Category: Picture Book

Smear Campaign

No matter how many times I clean him up, he still looks like this 99.9% of the time.

When Bryan said my hair reminded him of Barry Gibb, I decided to wear a hat.

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There’s a new coffee shop in town that serves cupcakes. It’s spacious, it’s kid-friendly, it’s cozy, and the coffee is pretty good – AND they have a hot pink trash can. Ruthie likes the pink trash can. She calls the coffee shop ‘the pink trash can place.’

We’ve stopped in on several occasions, mostly on lazy Saturday mornings just after I’ve rolled out of bed. We want to support new businesses moving into the area, so even though I’m not a big fan of cupcakes, the kids could always use a boost of sugar in the morning.

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One by one the junk shops posing as antique stores are moving out and more relevant businesses are moving in. Last week a Mexican cantina serving homemade tamales opened up, and I can’t wait to take the kids. And there’s always the wine bar we all love. And the ale house. I think we’ve maxed out on sports bars, though, so I hope we cap that off at the existing three establishments.

I have hope for the future of my community. I have hope for the hip.

Tulip Festival

Last week the kids and I drove nearly two hours north with some friends for the annual Tulip Festival in the Skagit Valley. It was semi-spontaneous in that an original weather report indicated Wednesday would be cold and rainy, so we decided to do something indoors. But at ten o’clock Tuesday night I checked the weather again to find a prediction of sunny skies and temps in the high fifties. I started making phone calls around 8am on Wednesday and 10am four adults and four children still managed to make it out the door with a picnic lunch!

I commented to my friend that this was one of the first adventures I’d taken the kids on without pushing a stroller around ‘just in case’ Thomas got whiney or Ruthie would not follow my directions. We are entering a new era of freedom and independence, one in which Ruthie responds to my calls to stay close and Thomas charges forward on sure feet, no longer toddling. This age is so fun – to be able to do things and go places with nothing but a few snacks and a single diaper in my purse. Even at the grocery store the other day I let both the kids walk.

I often think about the possibility of getting pregnant again. For a long time, through my depression and the height of my rage problems, I was sure I’d have to be institutionalized if I conceived again. I am not a happy, glowing, pregnant woman. I puke for nine months. And I’m terrified of being depressed again, and of losing all the ground I’ve gained in overcoming rage.

But in order to ditch the hormonal birth control that was driving me insane, I had to be at peace with the possibility. At least, I had to be 89% at peace. And I am.

While I am enjoying the growing freedom from the labor of childrearing, I would not freak out if the stick turned blue. The worst thing to cross my mind would probably be the 30 lbs I was about to gain, and where on earth it would go.

But if or until any of this actually happens, I am simply enjoying the moment.

The Male/Female Communication Gap

building towers with blocksFor Thomas’ birthday we bought him large plastic blocks – and I mean LARGE as in several inches across and deep so I don’t have to step on or find little blocks all. over. my house.

Last night Ruthie and Thomas were stacking them high into a tower and giggling as they knocked the tower down. At one point Ruthie paused just before demolition to elaborately explain to me exactly what was about to happen. Perhaps she will one day administrate, manage, or lead people, because she was very organized about the whole thing.

Just as she was getting to the good part, with her hand fisted and finger pointing out for emphasis, saying, ‘…and then I’m going to count to three, and then I’m going to knock it over!’ Thomas became impatient, swooped in with his own finger pointing for emphasis and shouts, ‘…two….three….ahhhhhh!’ and knocks the tower over prematurely, completely stealing her thunder.

Keeping Watch?

Keeping Watch?The other day we had too much going on for the kids to get a full nap, but I wanted them to at least get some quiet time.

Okay – it was ME who needed the quiet time.

When Ruthie has a difficult time staying in bed I give her a clock or a watch to keep with her, and I show her where the hands will point when it’s okay for her to come downstairs. When one o’clock came and went and Ruthie didn’t show up, I snuck up to her room and found her fast asleep, still guarding the clock.

Death to lattes. The Macchiato is my friend.

The Macchiato is my friend.

After spending the morning at Powell’s we spent the afternoon reading in a coffee shop. I’m not a big fan of sweet drinks, alcoholic or otherwise, and was not in the mood for your standard drip coffee. So I tried a macchiato, which is a shot (or two) of espresso with foam. Have you ever wanted to bathe in a cup of coffee? I wanted to lather it all over my body for the richness and foaminess it possessed – all without the yucky sweetness of flavoring or the stomach-churning dysfunction of milk.

I will never drink another latte again.