It's okay to be quiet.
When the rest of the world is screaming
pointing fingers
slinging words like daggers.

no need to defend
actions I never took
silence making the case
shaping the way it will be after

I can't account for what you hear
I haven't limbs to reach that far
toxins built a wall
behind which I now retreat

walking away
sad but relieved.
It isn't that I can't hear the screams
I just allow for the quiet.

Fall

Can't sleep. Too many leaves piling up making a mess of me. Wish I could shake my head like a tree and watch them flutter to the ground. Even if I had to rake them up again just to jump and frolic triumphantly for being rid of them. Maybe then the wind could carry them off to become part of the world again and the sound of them tumbling down the street would send me softly back to sleep. Where I belong in the first place...if it weren't for all these leaves.

Night out

Dinner with the hubby is a good albeit expensive thing. Worth every penny to spend time with the man I hope to be with me.til the.end.of.our.lives.  more of that work on just us. Its a good thing.

The battle of the stomach icky.

A family of sick people is a sad sight to see. Jockying for the bathroom, falling in and out of conscienceness, erraticly moaning in discomfort. Its tolerable when it is one or two family members but when it is the bulk of the crew, things get a bit dicey.
For me... I am glad the worst is over. Hopefully tomorrow will find me doing household chores again. As Mich disdain as I have for doing them, the lack of cleanliness from said sickness has, after only a few days taken its toll on my feelings of comfort. 
I plow forward, bravely. Into the sea of bed linens and laundry. The pile of dishes and vast expanses. Of un-mopped floors a conqueror of all I survey. Will there be other debilitating sickness??? I assure you there will be. But we will forge ahead with he knowledge that we can come to the brink of defeat, throw up on favorite toys, piles of towels used to dry children from their third baths of the day to rid them of their own sick, and emerge triumphant. To fight another day!

Blegh

The whole family is now sick. Accepting of course my youngest who infected us all. We are strewn about the living room watching movies and moaning in discomfort. It is a sad sight. And it has no humor to be found nor energy with which to share.

Just thoughts

Being in love is awesome. I find it to bw one of the most important things in life. I was recently talking to a friend of mine who is having a rocky moment in her marriage. It is common to have tough spots and bumps in the road but that does not make them any less painful.
I have explained my thoughts on how we should regard our spouses before now . My children will grow up, move away, and start families and lives of their own. If I don't work on the relationship with my spouse and make that the most important thing in my life, what will we have when the time comes and it is just the two of us?

I still screw up. I still make my spouse feel bad sometimes. But I am trying to remember how important he is in my life. Often we put so much of our time and energy in to raising our children we forget about the one other person whom we CHOSE to muddle through this crazy world with. I love my kids. I love them more than breathing but my husband is my life. My love. My world. And I love him with no reservation, no protection, no withholding. It is the only way I can figure will work.
Has he hurt me? Yes. Will he hurt me again? Hopefully not in the same way but, yes. Is it worth it? Absolutely. 
So cherish your spouses. Make them know how much you love them. Show them that they can trust you with their hearts, flaws, fears and successes. Because at the end of the road, if you are lucky, they will be the ones holding your hand.

Barf

After a very long night with a very sad little barfing 4 year old I am rendered fruitless of words.
Imagination robbed of life. I pray for sleep. With me luck.

Some folks are still so dumb.

What is wrong with people today. I had a young man come to my house to spend time with my teen aged daughter. He was a very clean cut very nicely dressed very polite young man. The whole time he was in my home he was a delight. Playing with my younger children, helping to make brownies, laughing and conversing with the family. I had quite a bit of interaction with this young man. After a while, he turns to me and says, "I was so nervous to come over here"
I asked him why.
To which he replied honestly, "When I go to a new house...a white folks house, they don't like me cuz I am that big Blake guy."
I didn't know quite what to say. I just told him he was always welcome at my house.
I cannot believe in this day and age people are still see color of skin in that way. I can not understand the lack of reason. Hating someone because they have dark skin or light skin or a turbin or almond eyes is stupid...period.

Relaxed

There is something to be said for spending a couple of days just lazing around and doing nothing. It happens so rarely these days. It is a healthy exercise we have adopted recently. This world is so full of hurry, full calendars, places to see and things to do. Really letting things slide and taking those moments to reflect on what is really important is a precious commodity. Not our things, not our accomplishments, its not the money in our bank or how good we look in our clothes but the relationships we surround ourselves with. They are families we create for ourselves. The ones we choose. It is good to smell roses but far better to love reckless abandon. Whole hearted love to which we devote sleepy days with no agenda, no calendar no money to make, places to see or people to meet.  Just us, our thoughts, our little piece of the world.

Oooops

Spent time with family being silly and staying out way too late. No blog yesterday.  boo

How many days did I say I would blog in a row?

What is it about sleep that makes kids insane? It is hard to understand why they fight so hard to away awake. Throwing their little bodies on the ground, screaming and flailing about, they wear themselves out eve n further. Exhausted and wonky bonky their little bodies fight epic batales with their minds resulting in a display perplexing to any adult.
When do we loose this passion about staying awake?
Such an exhaustive battle renders me thought deprived and out of ideas for sharing.

A sad day

Today on the news there was a story about a father who caught a man sexually assaulting his four year old daughter. He then beat the man to death. The debate being had was weather or not this father should be prosecuted for this monsters death.
I think if the punishment for abusing children was that the father of that child then got to beat the perverts till they were dead, maybe it would detur some of them from acting on their urges. How could any person not defend what this father did. That child will never be the same. Forever changed.
I for one feel this father is a hero. I have a four year old little girl. If anyone ever dis anything evil to her I would do exactly the same thing.
What is wrong with this country when we worry about the rights of someone who is stealing the rights of children. That pervert deserved what he got if not worse. I applaud that father defending his child for a child is unable to defend itself so the parent must do it. Would anyone have a problem if the child had been the one to fight off the disgusting monster and ultimately have killed him? I say a parent defending his child is the same as self defence and no one has the right to say he can not defend himself or his child.

Forgotten

I almost forgot to blog today. If I had waited just a bit longer it would no longer be today. Im sleepy. There is a pile of thoughts rattling around like leaves in my head but to try and make a viable pattern of them could prove impossible. I have been contemplating some forms of artistic outlet. I have an interest in learning to work with glass. Blowing glass and leading it. I am curious how one goes about learning the art.
(I love statements like that. When the sentence is a declarative  but the question is implied. It tickles my geek fancy)
So I guess for tonight, all I have in me are questions. I will, however, be sure to keep the blog posted about whether or not I find a way to learn glasswork.

Im sitting alone in my favorite rocking chair watching a movie based on a novel by Hunter Thompson. Sometimes when I read his work or watch some movie based on it I am transformed inward. Not being a drug addict, I suppose I find fascination in his capability to understand or rather to disect the situations in which he finds himself. How is it possible that someone who consumed the amounts of drugs and alcohol that he did could be so adept at describing the core of the world around him. Not the surface, all shiny and prepared for consumption but the underbelly... The pieces no one wants to show.
What might he see if he me t me? How far might his insight cut through me? I guess I will never know but maybe, just maybe I will someday be able to channel just a bit of his insight and take a hard look at....me.

The end of a lazy day

At the end of a lazy day like today, I am faced with my own conscience. Am I the reason I have the lack of freedoms I find so offensive. I see all around me the life I am leaving for my children. How I am leaving them with less than I had as a child. Less innocence, less monetary value, less childhood. There is a direct disconnect between what I believe and what I am willing to die for. I am constantly horrified by what evils the United States is willing to be involved in. We can not hope to help our children to become less brain washed by the world around them. It is a complacency I see and rebuke but can not see a viable end to. Help is unwashed and unable to be heard. Let us teach our children to problem solve, to think for themselves, to reject what they are served on a platter and to confront the reality with which they are served. I am hoping they will feel empowered rather than enslaved. Given the power to enact real change rather than to just bow to the power that is.When will we have enough? When will we say I will not bow? When will we fight, to the death, for the things we believe in? Is it time?

Little Talks

<p>I love having one of those "get to know you" conversations. You know the kind. Where you have known the person for a while but didn't know those intimate details that make up ones past or the little quirks that only appear when you dig past the surface and peer at the person underneath. I enjoy the little surprises and quirks which feel like secret treasures only shared with a select few. I love listening to someone talk about their childhood and where they come from. They will almost always relate it to the person they are today and how they came to feel a certain way or think a certain thing.
It is such a high for me when I discover I like the person more after the discovering. I really believe when we break through each others shells we connect soul to soul and the experience changes the way we see the world, the way we see ourselves and the other person. Its the interpersonal connections we make that shape us and make us who we are.
I have heard from time to time that we never meet the same person twice, that our experiences change us so that when we meet again we are transformed. I feel the truth of this statement after a talk like that. Such is the wonder of human contact.
What will we be like tomorrow?

Good Night and Good Luck

Aaah We have come to the end of a very long day. I slowly climb the stairs to my second floor, check in on my children, then a well deserved shower to wash the days toils off my back. With Nora Jones singing softly from the speakers, I crawl into one of my husbands giant shirts and onto our bed. The shirt smells vaguely of him and I pause to embrace it. Cheesy? Yes. Silly and girlish? Double yes. But as he is still working nights I do what I can not to miss him.
Today was my children's last school day of the year. I remember the sheer joy and heady intoxicating feeling of freedom I always felt as a school girl on days like this. The summer ripe with possibilities.  I hope my kids feel something like that tonight as they lay their heads down. Dreaming of what the next months might bring.
In preparation for my oldest leaving her high school for another, more college friendly one, we decided to throw her an end of the year party. We have been busy little worker bees baking cupcakes, decorating the house and cleaning all the little forgotten corners who's dirt seem glaring obvious when expecting guests. With all the excitement and planning, I am truly exhausted and bid the nebulous of cyberspace goodnight.

(I am including a photo of our baking masterpieces)

Nights

I assume if I lived alone with my children I would be the most booring person. It is now 9 o`clock. The doors have been locked, kids put to bed, lights out and I have retreated to my bedroom. If my husband were home, we would be having some interesting conversation or watching a movie or having a glass of wine. When he is gone, I find I watch mindless drivel on tv and have less than intellectual conversations. 
I miss him when he works nights. I suppose it is just further proof he makes me a better person. (But don't tell him. I don't want him to get a big head)

Ha ha, two posts in the same day. It is so like me to jump in with both feet and then fizzle quickly. I will try to avoid the latter but, only time will really tell.
I just put the left over dinner in the fridge. It was so yummy today. I made stuffed yellow and red peppers. They were so good. I filled them with sausage, spices, onions, zucchini, Gorgonzola, mozzarella, Romano and Parmesan cheeses with just a touch of tomato sauce. I tucked the filling lovingly  into each halved pepper and laid them in a bed of yet more tomato sauce. Topping each capacious little pepper with Alfredo sauce and yet another layer of cheese I set them in my preheated oven and let the little beauties bake until the tops were golden brown and delicious. And delicious they were my friends...delicious they were.

My husband says I have to write every day. At least something, which is funny because about a week ago I was touting the same thing at him and declaring that all my musings need not be funny or well written or even interesting as long as I sit down to do it. So here it is, for one month, starting today, I will write. Every day, at least something.
Today my thoughts are with a friend who is taking a long journey. She is leaving her husband, newly rented house and roommates for two and a half months. I did laugh as she compiled list after list of things the three men she resides with will need to accomplish on their own while she is gone.   She has reservations and fears but plows ahead anyway. She is, in my opinion, brave to take such a trip. I love her dearly and hope she finds fun and adventure.

Who is to say what is funny? I seem to have a corner of the head-space  which is funny to some and suffusive with loathing to others. I myself can not seem to decide how funny am I really. An objective perspective, being an impossibility, causes me to ponder the relevance of my query. Silly I guess, in my own head so I find the asking as funny as the barrage of answers my mind wanders to.
Today's bemusement? A woman's dress. Too large a woman or too small a dress? The argument can be made for both. The breasts having long ago given up their roundish shape for a more lengthy version with gravity to blame, are tucked ever so unceremoniously inside or rather just behind petals of fabric too low to be of any consequence. A torpedo effect having been the only fathomable objective in choosing such a frock. Short and full at the bottom bringing the eye inexorably back to the unflattering bosom.  I can only wonder what she must see when she dons her garment and gazes back at herself from the mirror. Surely it cannot be what I see. Alas I take mental note and relay now to you...shaking my head and wondering.

If you can't find anything nice to say, maybe it is better to say nothing at all.

Butterflies

Being a mother is the most thankless job there is. With all the cleaning, laundry, toilet scrubbing, cooking, homework helping, child taxiing it is easy to be overlooked and harried. Often the day leaves mothers without eyelashes, smelling of vomit, and sore to their bones. Now and again those children to whom we pledge our thinness, sanity, and time reward us with something so special it makes all the rest pale in its glorious light.

Last night my three (almost four) year old daughter came staggering into my bedroom amidst desperate cries of "I gotta go pee!"
Upon my waking to this I simply replied, "Then go."
To which her hasty rebuttal was "My pants are wet!"
She was so upset she had peed a bit in her pants. I turned on the light and she finished her business in the bathroom. I moistened a wash cloth and washed her off finishing with clean panties and jammy bottoms. I sent her to bed. Her mood had somehow shifted though. She was suddenly sweet and grateful. She, upon noticing her father was at work and not in my bed, asked if she might be allowed to sleep the remainder of the night with me. She made sure to ask if she could sleep on her fathers side of the bed.
"Of course" was my retort.
Being up and moving around I decided to use the facilities myself.
When I returned to the bed I found my little girl snuggled up in my bed. Her head upon her fathers stack of pillows looked like a tiny doll. I crawled into the bed with her and found her little limbs and feet freezing. We cuddled up with each other enjoying the instant warmth of our combined heat. We both, after getting nice and warm, started to doze.
Without opening her eyes, she asked in a gentle voice, "Are you thinking about butterflies?"
I was struck by the question. An instant smile to my face appeared. I took a beat to answer. Thinking it over, I decided I was now thinking about them so it would be appropriate to answer in the affirmative.
In faint light of the unlit room I could see her beautiful face. Eyes still closed she had a look of contentment. Our conversation flitted around wings and flowers and caterpillars all the while her little face remained angelic. Contented and happy she declared her love for me and I for her. Sleep soon followed.
Of all the work and days toils, I couldn't think. Only the little priceless moment I had the pleasure and fortune to witness. Nothing in this life is as momentous as the tiny intimate exchanges mothers experience with each child.