My 2 yr old is reaching for a basket. She’s in my arms and it’s just out of her reach. She grunts and says “Help me reach it mommy” (but not like that, it’s more like 2 words “hewlpme reachitmommy”) and I lean over so she can reach.
I discover she was really reaching for the crochet hook inside. It’s hooked around one of the basket’s bottom pieces of straw, so the basket comes, too. She laughs “gottit bakstick mommy” and I turn to see why she’s laughing. She’s fumbling to get the basket off the hook.
I’d rather her play with the basket than the hook. It looks like she’s caught a fish. I tell her so and she thinks it’s funny.
She frees the crochet hook and looks in the basket. (which seems way more fun than the hook now, luckily) There’s nothing in there, obviously. She gives me a funny look. “Got fish in there?” She asks me. I said “You do?” and she decides that this is fun and plays along.
“Yeah, I got jellyfish in there, hold it.” I had a traumatic jellyfish issue in Hawaii when I was 9. Portugese man-o-wars, to be exact. I strung them all over my arms and stomped around the beach like a sea monster. A few hours later I was soaking in the tub with herbs and potions under the supervision of the local witch doctor, waiting for the swelling to go down and for signs of emergency, which would involve an air lift to the hospital. It wasn’t much fun. Nor was it fun that my Grandma stood over in the doorway, alerting everyone in the neighborhood that my breasts had begun to develop. To this day, I think she scared them. I’m not messing with jellyfish, I tell my daughter.
“No way, jellyfish sting, I don’t want to hold jellyfish.” “Oh” she looks down, a little dismayed, so I suggest she catches another kind of fish. She dumps the jellyfish back into the imaginary sea and catches “nahwahn fish” (another one fish) to show me. We admire the fish. it’s wet and floppy. She says that it “yooks yummy” but I’m not so easily convinced. She wants to go upstairs and show the girls. But first, she dumps out the new fish in order to catch more jellyfish.
So I go upstairs with her because it’s time for the nightly bedtime ritual anyway. I’ve mentioned before that we don’t have bedtimes, instead we just hang out and the kids still fall asleep.
Just because we don’t have a bedtime, it doesn’t mean we don’t go to bed, and it doesn’t mean we don’t have similar bedtime rituals. Ours are just more fun
Generally, We snuggle in on the 9 yr old’s bed, I go through a nightly checklist “did you brush your teeth?” and when the answer isn’t “yes of course” I sometimes ask “are you going to?” (only one sometimes doesn’t want to. A piggyback ride down the stairs usually solves it, she doesn’t like to be downstairs alone) Then we make sure feet are clean, especially in the summer. We make sure jammies are on, I collect the dirty clothes basket, helping make sure their toy are put away and sometimes we watch a movie.
The other day we had a great time making friendship bracelets. Sometimes we just tell stories or play word games or board games. Usually we read books, They each pick one (because I can guarantee I won’t fall asleep through 1 book each. If I’m still conscious when those are done, I’ll read more. The limit of 1 book is imposed because I tend to fall asleep reading and jumble the words, which the find amusing until they discover I can’t read anymore.
Tonight, I went in to escort Evelyn & her jellyfish, then read to them (not knowing exactly what was in store, I never do).
When we reached the top of the stairs, she goes in to my 16 yr old’s room first. “Embahlee, yookit, i got jellyfish. see jellyfish. yookit me bakstick (basket)” and she proceeds to show Emilee her basket and Emilee is notably impressed. Then we head out (cordial goodbyes and goodnights included) While I’m busy giving Emilee a goofy look, Evelyn is yelling to me from the hall “gum on mommy yets go” We arrive into the younger girl’s room and Evelyn goes from girl to girl, telling them about her jellyfish. They’re almost completely ignoring her and she’s annoyed, so I announce out loud. “Evelyn has caught some jellyfish in her basket and came all the way upstairs to show you girls.”
Within 5 minutes, we’re all sitting on the bed, pretending to catch fish in the ocean from our boat (the bed).
So yes, it’s true. We don’t have bedtimes.
But we do have bedtime rituals, which consist of enjoying each moment together until our bodies would rather sleep.
We sing songs, we make art projects, we watch documentaries, web videos, broadway shows and silent movies and old musicals or music videos, we draw or write or work out puzzles in schoolbooks or coloring books. Our bedtime stories, when we read them (sometimes 20 minutes a day, sometimes 90 minutes, sometimes zero minutes a day, even a week at times) may be fiction or nonfiction, color or black and white, classic or new or used, bought with allowance or given as a gift. They may be bestsellers, and sometimes they suck. Sometimes they’re not even in English, or a language we understand. It’s not about the books, it’s about the time we spend together. And falling asleep should be a pleasant part of one’s day.
So no, we don’t have a bedtime and we don’t fight about going to sleep. I’m not concerned about their sleeping habits because I don’t make a habit of scheduling things that will interfere with their natural sleepy times.
I’m not afraid that they won’t “learn to sleep” because they already know how to sleep. I don’t feel the need to manipulate their sleep times. It’s exhausting enough keeping up with their awake times.
After the deep-sea fishing expedition, we settled down. When the girls agreed upon tonight’s bedtime plan, we were to watch Dora the Explorer, then the 2nd half of Hannah Montana (they fell asleep last time, so we agreed that we’d have to watch the rest tonight)
The kids laughed at me when I mistakenly referred to “The Hoedown Throw Down” as “The Barnyard Stomp.” I was impressed that they knew the entire dance. That’s Gabriella’s favorite song. Because Gabriella got to play her favorite song for me, we needed to play Madelyn’s, too. She’s 6 and teeny, shrimpy, petite and squeaky. But she knows all the words to “The Climb” and I really had to fight back the tears. Who knew Hannah Montana had such a positive message? I sure hope she maintains her good-girl image.
Anyway, I asked the girls where they wanted the dolls (because the bed was covered with barbies, all of whom were arranged in rows, with swimsuits and beach blankets (made of socks and washcloths)
Grace swooshed them all off the bed into a pile in one motion. I started picking them up & said “Which toybox do these belong in?’ and Gabriella (not at all offended by Grace’s swooshing, by the way) said “They don’t go in a toybox, mom. They have a life, you know. They each go to their own houses, and she proceeded to place them all over the room, carefully into lifelike positions. The other girls seemed to know where each doll’s house is and what position they should be in. Most of the dolls were in beds, but some were sitting and reading, others were on their computer, one had to get in the car & drive all night to get to the airport and some were on the phone (presumably with each other)
The putting Barbies “away” took about ten minutes and when it was complete, I asked that the light be turned off so we could watch the movie. Someone pushed play & we watched the rest of the film, snuggled in together. By the time it ended, only I was awake.
I headed downstairs feeling like the luckiest mom in the world. When I hear other moms say “I know you don’t have a bedtime but I need to put my kids to bed at 7:30 or I will go crazy” I just shake my head. I’m not sure what they picture, but nothing is more fun or relaxing than allowing sleep to come, giving in to what the children want and just being present with them, approaching the end of the day with love and patience, allowing things to be put in order and letting love define the time, rather than the clock.
So what if it was almost 10:30 when I left their room. Instead of going in at 6am to wake them up (before the sun rises) for school, I get to sip my coffee (relishing one of the rare silent moments in my day) tiptoe in and kiss their foreheads. I get to make pancakes in peace and quiet, wondering which child will wake up to the smell & greet me with stinky kisses first. I’m not a morning person. Peacefulness and love, to begin and end each day, that’s what I need for my sanity.
Because honestly I just want to talk about the calendar I bought. I feel like my blog is somehow related to my calendar now because of what happened last year and everything.
So, my kids got a Borders gift card for Xmas and I brought them in on the 28th to spend it. While we were there I picked up a calendar (because we can’t go waiting until the last minute, right? And I do have mental issues regarding starting the year with no calendar.
The one I got was so cute. It’s not a desk-sized calendar (for the first time in many years) but I do think it will have enough room because each page is a week. It’s also got adorable little Mary Engelbreit drawings and quotes about motherhood, a new one each week. It’s called the Mary Engelbreit’s Moms Can Do Anything: 2010 Weekly Wall Calendar
And, as if the universe was catering to my calendar-insanity, I opened it up to the first page and the very first day was Dec 28. Was it fate? Was it luck? Was it the Law of Attraction? I don’t care, I took out a pen and wrote “buy calendar.”
I know people who think kids shouldn’t go to weddings or funerals. The first time I came across this perspective, I was shocked. Those are really important things in life- why shouldn’t children be included? The answer I was given is that “Old people don’t want a bunch of kids running around” in reference to the funerals and “People spend a lot of money on weddings, they don’t want to pay for other people’s kids.”
That concept was so foreign to me. I was raised in an environment where children brought joy. When I was a child, everywhere we went, old people were happy to see us. We had big family gatherings and very rarely were children banished to a “kids table.”
At gatherings with the “no kids allowed” crowd, I noticed that there was a kids table. I also noticed that the old people actually DID want to be around the children. I wondered if any of the wedding couples actually may have enjoyed the presence of children.
I stopped attending “no kids” events and decided to bring my children to things, like my heart was telling me. I stopped discussing it with the leader of the “no kids crowd” and no one said anything rude to me about it. No one was rude to my children. Sure, there were whispers. In my opinion, if you’re whispering something naughty you KNOW you shouldn’t be saying it. I don’t care if people whisper. I care that my kids are exposed to life’s rituals and experiences as children. Keeping children away from weddings and funerals is downright abusive to everyone involved.
In my world, children bring the light.
At a funeral, children are given the opportunity to mourn with a group, to see that everyone cries, to cry with others and know that all is well. Experiencing raw human emotion is VERY HEALTHY. After the funeral, while children may not want to sit inside with the adults, eating comfort food and retelling memories, their laughter in the backyard brings a REALITY CHECK perspective to everyone inside.
Kids give good hugs
kids don’t judge, they’re honest and REAL with their feedback
Kids remind us that LIFE still exists.
Kids give us a REASON to go on.
Weddings are often a magical, love-filled environment. How can we withhold that from children? The centerpieces, the flowers, the decor, the mini lights, the music, the fabrics, the candles are as close to real-life fairytopia as it gets. Why on earth would the spirited, loving presence of children be unwelcome?
In my opinion, weddings without children are hollow, empty, and just plain depressing. Standing around getting drunk is really NOT what life is about.
I am sure that it’s one of the consequences of institutionalized education that makes people believe that children should go through life without attending weddings and funerals. The belief that childhood is about “preparing for life” rather than living is truly EVIL.
Imagine going through your whole life and not even seeing a baby until yours is born. It happens. Or how about never seeing a wedding until you’re an adult. No wonder we have BrideZillas. They think the wedding ACTUALLY MATTERS. It’s not the wedding that matters, dear, it’s the marriage and the life that you build together. Will it be a life of excluding children because they’re inconvenient (or more likely, can’t afford their own gift)? What next, will you exclude the elderly, too?
As a mother of six girls, I look forward to up to six amazing weddings, filled with children in pretty dresses. My younger children will attend their older sister’s weddings (not any time soon) and my first grandchildren will probably attend their Aunt’s weddings. I have 4 nephews, 3 nieces and another (neice, I think) coming soon. They’re all very small and are already invited to my oldest daughter’s wedding (not any time soon) because my girls love kids and because if children aren’t welcome, I’m not going.
Children are an important part of society and NEED to be included in rite-of-passage events and life transitions, both for the benefit of the child AND the benefit of everyone else that’s present.
An environment without children is not natural. It’s not normal. It’s not healthy. Children provide perspective (what’s important in life) and a sense of wonder.
The inability to tolerate the presence of children is a sign of serious mental illness.
Wanna talk about children’s behavior?
I know a lot of people hate that word, a lot of unschoolers hate that word, but that’s what comes up when you talk about having children at fancy restaurants and at weddings.
Children learn by practicing and by experiencing.
A child who can think will not climb on the table at a white linen restaurant. It’s painfully obvious to even the most dimwitted of humans that certain situations require a certain level of decorum.
Kids feed off of the energy around them and in a quiet place where conversations are low, they will generally only make “inappropriate noise” when no one is talking to them. It’s a parent’s job to keep children engaged in activities that befit the location. THIS is socialization, not “recess.”
I have an entire rant on ‘recess” that I’m saving for another day.
Children “behave” the way they’re expected to. Period.
A culture that’s critical of children for wearing their energy-level on their sleeve is ill-equipped to handle all SORTS of reality, not just the fact that kids exist.
I am sure that if we all ran around as much as children do, we’d be more fit and healthy.
There’s absolutely NOTHING that a child can do in public that’s of much consequence in the long term. Nothing they break can’t be fixed. Their presence will NOT cause me to enjoy myself less. If anyone present finds that they are enjoying themselves less because a child is present then I would speculate that they weren’t welcome as children and are, perhaps, in need of child-therapy, to learn that children NEED to be included in life. Children are the present, not JUST the future.
Kids exist. Kids are alive NOW. Kids don’t need to get older before they take part in life. Weddings and funerals are important parts of life. Kids belong at weddings and funerals. Weddings and funerals need children. Their “behavior” is irrelevant. Their presence is invaluable.
(Edited 11-13-09 to say that the National Organization for Women agrees with me and said it better, even though I said it first)
I am not a “morning person.” I wake up confused, my eyes are blurry, my voice is gritty and my body moves slowly. I tumble into the kitchen, straight for the coffee pot and stare at it cross-eyed until there’s enough to fill my cup. Sometimes I squat in the kitchen so I don’t have to use any muscles or energy to stand up.
Because of this (and the fact that it’s easier for me to work when they’re asleep) I get up between 5 and 6 a.m. while my kids don’t start waking up until 9 or so.
I have a happier day when I can wake up to peace and take care of my needs for coffee,solitude and silence before tending to the needs of the children. The kids have a happier day when the first words they hear are “Good morning sunshine” rather than “quit stomping on the stairs please.”
Most of my kids wake up chipper and happy, eager to get on with the business of whatever they’re interested in. Sometimes in the night, they find their way into my bed. There’s always someone extra in there when we wake up. This morning it was Grace, she’s 4 years old. She wakes up and rubs her eyes a little, looks around the room and smiles when I say “good morning.” Then she turns and snuggles in, saying “good morning” to the baby, kissing each one of her little toes. Within minutes, they’re giggling, kissing and hugging and asking for pancakes.
When the pancakes are ready, they come to the table, holding hands and Grace insists that their plates be identical this morning. Matching plates are rare in our house
Madelyn (6) comes down the stairs, we can hear her stomping. She’s a skinny little girl but sometimes I think she’s trying to press her foot through the stairs. Her first words to her sisters are “good morning” and she gives them each a kiss before sitting at the table for pancakes.
The other kids are asleep, it’s just me and the younger half most mornings. I don’t usually eat breakfast, I usually zip over to my computer to finish up whatever it is that I was working on when they woke up. As they finish their breakfast, they’re planning their first adventure for the day. “Grace, wanna go pick flowers with me?” or “Maddy I’m going to take a bath.” Every day it’s something new.
Some days I have surprises planned. Whether it’s an art project or a “field trip” (is there a non-school-y term for this… going somewhere just to learn more?) they’re usually excited about the plans I make. Since we both work from home, everyone doesn’t HAVE to go with us.
So what do your mornings look like? I was listening to a call-in radio show where the caller said something about how he can’t work from home because his kids go to school, the house is too loud in the morning. The host said “I know what you mean man, mornings are the worst.” Which was followed by an article I stumbled across that was trying to teach parents how to help their kids wake up in the morning for school.
I found the advice a bit sad, “Don’t let them press snooze” was probably the most painful. I remember how much I hated waking up for school as a kid, especially in high school. I’ve often thought that the “answer” to some of the problems schools have would be to operate a set of classes between noon and 6pm instead of forcing everyone to comply with the 8am-2pm thing. What’s wrong with waking up and getting a good start to the day. With school kids and their parents so over-scheduled, a 12noon start-time might help everyone start their day with a hearty breakfast and a peaceful home instead of the yelling, stress and rushing around that I hear so much about. Sure, some people function better in the morning, I’m not one of them, though.
In my quest to live at a child’s pace, and just let my kids “be” I’ve been making a point each day to accompany my 21 month old on a walk to the garden each afternoon. She gets “itchy” to go outside with the older girls, but she’s too small to play in their games, so we walk to the garden.
Our house is on 4 acres and the vegetable garden is less than 100 yards from the door. I didn’t plant much this year; two kinds of tomatoes, six kinds of peppers, 2 kinds of eggplant, pickling cucumbers, zucchini, yellow squash, strawberries, a few herbs and pumpkins. The pumpkins are her favorite.
“Pukkin mommy, pukkin now mommy” That’s the signal that it’s time to head outside. “Do you want to go see the pumpkin in the garden now?” “Yeah pukkin garnin mommy pukkin now, OKAY mommy” She can be a bit impatient when I’m putting on my shoes, it takes all of thirty seconds to slip on my flip flops but in that time, she’s said “NOW” about three times. Persistence is a good thing, right? “Let’s go” I say, and she runs for the door.
We’re finally out the door and I’m headed for the “garnin.” “Uh-oh” she says. She kicked a rock off of the porch and absolutely must put it back into place before we proceed. Finally, she finds the rock and puts it back “yets go” she says “see pukkin garnin okay mommy” and we’re off.
The grass is tall, she steps in a hole and trips a little. I stop, waiting to see if she’ll cry or need me, she stands and continues walking as if nothing happened, until she sees me stopped “Mommy yets go see pukkin garnin” as if I’m holding her back somehow. “I’m coming,” I say “Want me to carry you?” “No mommy no carry you. See pukin garnin Okay.” She’s not put off, or upset about falling, and she continues.
For about 4 feet. She notices a broken branch on a peach tree. “Uh oh mommy, broken, uh oh figgits (fix it)” I tell her “I can’t fix it honey, it’s a tree. it’s broken. It’s OK, let’s go see the pumpkin.” And we’re off. yet again.
For about 3 feet. A butterfly is in the grass. Clearly having flown over for the sole purpose of making her laugh. She covers her mouth as she’s laughing, and holds her side. I wonder, did that little giggle give her a side cramp or is she copying the gestures we were making last night as we skimmed through a website of riotously hilarious photos as a family last night ( funnybabypictures.net- I dare you not to laugh) Anyway, she tells me “buhfie mommy, see buhfie? buh fie get me (laughs)” “Did that butterfly get you? that silly butterfly.” Her focus on getting to the pumpkin isn’t blinding her to beauty along the way- wow. I should walk slowly more often.
But I’m still me, y’know. Eyes on the prize…” Look, Evie- I see the pumpkin” We’re not even halfway there yet but it’s taken five minutes to walk fifteen feet and obviously my mind is wandering. So she runs toward the pumpkin, giggling.
For about 5 feet. Then she stops. “walking now mommy okay” and she reaches up to hold my hand. For about 2 feet. Running was just too exhausting.
About ten minutes and twenty distractions later, we finally reach the great pumpkin. A predictable conversation ensues, whereby we discuss that it is round, orange, big, bigger, growing, on the ground, dirty and still orange, still round.
This, in case you wondered, fulfills some of our state’s requirements for kindergarten math, by the way.
Then, we have to check out everything else. While she’s reciting her daily pumpkin speech, I munch the yellow pear tomatoes. Yes, they’re yellow, some are green and they’re not round. She tastes a tomato, just like she does every day and spits it out, to tell me that it’s “yucky.” I could have told her that she wouldn’t like it, because every day she tastes one and decides anew that it’s yucky. That’s OK, she’s reseeding. It reminds me of my sister being forced to taste just one pea at the dinner table as a child. Why does this baby CHOOSE to continue tasting something she doesn’t like and at any point in her life, will she end up liking it eventually? I don’t know, I’m just enjoying the show.
She notices that some of the peppers are red. “Wed mommy wed, wed pukkin” I break the news “That’s not a pumpkin honey, it’s a pepper.” So I pick the pepper and hand it to her, along with 5 or 6 other peppers. Gypsy peppers, fajita peppers, jalapenos and Big Jim peppers. She can’t carry them all in her arms, luckily there’s a little basket in the grass, leftover from the older girls’ play, so I put the peppers in the basket and she’s jumping up and down, wanting to show Daddy the peppers. So, we’re off…
At least seven times between the garden and the house, she dropped the peppers. Each time, she cheerfully said “uh oh” and bent down to pick them up. I offered to carry them for her, but she wanted to carry them herself. The basket was kind of small and the shape of the peppers was such that if you didn’t put the long Big Jim peppers upright, there would be no room for the round peppers. Lying down, the Big Jim peppers filled the whole basket. She tolerated me helping her rearrange them in the basket as we picked them up.
A couple times, she attempted to “count” them, to make sure they were all there “one two one two one two fee six one two SEVEN” In edu-speak, she’s expressing a preliminary understanding of one-to-one correspondence, indicating that she understands that numbers can be used to represent physical things, for record-keeping purposes and for tracking quantity.
Then, she steps on a thorn. This time, when I offer her a piggy back ride, she consents. We’re six feet from the door, but I know that can mean at least two or three more instances of dropping a pepper and bending down to fix it all. When we reach the door, I ask her if she wants to get down and walk the rest of the way to the kitchen. She drops her peppers twice on the way to the kitchen and screams at the top of her lungs when one of her sisters tries to pick them up for her. She can’t figure out how to arrange them in the basket, so one-by-one, she runs them back and forth to the kitchen counter. When the last pepper is in place, she looks for me “Awwdone mommy, peppers done” and I cheer for her.
She’s exhausted, she snuggles in to nurse and crashes for at least an hour.
I stare at her in her sleep, trying to find that place inside me where I am just as persistent, non judging, patient and focused. Then, I give up, simply grateful that I got to share that moment with her, and hoping I remember the lessons when I need to.
Today it doesn’t matter that the floors are crooked (wavy, actually) or that the bathroom is…. horrid- completely horrid, if we were owners not renters, I’d dynamite the bathroom and press a port-a-potty against the door. and it doesn’t even matter that while we were gone, my dog shed a 2 inch layer of hair onto my living room floor. We’re finally home:)
We drove 25 hours in one day (OK, 25 consecutive hours because technically that’s longer than a day) before we arrived in Park City, just north of Wichita, Kansas. We stayed at a Best Western (free wireless, free hot breakfast buffet and an indoor courtyard with a pool, foosball, pool tables, miniature golf and other stuff). The following day, we drove the remaining 6 hours into Dallas.
In Oklahoma we stopped at a roadside “scenic outlook” that showcased the geologic formations, which was interesting. More interesting, though was that on the BACK of the interpretive sign, several people had signed it and left messages. Some were funny, some were obscene and others were just a “hey I was here.” it reminded me of Facebook, especially when my 8 yr old asked if she could “sign the wall.” I stammered- writing on things in public is bad. I relented. This was the back of the sign, everyone else had done it, it won’t turn her into a vandal and I wonder, what does she have to say to the world? While the girls signed, I walked a little way down the hill to the edge of the overlook. on the railing, someone had adhered a custom-made die-cut sticker that said “I’m Already There” If you’re familiar with the country music song by Lonestar, then you know what this means. if not, Check it out on Youtube. I couldn’t believe someone went to all that trouble to leave their message, and what a perfect spot.
Once we arrived in Dallas and got checked into the hotel, my biggest fear was negated (people really did member me) and the older kids disappeared. I saw glimpses of them off and on throughout the week, but they were having so much fun with their friends and the many many many activities that the Rethinking Education Conference had planned.
I had a whole busy schedule of workshops and classes I wanted to attend. Instead, I spent much of my time with my children, I can’t complain about that, it was the most fun we have EVER had together. We went swimming each day, we rode up & down the elevators just because we could, we jumped on the beds, we snuggled until noon, we watched the Disney Channel and I didn’t work for even half a minute. I had the pleasure of sharing a few glasses of wine with like-minded moms at the mom’s night out (twice that week) and failed to convince my husband to go to the Dad’s night out. I got to visit with special friends, women who I know mostly online. our kids played together. Several times, I was told that my kids are amazing. I didn’t get to see them much, but I know they were random-huggers, making sure that everyone at the conference felt the love. They enjoyed making duct-tape things- a cell phone cover, a purse, a wallet. They performed in the talent show, they went to a few workshops and got very little sleep. Brandon and I made it to a few workshops. Between the audio book we listened to on the drive and the workshops we attended, we had plenty to discuss.
After the conference, we drove 20 hours to visit my sister, then a little over an hour to visit Brandon’s mother, sister and brother as well as their families, my kids were so excited to meet their cousins and it was really nice seeing my sister-in-laws (or is it sisters-in-law?). Even Uncle Ernie came over. We had our first hot meal of the week (hotel- no microwave in the room, no worries)
We crashed on grandma’s couch. Have you ever seen 8 people on a sectional sofa? Technically, a few of the kids snuggled with Grandma. The smoke from the Southern CA fires was still in the air and breathing was hard, I kept coughing.
The next day we drove another hour and a half to visit with friends, our very favorite family friends. I first met the Spargos when I was doing hair at Supercuts in Palmdale. I used to chat with her while her husband got his hair cut. Our daughters were the same age (not yet a year old) This year they’re both turning sixteen.
After dinner with the Spargos, we had dessert with Brandon’s sister and her husband then drove- 18 hours, home. We arrived around 2pm. We logged over 75 hours in the car with 6 kids, not nearly enough sleep, very little nutrition and more than enough love to make up for it all.
Last year I came home confused, my head was spinning from back-to-back workshops with very little time to decompress and reflect upon all the new information. It was like cramming for a test on a subject I’d never heard of before. This year, though, I’m relaxed, focused, more purposeful. I didn’t need all the workshops, I just needed a break. I have some new goals, some new memories and my little Universe has expanded. What more could I ask for?
Silly high-point, opening the swagbag to discover that I had an article published in the Home Educator’s Family Times. I get the email version, I guess I just forgot that there was also a printed version. It’s pretty cool to see my words printed for real. What is it about online publishing that’s so “not real?”
I’m kinda sick of seeing so many programs for kids in poverty.
All over the place, it’s like saying that it’s expensive to help your kids be healthy or to learn or something. That could not be farther from the truth. Knowledge is everywhere, information is free. Everything a child could ever want or need to know can be conveyed without spending a dime, simply through conversation or google.
There’s absolutely no logical reason that a child from a family with an income of x should be at a disadvantage upon entering kindergarten than a child whose parents earn xxx,xxx. no reason at all. In fact, I will speculate that a mom who makes it her job to communicate with her kids all day, playing games and having fun, instead of working outside the home will bring down the family’s income base and possibly cause her kids to be “at risk” from a financial standpoint.
Oh wait- our government offers financial incentives for working women, bringing down their base income so that they can afford childcare. Does that mean that two-income families can also be “at risk?”
I think we need to change the terminology here because raising kids on a low income doesn’t automatically make them less intelligent, less healthy or otherwise place them at a disadvantage, period. In fact, I reckon that the TRUE cause of poor health in children is not poverty, but poor nutrition and lack of exercise, both of which our country promotes and encourages by spending so much money funding the processed food industry and promoting “early childhood education” which involves turning active, interested and engaged little children into mindless lazy robots.
Growing your own food and eating fresh local produce is not expensive. Eating processed foods causes malnutrition. For children to get exercise, all they need is open space outdoors. Most parks don’t charge admission. If you have a yard, that’s even better. People give away bicycles all the time if you don’t have the $100 or so that it takes to buy one brand new. You could also get one at a yard sale. Working in that homegrown garden is also a great way to get exercise. Perhaps children who aren’t getting exercise, regardless of their parent’s financial situation, are lacking energy from proper nutrition or aren’t allowed to play outside.
Where is this information that impoverished kids are at a disadvantage? Seriously, I’d like to see something that proves, statistically (because that’s how I am) that children of any race are at a disadvantage simply because of their parent’s economic situation, and not because of the rest of their lifestyle.
There isn’t any, because money is just a SYMBOL. Money is made up. Our income level means absolutely nothing when it comes to the health or intelligence of our kids, it’s WHAT WE EAT and HOW WE LIVE that puts kids at risk, not the income. When “poor” families choose to grow a vegetable garden, they can eat like kings on a grocery budget that’s just a fraction of what the average American spends eating junk.
In poorer areas of the world where they grow all their own food, they don’t have the health problems we have here (obesity, diabetes, cancer) because they’re eating REAL FOOD and not high fructose corn syrup or other garbage, refined flours, isolated starches and preservatives.
The numbers in the checkbook don’t mandate which books I read my children. In fact, did you know that “The Classics” which are supposed to make kids smarter as per the Thomas Jefferson method of education and the Well Trained Mind, are available for free download because they’re in the public domain. So don’t go complaining that your extensive literature collection cost a fortune, that’s a CHOICE. Once again, an impoverished family could share the same exposure to The Great Books that a family with money can. And libraries are free.
I know plenty of families who manage to live well on a low income. I also know plenty of moms with high family incomes who are saving and investing much of their income, rather than spending it on whatever it is that is supposed to make their kids smarter, and basically enjoying the same free and cheap lifestyle choices that the “poverty” moms do. The children are experiencing the same lifestyle, and both thriving. It’s not the bank balance that gives kids an advantage.
We’ve had our financial ups and downs over the years and there are advantages to both. That’s right, there are advantages to poverty and disadvantages to having money.
Our health care needs have not changed over the years, we rarely get ill. Mainly, what we miss when our income is low would be traveling. Surely there are studies showing that kids who travel are at an advantage, right? And how do they define disadvantaged anyways?
I’m not that impressed by all these programs that spend a fortune buying formula (with taxpayers money) for women who could be nursing (for free) and so called “nutrition” programs that buy a certain number of dairy products and processed cereals, with no regard for their cost, instead of actually teaching women how to read nutrition labels and grow a garden (SURPRISE- real food doesn’t even HAVE labels) Then, when kids are pumped full of high fructose corn syrup (subsidized by the government) they get state-funded health care for all the cavities and medical problems that the processed foods cause.
It’s not poverty that causes children to be ill or lack intelligence, it’s stupidity and well-intentioned “solutions” that presume to know all the answers without factoring in the importance of frugality, honoring nature’s design and the importance of healthy human relationships.
Even my very favorite magazine, Mothering, is guilty of this. So many times I’ve seen articles about “America’s poverty crisis.” In my mind, it’s not the poverty that’s a problem. It’s the decisions that families make about how to live, what to eat and how to entertain and transport themselves that impact a child’s experiences.
These programs for poverty do ONE productive thing, and that’s to send a message to parents and children that without money, you have no hope. Without money, you can’t take care of yourself. Without money, you have to depend upon the government for help. Why are these programs so widely publicized? Because a fearful population is easy to control.
Surely the IRS could raise funds by operating an opt-in mailing program, distributing information to families whose income ratio meets certain requirements, based upon tax returns. That would probably be cheaper than having each individual poverty-based-resource out there posting billboards, television and magazine ads perpetuating the myth that lack of income is the sole factor in determining a family’s effectiveness, instead of focusing on the OTHER factors like lifestyle, nutrition and happiness.
Poverty is a symptom, or perhaps a side effect, but not a disease.
And with that, I leave you with a video that you simply MUST watch if you’re making any kind of car payment.
The other day at midnight, Gabriella brings me this paper she’s written titled “I love my ourth” (ourth=earth) I’ve pasted a copy of it here, but if you can’t see it or can’t read it, let me just plagiarize her so we can proceed.
I love my ourth
by Gabriella Russell
I love my family so so much
I love all my sisttir’s
I love Emilee I love Meagan
I love Maddylinn I love Grace
I love Evalinn I love my Dog
Charly I love my Mom and I love my
Dad I love the world
I love my town I love my
doll’s I love my teddy biers
I love my home I love my
clows (clothes) I love the sky
I love my room I love my
chourch the UUCY I love my
Piggy Bank. I love my bed I love
my Grandma and Grandpa I love
my aunt and unkill I love my
dresir (dresser) I love the park
I love firys (fairies) I love firytiels (fairy tales)
I love casills (castles)
I DO NOT LIKE THE END
It was all sweet and wonderful until the end. OK- I;ll be honest, it’s still sweet and wonderful but what exactly does she mean by the end? This is the same child that gave me a mother’s day card telling me I wasn’t worth waiting for.
It’s like some huge truth is staring me in the face and I’m so blind I can’t see it.
What is this child trying to say? Does she have some secret sixth sense of insider knowledge that the world is ending or something? The end of what? I asked her and she said she didn’t know what she meant, she was just sick of thinking of things. Perhaps she’s going to grow up to be a writer and end all of her novels with a twist that drives readers crazy.
We were watching that National Geographic Special, I think it’s called “Aftermath; Population Zero.” it’s about what happens to all of the buildings on earth if humans disappeared. She wasn’t interested, amused or disturbed. All she said was “This is stupid, there will never be an end to humanity.”
Thank goodness, because I was a little worried for a minute.
Last weekend was a busy weekend on stage for the Russell girls. On the Friday before Mother’s Day, Emilee played Sleeping Beauty in a local production of Cinderella (Or how a guy named Pauly turned out to be a fairly good fairy godmother) She’s in the big pink froofy bridesmaid dress, centerstage. The show is interactive, and with an audience of children they tend to get, um, noisy. My hats off to the cast who was able to integrate the audience into the show, it was great, from what I saw. Evelyn was running circles trying to escape, she loves the playground, and the show was in an elementary school auditorium. She was running around like crazy.
I’m so glad she was able to participate in this production, she had so much fun. She actually pulled a few all-nighters and painted all of the backdrops for the set, too. I was proud of how she managed her time and made conscious, planned-out decisions about how to execute the task.
melody lane singers yakima
On the same exact day, Meagan was 3 hours away in Seattle. She was on the Melody lane Spring singing tour. They visited Safeco Field, saw a show at the Seattle Children’s Theatre, and did lots of other stuff. I’m sorry, all I really know is the drop off time, the pickup time and the shirts were bright gold. She performed- somewhere. She had fun. She took a thousand pictures.
On Mothers Day, Emilee sang at church. It was the Beatles Song “Maybe I’m amazed” but they changed some of the words around to include the word “mother.” Once again, Evelyn was being wild in the pews, so I missed a lot from the wiggling, but that’s OK I would have just cried anyways.
Weekends like this make me long for the city even more. The girls are so “in their element” on stage. Being that I didn’t witness Meagan’s show, I could be wrong. Meagan’s in her element whenever there are several giggling girls and a few cute boys around. Still, once we get to the coast, I know the girls will enjoy that there are more opportunities to perform there. Until then, we’ll continue working the local scene. See you at the show, I’ll be the one chasing the baby in the back.
And my 8 yr old creeps into my room to bring me a mother’s day card. We have a little box full of greeting cards because even though I suck at actually giving anyone a thank-you card, I try to encourage my kids to harness the skill and they do pretty well with it.
Anyways, I have a little stack of Mary Engelbreit cards, with a little girl watching a coccoon as a butterfly emerges. At the top, it says “Some things are worth waiting for”
Inside, my daughter writes “But definitly not you mom Happy Motirs day mommy love Gabriella”
Apparently she thought the front said that Sometimes you have to wait for things. So she’s saying she never has to wait for me? because sometimes I tell her to, not that she does. Should I really concern myself with translating this, weighing all the possible things she could mean by this? I think not.
Mental note to myself- don’t make her wait because you don’t deserve it
Mental note to myself #2 – save this card for when she’s older because she’ll get a kick out of it
my mothers day card
Bonus Art Interpretation Question- there are six pieces of fruit drawn on the right side page, can you identify them all?
It makes my blood boil just to write that. I had to say it, though. It’s not the slightest bit true, by the way. I really don’t hate you. It’s just what this post is about.
Last week I needed to wrap my head around the whole graffiti-mural thing, and writing about it, combined with some advice and perspective from my amazing readers, really helped. I didn’t puke in my throat at all when I drove past it yesterday.
So give me a hand with this one now, OK.
Why do my kids say that they hate one another? Before I had a houseful of kids, way before my kids ever became official homeschoolers, life was sweet. We were gentle and wholesome. There was no fighting. What happened?
Sometimes I blame it on the years I spent working. The kids bounced around to babysitters and supervised themselves twice a day during the lunch & dinner rushes at the restaurant.
Blaming won’t solve it and neither will complaining about it. What the heck will, though? Does it need to be solved? Must I know how this started in order to put an end to it, or am i thinking too much?
It used to be a pet peeve of mine, kids who fought with each other all the time. Surely, their parents were failures, right? I mean, what kind of family breeds hatred. Maybe it’s karma, I should have strived for more understanding? Maybe it’s karma, my sister and I fought a lot as kids. I know that blaming isn’t productive, but at least if I have the power to own it, I have the power to solve it.
I once wrote about how sibling rivalry prepares kids for adult conflict. I’m a really good B.S. er and really good at rationalizing and justifying, so I’m not sure if I ever believed that or if I just wrote it.
Maybe I also think that actions speak louder than words, and even though my three year old shouts “I hate you” every time she’s the slightest bit upset with her sister, she also grabbed her head to kiss her when the chicken pecked her in the eye. That was love, right?
Are they just repeating the angry words that bounce around between them? I’m sure they are. Why do I get so freaked out about one stupid little word? True and ugly hatred doesn’t look like my little girls. It’s just talk.
If they knew what true hatred could look like they’d be horrified. If you have suggestions, please share them in my comments, because I am listening.
I’m having a party and you’re invited. last year I participated in the 5 minutes for Mom Ultimate Blog party and this year, I’m doing it again. Only way better.
Because my husband conveniently missed his vasectomy appointment. So instead of playing games and fighting with him about it, I’m just doing it myself.
No- not the vasectomy, that would be horrible. I’m getting fixed on the 19th.
So to celebrate, my party theme for March 20-27th is NO MORE BABIES. I’ll dress up the blog here with a special new masthead image and prizes- every day I will be giving away FIVE prizes- themed prizes. All of the prizes will be either pregnancy and baby related. I applied for a program to give away sex toys because I thought that would be appropriate for my theme, too. Let’s hope I get approved.
To prepare for this party- you need to subscribe to my blog via email, so you can be notified as soon as I announce the giveaway.
Also- share the info with your pregnant friends, because surely they MUST want some of these really cool pregnancy things, that have yet to be announced. Have them subscribe.
and Finally- follow me on twitter because somehow the Twitter note goes out before the email does, I’m not sure why.
If you get a chance, head over to the 5 minutes for mom blog party during the week of May 20-27 because we’re giving away a bottle of our Good Stuff seasoning blend to one lucky winner.
Unfortunately;
I haven’t completely finished unpacking from this move
Fortunately;
I discovered a forgotten box of clothing that I thought I’d never be able to wear again
Fortunately
That box had a few pairs of pre-sixth-pregnancy jeans and they fit
Fortunately
There was a $20 bill in the pocket
Imagine that- what’s better than discovering you fit into your old jeans? Finding cash in the pockets.
Here’s another one
Fortunately
I wrote a new article and it’s already got more visits than any other article on the site (not this site)
Unfortunately
I’ll have to begin writing more in that topic area and I’m not really interested in it
Fortunately
Readers are, and my lack-of-knowledge will make them click on advertisements just to get away from the bla bla bla of my writing
Unfortunately
I don’t really want to be a writer that writes such crappy articles that make the advertisements more attractive
Fortunately
I’ll get paid better for it
Imagine that, it’s the web-writer’s conundrum. We get paid when people click on the ads, so if Company X is the answer to part of their dilemma and we place a link to company X in our article, they’ll click on it instead of the ads. Hopefully none of the sites I write for will fire me for saying things like “Check the ads on this page for a convenient, clickable link to Company X” Continue reading Fortunately…
Every now and then I need to revert to the screen writing format to tell a story. Remember, the whole Thomas incident?
INT. MY HOUSE – NIGHT
It’s December 31st and the rest of the world is, I don’t know, drinking or something lame like that. I, however, am making bone soup or something and wishing I hadn’t taken the beginning of the month off. Really, I’m on the phone. And it’s the end of the day so I’m exhausted. And preserving milk so we don’t run out, so I’m not having coffee. The kids are enjoying their last Christmas movie film festival before I pack away all the Christmas movies for the year. I am making some sort of list of resolutions or something and realize I don’t have a calendar, so I call my husband.
Me Honey, can you bring home a calendar
Honey Where am I going to get a calendar/
Me They’re all over the place, it’s New Year’s. That’s when they sell them. Can you just bring me one?
Honey Yeah, OK. You need one tonight? I have $4
Me (starting to pant with the stress of it all) But they’re not $4. I need the big one, the desk kind (getting a little hysterical) I think they’re like $10 (sniffling and trying not to freak out)
Honey Um… Ok…. So you want a desk calendar
Me It’s not for the desk. It’s the only one that has squares big enough to write everybody’s activities in. I can’t have a small one. The year starts tomorrow. I have to have a calendar
Honey I’ll make you one and print it out
Me That’s really sweet and all but it won’t do. The squares won’t be big enough. Office Max has them for $5 but I think they’re closed (starting to feel weepy) and the office max ones (sniffle) are(sniffle) so (sniffle) UUGGGLLYY. (take a deep breath and straighten up) Plus, I don’t think you should have to pay for things with the store’s name on it. It has to be pretty. I’ll be looking at it all year long. Can you get me a pretty one? Please?
Honey Jeez, so you want me to go out tonight with $4 and get you a big pretty calendar, but you don’t know where they have big pretty calendars for $4
Me (crying now) Oh God, forget it just forget it. I’ll make a spreadsheet or something. (because I’m not going to let you ruin my whole year like this) I love you, goodbye
Honey OK.. bye… I love you… are you OK?
Me Of course I’m OK. I just had a plan, OK. I can’t start the year without a calendar.
Honey OK… I love you… bye (hangs up)
Me Did you hang up on me?
And this is how my 2008 ended. Probably a hunger-induced insanity. For the record, I got a calendar. Meagan ruined it already by writing on it in a different pen. Can you believe the nerve of her? AND, when I confronted her about it, she mocked me. It went something like this
Meagan OK, so I can have my club thing on January 13th?
Me Yes, we should be unpacked by then
Meagan OK thank you (puts calendar away)
Me Was that my calendar?
Meagan Yeah. (looks at me like I have three heads)
Me Did you write on it (way more whiny than a dignified adult should speak)
Meagan Yeah. You said I could plan it
Me Oh my god, what pen did you use? Or was it a pencil?
Meagan this one (holds up the wrong pen and gives me that crazy-mom look)
Me Oh Mannnnn. You ruined my calendar
Meagan It’s not ruined. Seriously, it’s a different pen. Come on , Mom
Me Fine, I guess you’re right. But next time you use the wrong pen on my calendar at least use your nicest handwriting.
Meagan (rolls her eyes) OK, I will (walks away)
Isn’t it just peachy the things we learn from our kids. I just learned that I should keep the good pen close to the calendar. Maybe I’ll tie a little string around it. How can I color code important things if everyone is going all willy nilly with different colored markers? There will be no way to make things stand out. Scheduling a family this size is serious business. I’m not crazy. I’m not. I’m not. I’m not.
Surely I have to be the only person on the face of the planet that is completely not capable of relaxing. I hate it. I hate relaxing, I find it…..well….. not very relaxing. Just sitting there, watching TV drives me nuts. But I told my kids I wasn’t going to work until after the new year, so instead I have scrubbed my house from top to bottom, every floor, counter top, sink, tub, shower, windowsill, and other flat surface. I have washed and put away every dirty piece of laundry and repaired two dresser drawers. I cleaned the toys from the yard and shoveled snow from the roof of the carport and the walkway and the driveway. I raked the leaves in the side yard while mentally cursing about the little old man who lives there. (He climbed a ladder to remove the last of the leaves from a young tree in his backyard, just to make me look bad) I scrubbed chairs 1-10. Yes, my dining room chairs are numbered and do you know why. Because when I had an index card cleaning system, I made sure to scrub two chairs each week- but not this week, I went wild and did them all. I also scrubbed Amityville from top to bottom, and I removed the carpet in two rooms, I pulled out all of the carpet staples and nails from the floor, I scrubbed and cleaned the kitchen cabinets and drawers, I measured the door frame for a door frame that needs replaced, I put in a new bathroom floor and shampooed the carpet in the bedroom and very large hallway. I moved over five or six trunk loads of boxes, and we can finally walk downstairs again. I mopped the floor in the loft and thought very deeply about the psychological ramifications behind the paint colors in each room in order to determine what would be “best†(laugh- as if you don’t do that, too) I still haven’t reached any decisions. Anyways, so the whole time I’m doing all of this, I’m thinking really funny thoughts that I never manage to write down. I’m conjuring up fantastic story lines that really deserve to be written into a screenplay or blog post. I just never remember them well enough to type them up. Plus, I hate this computer. A lot. Anyways, so that’s me. Zipping around cleaning things as if I were OCD and thinking funny thoughts and then mourning them for being forgotten.
1-Eating eggs and cheese for breakfast because we might eat nothing but cookies for the rest of the day and protein is a good thing.
2-Cleaning the kitchen completely so that we can photograph our cookie-making without me saying “Wait- did the fingerprints on the cupboard door show up?†or perhaps “I can’t put that in my blog, look at the dog food in the background.†And, “Is that a slice of pepperoni under the microwave?â€
3-Making sure each kid has a few different cute outfits ready to go in case of any sudden nudity that would render the above photos a health code violation, or pornographic or make someone think that sometimes my kids don’t match (Because I am a role model, right? Hmmm, where’s an old-fashioned apron when you need one? We should totally wear dresses and aprons, huh?)
4-Making several batches of the sugar cookie dough in the Red and white Betty Crocker cookbook.
5-Running the cookie cutters through the dishwasher because we haven’t used them in exactly a year and that just creeps me out.
6-Wishing I had been smart enough to get new beaters for my mixer and then remembering that the mixer is at the new house, so I’ll just make the kids stir.
7-Wondering why I have never (and I mean NEVER EVEREVER in 15years) bought waxed paper.
8-Wishing I could work the stupid frosting bag thing
9-Going through 10 pounds of confectioner’s sugar to make frosting in every color of the rainbow (seriously, my girls need tertiary colors.)
10-Magically making colored sugar sprinkles using several salt and pepper shakers I pilfered from my own restaurant, because that will look so cute in pictures
11-Lighting our 4th night of Hannukah candles
12-Hoping my oldest daughter enjoys the Santa responsibilities, or at least does a nice job of wrapping presents since she’s been hogging my bedroom for at least 4 hours, I’ll bet she’s just watching House.
13- Wondering why I just spent 2 whole minutes formatting this with numbers, and realizing that’s the second time I’ve made my blog post a numbered list. Maybe that’s because I am naturally organized. And this is proof.
14- thirteen is an unlucky number. Not that I’m superstitious or anything, I’m just saying.
So my morning coffee is interrupted by …”She said I can’t come into her fort.” So I responded by saying “that fort is not more important than your sister and if that fort is going to be in my living room, then all of my children are welcome to play in it. How cool you are to have made a fort that everyone wants to play in. I have decorated every room in this house, and she chose your area to play in, what a compliment. You must be an excellent decorator.” So she marches over to the fort and says “You’re lucky mom loves you. Otherwise she’d never let you play in here, she says I decorate better than she does and she doesn’t want you messing it up.” I almost snapped at her for lying, but there was peace, so I stopped. Is that wrong?
Today we went to Fred Meyer to do some grocery shopping. I had some coupons that allowed me to get butter for 1.25 a pound, quite a bargain. We go through a lot of butter, like 5 pounds a week. We don’t use margarine or anything like that, just butter, and a lot of it. I might have mentioned that my 3 yr old likes to eat it like a banana. She has her very own stick of butter in her special spot in the fridge, so we don’t find teethmarks in “our” butter. She loves it when we run out and I ask her permission to use her butter. She always apologizes for the teethmarks. Sometimes she uses a spoon.
Anyways, we’re baking Christmas cookies for the neighbors. I don’t know why the cookies we bake them at Christmas are any different than the cookies that Meagan tends to bring them all year long, except these will have a card and a red ribbon yarn on them. And I guess, technically they’re “holiday cookies” because even though the town is overwhelmingly Christian, we wouldn’t want to alienate any Jewish or other non-Christmas-observing people by saying Merry Christmas.
That said, I also got an electronic singing menorah. I stopped off at Goodwill for cool plates to put our Cookies on, and they had this toy. I’m reading “A year of living Biblically” by AJ Jacobs. I don’t really know what that has to do with this silly menorah toy. Except that I like the idea of deciding to do something interesting for a year, and then write a memoir about it as you’re living it. it’s like blogging, except, like, you get paid for real and you might meet Oprah. So I’ve been thinking of Memoirs I could plan to write, and I think I should find a publisher for them.
“A Year in Hawaii With 6 daughters” or how about “European Travel With 6 Daughters” or even “The Screaming Never Ends; My Life With 6 Daughters” or “1 Load of Pink Laundry Every Day for 30 Years; My Life With 6 Daughters” or how about “Is Everyone Wearing Panties? My Life with Six Daughters”
I’m leaning toward the Hawaii or Europe one. Hmmm, we have Russian roots, maybe “Our Pilgrimage to the Homeland With 6 Daughters” Maybe our girls could fall in love with boys from a culture that still gives us presents in exchange for their hand in marriage. We should learn how to milk goats.
That’s all from our end. I’m not allowed to post pictures of the new restaurant, it’s supposed to be a secret, a surprise. We’ve got a miniature little coliseum, a Parthenon, and something else, some Cathedral that was specifically chosen to NOT offend the Catholics, instead of the Vatican, which was our first choice. I thought it would be cool, it’s so pretty but my Catholic friends assured me that to duplicate and miniaturize it would not be seen as flattering, so I’ll trust them.
Anyways, that’s about all for now. I’m not working for the rest of the year. baking cookies makes a lot of extra dishes, and AJ Jacobs made it sound kind of important to take a day off, so If I take the rest of the month off my year will be balanced and maybe then we’ll start doing Shabbat again, not that we ever did. But we meant to. I feel like the luxurious life of a modern mom is just not nearly as stressful as the people in biblical times, so why bother taking a day off when we pretty much, comparatively, are off all the time? I’m off whenever I want to be. When you’re your own boss, you can do that. When we were running the restaurant, we were always ON. Maybe that’s a good reason for forcing a Shabbat in our house. If i have a tantrum about it and convince my husband that he NEEDS to take off one day a week maybe we’ll get to see him. I doubt it. But I’d totally bake bread from scratch if it would work. I’ll wait until the restaurant opens. He works harder than anyone I know who’s not getting paid for it. He’s there from 8 or 9 every morning until 1 or 2am every night. They say Rome wasn’t built in a day. No kidding, even in miniature it seems to be taking forever.
OMG every time I stop into the restaurant it is getting more and more beautiful. At our first one, we just used the flooring that was there, it was industrial type carpeting, it was nice for hiding stains, except the gallon of maroon paint everyone always thought was marinara sauce. At the 2nd restaurant, we used the tile flooring that was already there. It was slippery, and when chairs and tables slid on it, it was loud. It was mostly white, so it was… bright. I always thought it was an eyesore, not to mention the fact that every dish that fell on it broke. We used to have to spend over $1200 a month on dishes. I swear, I think some of the staff would break them on purpose. Anyways, at this one, we get to have a real floor. One of our investors is a fantastic concrete artist, he made us some custom countertops at the other restaurant that we always got compliments on.
I can’t believe how stupid people are. In general. First of all, when we closed the other restaurant, some stupid loser jackass who only worked for us for 2 days went on the news to complain that he didn’t get his check. Not that he didn’t get ANYTHING- in fact, he and his girlfriend, and all the other employees, were allowed to raid the food storage and liquor inventory, in order to make up for not being able to pay them. Our long-time staff, the ones we’d come to know and love, the ones who had been with us through thick and thin, were gracious, and understood. They saw us struggling, they knew that we weren’t living like kings. Whenever paydays were a struggle (um, like every 2 weeks) we always paid the staff first, and they KNEW that. We worked WITH them, constantly. My kids clothes all come from Goodwill and Value Village. We don’t take vacations, we don’t buy expensive things. We don’t eat out. We were totally never ever guilty of spoiling ourselves, although after working 12-18 hour days for several years in a row, maybe we should have. But this jackass didn’t know that, he’d only been there for 2 days. But- he had the nerve to go on the news and act like he was some poor victim of our greed. He called us Scrooge for closing right before Christmas. Oh yes, you spoiled brat, like we really closed right before Christmas, just so that you- who lives with your grandma- would have a bad Christmas. Yeah- that was our plan, numskull. We had employees with kids, who I would have much rather have paid first. As it is, I was glad we could at least put food in their fridge for a few weeks, you know. Most of them understood, were gracious, and remained in friendly contact with us over the year.
Anyhow, so the newspaper here did that story on us reopening, and now they’re claiming that they had 20 ‘anonymous†complaints. Who the hell cares? I really don’t. Anonymous wimps. Sorry- but anonymity has absolutely no credibility. If these people want paid back- including the weasel whiner I mentioned previously- then they shouldn’t be complaining that we’re reopening. How the heck do they expect to get paid? I guess we could pull the money out of our asses. Legally- the company they worked for is out of business, and a new company had to be started to open this one. So legally- officially- this new company doesn’t owe them anything. But that’s not the point. You show me a man with 6 kids whose income from a JOB is enough to pay back hundreds of thousands of dollars in taxes, wages and other bills. People are so stupid. Opening again is the absolutely ONLY way to make things right, how can they not see that? Because they’re negative loser whiners, that’s why.
Some of them- most people get it, but the stupid ones are really loud about it. Like one guy who was really rude to my husband about his granddaughter’s check. His granddaughter- the crack addict who didn’t show up for work several times and when she finally came to pick up her check, she used a pen to change the amount on it and cashed it at Seatac airport, fraudulently before leaving town without telling them. Yeah- her. Luckily our bank covered it, and didn’t hold us liable for the fraud, but it’s funny how he’d believe his grand daughter, knowing she was only in town to go to rehab and that she disappeared.
Luckily, the employees who knew us, are still with us. We have the best of the best returning to work. Their efforts will be what ends up getting jerk-offs like the weasel whiner boy paid. The budget is made so that the old tax debts, employees and investors will be getting paid off little by little. We don’t have to manage it, it’s all done by professionals. I hope they used the plan I suggested, which would mean that the stupid brat (whose only bill is his car payment) ends up getting paid last (hey last in, last out) Everyone keeps asking the same thing; “Are you planning to pay them back?†OF COURSE- I think that is the stupidest question. Who on earth would ever be so cold-hearted? And I also think that any jackass who doesn’t have the balls to ask a question without being anonymous can suck on
—OK, I can’t really keep talking like this. (Actually, I can and that’s why I’m stopping)
Anyways- this blog was never about work, I just had to vent. More about family stuff tomorrow. Since we’re officially staying here, I have to stop wishing we were on the West side. It won’t be too hard, the Amityville house is coming along well and we’ve been signing the kids back up for things, so we can have a social life again. Note to self- next time you plan on moving, don’t stop living in the interim. I’m looking forward to living again.
The fact that we’re not getting any income from the restaurant for a while is cushioned by the fact that my income is growing each month. No one gets it- 6 kids aren’t cheap. How do they think we’re living. I wish the press would print the fact that our house was auctioned off in foreclosure, because I think everyone believes we’re secretly wealthy or something. UM- HELLO- that couldn’t be farther from the truth. We had both of our cars repossessed, we had to use food stamps just to keep from starving to death and the bottom line on the whole stupid fair booth, was that by the time everyone was paid we LOST money on the event even after working so many hours. So if anyone here thinks we’re secretly living like kings, they’re wrong. The kids are all always in hand-me-downs, and whenever someone brings us a casserole, we’re in heaven. I’m not sure how Santa will manage this year, someone sent us a Fred Meyer card, which will help. But life is good, people are good (even the stupid ones) and we will get by. I wish that those stupid anonymous ass holes would shut up and let us carry on about our business. Surely, everyone who matters is doing just that. Carry on. And stop whining. And have a merry Christmas.
1- We had SpongeBob and Krabby patties for dinner. Spongebob was Polenta, I made a bunch and cooled it in a 9×13 pan and then cut it down to the right shape. For the Krabby patties, I mixed 1 large can of tuna with 1T old bay seasoning, 2 eggs and 3/4 cup potato flakes.
Actually, I’m making up those measurements, but I’m usually pretty good at that, I just made it up as I went along.
And no, there was no vegetable. Adversity builds character.
2- I’ve determined, by a series of macros and complicated spreadsheets that when I increase my articles base by 20% it results in an increase in income by 60% so after this month is over, I plan to focus more on my own sites, and let the ones I write for other people chill and simmer a while. Ironically, I have been subcontracting much of my other privately contracted work. Some of my writers misjudge the value of their work. I keep trying to not feel bad about it. If someone says “I’ll do it for $5″ Should I argue- didn’t think so. But the fact is, that when you have 100 articles, a 20% increase is only 20 articles, but when you have 1000 articles, it takes 200 to make a dent in it. But the good thing is, that the income is residual and the articles should continue to earn until the end of time MWahahahaha. PLUS- I am focusing on 2 sites I don’t own and 3 sites that I do own, because I get 100% of the sites I own and only a percentage of the income generated by the other sites. Plus, if they go out of business owing me money, like Themestream did in 1999, I don’t want to get screwed.
3- I should start a scrapbooking blog so that I can get a bunch of scrapbooking supplies in the mail for free, because I have been kicking rump from the product reviews lately, between homeschooling stuff and the Type A Mom 12 days of Christmas giveaway stuff, I love getting the mail. It almost takes away the sting of the bills. Most inportantly, though, I have an unnatural lust for patterned 12×12 paper, though. And ribbons.
4- The house situation is still not up for discussion, can you tell I am going nuts about it. Look at me- I haven’t blogged in weeks, I have a mental block, I’m flipping out. On the other hand, I’m really developing a taste for red wine, that’s new.
5- towels disappear in my house
6- We really are reopening the restaurant. We have a friend who will be running it becasue we still really want to move to the other side of the restaurant. I simply refuse to work there. I’m sure that my refusal won’t last long because I’m a wimp and a control freak and I”m sure that Ill end up there more often than I want.
7- I should talk about my kids more often because they’re adorable but I’ve been working too much lately and all of their toys and books and schoolwork and kid computers are packed up in boxes, so they’re kind of bored. At first, it was a nice relaxing vacation for them but I think we’re all sick of it and want our lives back.
That’s enough for today, I’m sure when I feel like myself again I will blog more
drawings and quotes about motherhood, a new one each week. It’s called the 
I’m having a party and you’re invited. last year I participated in the 5 minutes for Mom Ultimate Blog party and this year, I’m doing it again. Only way better.
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