talked to the girls about voting.  Maybe they will grow up to be more politically active citizens than their mother.

Going to bed- gotta go to bed- politics wear me out.

Palpable not the same as a papal bull.

day three: pumpkin spice chai latte

I was wandering through the grocery store the other day when I saw on the shelf "Pumpkin Spice Chai Latte Concentrate."

It has natural AND other flavors. 

Now- I'm not always a pumpkin spice gal- but I am a chai latte gal, and this chai concentrate was marked as $1.00.  I thought, 'for $1.00 I'm willing to try pumpkin spice chai.'

So, I brought it home, I poured myself a glass, and I latte-ed it up.  I walked into the living room and announced, "This is a pumpkin spice chai latte." 
My husband said, "You are so white."
I said, "Yup!"
I sat down and took a sip. 
I immediately questioned my whiteness.  I mean, I know what the DNA tests said and all, but this pumpkin spice thing seemed like a pretty legit test of white-middle-class-American-ness.

I wasn't passing the pumpkin spice test.
This stuff was so bad. 
It made me think that possibly everything I thought I knew about myself was wrong. 
But the crazy thing was -I kept drinking it.  I drank it to the halfway point thinking- 'Maybe it will get better,' 'I need to finish this or else I've wasted a glass of milk,' and 'This tastes like a chemical pumpkin threw up in a cup of liquid that was trying really hard to be Indian chai.'

Then- miraculously at the halfway point (maybe because some discerning brain cells and taste buds died) I started thinking, 'It's not that bad.'  'It's only as bad as regular chai concentrate.' 'Pumpkin spice, you don't un-define me!'

Then I thought, 'Wait, what just happened to me?  Who am I?  Who was I before?  Who have I become?  I certainly was not born into pumpkin spice latte concentrate.  Or was I? '

I question now if I can go through all that again for another glass.  Maybe it should be named "Emotional rollercoaster of undefining everything you ever thought you were, then turning it around and reasserting that original assessment of self, but leaving questions about self-identification pumpkin spice latte concentrate."

FYI I am a chai snob, sometimes I gotta slum it. I usually regret it soon afterward.

day 2- the ketchup of God

Little known facts about ketchup- it was originally a Chinese fish sauce- made from the brine of pickled fish.  It migrated to England where the main ingredient became mushrooms-  Later in the American colonies, tomato ketchup became the in thing.  Recipes until the 1850s included anchovies.

Ugh!

Of all things- I have to say anything even remotely fish is kryptonite to me.

Fortunately for me and my fries, ketchup is now blissfully fish free.  But this does answer of my old questions as to why some packaging says "tomato ketchup"  as if there were another kind of ketchup.

How very American of me.

To the point---

My church asked that we bring some nonperishable foods to service today to share with a family in which both parents had recently lost their jobs.  I was looking in the pantry this morning to see what I could share that wasn't too weird, or out of date.  The "New England Clam Chowder" from  2012- nope.  Saurkraut- nope.  Keylime jelly?  Probably not. 

I pushed the ketchup aside.  I picked out some green beans, some pineapple, moved the ketchup out of the way again.  I asked myself-"should I put that ketchup in?" 
Then I answered myself with, "No, I need that ketchup, I'll find something else for them."  I put in some macaroni noodles, pushed the ketchup aside, a few cans of soup, pushed the ketchup aside.

Then I looked at the ketchup again.  It was looking back at me, as if to say, "I think I should go."
I said, "No, you're my ketchup.  I need you.  I'm almost out!"
It said, "You don't need me, you need to learn to give away more than what you don't want.  You need to give things that others need."

I'm all, "Ugh!  Fine!  Get in the bag, ketchup!"

Did that family NEED ketchup?  I'm going to tell myself yes.

More importantly, I NEEDED to be reminded to do what I tell my children to do daily.  LISTEN and OBEY.  I know that if I had a strong, inexplicable urge to do/not do something- it's not really inexplicable.  It's God saying- LISTEN and OBEY.

Even when it's "just" ketchup.

30 day challege

I decided to give myself a thirty-day challenge starting November 1. Obviously, it's already been challenging, since it is now November 3 and I'm just now starting my thirty-day challenge.   Since November is 'write a novel' month I thought a great thirty-day challenge would be to write a blog entry every day for thirty days. 

Thirty days can start any day- so here I begin.

On Halloween day Eowyn said, "Tomorrow is the Day of the Dead."
I said, "Yup."
She said, "So, what are we going to do about it?"
I said, "Nothing."
She said, "Why not!?"
I said, "Because We're not Mexican."
She said, "But, I speak Spanish!"
I said, "Oh- right, so what do you think we should do about it?"
She said, "We'll need orange flowers, some special food and I think we should watch Coco."
I said, "Oh, so what kind of special food should we get?"
She said,  "Tacos."
I said, "I think I can deal with tacos and Coco. Is that enough?"
She said, "Yeah!  That sounds great!"

And so it was- tacos and Coco. 

Then I talked to my students about Day of the Dead they said, it is really two day, November 1 and 2.  So, last night we had a second movie night and watched The Book of Life. 

Maybe next year we can be more on top of things- do a little more research- get some flowers, go to a graveyard- make some sugar skulls. 

Someday we'll go to Mexico to see the celebration.

I dream of roaches

So I had this dream the other night: 

There was a giant (like six inches long) roach crawling on my wall.  I wasn’t scared.  I was kind of mad at it.  It crawled to a doorway, pointed it’s butt to the floor and pooped.  Not a tiny roach sized poop, but a big juicy child size one.  It splatted on the floor. I said, “You better pick that up!”  The roach turned into a boy.    He glared at me, but pick up the poop.  As he walked toward the trash he squished the poop in his hand.  Then he turned around and looked at me and threw the poop down on the floor.

Ugh!

I told D about the ‘magical pooping roach’ dream.  I kept thinking about it all day. What could it mean?  Nothing good for sure- roaches and poop (and bad children) what good could come of it?  I decided to look up the symbolism of roaches in dreams.  There were quite a lot of roach dreams scenarios listed.  Unbelievably, I found this.

https://www.auntyflo.com/dream-dictionary/roach-cockroach

What does seeing a cockroach pooping in your dream signify? Poop is considered as a symbol of cleaning up your life. Therefore to dream of cockroaches and feces denotes prosperity, wealth, and financial security.  A dream where you see a cockroach pooping means that you are going to meet with a gracious and powerful individual who will take care of you together with your family.  Your financial burden is going to be lifted up even though it is not clear what these individuals will want from you.

Followed immediately by this:

Dreaming of a person turning into cockroaches? As symbols, cockroaches can represent dirt and undesirable qualities.  To see your family members turning into cockroaches, it signifies negative energies which could be affecting relationships in life. On a positive, a cockroach represents resilience and longevity. In this dream scenario, this could mean that you are going to be strengthened as a family after facing a period of challenges which will make you to bond with each other and appreciate one another. To see a person change into a cockroach indicates that you need to think of good ideas to overcome problems.

The internet has an answer for everything.

The age of Alexa

Four months ago we turn three rooms in our house to ‘smart rooms’ with Alexa controlled lights. They still have to turn on the lights at the light switch in every other room.

When we got home from church last Sunday we discovered the internet was out.

 WWWWHHHHAAAATTT!!!!???
That’s what my kids were thinking.
They said, ‘Can we use our Kindles?’
I said, ‘Sure, but they aren’t going to do what you want, because the internet is out.’
Them: ‘It will be fine!’
Me: ‘OK’
2.3 minutes later
Them: ‘This thing isn’t working!’
Them: ‘Can we watch Netflix?’
Me: ‘The internet is out.’
Them: ‘Can we watch a movie?’
Me: ‘The internet is out.’ (we only have streaming movies)
Them: ‘We want to call Noni on Alexa!’
Me: ‘The internet is out.’
Them: ‘Alexa, how long is the internet going to be out?’
Alexa: ‘I’m having trouble connecting right now.’
Them: ‘Ugh!’
Me: ‘Go turn on that light for me.’
Them: ‘What light?’
Me: ‘The living room light.’
Them: ‘Why doesn’t Alexa do it?’
Me: ‘The INTERNET IS OUT! Now go turn on the light!’
Them: ‘I don’t know how to turn on the light.’
Me: ‘Yes you do!  Go flip the light switch.’
Them: ‘What’s a light switch?’
Me: ‘That white rectangle right there by the door.’
Them: ‘This thing?’
She looks at me with this disgusted expression on her face, as if to say, “Mother, dare you turn my good upbringing to ruination by asking me to do such a plebian act as ‘turning on a light’ with my own hand?”
Me: ‘Yes! Touch it.’
The lights come on.
Them: ‘Wow!’ Honestly surprised by this turn of events.
Me: Get out of here!

waiting for the locksmith

Yesterday I locked my keys in my car.  It's not easy with a keyless entry system, but I've managed it more than once.  The first time my small children were buckled in their seatbelts and the remote start was on.  Some kind firemen helped me out of a jam that time.  It's a Ford with an entry code which I didn't know at the time.  I got the code, and promptly forgot all about it- until yesterday when I realized that it was also locked in my car.  Useful.

While I waited for the locksmith to come break into my car I was thinking about my first car, my 1980 Toyota Celica. I thought of it because I used to lock myself out of that car all the time.  I learned early on that it wasn't really a problem though because any similar make and year's car would open my doors.  Yeah, it made me feel super secure- any late 70s to mid 80s Toyota or Honda key could open my door.  Yeah, it also solved my problems several times.

After I started thinking about that little key detail, it made me start thinking about all the adventures I had in my first car.

What was your first car?  What adventures did you have?  You should take some time to write it down, or otherwise record it.

I remember my grandfather telling me about his first car.  I don't remember what the exact car was, but it was an early model Ford (of course.)  He said he would have to crank it up every time he wanted to start it. If he went too fast, which he loved to do, the wheels would literally fly off.

Imagine what your grandkids will think of your first car stories.

just a day at the park

I took the girls to the park yesterday. I was sitting on a bench reading a book when two boys about 11 years old rode up on their bikes.  The first one said, “We can’t find our mom.  Have you seen her?” 

I said, “What does she look like?”

The very white skinned, blond haired boy said, “She’s wearing a black and white striped shirt, and she has black hair, and she’s black.”

In my mind: ‘What  ….?!  How …. ?!  Doesn’t matter.’

Outloud: “Sorry, I haven’t seen her.”

Boy: “You haven’t seen her?  She was climbing a tree, and she fell out.  We rode our bikes to go get help.  When we came back we couldn’t find her.  You didn’t see anybody fall out of a tree?”

In my mind: ‘Curiouser and curiouser …’

Outloud: “No, you should probably ask someone who has been here longer. I just got here.”

Boy:  “We just can’t find him.  Well, he’s really our dad. We just say mom because he looks like a woman.  He’s transgender.”

In my mind:  ‘Two very white boys can’t find their black transgender dad who fell out of a tree at the park… where are my children?  Is this some kind of distraction tactic so some  nutball can steal my children?’

Scanning and finding my children playing…

Outloud:  “No- I haven’t seen anything like that.”

Boy: “Okay, we’ll keep looking.”