Guide to a Sleeping Mother – Addendum

I’m very sorry children.

If, in the last week, you have lost life, limb or been sentenced to an eternity of floor mopping, you have my apologies.

I forgot.

I forgot the thing above all other things you must never do to a sleeping mother.

Do not ever touch her face!

I learned this lesson myself the day I tapped my mom’s forehead to wake her up.

It is true that tapping her head work her up.Still Sleeping

It’s also true that to this day she yells at me for the time I woke her up by tapping her forehead.

Children.

Do not tap.

Do not gently pat.

Do not set paper snowflakes on eyelids

Do not, under any circumstances, lightly brush your fingers over her lips or eyes.

And, most importantly,

Never. Ever. Put your finger up her nose.

Ever.

Just don’t.

I can not guarantee your safety if any of these things are done to a soundly sleeping mother.

Apologies again for the late warning. I’m pretty sure that had I gotten just five more minutes of sleep last week, I would have remembered to tell you.

P.S. You should thank Jane for “reminding” me of the horror that is sleeping face touching, because heaven knows I didn’t.

In case you missed it here is last weeks Guide to a Sleeping Mother.

 

It’s Only Paint

The office walls were ugly and dirty with a spattering of holes and scratches. The fresh gallon of paint was sitting right there on the floor and every time I thought about actually painting I shrugged it off.

It’s only the paint, it’ll be fine.

Finally I did seize the day, crack open the can and faced a few truths about myself and painting projects.

1- When faced with a large dreaded project, I will abandon all other “to do’s” when inspiration strikes. Sure there were 5 million more important things to do than change the color of the office wall, but I might have gone on hating the walls for another year had I not just dove in on a whim.

2- When diving into projects on a whim, I’m never well prepared, barge along anyway, promise myself I’ll do better next time and never do. I had paint already, so what if I was lacking sufficient painter’s tape, a full sized roller or sand to add a bit of texture to the flat walls. It’s a little room, it’ll be fine!

3- When attempting projects with insufficient preparation, it’s never as “fine” as I think it will be. I took my tiny roller and began.  …updownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdown… Until I reached a bit of un-taped trim. …up…down…up…down… “This is fine,” I told myself, “It’s a small room,” I told myself. Then I looked back and …updownupdownupdown… went my tiny roller over the area I’d just painted. Perhaps you have noticed how the ends of a roller have a tendency to leave an extra thick line of paint if you aren’t careful. I have now noticed that when your roller is a quarter the size it should be, that means you end up with approximately 376,000 times more lines on your wall. I did say I wanted texture…

4 – The beautiful post and beam construction of our house was just as big of a #*%@ to paint around as I feared. The office is a small room, with three doors and a window, which is by itself a bit of an edge-work headache. Add to that three corner posts, one with angle braces headed to the ceiling and three beams along the edge of the ceiling and you have transformed a small room into a painting nightmare. Also, you can’t just wipe paint off million year old re-purposed beams like you can nicely sanded and varnished trim. Scrubbing with dripping wet clothes and swearing will only mange to reduce your “oops” to a light colored smear.

5- Kids and animals will not help the painting process. No.  Instead, just when you crack a can of paint they, who were previously missing, will swarm. Asking to help, asking to go outside, asking to be pet, investigating painting supplies and trying to touch walls. Even when banished from the room dogs will still need to go out – and inside, kids will still get into fights, homework will still need help and dinner will still need to be put on the table. So basically it’s just like normal, but with paint. Also on normal days when cooking dinner in the crockpot I don’t accidentally turn it off half way through. “Leftovers!” continues to be an unsuccessful battle cry for me.

6-I will make a mess. I will drip and smear and think of my grandpa who told me when I was painting for him that he was going to charge me for every drip. Please don’t charge me Gramps! I’ll never get the kids through college if you charge me for all these drips. It already takes me twice as long to leave my paint contaminated area (of course it’s covered in an insufficient amount of drop clothes) as it should when I’m covered in drips, I don’t need to be punished again.

7- The kids will, somehow, in someway, wreck something. Poor girl, it’s not really her fault. She’s only four and she just traded beds with her sister.  And as soon as I heard little footsteps frantically running back and forth I put down my painting stuff and ran. I got to the bathroom just in time to hear the sound of someone peeing but nobody on the toilet. No, poor girl was half asleep standing on the step stool in front of the sink.  The step stool that could have a successful career as pee distributor. I striped the girl and put her in the tub. Then washed the stool, and the floor, and the bathmat, and the wall, and the cupboards before running the dirty laundry to the washer. When I returned I made the unfortunate discovery that my girl was cold and all the pajamas were wrong…

Eventually I resumed painting only to discover that some of the paint had dried a bit in the roller pan and would now occasionally leave glumpy lumps on the walls. Did I say my walls were flat? No. No flat walls here. These walls are full of texture!

8- At the beginning of a painting process I will have ideas and plans about what to paint next, by the end I will be done painting forever. The room looks brighter, cleaner and beautiful with it’s new walls. I started moving in furniture.  I looked at the bookshelf before I moved it in. The dirty, marked up, never been painted bookshelf. I looked at my nice bright, clean,  beautiful office. I moved it in anyway.

It’s only paint, it’ll be fine.

Mundane Monday: Raspberry Canes

After months of deliberating, John’s new sunglasses arrived. Not just any sunglasses. EnChroma sunglasses. Sunglasses that bring color to the color blind.

John is not profoundly color blind, but he has a hard time finding a red ball in a field of green, if he can even tell you it’s red after he’s found it. And while I don’t want to harp on the amount of times he’s argued with me over what color a grey/green/dark blue/black item of clothing is, let’s just say it’s come up over the years. This spring a friend sent a video John’s way, thinking he might be interested…

…and last week they arrived in the mail.

It was exciting but I was a little bit nervous. What if they didn’t work? They don’t work for everyone and after all the deliberation and long wait it would be a huge disappointment. He opened the box and read the directions “Strong daylight is ideal. Go outside!”

I looked outside with my natural color vision. It’s December, it’s Wisconsin, it was overcast. It was not what I would call a colorful day. But you work with what you have.

We stepped out the front door, John put them on and looked around.

The grass was greener (for November in Wisconsin), the leftover pumpkins from Halloween were brighter (for old mushy pumpkins), John was interested in the color my hat had turned but seemed less than overwhelmed.

Fifteen minutes the directions recommended, so we set out on a little walk around the property.

At the scrubby edge of the orchard he stopped when he saw the wild black raspberry canes.wild black raspberry canes

He stopped because, as John now knows, the tangle of brush he never gave a second glance to is laced with arcs of purple and red.

We admired the beauty of raspberry canes for a long time.

When we moved on, John was seeing new color everywhere, the green moss on the trees, the red combs on the chickens… he started bouncing on his toes and finally exclaimed:

“It’s like eating ham sandwiches your whole life and then having a panini!”

Then both of us finished the walk looking at the color around us with new eyes.

Of course seeing the world in color is anything but mundane but that’s not going to stop me from linking up with Mundane Monday again! 

Happy Tribus Day!

Happy Tribus Day!

A day to celebrate cookies, tea and blogging!Cookies, Tea, Blogging

What? You’ve never heard of it?

That’s OK. I’m sure it’s only because, thanks to CoachDaddy and Rarasaur, it came into existence earlier this week. And what a fantastic concept, because, well, cookies, tea and blogging! It’ll be international by this time next year!

(Of course if cookies, tea and blogging aren’t your thing, Tribus Day can work with that too. Just pick your three favorite things and start the celebration. That’s the beauty of Tribus day!)

I am happy to let cookies reside at the top of my list. They are my favorite thing, specifically chocolate chip cookies. I like other cookies, I might love some other cookies. But chocolate chip cookies never disappoint and that is a beautiful thing in a dessert.cookies

Cookies are extra fantastic because I like to bake. I’m not going to claim to be some expert baker but I’m a master craving fulfill-er. You come to my house looking for cookies, give me 20 minutes and I’ll have a hot one for you. Though you should plan to bring a Diet Coke just in case. You see I have this thing about baking (and driving, and waking up from a nap, and 3 o’clock in the afternoon and sitting at the computer and late at night with bourbon…) it’s just better with a Diet Coke at hand.making cookies with a Diet Coke

While cookies can be made on short order, the tea is always available.

Mornings inevitably lead to a quick zap in the microwave in order to get the caffeine into my body as soon as possible. Other times of day I’m willing to wait for water to boil and the tea to steep properly for a superior cup. But in all that waiting you’ve got to do something, and nothing goes with tea quite like books.reading a book while waiting for water to boil Then once the tea is made you need to let it cool a bit so you can just finish the chapter, and then once it’s done there is such a nice rocking chair under the window, good light, and a spot nearby to set a cup of tea… Ahhhh!

As for blogging, well let me check some stats here… Looks like I’ve been blogging for 65 consecutive months and published 1,136 posts. This blogging business seems to have some appeal for me!

And the best part is that a majority of those posts have pictures. Pictures that I’ve taken. In the last few years my camera has gone from being somewhere about the house, to immediately accessible at all times. I have discovered that anything, even a trip to the park, can be made more enjoyable with a camera in hand.   And then, joy of all joys, I get to put them on my blog and share them! What’s not to love!?!

picture of laptop

I just tried to take a picture of the camera sitting next to the laptop – not my smartest move.

 

All three together?blogging, tea, cookies

Looks like a beautiful day!

Of course a day with my camera in hand and plenty of Diet Coke and books would be pretty awesome too.Camera, Diet Coke, BooksBut then I’d miss my cookies, blogging and tea!

Happy Tribus Day!

How will you celebrate?

 

Anniversary Baby Chicks

Well Honey,

You gave me this card for our anniversary…baby chick anniversary card

…and I just have to say –

Nice Try.

For starters we’ve been married 12 years and we have I have brought home hundreds of baby chicks. So far, not a single pyro among them.

I’m willing to risk the evil chick for a special anniversary gift because…

…and most importantly….

…I think you are missing the big picture here.

Just imagine – a ROOSTER that could start fires with it’s mind.

rooster starting a fire with it's mind

Buh Bye Raccoons!

Maybe if we are lucky we’ll run across one sometime in our next 12 years!

Love,

Me

Talking with Jane

With her sisters away at school during the day Jane and I have spent a lot of time chatting together.

And by chatting I mean she talks all day and I try to keep up.

Here are a few snippits of our conversations over the last week.

 

As I picked up a requested item off the floor for her:

Me: “No problem girl.”

Jane: “Call me hair salon girl.”

Me: “Alright.  No problem hair salon girl.”Jane

 

A random question she sought me out to ask.

Jane: “Mom? Will you get bigger and bigger until you break this whole house?”

Me: “Will I get that big? No. I’m not getting any bigger.”

Jane: “Will I get bigger and bigger until I break this whole house?”

Me: “No, you won’t get that big either.”

Jane: “Will Dad?”

Me: “No, nobody will get that big.”

Jane: “Oh.”

And then she disappeared back the way she came. I also feel compelled to tell you that I’ve not gotten bigger in any way, shape or form recently.

Jane with eggs

 

Jane: “Mom I’m havin’ feelin’s.”

Me: “What kind of feelin’s”

Jane: “Elsa feelin’s”

Me: “What are those?”

Jane: “The kind that make you feel bad.”

I tried to find out what was up but she just swirled away in her Elsa dress. I feel fairly confident she was havin’ feelin’s of a pretend nature .Jane

 

This was a long drawn out and dramatic story with a surprise ending.

“Mom. I was really getting frustrated… with my feelings with dad…. because when I was gettin’ smaller and smaller… I wasn’t fitting into my lady bug pajamas.”

The end.

Jane

And finally near the end of a very long story that I, admittedly, was paying no attention whatsoever to:

Jane: “…we married and kissed- but don’t freak out!”

 

Clara’s First Day of School

Today was the first day of school.

Ivy, entering third grade, is an old pro.  She got up already excited to see her teacher, her classmates and head back to school.

Clara, getting ready for her first day ever, had been hesitantly interested up until this morning. This morning she was what I would call willfully frightened.

But, despite her best efforts, we got her up, dressed her, attempted to feed her, took the obligatory first morning photo and sent her on her way.Ivy and Clara first day of school

I’m not gonna lie, I was a bit worried about how her day would go.

After our first day alone together Jane and I walked down the driveway to meet the bus. Jane continued to tell me things. Everything, actually. Things that, apparently, she had been telling Clara but will now be telling me. I half listened, fingers mentally crossed, hoping it had been a good day as I watched Ivy and Clara climb out of the bus and break into a run.Ivy and Clara running up driveway

Look at that smile!

It was a good day!

 

A “Rate It” Rant

Rating systems drive me nuts.

I’ve been told they are a necessary evil at the doctor’s office.

But seriously.

How do I even know where to rate my pain on a scale of 1 to 10? I don’t think I’ve ever been at a 10. That seems like that must be pain that makes you pass out in self defense. I’ve never done that.

Well, there was the one time I got a shot of Novocaine up my nose and I passed out, but that was differently terrible, not insanely painfully terrible, though still not something I’d ever recommend. I birthed three children with no drugs. That wasn’t all warm cuddles, but I didn’t pass out or anything.  And while I remember it being painful, it was a different kind of pain than stubbing your toe. Just as when you have the kind of back pain that makes you think your spine will sever if you move the wrong way it’s different from the constant ache of a tooth. Yet somehow you are supposed to pick an arbitrary number on the same sliding scale for all of them?!?

Ridiculous!

Conversely, I’m not always sure I know what no pain feels like. There have been times in my life that I thought I didn’t have any pain.  Then I found out that I did, I just had been living with it so long I didn’t even realize it was there until it was gone.

So, basically if you don’t know what the top of the scale would be like and you aren’t even sure you understand where the bottom lies, and pain comes in so many various forms and my 5 of pain probably isn’t the same as your’s, how are you ever supposed to pick a non-arbitrary number when asked!

What a crazy system!

Fortunately, despite my above list of aliments, I don’t have to go to the doctor and rate my pain very often.  And I get to avoid that rating system all together. Except for Wednesdays.

Perhaps you have noticed, Wednesdays I post book reviews.

Book reviews in which I never give them a rating on a scale because I hate that. Giving a book a rating is almost as bad as rating pain. My internal rating scale is not the same as yours. And how can I rate a young adult fantasy novel and a collection of nonfiction essays on the history of kitchen tools on the same scale? It’s not even close to the same kind of writing!  And the world expects you to rate books on a scale that goes no further than five.

Five.

Seriously.

Let’s look at the top and bottom.

At the bottom we have one. Those must be the worst kind of book. Perhaps a book that you couldn’t even finish would qualify. Of course, then one would wonder why you would review it, I wouldn’t, but at least we have our bottom.

Which means on the opposite end we have fives. To be totally opposite of a book that was so terrible as to be unreadable, it has to be AMAZING. The kind of book that becomes a classic or at very least the kind of book that no matter what kind of reader a person was, no matter what subject matter they gravitated to, even if the book was totally outside their normal genre, you would feel confident putting it in their hands and saying “You’ve got to read this book!”

There aren’t a lot of ones out there (thank you editors of the world) and there aren’t a lot of fives out there. So that leaves way too many books to squash into the remaining three numbers! Because I’d rather not spend my time reviewing books just to tell people what I hate about them I’m not reviewing books that are twos. That leaves me 3 and 4. So 3 ends up being a nice solid story and 4 is a book I really liked. And that is just not enough numbers people! Not enough at all.

The moral of my rant (can rants have morals?) is that if you run across my reviews on Amazon or Goodreads and wonder why they are predominantly fours with a few threes thrown in, that’s why. And if you are an author wondering why I gushed about your book yet gave it four stars, that’s why. And if you are the person with the power to add a lot more stars to the book rating system you have my total support!

Sunset Storm

I stood at the edge of the orchard, facing the southern sky, surrounded by the buzz and bite of mosquitoes and watched. Slapped mosquitoes and watched some more.  storm

 

As I fed mosquitoes the whole impressive show slid by, the sun set and I turned and headed back to my dark house.

The storm just before this one was more of a direct hit. No major damage but it’s been over two hours now and our power still hasn’t recovered!