In every real man a child is hidden that wants to play. ~Friedrich Nietzsche
House Breaking vs. Potty Training
Jane is in the final phase of potty training. If she were a puppy it would be the time when they occasionally have accidents in the house and it’s usually your fault. Because even though they ask to go out most of the time sometimes they are just too distracted so you still have to be the one to pay attention or you’ll have another pee spot on the carpet. 
But I was talking about potty training kids, Jane in particular. So I should say that this is the time when she occasionally has accidents and it’s usually all my fault. Because even though she goes all by herself most of the time, sometimes she is just too distracted so I still have to be the one to pay attention or I’ll have another pee spot in a terrible and ridiculous place.
Which is the main way potty training children is different than housebreaking dogs. (That and kennels. I hardly ever use kennels with the kids.) When a puppy has an accident it pees on the carpet. The only time it won’t pee on the carpet is when it goes on a rug but this will only happen if the rug is so large that it won’t fit into the washing machine. A phenomenon that is annoying but at least predictable.
Jane, has accidents in more unusual places. We hadn’t had one in two days until she crawled inside a locker at the pool. Cleaning carpets has none of the embarrassing factors that weaving through a mass of moms and kids in various states of undress with gobs of pee soaked paper towel does. And for that, I love puppies.
Another two days accident free and Jane, dissatisfied with the five unoccupied chairs, crawled onto the dining room table to play with the Legos. And then flooded it all. Pee on the table. Pee on the centerpiece. Pee on the chairs. Pee on the Legos. Pee on Jane. No pee on the please-sign-up-to-bring-stuff-to-the-fall-party-sheet Ivy brought home from school. A puppy would have peed on the carpet and then eaten that paper, saving me lots of trouble. And for that, I love puppies.
And yes, of course, I love Jane too, even when she pees in really terrible places. (I’m not even going to tell you about the poop – your welcome for that.) I was even going to put pictures of her in this post but then I was having too much fun finding puppy pictures!
A Year in the Life of a Playground Mother by Christie Barlow
Today I am participating in a Brook Cottage Books book tour! Click on the banner above for more information about the book and links to more stops on the tour.
I am part of a book club. One of the many small groups of women who get together once a month, theoretically having all recently read the same book. Of course, before we can talk about the book we have to pour some drinks, eat some snacks and catch up on the last month. And, yes, that can take most of our time, but we always get around to the book… eventually.
Reading this book, was like having a surprise guest at book club. She comes in though the door, wearing comfy clothes and monster slippers, which seems like a pretty good mark in her favor. Then she brings out her drink of choice which she brought to share – also a mark in her favor. The fact that it’s sherry is a bit odd because I’ve never known someone to do anything other than cook with the stuff but, well, she’s from England and it’s not like anyone else in the group wants my bourbon on the rocks, so we’ll roll with it Of course, then someone asks her about herself…
A long time later we have learned many things. First off, this new one is a bit of a conversation hog. I mean really, we asked how things were going and she gave us a whole year in review! But we’ve been giggling pretty constantly so I think everyone is ok with it. Her stories are hilarious! At least I think they are hilarious, sometimes it’s hard to tell. One wouldn’t think you’d need a translator to translate English to English but I definitely feel I’m missing some things. The only unfortunate thing is that as time has gone on the sherry has kicked in. Arms are waving, stories are louder and while she is still funny there are few topics and phrases that she seems to think have gotten funnier as the night goes on. But we’ve all been there so when she wanders I take the moment to sip my own drink and let my mind drift and quickly come to a conclusion. Girls can be mean, moms can be meaner. And this new mom, despite her humor, is no exception!
Would I recommend it? I would have invited her back for another book club, but I don’t think she actually read the book…
It was a funny, quick read, and it can be yours! Click on the book below for a chance to win your own copy of A Year in the Life of a Playground Mother!
This honest review was given in return for a free copy of the book from its author.
That Girl…
When it comes to conversations of Clara’s antics, it always seems to end in one or the other of us shaking our heads while saying, “That girl…”
That girl has already accumulated more black eyes than I ever have.
That girl cries over the slightest injustice but doesn’t bat an eye at bloody injuries.
“Hey Mom!” Clara shouts, “Bet you didn’t notice…. THIS!” And she pulls up the leg of her pants and thrusts her foot out to show me the scratch on her ankle complete with blood smeared half way down her foot.
Me: “No, I didn’t!”
Clara: “Yeah! – Can I have a band-aid!”
Me: “Sure.”
Clara: “OK, I’ll get it!”
And off she runs, leaving me shaking my head and thinking “That girl…”
That girl is the best peacemaker in the family.
That girl has ideas and she can entertain herself with anything.
One day after seeing Jane and Clara engaged in overly suspicious activities with their bedroom window, I came running upstairs to kill the fun.
Me: “We don’t throw water out the window! “We don’t throw anything out the window!”
Clara: “How about rocks?”
Me: “What about rocks?”
Clara: “Can I throw them out the window?”
That girl…
That girl is my go-to “finder” of lost objects.
That girl often has to do with why they are lost in the first place.
Clara hands me a pair of poultry shears that she “found” and drops it between our bare toes.
Me: “Wow, that made my toes scared, how about you!?”
Clara giggles: “No, I knew where it was going to land.”
That girl…
That girl climbs trees and jumps out of them.
That girl can climb straight up a rope with just her arms.
That girl loves the beehives.
That girl collects her own duck eggs for breakfast.
That girl is never bored.
Yes, our conversations about Clara always end with one of us shaking our heads with half smile, as we say, “That girl…” with more than just a touch of pride.
Happy fifth birthday Clara!
Digby Dog
Our favorite doggy friend Digby was here for a few days.
We started watching him just over a year ago…
…he’s bigger now!
But that just makes him extra lovable!
This Moment – Piano Players
A Friday ritual.
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 
If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.
Inspired by SouleMama.
The Celery Growers
Early this spring the girls were with me in the greenhouse helping to plant the celery seeds.
They had their hands in the dirt as we transplanted the young plants into the garden and were eager to man the hose and help water them through the early summer. Once the celery was ready to be harvested they took over chopping it all by themselves so that I could freeze it for this winter.
But, despite what the “experts” say, I’ll bet you a doughnut they won’t touch it when they see it floating in their soup this winter.
Wild Water by Jan Ruth
It is always sad to read a tale of adultery, divorce and families torn in two, but Wild Water is heartbreaking.
And it’s the husband, Jack, who extends this book beyond the general, wife leaves husband, depression and right into heartbreak territory. He makes a joke, and you want to give him a sad pathetic kind of smile because he’s trying so hard. He loses his temper and makes another poor decision and while you can see the train wreck coming, your gut sort of aches for him anyway. He helps his family along and you want to give him a hug because he’s managing to think of others even as he’s falling apart in all the ways a man can. Even when his childhood sweetheart arrives on the scene it’s hard not to cringe knowing that that this guy can’t possibly not screw something up.
Would I recommend it? This isn’t a light hearted romp in the hay romance, nor is it a drama with deep wells of prose. This is something different, a blend of the two, that might have gone awry except for the emotion that Jan Ruth endows Jack with. Jack carries the story and while feeling as though I’ve given myself a sympathy ulcer while reading isn’t always the most enjoyable feeling, it’s undeniably a sign of an author who knows people. And what are books about, if not people?
This honest review was given in return for a free copy of the book from its author.
Yoga – It’s Just Not My Thing
Yoga – it’s just not my thing.
I hear about the benefits, I understand why it might be good for me, but I’m not interested. And despite all the people who have tried to convert me the closest I have come to practicing yoga is taking a different class in a yoga studio at the same time as a yoga class.
And tonight, I was late.
I ran down the sidewalk and rushed through the back door, threw my stuff on the floor and ran for a quick bathroom stop before I joined the group. Unfortunately to get to the bathroom I had to go through the, now in progress, yoga class. I checked my speed at the door, quietly slipped through, padded down the back of the room and through the curtain at the end to the reception area.
Pit stop over, I quickly went to join my class. Across the reception area, though the curtain-
And I was stuck.
An almost falling, windmilling arm, frantic, help I’m being attacked by a giant shiny, purple curtain stuck. I understand that the low lights, soft music and candles are supposed to help with a calming and centering sort of atmosphere. But I can tell you that from my curtain mangling position it did nothing but panic me further as I attempted to extract myself from the curtain without making any more noise than I already had. Of course my candle light induced panic just increased my tangled up position and seconds stretched to hours as I kicked myself free of the attack curtain. At that point I figured I couldn’t possibly make things any worse and dashed for the door, the real door, and back into the bright lights and music.
Yes a large purple curtain and I agree, yoga – it’s really just not my thing!
This Moment – Morning Flight
A Friday ritual.
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.
Inspired by SouleMama.
Now that those nasty early morning hours have gone by I am again linking up with Northwest Frame of Mind and her 1 Day 1 World project. I was outside taking care of chores and watching the bees this morning between 8am -9am when I took this picture. Find out what others around the world were doing by clicking over!
Behind the Willows 