tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54778982011-04-21T11:46:19.005-06:00kiwordsMy new baby. Ain't she cute?Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comBlogger2051100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1083294056698993452004-04-29T21:00:00.000-06:002004-04-29T21:04:03.513-06:00Hi, everyone. If you're still looking for me here, please check out my new blog at http://kiwords.blogs.com/
Move along. Nothing more to see here.Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1081395873822140082004-04-07T21:42:00.000-06:002004-04-08T16:09:47.500-06:00Shhh, listen.
Hear that?
It’s raining.
*sigh*
It’s raining gently on my tender little lettuce and spinach and sugar snap pea and cabbage sprouts. Could life get any better?
Then again, check back in this weekend when it’s supposed to snow. Expect much grimness.
Moving on.
Literally, actually.
I’ve finally done it! I’ve finally set up a new blog where the comments won’t be irritating! Well, it’Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1081315340586617942004-04-06T23:19:00.000-06:002004-04-06T23:25:04.216-06:00One morning when I was 22, Easter morning actually, I was in a car accident. It was apparently my fault, but I got a solid whack on the head and don’t remember the moments right before it happened. This is what I do remember.
The steering wheel wrenched out of my hands and spun hot under my palms. The horizon dipped and tilted and I grabbed the wheel and twisted it hard to the right as my car Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1081138427709166022004-04-04T22:06:00.000-06:002004-04-04T22:16:29.356-06:00I’d like to respond to a few comments over the last week (good week for comments). First of all, Heather points out that I was supposed to admit she was right and I was wrong. Yet again, she is right and I…well, you get it. So in case there was any doubt, let me announce here publicly before literally…dozens of readers, Heather was right on March 23, 2004 and I was wrong. I was whiny and being a Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1080881888868170682004-04-01T21:39:00.000-07:002004-04-01T22:00:46.856-07:00I went to see the chiropractor today. I’ve been in far too many car accidents in my life (not ALL of them my fault, I’ll have you know), and so owe my sanity to Dr. Michelle. She’s pregnant with her second child right now, and just amazingly adorable. If Disney made a pregnant character she would look like Dr. Michelle. She has a tidy little basketball of a tummy, and she fairly glows. This Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1080796658913668592004-03-31T22:17:00.000-07:002004-03-31T22:23:33.483-07:00Raphael learned to climb out of his crib months ago. If I were a good mother, I would have switched him to a big-boy bed by now. But I figure, hey, I’d just have to find a suitably sturdy set of guardrails to keep him from falling out of his bed, and his crib already has these bars all around…sort of like a full set of guard rails! Nice, huh? It has nothing to do with the fact that once he’s out Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1080708217144280712004-03-30T21:20:00.000-07:002004-03-30T21:46:13.310-07:00The good thing about being cooped up in the car with your kids for long periods is that it gives you a special opportunity to spend time with them. In the quiet and monotony of the car they open up and talk like they rarely will in normal life. That, plus the fact that they sometimes fall asleep. Always a good thing.
Today was such a day. With one thing and another the boys and I spent about Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1080539260411304112004-03-28T22:05:00.000-07:002004-03-28T22:50:59.170-07:00Toni asked in the comments a few entries ago if I would write about gardening in Colorado. I avoided it for a while, because the weather was so lovely and warm that I just couldn’t bear facing the truth of being a gardener here, in the cruel Rocky Mountains. But today it snowed and tonight a freeze will probably kill all the fuzzy new buds on my peach tree, thereby robbing us of peaches. So now IKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1080193403575537632004-03-24T22:19:00.000-07:002004-03-24T22:45:53.966-07:00When Raphael wakes up in the morning he likes to climb in bed with me and snuggle for a moment. This morning I heard the thump of his escape from his crib, followed by his bare feet trotting through the hall to my room. His face appeared at the side of the bed, shining with delight. “It’s ME,” he announced with great glee. I held out my hand to help him up on the bed. He wriggled his way down Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1080104652638648452004-03-23T21:30:00.000-07:002004-03-23T22:06:42.390-07:00I took Tre into the doctor’s office today. He’s not sick again, but his allergies are acting up. Tre has allergies. That sentence calls to my mind the image of a band of evil little rodents that follow him around, nipping at him, causing him varying amounts of discomfort. Oh yes, we hoped they would fall away as he aged, but they’ve held on. He has allergies.
Most of the time he’s not all that Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1080018132683550412004-03-22T21:48:00.000-07:002004-03-22T22:04:41.466-07:00Ok, so help me figure this out. The boys have this play room. It’s a sun room (although I call it the son room and nobody knows). Anyhow, they have shelves with bins full of toys, bookshelves loaded with books, and two wee recliners for sitting in to play GameBoy.
But recently I decided that I was sick of the toy clutter. Sheesh, the mess! Little broken bits of McDonald’s toys, stray Legos, Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1079933869292586872004-03-21T22:00:00.000-07:002004-03-21T22:40:16.746-07:00Well, this weekend Spring arrived. It even seemed like spring, warm and breezy. I actually put out some seeds in the garden – madness this early in the season. But I was buoyed by the warmth and the buds poking out on trees everywhere, so I threw caution to the wind and about $4.67 worth of seeds in the ground. Call me a madcap fool. Check back here for snow-related bitterness next month.
Anyhow.Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1079673430368314482004-03-18T21:50:00.000-07:002004-03-18T22:19:35.030-07:00I was doing something of great importance (probably cleaning the kitchen) when Tre came tearing into the house.
“Mama, come here! I want to show you something!” He grabbed my hand and I could tell by the smile on his face that he was pretty sure I’d love it.
“Honey, couldn’t you tell me about it? I’m in the middle of something.”
“No, come here!” He tugged at my hand and I relented. I followed Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1079584776079767802004-03-17T21:24:00.000-07:002004-03-17T21:41:59.483-07:00On Wednesdays some of my best friends come over for lunch. The kids run wild (between the four of us we have nine kids – plus two in utero), we chat and food is eaten. Today in the middle of the chaos of children and mothers arriving the doorbell rang.
“Oh, that’ll be the Chinese food,” I said.
No, that would be the neighbor, holding Raphael. She gave me a stern look.
“I didn’t think you Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1079498855034357722004-03-16T21:27:00.000-07:002004-03-16T21:49:57.373-07:00Mom came around the corner this evening to discover Raphael, standing in the middle of her antique octagon table. One hand was on his hip and the other was held aloft as he gazed into the distance, prepared to fly away at any moment. Mom picked him up, saying, “Oh no, I don’t think so.”
“But! Ah just trying to stand on da table!”
This is his favorite refrain currently. When Tori was packing her Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1079414080587972412004-03-15T22:13:00.000-07:002004-03-15T22:17:02.200-07:00Max had a leprechaun come to his preschool class today. When they were out on the playground a leprechaun snuck in and knocked over some chairs, pulled books off shelves, and scattered gold foil covered chocolates. Max was thrilled, and has decided he very much wants to catch a leprechaun. Tre was even impressed, and Tre is rarely impressed with anything Max could be doing in preschool.
When we Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1079327787936235832004-03-14T21:16:00.000-07:002004-03-14T22:18:48.546-07:00I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I’ve come to love a show on TLC called “What Not to Wear.” It was horrifying when it first came out, but it’s mellowed (and they got rid of that snotty mean guy with the long hair), and now I actually tape it if I can’t be there when it’s on.
But I understand not everyone has the same problems I do, so allow me to explain how it works. Someone is secretly Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1079070603524243252004-03-11T22:20:00.000-07:002004-03-11T22:52:21.483-07:00Hi, all! Didja miss me? I missed posting a few nights because of the aforementioned houseguests. Tori and her three kids were here for a few days, and it’s been a party.
Now, let me set the scene for you. First of all, we have my grandparent’s miniature schnauzer staying with us for a few weeks while they move. Heidi (or as Raphael likes to call her, “Hiiiiiiiiideeeeeeee”) is a very sweet dog. I Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1078810492882460262004-03-08T22:08:00.000-07:002004-03-08T22:37:07.373-07:00Ok, now I’m on antibiotics too and the whining has abated. My apologies for sounding so dismal. It gets to a girl after a while, the sick stuff. Today I was cleaning the living room and picked up a Buzz Lightyear toy. As I was taking it to the play room I realized I was “flying” it, complete with sound effects. No children were in the room. So now I’m wondering; lighthearted approach to life, or Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1078722942724016802004-03-07T22:07:00.000-07:002004-03-07T22:17:56.420-07:00So the health situation around here has gone from bad to worse. Friday morning Tre woke up miserable. He was pink-cheeked and sweaty and prone to bursting into tears. His head hurt and his tummy was upset. It was enough to convince me to haul him into the doctor’s office for a strep test. Sure enough, after we’d waited a while and Tre had thrown up in a bucket, the results came back positive. I Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1078462723337178552004-03-04T21:34:00.000-07:002004-03-04T22:04:55.450-07:00You know, I may have mentioned this, but the boys have been sick. And when the boys are sick they don’t sleep well. When they don’t sleep well, I don’t sleep well. I may have mentioned this, but I’ve been sick too. Suffice to say it’s been a long week with really long nights.
Last nigh was the worst. I was sure we were all on the mend and the worst of the nighttime restlessness was behind us. I Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1078376052063188492004-03-03T21:43:00.000-07:002004-03-03T21:56:32.060-07:00Actual things I have said this week:
Sorry honey, but you can’t wash toast.
I don’t care if it is new; nobody wants to look at your poop.
What did I say about putting shoes on the cat?
Stop tormenting your brother with the string cheese.
No, Mama’s watch did NOT want to take a bath in the toilet.
Yes, I understand that the snot made an airbag when you sneezed, but I don’t want to see it.
If you Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1078289129371808782004-03-02T21:24:00.000-07:002004-03-02T21:47:37.560-07:00 I’m dying. Yes, I know that’s terribly sad. I’ll miss you, my dear readers. Mind if I call you readers? Skimmers or people who don’t seem to have anything better to do just doesn’t have the same ring. Readers, that works. I like to talk to my friends about you. “You know,” I’ll say, “the other day I posted a blog entry so riveting that not a single one of my dear readers could muster a comment. Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1078202398330969542004-03-01T21:21:00.000-07:002004-03-01T21:44:31.686-07:00This morning I was in the midst of Monday madness. Tre and Max go to a homeschool enrichment program on Mondays, and I swear every Monday morning that this is a very bad idea. I simply do not know how moms get their kids out of the house for school five days a week. I would be insane.
Er…more insane.
Anyhow, amidst the chaos of finish your breakfast, no I don’t want to know what Max said, where Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1078119156273419142004-02-29T21:33:00.000-07:002004-02-29T22:34:42.670-07:00How was everyone’s Leap Day? Did you all observe with solemnity the importance of the day? Yeah, me neither. The closest thing to a Leap Day celebration we had around here is when Raphael played with the Leap Pad.
Today is my friend Amy’s son, William’s birthday. Whoa, tangled sentence. Let me try again. Today is the birthday of William, the son of my dear friend Amy. He’s four. When Amy was Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1077895333462796462004-02-27T08:19:00.000-07:002004-02-27T08:24:18.390-07:00Ok, in everyone's life there comes the day. The unthinkable becomes irresistible, and you submit to...
The Quiz.
I couldn't help it. And I gotta say, it's fairly accurate. I don't know what to say about being a Belgian waffle...
You're The Poisonwood Bible!
by Barbara Kingsolver
Deeply rooted in a religious background, you have since become both
isolated and schizophrenic. You were naively Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1077771138386055562004-02-25T21:32:00.000-07:002004-02-25T21:54:20.483-07:00I took the boys to get their hair cut today. Hair cuts are one of the details of mothering that I’m simply not good at. Their hair grows and grows and one day I look up to note mildly that they seem to be blinded by their bangs. Geez, I think, they need haircuts again. Already. Let’s see, it’s only been…three months.
Oh. Ok then.
Fingernails too. I simply cannot keep up with their claws. I try toKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1077597970140433372004-02-23T21:27:00.000-07:002004-02-23T21:48:10.326-07:00I took Claire (our beautiful stupid cat) to the vet’s office today. She’d been just a month ago, but it was necessary to take her back for a feline leukemia booster. Last month the vet had told me soberly, “Feline leukemia is like cat AIDS. It destroys their immune system. They die a slow, lingering death. But if you don’t want her vaccinated…” He trailed off sadly, unable to finish the thought. Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1077510708112274042004-02-22T21:31:00.000-07:002004-02-22T21:33:47.483-07:00I know it’s pointless, but I tend to look at my sons and imagine what they will be like when they grow up. Tre will be fine, I think. He’s such a determined soul; I believe he’ll be successful at work. He’ll be a captain of industry. At home…well, my hope for him is that he’ll marry a kind and patient woman who will often say to him, “I know, you’re right. Now how about you just let it go?” A Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1077256369016396652004-02-19T22:52:00.000-07:002004-02-19T22:54:45.153-07:00I’ve just finished watching “As Time Goes By” on PBS, and now I’m thinking in an English accent. Such a sweet show. In case you haven’t seen it, it’s about an English couple, in their…what…fifties, I guess. They were lovers when they were young, then lost touch. Years later, after his divorce and years of her widowhood, they run into each other and strike up an awkward but sincere courtship. So Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1077165385701895262004-02-18T21:30:00.000-07:002004-02-18T21:38:21.030-07:00Want a news flash from the estrogen-American perspective?
Periods suck.
By which I mean the monthly menstrual cycle, not the punctuation marks.
But you probably already figured that out from the snippy tone of this post.
Grrr.
As if cramps, nausea, and a blinding migraine headache aren’t enough to make me just jump up and click my heels because I’m a woman, I also seem unable to form a coherentKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1077082785607995862004-02-17T22:39:00.000-07:002004-02-17T22:48:16.640-07:00Well, first of all let me say that I feel y’all’s pain as far as my comment server goes. Whoo, is that thing bad. I’ve been trying to respond to Cate all afternoon – no dice. In general, boy did you all have something to say. Feelings ran strong on this subject, pro and con, and allow me to congratulate all of us on a discussion maturely handled.
All except you, Josh. You’re a big goober head.
Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1076996342527996852004-02-16T22:33:00.000-07:002004-02-16T22:40:56.013-07:00Ok, Lani, you asked.
If you clicked through there, you read the blog of fellow MomWriter, phenom NaNo winner, and someone I like to think of as a friend, despite the fact that she wouldn’t know who I was if I bit her. I mean, she knows who I am, but not IRL (in real life, Mom). So I guess she’d say, “Why are you biting me, short woman?”
Anyhow.
Lani asked the question “…what the hell is up with Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1076907071300597492004-02-15T21:51:00.000-07:002004-02-15T21:53:04.216-07:00Two more signposts recently on the road to my babies growing up. Raphael has hit “normal dysfluency,” a period where his machine gun fast mind outpaces his motor mouth, and he stutters. It’s disconcerting to him. He’ll start to say something and get hung up on a sound. Yesterday the boys, Mom, and I were out to lunch with my grandparents and Raphael leaned over and said to me, “Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh..” Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1076652016801263952004-02-12T22:59:00.000-07:002004-02-12T23:02:06.640-07:00I’m going to have to make this quick because it’s late and I’m tired. Now, I know I’m whining, but it’s all true. Allow me to explain.
1) It’s late.
After Tre and Max were in bed I decided to let Raphael have a bath. Yes, I know Raphael’s the youngest and it’s bizarre that he should have the latest bedtime. It’s my own personal problem. He still takes a nap, you see. If I’d just cut out the nap,Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1076563824189246612004-02-11T22:29:00.000-07:002004-02-12T07:46:03.340-07:00I am not panicking. See how calmly I’m sitting here, not panicking? I’m typing. I’m writing coherent sentences. Certainly not panicking.
My lawyer’s office called yesterday. It seems my ex has scheduled a meeting – a review with the county’s child support office. I don’t know why. I’m not afraid of money issues.
But I have to see him. March 26 I’ll be in the same room as him.
What’s that term Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1076475973655667242004-02-10T22:06:00.000-07:002004-02-10T22:08:52.560-07:00This morning after breakfast and a brief newspaper reading/hide-n-seek playing session
I hauled the many school books to the table. I flipped through them for a moment, pondering all we’ve accomplished thus far this year, and I felt like a successful homeschooler.
Then it took one solid hour to get Tre to settle down and start working, complete with tears and arguments and consequences, and I Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1076389829940023932004-02-09T22:02:00.000-07:002004-02-09T22:12:16.546-07:00James Lileks had a plea on his Bleat today for disastrous Valentine’s stories, preferably from grade school. Being (as previously noted) a simpering Lileks fan, I dutifully sent off my wee tale of woe. It turned out much longer than I’d expected, so I thought I’d share it with you too. Enjoy.
Ok, here's my sad tale. When I was in second grade I fell in love with Johnny. Not a shocking thing, allKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1076303231927416162004-02-08T22:03:00.000-07:002004-02-08T22:08:57.593-07:00I was reading Lani’s thoughts recently on racism. She wrote about being shocked by what people have to live with (except in California), and it got me thinking about my own experiences with racism.
When I was eleven I went to school on an Indian reservation. I was the only white kid, and never a day went by that I wasn’t reminded that I didn’t belong there. I was actually hated just on the basis Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1076044906142505882004-02-05T22:21:00.000-07:002004-02-05T22:39:54.716-07:00I was working out tonight in the weight room and got into a discussion with some of the other women in there about the mirrors. Like most weight rooms there are mirrors on all the walls, but recent construction has required removal of one entire wall of mirrors. We were all agreeing that this was a fine idea, and talking about how nice it would be if all the mirrors in the gym were replaced with Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1075956216761708592004-02-04T21:42:00.000-07:002004-02-04T21:45:17.856-07:00Occasionally I believe it’s important to look at certain assumptions with a cool, logical eye. For instance I’ve been musing today about the idea that has simply run amok among parents today, that imaginations are something to be encouraged in children.
Oh, I know that limber minds and the ability to approach problems from several angles will serve them well some day, out in the real world. But IKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1075871031890115132004-02-03T21:51:00.000-07:002004-02-03T22:05:32.560-07:00There’s a mom I know from Max’s preschool class. She has a seven year old girl, a four year old boy, another boy who’s almost two, and a daughter who was born just a few weeks ago. Last week as we were waiting to pick up our respective preschoolers, I noticed her leaning against the wall rather wearily, and a bright idea occurred to me.
“Hey,” I said to her, “I was planning on taking the kids to Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1075786900966506242004-02-02T22:40:00.000-07:002004-02-02T22:43:20.123-07:00The hour is late and the day was long, so I’ll skate by here with a cheater blog. I don’t have time for a long and deliberate train of thought tonight. If you really miss that, re-read yesterday’s post (oh, like you read the whole thing anyway!).
No, tonight what you get is nothing more than a few Raphael-isms. He’s at such a ripe age for cute little sayings, and I just have to share.
The other Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1075699340838917032004-02-01T22:19:00.000-07:002004-02-01T22:29:38.326-07:00Hi, all. Did ya miss me? Well, I survived the illness around here and more to the point so did the boys. I know I've been lax in my blogging, but I'm back on the blogwagon...or whatever.
So I had a busy weekend, with three, count 'em three parties. Friday was a baby shower for a cousin, Saturday was a surprise birthday party for an old friend (I can call her old now, she's 30) and then there was Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1075264571261840532004-01-27T21:35:00.000-07:002004-01-27T21:40:21.780-07:00Ok, here’s a snapshot of my day. Raphael had been falling asleep on my lap, so I was carrying him up the stairs to his crib. It was early for his nap, but he’d been so miserable and sick all day, I figured an extra hour of sleep wouldn’t hurt. Halfway up the stairs he realized what I was doing.
“Nooooo,” he wailed, “ah don’ wanna go sweep! But two minutes!” This from the child whose eyes had Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1075179000498039872004-01-26T21:18:00.000-07:002004-01-26T21:51:32.543-07:00Last night I went to bed nice and early. Around 10:30. I sank into my many, many pillows (it’s a problem) with the satisfaction of knowing I would face the morning with a solid night’s sleep.
Hah.
I really should have known better. After all, both Max and Raphael have colds. Max is on his way better, while Raphael is on his way down. Max’s sleep has been poor the last few nights and if there’s Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1075092678258967652004-01-25T21:27:00.000-07:002004-01-25T21:52:49.280-07:00The brilliant Shelley has an essay in the February 17 issue of Woman’s Day. Since I am an avid reader of Shelley’s blog and a simpering fan of hers, I made sure to pick it up the last time I was at the grocery store. I even put it on my list, because I no longer trust mere intention to cause me to actually remember something.
Fortunately it was displayed on one of those end cap display thingies Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1074833852763633282004-01-22T21:41:00.000-07:002004-01-22T21:59:00.733-07:00Tre had a Cub Scout Pack meeting tonight. These things are going to kill me. Perhaps literally.
It started with announcements and awards. Tre’s den got their awards tonight, and I’m proud to say he earned one pin and six belt loops. I, being the “Awards Coordinator” (scout-speak for “sucker”), was the one to purchase and organize all the awards for this evening. I took all three boys to the Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1074661979925899382004-01-20T22:12:00.000-07:002004-01-20T22:14:26.513-07:00Raphael had been sent to the stairs for some egregious behavior toward Max. When I ordered him to go sit on the stairs he stomped off to do so, shoulders slumped with regret. After about 3.5 seconds of model behavior he began to wail, “Mama? Can ah get up?”
“No. Please be quiet in time out.”
A heavy sigh. 2.3 seconds of silence.
“Mama? Can ah get up?”
“No. Please be quiet in time out.”
You may beKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1074576622382767312004-01-19T22:28:00.000-07:002004-01-19T22:31:47.763-07:00Mom is out of town for a few days, visiting some friends. It’s a good thing, her spending time with these people who are dear to all of us (hi, guys! Smooches.), but it’s put the household a bit off-kilter.
Raphael keeps going over to the basement door and shouting down the stairs, “Amma! AAAAAMMMMMAAAA! Ah yoo dere?” When I remind him that Amma’s not going to be here for a few days, he looks at Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1074488867587136362004-01-18T21:55:00.000-07:002004-01-18T22:09:12.280-07:00I was at the grocery store today, with the troops. I try to work it out so I can shop without the boys, but that wasn’t possible today. I was completely out of duct tape, so I ended up taking them.
Kidding.
Anyhow, we survived the gathering portion of the shopping trip and had moved onto the purchasing. This is always fun. The boys are tired of being in the store, free cookies have lost their Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1074229716108115332004-01-15T22:07:00.000-07:002004-01-15T22:19:57.606-07:00The kids are in bed, the house is quiet, and I sat down once again to the tremendous pressure of the blog. Ok, perhaps not all that tremendous. Anyhow.
Today in James Lileks’ blog, the Bleat, there was a cryptic reference to an article that someone had written. He was wondering if the guy was checking in,” hoping he’d find a foamy-mouthed point-by-point reply?” I had no idea what he was talking Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1074142044065183112004-01-14T21:45:00.000-07:002004-01-14T21:48:44.420-07:00I just tucked Raphael in bed with his new companion, Mr. Sock. As I was wrestling him out of his clothes and into his jammies, he stripped one sock off and pulled it over his hand. He looked at it and said, “Hi dere, Mr. Sock!” So was born a friend.
Mr. Sock’s repertoire consists of brusquely ordering people to say hi to him and grabbing things, like noses or hair. To tell you the truth, Mr. SockKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1074057337647834252004-01-13T21:55:00.000-07:002004-01-13T22:16:57.373-07:00Just as I started to type Claire (our beautiful stupid cat) came racing across the floor in hot pursuit of a stray suction cup. Unfortunately she ran headlong into the leg of my chair with a thunk that reverberated impressively. Now she’s alternating between trying to look like she’s not embarrassed and studying a toy helicopter. I suppose for signs of the menace of stray suction cups.
*sigh*
Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1073973656432585332004-01-12T23:00:00.000-07:002004-01-12T23:02:15.343-07:00I was in a Linens n’ Baththings Beyond Store the other day (er…something like that…I get them mixed up) with Raphael. We were browsing, which means I’d actually gotten lost in the warren-like aisles of that monstrosity of a store, and was wandering around, trying to look thoughtful, not panicky.
Anyhow, I came around a corner and spied a bed that was all decked out in their most sumptuous sheetsKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1073885309299850192004-01-11T22:28:00.000-07:002004-01-11T22:29:46.920-07:00Oh, geez, guys. I don’t know what to write. I’ve been sitting here for an hour, trying to come up with a decent blog. Claire (our beautiful stupid cat) has been sitting next to my keyboard, looking at the screen with deep distain. And she’s right.
I made one good stab at it, got at least four paragraphs in, but I kept nodding off because it was so freakin’ boooooring.
So I kept clicking back Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1073704745977975782004-01-09T20:13:00.000-07:002004-01-09T20:21:45.856-07:00You must check out the brilliant Rich over at exvigilare. He's the husband of my dear friend, the adorable Tracey. I'm inserting this link out of sheer admiration, not because he begged. At all. Trust me people.
exvigilare: MoveOn hasn't earned the right to be angry.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1073625440774284992004-01-08T20:44:00.000-07:002004-01-08T22:18:35.546-07:00Raphael has taken to swearing. Now, I have my weaknesses as a mother, but foul language is not one of them. I can’t even think in four letter words anymore. So he’s not using actual swear words, just “bad” words of his understanding. His favorite is “stupid.” So whenever anything irritates him – his brothers, the cat, his sock, the alignment of the planets – anything, he glares at it and mutters,Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1073452505429568502004-01-06T22:13:00.000-07:002004-01-06T22:16:18.200-07:00I woke up this morning miserable. Not just morning cranky, that’s a given. No, this morning I was truly unhappy. I hadn’t slept enough. The night had started with hours of nameless anxiety, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Remembering things that make me sad, that I haven’t bothered with in a long time. I don’t know why. Then the morning came too early, with Raphael climbing out of bed before Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1073280707638627652004-01-04T21:55:00.000-07:002004-01-04T22:33:20.810-07:00Saturday the boys got to open their Christmas presents from their great-grandparents. Tre and Max got sleds from Grandpa Joe and Nana Alyce (Raphael got a Hot Wheels carrying case with cars, but he hasn’t opened that yet. Shhh. Don’t tell him, ok?), and all three boys got new gloves from Grandma Vivian.
As a quick aside, how fortunate are my boys to have three great grandparents whom they Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1073019307111597792004-01-01T21:54:00.000-07:002004-01-01T21:56:14.310-07:00I know I’m chiming in late on this, but I wanted to share my thoughts on resolutions. There’s been much talk about people’s goals for the new year on the email list I’m on. I only read half of the emails on the subject. I can’t stand to read that stuff too closely. It just seems too personal, to innocently hopeful.
Not that personal and innocently hopeful is bad. After all, I’m perfectly happy toKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1072848858517763212003-12-30T22:17:00.000-07:002003-12-30T22:35:24.046-07:00I went to my favorite weight class tonight, but the instructor was late. We all milled around for a bit, then someone went to ask the front desk what the heck was up. A quick call to his home, and he was there five minutes later.
We gave him grief about it, good-naturedly of course, and set to working out. It did seem odd, though. Not like Pete.
About twenty minutes into the class I was doing aKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1072761064157836232003-12-29T22:09:00.000-07:002003-12-29T22:12:09.013-07:00I had just finished a particularly disastrous trip through Costco. Did you know they don’t take Visa? Neither did I. I was very displeased to discover this fact, even more displeased than the nice checker guy who had to put back my cart full of super-sized groceries. Heh, heh. Sorry, nice checker guy.
Anyhow, I was annoyed. I had just succeeded in dragging three boys through the wasteland that isKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1072671597621026142003-12-28T21:10:00.000-07:002003-12-28T21:34:01.340-07:00I had two sobering incidents yesterday. The first happened in the car. Now, recently whenever we’ve been in the car for any length of time, Raphael and I have had the following exchange:
R: Mama? Whatcha doin’?
M: I’m driving, baby. What are you doing?
R: Ah’m in mah car seat.
M: That’s good, baby.
Now, that’s not that amazing of a conversation, I’ll grant you. But it was repeated, word for wordKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1072413837777814732003-12-25T21:43:00.000-07:002003-12-25T21:44:58.216-07:00I’m sitting in a darkened house, quiet save for the rustle of the cat at her food. I’ve just given a sugar-hyped Tre a sippy cup of chamomile tea to take up to his room, in the hopes he will stay in bed this time. Ribbons and toy packaging lurk in the corners of the room, promising a long day of tidying tomorrow.
The question is how to write a post that’s not drippingly sentimental?
Christmas wasKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1072241904709870352003-12-23T21:47:00.000-07:002003-12-23T21:59:23.810-07:00Raphael has learned to climb out of his crib. The first time it happened I tried to convince myself it was a fluke. But he kept mysteriously appearing beside my bed in the morning. Or at the top of the stairs after his nap. I suppose I may have been in denial. I would roll over in the morning to come nose-to-nose with his shining little face and decide not to think about it. Yesterday Tre and MaxKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1072159904638231882003-12-22T23:11:00.000-07:002003-12-22T23:12:42.686-07:00Max is really into drawing pictures and writing captions for them. Now, he’s just five, so his spelling is not exactly standard. For example, he signs every picture “by Tre and Max,” even though Tre has yet to ever draw a picture with him. Max just likes to include his brother. Anyhow, he spells this phrase something like “bi Tre end Max.”
These pictures are a sight to behold. They usually Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1072069684304977502003-12-21T21:48:00.000-07:002003-12-21T22:09:01.356-07:00Today was the Nativity play at church. By the way, if you’ve been keeping notes, yes we left our church, and yes we’ve seemed to have found a new one. It’s fabulous in many respects, but after the “breakup” I’m not sure I’m ready to commit.
But I was ready to let the kids be in the play.
Oh, so sweet. Tre was a wise man, Max was Joseph, and Raphael was a donkey. Although if you ask him, he’ll Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1071810541060208392003-12-18T22:07:00.000-07:002003-12-18T22:09:55.140-07:00Please permit me a brief parental brag. I took Tre to the Pack meeting tonight (in case you’re wondering, the small group of eight boys he meets with twice a month is a den. The gathering of all the dens is the Pack). He was very excited, because tonight they were announcing the winners of the greenery sales contest.
Well, I know you’re all agog, so I won’t keep you in suspense. Tre came in Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1071725405135763832003-12-17T22:08:00.000-07:002003-12-17T22:30:57.903-07:00I went to the eye doc today for my three week check after the lasik. I was supposed to go Monday, without the kids, but a snowy morning scuttled those plans. So I ended up there this afternoon, with all three boys.
Right at Raphael’s naptime.
Now, if you’re thinking to yourself this may be a recipe for disaster, give yourself a gold star for astuteness. To make matters worse, I was ten minutes Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1071552310348315802003-12-15T22:23:00.000-07:002003-12-15T22:26:01.186-07:00Here’s my trip, the condensed version. Waaaaay too early Friday morning I dragged myself out of bed and away from my home. As Dad pulled out of the driveway I waved frantically at my boys, who were waving back from the front window. Max was sleepy and a little fuzzy on what was happening. Tre was crying, but trying not to. Raphael was still asleep.
No sooner were we out of the driveway then the Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1071118054869676582003-12-10T21:16:00.000-07:002003-12-10T21:59:54.466-07:00I took Tre to buy new jeans tonight. What is it about eight year old boys that causes them to erupt out the knees of their jeans? Sheesh, I swear the fabric weakens while he’s just sitting serenely, gazing out the window. (Like that ever happens!) In the morning I glance at him and notice, hey, I think there’s a hole in the left knee of his jeans. By lunchtime both knees are sporting tears of at Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1071031394400491332003-12-09T21:41:00.000-07:002003-12-09T21:43:59.186-07:00Ok, apologies all around, but this is going to be short. I did two things today that shouldn’t go in the same day. I gave blood this afternoon and then this evening I went to the weight circuit class I haven’t been to for a month. Now, neither of those things would knock me out by themselves, but put them together, within a 6 hour span…not good news.
I’m not the sharpest pencil in the box tonightKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1070945277018083812003-12-08T21:41:00.000-07:002003-12-08T21:48:40.763-07:00It’s snowing right now, sifting down over the four inches of snow that have fallen since about 1 this afternoon. They expect somewhere between 6 and 10 inches by morning. I have a confession to make.
I kind of like it, all this snow.
There is a breed of people (you know who you are) who live here in Colorado, who looooooove the snow. When the weather forecast calls for 5 or more inches, they Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1070857639121326852003-12-07T21:24:00.000-07:002003-12-07T21:28:01.966-07:00I was at the pediatrician’s office the other day, getting flu shots for the boys and myself. I was feeling very smug, having gotten my flu shot like a good girl. Aren’t I the responsible one? Then today I read in the newspaper that they’re running low on the vaccine, and are asking healthy people to hold off on getting immunized.
Shoot.
Anyhow, while I was waiting for our turn for the shots (inKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1070604428248460052003-12-04T23:05:00.000-07:002003-12-04T23:07:48.496-07:00I was giving Max and Raphael a bath. Raphael was in a MOOD, so his bath time consisted mainly of swiping toys from Max and protesting whenever Max managed to hold onto something. Anything. There was much shrieking and flinging of sodden washcloths.
It was fun.
Max, on the other hand, had discovered that the yellow foam disk they had among their bath toys was…biteable. He was tearing chunks out Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1070513502851831892003-12-03T21:51:00.000-07:002003-12-03T21:53:48.373-07:00This morning I was getting breakfast for the boys, which consists of a routine something like this: Stand, befuddled, in the middle of the kitchen for a solid 14 seconds. Determine that I was about to get milk to go with said breakfast. Stomp over to the cupboard, pull out three glasses. Glare at glasses. Wonder what I was about to do with them.
And so on.
Morning, as I may have mentioned, is notKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1070426879293220382003-12-02T21:24:00.000-07:002003-12-02T21:48:36.966-07:00Tre had a Cub Scout den meeting tonight. Big night. I am proud to announce that tonight Tre earned the coveted Whittling Chip. Do you know what this means? This means he is now allowed to carry a pocket knife.
What the hell are they thinking?
Now, I have to admit this whole Whittling Chip thing is done well. They started the meeting by sitting down the boys around a table. On the table was a Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1070343879146584862003-12-01T22:44:00.000-07:002003-12-01T22:46:29.610-07:00I went to get my hair done today. I may have mentioned before that Kristy, my hair genius, has a bit of a chaotic life. Well, her news today was that she’s separated from her husband. Booted him out, actually.
They have two little girls, 2 ½ and less than one year old. It’s not an unusual story. He’s been doing…things and…women he shouldn’t. She had enough and packed his things and changed the Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1070253790386739402003-11-30T21:18:00.000-07:002003-11-30T21:43:46.170-07:00I’m back! And I can SEE! The lasik surgery was amazing. They took my glasses away and put about seventeen drops in each eye (ok, four) and pointed me at a door. I managed to find my way to the chair and follow the directions as well as expected. I really didn’t like the idea of having some sort of job to do. I know it was important to look right at the light and not look away. That makes sense. Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1069739611701611742003-11-24T22:50:00.000-07:002003-11-24T22:57:03.280-07:00Ok, everyone, brace yourselves. I won't be posting for a few days. I know, I know. Waves of disappointment. Soldier on, brave souls.
See, I'm having my lasik surgery done tomorrow. I went to the doctor's office today for my pre-op check and they did a very mean thing to me. They made me watch a video explaining the procedure and possible complications. ALL the possible complications. Picture Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1069649246955365652003-11-23T21:33:00.000-07:002003-11-23T21:47:55.873-07:00What a weekend we’ve had around here. Saturday dawned grey and cold. There were rumors flying around about a snowstorm moving in, and by mid morning it was here. Not that much snow, maybe three inches? Four inches? Two inches? I have no idea. It was enough snow to give the kids in the neighborhood kids a full weekend of sledding joy.
Since school started the neighborhood gaggle has dwindled. KidsKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1069475280542603342003-11-21T21:27:00.000-07:002003-11-21T21:28:27.640-07:00The boys and I took a batch of the Cub Scout greenery that just came in downtown to Dad’s work to deliver it today. It was lots of fun. No, I mean that. Tre was adorable in his uniform, handing people their wreaths and fidgeting while he repeated, “Thank you for your order.” Max, in true middle child fashion, was alternately happy to just be along or despondent that he wasn’t the one handing out Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1069390489817690582003-11-20T21:25:00.000-07:002003-11-20T21:57:25.826-07:00I took the boys to Burger King for lunch today. Love that salty meat! As I got their food the boys went tearing off into the great big child habitrail play place. This particular BK has a huge one, a good two stories tall. By the time I came in with their daily serving of poor parenting choices, a kid was racing through the tubes hollering, “Run away from the evil Superman!”
Three guesses who theKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1069307253090671422003-11-19T22:46:00.000-07:002003-11-19T22:47:57.903-07:00I’m sitting here, far too tired to blog (aside here, I just typed “fart oo tired to blog” and snickered like a little boy. I need to get out more). Allow me to treat you to a few snapshots of my day.
Raphael is sick. Raphael deals with illness much like we all deal with illness. He grows a touch whiny and wants his mama to hold him all the time. Well, isn’t that how you feel when your nose is Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1069218021493113382003-11-18T21:58:00.000-07:002003-11-18T22:00:45.950-07:00Mom and I took the boys to a huge dinosaur exhibit today. It was very cool, many animatronic dinosaurs growling and posturing above us. Raphael teetered between scared and amused the whole time we were there. One minute he’d mutter anxiously, “Dey not gonna hurt me. Dey can’t hurt me.” And then the next minute he’d chuckle, “Yook at da cute dinosaurs! Awww…”
Max wandered through the exhibit, Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1069132870223928142003-11-17T22:19:00.000-07:002003-11-17T22:21:33.436-07:00Hey, anyone notice my nifty new set of links? Yes, I finally figured out how to add those to my blog template. *whew*
AND, I’d like to add, I figured it out all on my own. Which is to say that I sought out the information on my “intellectual strata,” as my brother Josh would put it, and applied that information. Not, I suppose, that I actually figured it out all on my own. Nonetheless.
There Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1069042521781825692003-11-16T20:41:00.000-07:002003-11-16T21:15:44.060-07:00I was reading here a story about a woman whose artistic ability was temporarily stunted by the cruelty of a teacher. It reminded me of an experience I had in fifth grade.
Before fifth grade I’d always vacillated between a few career ambitions. I would teach Special Ed, and probably be a forest ranger (I never claimed to be a cool kid). Oh, and I’d be a writer.
That was a given.
Well, one day inKirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1068784155625166622003-11-13T21:28:00.000-07:002003-11-13T21:29:34.810-07:00Windy day today. Not breezy, but howlingly windy. I stepped out of the van this afternoon at the grocery store and the wind wrenched the door from my hand and smacked it into the car next to me. Thank God, into the rubbery bumper thingy on their door. I hate that kind of wind. It feels threatening, ominous. I watched newspaper and leaves swirl past the windows and worried about what might be Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1068698754592273882003-11-12T21:31:00.000-07:002003-11-12T21:50:43.826-07:00I have a problem of sorts. An issue, if you will. See, I've been giving the boys Honeycomb cereal for breakfast. Hey, they like it. I know, that alone should qualify as an issue in my life. After all, the main ingredients of Honeycomb cereal are...(checking the box)...sugar, preservatives, bad parenting choices, and more sugar. And sucrose.
Sadly, that's not my issue. I'm perfectly ok with Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1068610661108336182003-11-11T21:16:00.000-07:002003-11-11T21:19:13.596-07:00I was in the family room, picking up the same four million books I picked up yesterday and the day before and the day before and the day…
Wait. Off track there.
Anyhow.
From the kitchen I heard Raphi’s voice pipe up, registering great alarm.
“Oh no! Ah bwoke it!” I winced, but didn’t jump up immediately. “I broke it” can mean “I tore the tiny bit of paper from the band-aid wrapper I’ve been Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1068525912529337592003-11-10T21:24:00.000-07:002003-11-10T21:45:27.090-07:00Oh, the NaNo novel is not going well. Not at all. Here it is, the tenth, and I’m at just over 7,000 words. This. Is. Not. A. Good. Thing.
And, I’ve decided, not my fault. See, I was going to catch up on a good chunk of writing today at Starbucks when I had my child-free Monday morning. And all was going well. Tre and Max were safely tucked into their classes at Hope. Raphael was in caring hands. Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1068311883905684122003-11-08T10:16:00.000-07:002003-11-08T10:18:01.826-07:00I just wanted to drop in for a moment here to give you a wee snapshot of my life. I was standing in the kitchen, trying to load the dishwasher. I say trying because Raphael was helping me. He was not in a good mood, because his Appa had gone off with his Max, and left him at home. Plus, his Tre was downstairs, playing GameBoy, not entertaining the ShooperToddler. On top of all that, his Mama was Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1068179032577594992003-11-06T21:21:00.000-07:002003-11-06T21:23:50.636-07:00My sons have discovered “America’s Funniest Home Videos.” Remember that show? Bob Saget being cheesy, introducing video evidence of our decline as a culture? Many, many shots of pants being pulled down and men getting whacked in the groin? Well, it lives in all its rerun glory on Pax, and my sons think it’s pure genius. They like to imagine scenes that would make good AFHV fodder.
Tre’s fairly Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1068096824718697832003-11-05T22:29:00.000-07:002003-11-05T22:34:52.783-07:00Ok, for all of you who have been clamoring to hear about my NaNo progress, here it is, my NaNo Q and A session. Please understand, these Q’s are, for the most part, not actual questions I’ve been asked so much as questions I’m sure someone wants to ask. Except some of them are actual questions. It’s my blog, I get to play by my rules. So there.
Q: What the heck is NaNo?
A: Good Q. NaNo is short Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1068007594386727362003-11-04T21:17:00.000-07:002003-11-04T21:52:57.343-07:00I went to the eye doctor today. This is not an unusual experience for me. I have the eyesight of some doughy underground dweller. Useless squinty myopic eyes, mine. I remember the day my mom realized I needed glasses. I was ten, and she was helping me make lemon aid for the stand I had with my brother. (Aside here, since I last wrote about the lemon aid stand I've discovered that my brother did Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1067921294892155652003-11-03T21:46:00.000-07:002003-11-03T21:59:33.193-07:00The boys have been going to Hope School for two months now. They’re doing very well. Tre took to it right away with characteristic purpose and good spirits. Today, when I asked how school went he replied with a hearty, “Great! I had a great day! In Art we learned how to draw Peter the Pumpkin Eater.” Max, true to form, took a while to warm up to it. The first few weeks he wasn’t sure he really Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1067833788451744742003-11-02T21:29:00.000-07:002003-11-02T21:30:14.586-07:00I’ve tried to start this blog entry about six times now. I’m not sure what to do here, because today has been a huge and terribly emotional day. Yet I don’t know how to explain all of it…
I’m an Episcopalian. Or at least I was until today. Now, my fear is that there are people who will read that, and if you’re aware of what’s going on with the Episcopal Church you’re thinking, oh my. Kira’s Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1067752139197153852003-11-01T22:35:00.000-07:002003-11-01T22:48:57.710-07:00Ok, fellow NaNo participants, day 1 - 2,272 words. About...three of them are worth keeping, but still...Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5477898.post-1067663118368655282003-10-31T22:02:00.000-07:002003-10-31T22:05:17.460-07:00 Obligatory cute kids in their costumes entry.
Well, tonight the boys went with my Mom and Dad to go trick-or-treating. They could barely sit still for dinner. As a matter of fact, I can’t swear that they weren’t hovering a few millimeters above their chairs with nervous energy. Tre kept saying, “I’m so excited my stomach hurts. Just a little.” I’m really hoping it is Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964045999082608920noreply@blogger.com