another big E production

SQUEEEEE and The G Spot: Week Two

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 18:19:00 +0000

Just as we were getting ready to walk out the door to see Lucas Miller, Singing Zoologist, this morning my phone rang. It was the call I'd been hoping for all these months. The call I doubted I'd ever get. It was....

....

...

A call from one of the Charter Schools we applied to. ELI GOT IT! SQUEEEEEEEEE!

photo cred

I don't expect everyone to appreciate how effing exciting this is. Lemme offer some history...

We applied to NYOS Charter School and he's been #6 on their Wait List ever since they started school in July (year 'round program). I was in contact with their registrar for updates so frequently that I was pretty sure she was going to invite me over for dinner any day. Six months later and he is STILL #6 on their Wait List. And it's a good thing because, after homeschooling him, I realized I didn't want him in school 7 1/2 hours a day. NYOS...the school that I I had my sights on since he was 2 years old. The reason we moved to North Austin in anticipation of getting in. Now I raise my thumb to the tip of my nose, wiggle my fingers and exclaim PHHHHBBBBTTT!!!!! Not waitin' for you anymore, NYOS.

Once we found out he was wait listed at NYOS, we put in another application at a different charter school. I didn't have much hope because (1) school had already started, (2) they didn't make Wait Lists, they just threw all candidates into a Wait POOL and it was random luck of the draw, and (3) there were already 22 kids in the Kindergarten Wait Pool. I resigned myself to the fact that our chances of getting selected were nil for this year and warned the hubby that we'd be camping out for a First Grade spot when 2012-13 registration starts in late March. But I was determined.

Well, smack my ass and call me Sally because that's the school that called this morning and offered us a spot. I'm not going to post the name of the school. All I need is for some sick pedophile to start stalking kids there. But here's what makes it even more awesome-er. It's a condensed program. Kids go 4 hours a day, 5 days a week. He's joining the Morning Crew. I've meet several families at afternoon homeschooling events whose kids go to this school in the morning and they still get to participate in fun stuff in the afternoons because they're not cooped up in a classroom. The families rave about the place and it's really grown on me to the point I was willing to camp out, as I already mentioned.

So we will have the best of both worlds: part school, part not-school. Pretty much like it is now but tuition-free. :) We're sad to leave Be The Change Academy but--thanks to the charter school half day schedule--we will be able to still visit Be the Change for the duration of this month to make the transition a little easier. And I still get to enroll him in cool stuff when he's not at school.

I tried to break it to Eli as neutrally as possible by saying, "You know that important phone call I answered?" To which he replied, "Mom, I know. I could hear the other lady's voice. They have a spot for me!" So much for having to break it to him gently. Then his next comment was, "But am I going to miss the Pirate Party at Be the Change later this month?" I'm sure we will be able to work it out.

In the G Spot lesson for this week, we talked about Rituals and Sacred Places. I started out general, talking about what a ritual is and asked him to identify rituals we do every day. Then we talked about rituals we do only at special times of the year (holidays, birthdays, etc). After that, we talked about special places where these rituals take place (indoors, outdoors, alone, with others, etc). Then came the introduction of prayer and church. And how some people who believe in god(s) will pray and some of them choose to do it in a church or other sacred place. We'll spend the rest of the day recognizing rituals. And with the news of him starting the charter school, I will probably need to rearrange our religious literacy studies schedule. But it's all good because...SQUEEEEE.....he got in!

photo cred

The G Spot: Month 1, Week 1

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 16:37:00 +0000

Today's first lesson--What is Religion?--set the backdrop for our studies. First we talked about Culture & how it's different around the world. We listed some basic cultural differences and he supplied the graphics.

Next we moved to the general concept of Same But Different in people. I drew some differently shaped bodies and he added the facial details & hearts. The goal was to emphasize that, although we have different appearances, we are all part of the human race.

Then we applied that Same But Different idea to how some people think about life. I asked if he had heard the word God before (He had.) and what he thought it meant. I love his varied and conflicting answers. This boy's a thinker!

We tied up the formal instruction of the day with a cursory definition of how people study/talk about God: via religion. Again, the emphasis was on not good, not bad, just different.

The practical part of our day will be spent reinforcing the Same But Different concept as we carry on our day. Cars? All the same but different colors and shapes. Buildings? All have 4 walls but hold different things inside them. Cups? Used for drinking and storing but made different materials. Trees? All have trunks and leaves but some are deciduous (currently one of his favorite words) while some are evergreen. Once we have that concept under our belts with concrete, tangible items (which won't take long), we will use the rest of today to focus Same But Different for intangible things. The lesson itself wasn't too challenging but I intentionally set it up that way. Simple concepts that take (a life)time to master.

My challenge will be to present these beliefs in as neutral way as possible. While I have a bias, it's important to me that he receive each lesson at a consistent volume so he can make his own decisions. And change them 1,000 times as he grows and learns.

He's eager to get to the acting out of different religions and gods. Role play should be fun! Next week: Myth and Doctrine.

The G Spot

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 01:27:00 +0000

I don’t know how many other secular families find themselves doing this but I notice we’ve fallen into a habit over the past few months. Imagine the husband and I holding a conversation in the car, with soon-to-be-6-years-old Eli in the back seat:

Husband: I was listening to the Thinking Atheist podcast earlier today and he was talking about how some conservatives say if you don’t believe in G. then you won’t….

Did you catch that? G. Yeah. The G Spot. The truncation where the word God should have been said but we’ve resorted to calling him G. Why? He’s not a rapper. (Yo! What up, G? Ha! I couldn't resist.)

It dawned on me last week that we’re really doing a disservice to the religious literacy that I hold so dear. I don’t know why we started using The G Spot. Perhaps because we—as parents—weren’t ready to officially start the first of 8,523 conversations about religion that we will have with Eli (and that’s a low-ball guestimate). It’s not like Eli hasn’t been exposed to religion and spirituality or some mix of the two in his short time on the planet. Well, as of today The G Spot shall exist no more. Beginning with tomorrow’s homeschool lessons (Tuesdays are Culture Lesson Days), we are tackling…

…..

….

…

Religion.

I’m only planning a certain amount of structure into the studies because I want the flexibility to let it take twists and turns. He’s nearly 6. And I want him to see religion through the eyes of a curious 6 year old. I’m going for breadth not depth here. Since our Culture Lessons are only once a week, I will be able to introduce concepts during the lesson then give his brain time to ponder what we learned (if anything, I’ve learned this child likes to chew a lot before he swallows). And notice I said “what WE learned.” Because this mama needs a refresher course, too.

When I told some people what we’re going to do, they asked what kinds of materials I’m going to use. Currently we have this on the docket:

The base text is Wilkinson’s Illustrated Dictionary of Religions. I’ve decided to follow the order presented in that book. The month of January is dedicated to

What is Religion?
Myth & Doctrine
Sacred Places & Ritual
Religion & Society

Sounds like a heavy syllabus. And it is…for someone who isn’t 6 years old. Remember we’re taking this down to his level for now. If I stay true to my mission of doing one concept per month and follow the chapters as listed in the book, this journey will take us 11 months. So far, I like the order of the chapters. After the Intro, it goes into Ancient Religions (to which he has some basic exposure thanks to an enrichment teacher who taught Greek/Roman Mythology, including Saturnalia and the pagan origins of the Christmas tree...I LOVE HER!) then moves onto Primal Religions, which I believe he will be able to grasp because a lot of the rituals are nature-based and, therefore, tangible in a sense.

Other supplemental materials include

a Kumon workbook titled My Book of Mazes: Around the World because (1) my kid loves a good maze challenge and (2) many of the mazes are based on prominent religious buildings and artifacts around the globe.

The Usborne Round the World Cookbook because so many cultural mores are tied to religious practices and those are often tied to food. God help me to not burn down the house when we get to these lessons.

Recommended books and films from Dale McGowan’s list.

And a little inspiration from those who have walked this path before me.

And off we go…but first, this was pretty funny.

Christmas in Review & The Last Craft of 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 23:55:00 +0000

3:30 am. That's what time our darling son woke us up this morning. God help him when he's 16 years old and wants to sleep in one day. I'll be waiting with a bullhorn and a bucket of ice water. Actually, once he's old enough to appreciate the concept of "sleeping in," I think I'm going to reverse the whole Christmas process: Open all the gifts at midnight (except one), hang out for a few hours, go to bed, wake up in time for Christmas lunch, and open that last present.

Let 'er rip!

Knowing that idea probably won't be enforced for a few more years, the spousal unit and I stumbled on a marvelous plan to get more shut-eye: Buy two very complicated Lego sets, preferably the kind that take at least 2 hours to assemble. One spouse goes back to bed while the other helps the child construct then, a couple of hours later, the baton is passed and they switch off. The other spouse gets a nap while the (partially) rested one helps construct Lego set #2. Which means this kid better love Legos until he's at least 11 or our plan is shot.

Suck it, Frank Lloyd Wright.

'Twas the Christmas of Harry Potter and Legos with a few other things in between.

Mama's bestest friend in the galaxy sent the kid a sock monkey so we snuck it into his bed while he slumbered on Christmas Eve.

Here is is sportin' the GQ Harry Potter look. So suave.

Later in the afternoon, we joined in some good ol' Kinect fun. That oughta wear him out. Unfortunately, mama took a hard blow to the nose as she dipped down while the boy-child jumped up...right when Kinect took a photo, no less, so we have that moment to share forever.

In the Real Men Don't Cry department (which we know is a load of beetle dung), Pops must have gotten a big ol' piece of sand in his eyes when he opened this present from Eli because he wasn't crying. Really. He wasn't.

Eli drew a photo of him playing football with Pops. We transferred it onto Shrinky Dinks (LOVE THEM!) and glued them into a small jar. Added a topper and...voila...Man Tears floweth'd (No, they didn't. Really.)

And that rounds out Ye Olde 2011.

(Elf) Spies Like Us & Christmases in Review

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 19:38:00 +0000

Did anyone even see that movie or am I dating myself?

Well, hidey ho, people! Been a solid 6 weeks since I left some goodness on this blog. Sorry to neglect you.

Eli doesn't believe in Ye Old Jolly Man in the Red Suit. Actually, he's never really, totally believed in Santa and we've managed. Yet, after 5 1/2 years on this here big blue & green marble in the solar system, he's having second thoughts. Seems he thinks if you believe in S.C., you score higher on the list of Awesome Gifts. It's as if he truly wants to believe but knows most of it doesn't make sense (Good boy, remember that when all the J.C. talks start, too.). So I told him a truncated story of St. Nick. Basically he was a man who lived a long time ago and did lots of nice, charitable things for people and kids but, like all people, he had a body and one day it up and died on him. People wanted to continue said nice, charitable acts so they took it upon themselves to continue his work. As time evolved, people started adding their own crazy, impossible parts to the story, like flying reindeer and circling the world in one night (Again child, remember that when all the J.C. talks start.). But it's still fun to carry on the tradition of St. Nick. Sometimes kids don't know the facts behind it all so they believe in Santa for a while but when they do figure it out, they get to be........(and here's where the wide-eyed kid shouts out)......ELF SPIES!!!!!

Yes! I think to myself. His ending is better than mine so I'll run with it.

He devised a plan: put candy canes in all our neighbors' mailboxes during one of our evening walks/ So we bought a box of 'em and he designed a "From St. Nick" card to tape on them.

Nice goin', kid.

In other news, we have not taken the Annual Christmas Photo With a Non-WASP Cultural Icon yet. Actually, we can't even call it Annual because I missed a year or two. If you'll walk down Memory Lane with me (kind of like when they do the Survivor Episode where they honor all those who were kicked off before those remaining...I always delete that episode...boooooring).

The first one, 2006: Family Picture with Jesus. My favorite by far. Our Christmas cards said: Sure, many kids get their first holiday pictures taken with Santa but how many can say they took theirs with JESUS?

I'll always remember the day I was driving down 6th Street with my friend, Tracie, passed an antique shop and said, "Holy Shit! Did you see that Jesus?" We had to take a few turns to go back around (You know how all the downtown streets are annoyingly one-way) then stopped. Lo and behold, we were looking at a larger than life bronze statue of Jesus H. Christ, complete with stigmatas. I just KNEW that had to be our first family holiday photo. An aside: the shop owner did not find it funny when I called to ask how much my salvation was going to cost me.

El numero dos, 2007: Eli sits with the Buddha on 360.

Le troisième, 2008 : With Krishna and Shiva at the (now formerly called) Barsana Dham temple off 290.

Picture #4, 2009: Didn't happen. My goal was to get a photo of Eli with Austin celeb Leslie Cochran and title it Look! Our new babysitter! but, dammit, for as many times as I gave Leslie a ride that year, Eli was never with me when that happened. (BTW, he's a really cool guy.)

Picture #5, 2010: Again, no picture. I guess I was still bitter about 2009. Plus I really wanted to take Eli's picture next to a tombstone etched with the name Kris Kringle but I couldn't find any in town.

Picture #6, 2011: I have a location, I have the three of us, I have a (recovered from the burglary last month) camera but now I just need a photographer (ahemcoughhack, TRACIE) to take the shot. Just up the road from us are statues of the Three Immortals: Fuk, Luk and Sau. Lemme know when you're free, Trace. ;)

I imagine in years to come I will have to branch out to non-religious icons but, luckily, there are plenty of weird things here in Austin to get a shot with (that prepositional ending was for you, Babetta).

a crime of (in)convenience

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Sun, 06 Nov 2011 22:31:00 +0000

Our home was burglarized this week but it turned out to have a more satisfying ending than most crimes. We left the house at 9:30 one morning and my neighbor who lives across the street was calling 911 by 10:15. He noticed an unfamiliar SUV pulled up to our adjacent neighbor's house, a female walked over to OUR house, rang the doorbell then--apparently unphased by our barking dog--returned to the SUV. The driver backed the SUV into our driveway, four people got out and they kicked in our door.

At that moment, our neighbor called 911, got his camera, and started taking pictures. He got clear photos of the vehicle and license tag as well as their faces (amazing!).

I don't know how long they were in there...long enough to successfully grab 7 electronics and try for many more...but they were scared away when a tree trimming service pulled up next door. Lucky us, otherwise they would have left with much more. The officer called it a "crime of convenience" and our house just happened to be the one they chose.

I was at work, clueless to what was happening. I noticed my cell phone kept ringing with a Blocked Number, which I ignored, but after 5 times I figured someone must really need me. It was the police department. Fortunately, I was at an assignment only 3 miles from my home. My first thought was, "Either the dog is dead or he ran off." Then I wondered what my home looked like, visions of TV shows and their ransacked homes dancing through my head.

It looked quite normal, actually, except for the kicked in door and CSI dusting for fingerprints. Our printer table was overturned while they tried to unsuccessfully untangle the cables (Hello? Why didn't they bring wire cutters?). Our credit card was on the computer desk, untouched. Televisions gone, camera gone, some other items gone. Clearly they were looking for stuff to pawn. And yes, the dog was there, unharmed. Apparently he knew he was no match for 4 humans so he hid under the kitchen table where he was found by police. Smart dog.

the furry witness

Two hours later, the police called to say they caught 3 of the 4 suspects and found some items in the vehicle (which was also stolen): a camera and a military style knife. The camera was ours; the knife must belong to someone else. Worst case scenario, I wonder if they would have used that knife if someone had been home. Before dinnertime, the police called again to say 2 of those suspects were booked and in jail. I credit my neighbor's photos in helping resolve the ordeal so quickly.

Oddly, I still feel safe in our home. I've heard people say how violated it feels and compared it to rape (I wouldn't go that far.). But we picked up the pieces, made the calls we had to make, got the repairs we needed done, and moved on. I made sure our kid felt safe, too. Before I brought him home, I sat with him and explained that our house was going to look a little different. Basically: Some things were missing because some people came into our house and took things while we weren't home.

"Is Skipper okay?"

Yes, the dog is fine. He's the bravest dog around. He saw everything that happened.

"Did they take any of my toys?"

Nope. I checked. Everything is there. (Dumb thieves. Don't they know how expensive Legos are?) And you know the best part, the police caught them. They went to our house, collected clues, then found who took our stuff. We might not get our stuff back but those people won't bother us again.

"Yeah, they're going to jail to die!"

The mind of a 5 year old. I intentionally did not call the burglars "strangers" because I want my kid to understand that stranger doesn't always equal danger. I also didn't call them "bad people" (even though he did) because I don't think they're bad people. They're people who made a bad choice. Seriously, those people had a helluva lot of gumption, courage, and fearlessness in them if they were comfortable busting down someone's door, really not knowing if someone was waiting for them with a gun in the back of the house. They could have put those characteristics to much better use. In an alternate reality, they could have been great First Responders, channeling that same drive into helping people. Instead, they went for immediate gratification, the seemingly easier road. Now some of them will spend (probably) a very short time in jail where they won't learn Life Skills, just more Survival Skills they can try out when they get back on the streets. A total waste of potential. Their chances of recidivism are relatively high. I don't think you'll see them working at Best Buy. They may eventually have kids of their own and what kind of legacy are they going to pass to them? I wish there were resources out there that truly rehabilitate. Then again, I also thought that for the Pervert in the Park a few years ago (that's a whole 'nother blog post for a later date).

In the end this whole ordeal involved a lot of money, none of which landed in their pockets. Here's a partial list of the money involved in what took less than a day: lost wages when my husband and I had to leave work, the day's salary for the responding officer and the CSI investigator, the value of stolen items, the value of the stolen car, the wages spent to the impound yard's staff to process the vehicle, the wages of the booking staff at the jail, the cost to house them in jail, the wages of the insurance adjuster......I could go on. I'm sure the total is well into the thousands.

As with every tale, there are lessons to be shared:

Metal doors are best. And metal door jambs. There's even a strip of metal you can attach to the inside of the door jamb that runs the length of the jamb and has holes for your lock bolts to enter. It reinforces the strength of the jamb. The officer couldn't remember the name of it but it is available at most locksmith stores. He said he had to knock down a door with a battering ram one time and it was a real challenge to get open with the ram *because of that metal strip* so it really does work.

Always keep an identification tag on your pets even of they're indoors (better yet, microchip them).

Keep a running inventory of valuables in your home. Don't have time to write it all out? Take pictures of items, take pictures of the tags that show their serial numbers, and immediately upload them to an online photo service like Kodak Gallery. You can always sort through them and list them later. The second best thing is to write the serial number in the item's manual before you file it away.

Keep a current list of all bank account numbers, credit card numbers and phone numbers for those companies.

Save all your computer files on a cloud, not an external drive because that can be stolen.

Upload pictures and videos from your camera frequently so if it is stolen, you hopefully haven't lost too many memories.

Share your contact information with at least three of your neighbors.

Put password protection on all your computer log in pages.

Put aside enough money in your savings account to cover homeowner insurance deductibles (and car insurance deductibles, too, if you can). Knowing you have that money earmarked for such an emergency brings a huge sense of relief.

Don't have an alarm system? You can still buy faux "this home protected by ABC Security" signs at Radio Shack. It may deter thieves.

Police will look through your belongings to find a way to contact you. Luckily, the officer found one of my business cards in a file on the computer desk and he was able to call me that way. Keep a few good contact numbers in a sensible place so first responders can find them.

Leave your cords and cables a tangled mess. That's they only reason why our computer wasn't stolen. If you can imagine, we have a power surge protector plugged into the wall. That protector sits inside a file box that I converted into a wire box (because I hate the sight of jumbled cables everywhere), all our cables plug into the power surge protector in that wire box. The wire box is tucked in a hard to reach corner behind the printer stand. Despite the thieves overturning a desk, they still couldn't easily unhook the equipment because of the way we had everything connected so they left it.

Now back to your regularly broadcasted life.

the Halloween Fairy strikes again

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 19:07:00 +0000

I know. It's not even Halloween night yet but I'm writing to you from the future.

In the tradition of years past, Ye Olde Faerie of Hallow's Eve will descend upon our humble abode tonight. A few weeks ago, Eli taped a letter to one of our planters.

Dear Halloween Fairy, Will you buy
me a Harry Potter Quidditch Match?

Today she left a response. And yes, she shelled out the big bucks for a Harry Potter Lego Quidditch Match.

click the pic for text...I'm too lazy to type it out

Here's the fam in all their costumed glory.

Harry Potter and Hagrid

Mother Nature

Mine's the one that needs explaining. Note the apron with the volcano and the flood...the Recipes for Natural Disaster tucked into said apron...the shoes decorated in various forms of flora...the hair accessories of rain, snow and Spring. Al Gore ain't got nothin' on me when it comes to climate change.

It's raining Harry Potter

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 19:15:00 +0000


l'owl

le golden snitch

les wands (notice my lazy French here?)

There's something about turning 5 1/2 that activates the male species' DNA and unlocks everything there is to ever know about all things Harry Potter and Star Wars. Of course, being the crafty mama I am, I saw an opportunity. I present you our homemade Harry Potter knock offs.

Let's talk about that bird for a moment, shall we? There's is ONE place in Austin, Texas, where you will find a styrofoam owl of any kind during the third week of October. Why's that? Because stores have given Halloween the shaft and pushed all the stuff back into the stockroom to make more room for Christmas stuff!

Lo and behold, I found the remaining 4 owls left in the city. Were any of them white? Of course not. Even among the Christmas items, it would be ridonkulous to have a white owl because no one puts snowy white owls and winter together.

So my quest to make a Hedwig for the child turned out to be more challenging than I'd imagined. Yeah, I could have bought one off Amazon but it looked cheap and he already borrowed one exactly like it from a friend. My child deserves art...uniqueness...an original. Ha! Who am I kidding? I'm just frugal and didn't want to shell out tons of dough. Turns out it was more expensive to make this than to order that thing off Amazon, despite me already having all the materials I needed except the bird and the feathers. I won't go into my critique of it because the end result was all that mattered, as you'll see below.

first you must defrock said owl

next suggested step: paint it


3rd step: apply copious amounts of feathers via the hot glue gun

Step # Quatro: repaint then reattach
feet and beak, affix wings,
add black fabric paint

the end result: happy boy

tattoo progress

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 18:46:00 +0000

For those of you on FaceBook, you can delete this post; it's nothing new. But for those of you not on FaceCrack, here's the update on the tattoo...tattoos...tattoo. I don't know if it's singular or plural anymore since they're all coming together in one piece. First, a review of what was there:

baby bluejay, 2009

Eli's hand, 2010

Now the reveal of what it is:


2011

mama bluejay

baby bluejay

Eli's hand

There's a bit more work to be done, namely the coloring on mama bird's tail and some touch ups.

I'm already saving for the next piece (of course I am).

cheapo crafts in a cinch

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 22:16:00 +0000

Homeschooling is movin' right along (Anyone else get that stupid Muppets song in their head when they say that phrase?). A lot of our lessons feature a fair amount of indirect and direct math. Unfortunately, there's just no way around some of the drills but there are ways to make them more interesting. Sometimes I spontaneously ask "What's 3+4?" while we're driving along. He's gotten pretty quick at responding but I wanted something to entertain his visual senses instead of just his auditory ones while we're in the car. Of course I was too cheap to go out and buy flashcards. Even the blank ones that come on a little ring. I fumbled around the art armoire and found a shaped wire used for dyeing Easter eggs, a bunch of paper tags and went with the idea.

You'll notice there are no answers on the cards, just different ways of writing the same equation. He likes them and even tries to stump me. Of course, sometimes I flub on purpose just so he's reminded that adults don't know everything.

Today we used some math while making our very own checkerboard. I knew there was a reason why I drink.

Last but not least, I craft I thought I'd make for Halloween but didn't and probably wont: Dryer Sheet Ghosts. Super easy. Take a used dryer sheet, draw a face on it with a Sharpie, thread an invisible string through the top and hang a couple from a twig. Would probably make a cool doorway decoration if you lined up a whole bunch of them then hung the twig over your door. Maybe next year.

You think we've got it bad in Texas?

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 22:48:00 +0000

Today's PSA:

In case you haven't heard: "The most severe drought in 60 years has created what the UN High Commissioner for Refugees has called the world's "worst humanitarian crisis" in the Horn of Africa. The UN has made a formal declaration of famine for Southern Somalia, the first such UN declaration in 20 years. Tens of thousands have died, and over 11 million people are currently at risk of starvation." (from a Foundation Beyond Belief article)

source

I don't care about your political or religious affiliation. I don't care if you're a card carrying member of the AARP, the NRA or Zero Population Growth. I don't care if you had enough change jingling in your pocket yesterday to treat yourself to Starbucks.

I do care about the world beyond my doorstep, this city, this state, and this country. We gripe about the current state of affairs here, how the grocery store hasn't carried our favorite brand of Triscuits in 3 weeks, how we only have $50 left in our pockets until the next paycheck. We're pretty lucky to have the privilege to complain about those inconveniences.

source

There are no words I can say that will sway you to help. You're either going to do it or not, regardless of what I say. Simply being a human being sharing the same planet with billions of other people should speak to the Whys of why you should care or why you should act.

Consider digging into your pockets to find that loose change and donating it instead of treating yourself to Starbucks next time. Learn more by clicking here.

source

The Land of the Mouse

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Sun, 02 Oct 2011 14:21:00 +0000

We journeyed on the obligatory childhood mecca to Walt Disney World last week. Forgive the lack of wit or possible incomplete sentences in this post. We came home to my Deathly Trio of Sister Pollens (ragweed, elm, and mold) and I think they're leaching the remaining 5 brain cells from my skull.

De plane, de plane! Eli got a kick out of being on the plane, declaring I LOVE BEING ON AN AIRPLANE! and watching out the window for most of the trip to O-town. My favorite part was the thunderclouds we passed through as we got closer to ~~home~~ Orlando (I haven't lived there in ten years but still automatically call it "home."). I have never, ever seen cumulonimbus clouds so tall or so dark up close like that. It was better than the If You Had Wings ride (which is no longer a ride, by the way). Made me remember my love for clouds and my once-upon-a-time dream to be a meterologist. The flight home lost much of its luster and he chose to watch a movie on my netbook instead.

How'd they grow bushes like that?

De humidity, de humidity! Sweetbabyjesuschristonapopsiclestick. I completely forgot how much humidity is in the air back home. Ain't no amount of Frizz Ease and Chi Iron gonna flatten my mop in 95% humidity. Two days into our trip, I realized that the hotel sold hair gel so I decided to forgo the Chi and embrace the frizz and walk around looking like Bob "Happy Trees" Ross. I may have looked disheveled but ma tête felt so much better. Those of you here in Austin who complain about "humidity" get close to your computer screen so I can slap you, you whiners.


give Bob a shave and this is what I looked like

De peeps, de peeps! (Why am I running with a whole "de <enter noun here>, de <enter noun here>" theme in this post?) The best. part. EVER. of the trip? Getting to spend time with my parents and my best friend at Magic Kingdom. I get teary eyed just typing that (Okay, can we act like that's because of PMS hormones even though it's really not?). A whole day with Babetta to just walk around and BE next to her and fall into that familiar routine of just hanging out? Awesomeness.

the coolest kid ever with the coolest grandparents ever

Eli turned FIVE AND A HALF while we were at the Magic Kingdom (FIVE AND A HALF warrants all caps because you know how big a deal those half birthdays are.) and Grammi made sure to celebrate it by sneaking a cupcake into the park as well as special Pez just for the two of them. Grampy let Eli drive the Grand Prix race car, thereby earning him his very first license. When we went on rides, it was "I wanna sit with Grammi" or "I wanna sit with Grampy" and "Will you come back to my hotel room to see my Legos?" Let's not mince words here: It was too. fucking. sweet.

trying to make Pops toss his cookies on the Mad Tea Party ride

Pops trying not to toss his cookies on the Mad Tea Party ride

De rides, de rides. My kid went on Space Mountain. My. Kid. Went. On. Space. Mountain. Mama also went on Space Mountain but closed her eyes the whole time (because it was lighter behind my eyes than it was in the friggin' ride). Lemme just say: Space Mountain has gotten lame over the years. You couldn't see ANYTHING. It was totally pitch black. You used to be able to see the neon strip of the other train flying by and stars and......nope, nada now. A big effin' black hole is what we flew through. Total bummer. Two thumbs down, Disney. But regardless, my kid went on Space Mountain and for that I am truly proud of him.

all ears and all smiles

Eight words for ya: It's A Small World and Main Street Electrical Parade. If the Magic Kingdom only had these two attractions, I would still go. For me, these two ARE Disney. I kept getting all verklempt in I.A.S.W. I could have sat in that boat all day. There's so much to look at in that ride! And all those cute little faces, staring back at me, never having aged a bit--not so much a line of crow's feet around their eyes--completely happy and smiling back at me (me, now with many a crow's feet compared to the 5 year old inside me who was loving every second of it). Same thing for the Parade. That song...that song! Over and over and over again (C'mon, admit it. It's in your head now, too.). It was awesome. Other big hits with the kiddo: Dumbo, Pirates of the Caribbean, Buss Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin, and the Lego Store at Downtown Disney. We spent the better part of 2 days at the Magic Kingdom then went to Animal Kingdom.

sing it with me

De animals, de animals. Meh. Animal Kingdom was okay. I give it 3 out of 5 stars. Lots of walking. Lots of animals. And lots of desire to leave about 5 hours after being there, thanks to too much humidity and too many people. We went on the ride Dinosaur. Oh...my...gawd. That ride was scary as hell. You know how some rides take your picture? Well, here's what ours looked like: Me and Eli with our eyes squeezed tight, fingers in ears, and Victor with a surprised look of "I think I just peed my pants" on his face. Yeah, shoulda read the reviews on that one before getting in line. On a better note, the Finding Nemo show was uber cool.

pervert bat showing us his junk

I'm glad we went in the off season. Lines were relatively short. People were relatively civil. Weather was relatively still hot but not as bad as it would have been in July. The kid wasn't interested in standing in line for the photo ops with characters or standing around for the parades so that saved us a lot of time to hit up more rides. All in all, two big white gloved thumbs up for the trip.

De end, de end.

Why Yes, Kiddo, There Really Isn’t a Santa Claus

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 20:42:00 +0000

Mommy, are we close to Christmas yet?

Nope.

Is Santa Claus real?

Nope.

I’ve heard both of those questions ever since the kid could talk. While my answer to the first question was dependent on the calendar, my answer to the second question hasn’t waivered. As a freethinking mother, I never set out to extinguish his belief in the Big Man in the Red Suit but I wasn’t going to perpetuate it either.

The (un)realism of Santa is not new to authors, parenting experts, or therapists but it takes on a whole new level of curiosity when you’re watching your own child sort things out.

Today the questions went a little deeper. Today, in the sweltering midst of a Texas July. Today, when the thermometer is flirting with 103 degrees, my five year old asks:

Mommy, are we close to Christmas yet?

Nope. (I wish we were because I am done with this heat, I think to myself.)

Is Santa Claus real?

Nope.

Then how did all those presents get under our tree?

A-ha! YES! The moment I’ve been waiting for…the Santa Inquisition! The moment when the child decides to further probe the Myth of the Big Man in the Red Suit. The moment when his critical thinking skills will soar to new levels. This! This defining moment that will place a bookmark in his cerebral cortex so he will know exactly where to return when he is faced with similar myths that need to be dissected. Oh, happy day! (insert Mama doing the Cabbage Patch here)

Despite all the happy dancing going on in my head, I manage to maintain my maternal composure and answer with the same neutral tone I use any time he asks the Santa questions.

Your pops and I put them under the tree.

But how do you do that if the presents are put under the tree while we’re all sleeping?

Well, you go to bed before us. After you fall asleep, we get the presents and put them under the tree.

You mean you leave me ALL ALONE IN THE HOUSE to go get presents??

No, we take them out of the hiding spot.

YOU HAVE A HIDING SPOT?

Yep.

And so you’re also the one who also puts presents in the stocking in my room while I’m sleeping?

Yessiree.

Then how come I don’t wake up?

He folds his arms, raises and eyebrow and cocks his head. He thinks he’s backed me into a corner.

Believe me, you could sleep through anything.

So YOU eat the cookies I leave out for Santa?

No. Pops usually eats the cookies. I nibble the reindeers’ carrots.

YOU EAT THEIR CARROTS?!?!?!

Yep.

Well, Allie’s grandmother has seen Rudolph. The REAL one.

(I flash forward to a time to when he’s faced with similar counter arguments from those with opposing beliefs and look toward the heavens to thank Darwin for this moment.) Wow, that must have been some treat to see.

Then why do people believe in Santa Claus?

Well, it’s really fun to use your imagination and pretend. Plus when you’re an adult, if you have kids, you’ll get to do this, too. (I notice his eyes light up at the idea of getting to dress up as Santa.) It’s kind of like Halloween. If Luke dresses up as a vampire, is he REALLY a vampire?

No.

Right. He’s just pretending for a day but you know it’s still Luke. Same idea with Santa. It’s fun for parents to pretend they’re Santa for a day.

Okay then um……..whose lap did I sit on at the mall last year? Santa’s?

Nope. Just some dude in a Santa costume.

That’s creepy, mom.

(The kid’s got a point. I sure hope those Santas go through background checks, I think to myself.)

I’m a little disappointed but I think I’m still gonna believe for a little while longer. Maybe until I’m ten.

That’s fine, kiddo. You can change your mind a thousand times.

Hey, mommy. Is the Easter Bunny real?

(no longer) comfortably numb

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Sun, 22 May 2011 05:28:00 +0000

Today is a big day for me. Not really. But it feels like it should be. Today is the last day I take my Happy Pill. No need for concern; I’m not stopping it cold turkey. I did that ~~once~~ twice. The funny thing is, when I stopped cold turkey, I thought I’d recognize the tell tale signs if I needed it again. I mean, I’d feel really sad, right? Duh, if you stop taking an anti-depressant—and you really need it—you’ll start feeling sad again. Um…nuh-huh. It wasn’t until my second cold turkey attempt that I realized I didn’t feel sad again but, instead, I was damned irritable and couldn’t sleep. Those were my telltale signs that I wasn’t ready to live without it. Whoda thunk it.

The wonderful thing about starting an anti-depressant is the incredible high you’re on for the first two weeks. Seriously. It feels like you’ve consumed a 12 pack of Red Bull twice a day. And your thought processes change. I clearly remember calling my mom during the first week and talking my head off. I don’t even think I took a breath during those 45 minutes. And I knew exactly what was happening. “Mom, I tell you. This medication is GREAT! I have so much energy and blahblahblahblahblah and yakkityakyakyak……”

I even started liking the people at my soul-sucking job. Remember playing an LP on 45 rmp when you were a kid so it would sound like The Chipmunks? Here was an average thought process during the honeymoon phase:

Hey,thesepeoplearen’treallytoobadafterall.Look!IamactuallystrikingupaconversationwithsomeofthemwhileI’monbreak.Ifeelreallytalkative.MaybeI’mnotasintrovertedasIthoughtIwas.MaybeIcanlearntolikethisjobandstayhereforeverbecausethesearereallydecentpeopleafterall.ImeanIamactuallyinteractingwiththemandwe’rehavingconversationsandI’mactuallyreallyinterestedinwhattheyhavetosayinsteadofjustpretendinglikeIam….

Yeah. That honeymoon was s-w-e-e-t. Then it wore off. My body got used to the dosage and I wasn’t as happy go lucky anymore but I was no longer crying in a fetal position in the closet while my kid was napping upstairs so it was all good. And life went on.

Then I think there came a point when I realized I’d been on it for too long. Last year I realized that my emotions were pretty monotone. If you were to hook my psyche up to an EKG monitor, it would’ve flatlined. Beeeeeeeeeeeep. Just a few peaks and valleys interspersed here and there. It was good because I didn’t experience outbursts of rage. On the other hand, I wasn’t enjoying many moments of spontaneous, pure, unadulterated joy either.

Don’t get me wrong. There were some of those moments, mostly involving my kid, but half of me feels like I missed a lot more thanks to being emotionally numbed out. Another half of me wants to kick myself in the ass for not admitting I had PPD until my kid was two years old. And the third half doesn’t know what to think.

But all that is neither here nor there now. My doc worked out an awesome four week weaning schedule and, believe me, it was MUCH better than those times I quit cold turkey. I’m relearning to feel the emotions as they come up instead of stuffing them down. To remember what it’s like to feel and not ask myself, “Should I really be stopping my pills?” Some people suffer from such severe depression that weaning off meds isn’t an option. Ever. I’m glad I’m not in that camp.

I’m grateful I got to see the other side of the coin though. I remember being emphatically against starting meds because “anti-depressants are for people who can’t keep their shit together.” That’s what I told myself. But years (and I mean years) of acting like I had my shit together then losing it behind closed doors didn’t work anymore after the kiddo was born. I was rubbed raw in every sense of the word. Now I understand that there really is bona fee-day, scientific proof behind depression and why those little synapses just don’t fire like they should. Now I have a lot more empathy for those who have to take these meds.

So I get to rediscover what makes me tick…and what ticks me off. I now cry when I need to, even if it’s in front of my kid. I just explain that Mommy has a lot of feelings inside her right now and she needs to cry for a few minutes so she can feel better and think clearly again. Five minutes and 1,642,477 tears later, I DO feel better (and my nose looks like Rudolph’s). Of course, he didn’t see me crying at 10:30 tonight* when I finally admitted to myself that I feel really sad because he no longer wants me to give him a kiss on the lips. Those soft little baby lips that I’ve kissed for the past five years of his life.

One day, about a month ago, he just stopped letting me do that. If I go to kiss him, he tilts his head so I end up kissing his forehead. And no more goodbye kisses at school either. For chrissake, the boy is FIVE and I’ll never be able to kiss him again??? (I’m exaggerating, I know.) He could have at least given me a warning, something like, “Hey Mom. I’m growing up and feeling kind of independent so we’re gonna stop the whole kissing thing in a few days, okay?” Nope. It was cold turkey. At least I didn’t feel irritable and lose sleep. I just slowly started to feel sad. And I guess that’s better than risking feeling nothing at all. Plus I sneak in when he’s sleeping and give him a peck on the lips.

*PS: My husband, however, was an involuntary audience to my bawling. Right when we got into bed no less. Poor guy. I was crying while simultaneously complaining that my head hurt and my nose was stuffy because of all the crying. After consoling me the best he could, he gave me the best advice: take some aspirin and go put on a nose strip. It worked. Note to self: Pay attention to his advice more often.

Saint Peter...Gabriel (alternate title: FaceBook Pay It Forward Craft: The Final Frontier)

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 23:17:00 +0000

Well, there ya have it. I completed all of the five Pay It Forward crafts I promised to my fellow FaceCrack peeps. In case you'd like to take a walk down memory lane, kinda like they always do on that one Survivor episode each season:

Crafto Numero Uno

Crafto Numero Dos (Equis)

Crafto Numbero Trois

Crafto Numero IV

I saved the best for last: my very bestest buddy, ol' pal. The lady who will join me in a tiny house with 7 of our male nurses when we are widowed octogenarians.

She's a sock monkey fanatic. And I remember she was looking at mala beads so I combined the best of both and made her a set of sock monkey mala beads using river stone, red jasper, and fossil stone.

The whole time I was stringing it, I couldn't help but sing Peter Gabriel's Shock the Monkey with a twist...CHAKRA MONKEY**!!! So I made one (Okay, so I glued stones onto a sock monkey from Target. Spare me.).

**Copyright pending. After all, I did compose the Chakra Pokey.

The Dichotomy of Five (alternate title “Walking a Fine Line Toward Five")

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 15:44:00 +0000

in honor of my kid's upcoming birthday on Sunday...

You wake up happy every morning. Part of me knows it’s the carefree bliss of being a child. Another part of me hopes it stays with you through adulthood, through fatherhood, and through old age.

A spontaneous “I love you!” shadowed by “I’m not going to be your friend!”

You rebound from your emotions easily. Part of me knows it’s because you haven’t learned how to hold a grudge. Another part of me hopes you never know the pain of carrying around an unspoken burden like that. It’s not worth it.

A convincing “I know how to do it!” masked behind “Can you help me put on this shirt?”

You’re a cautiously confident kid. You like to study things, do trial runs in your head, visualize it for a long time before you actually commit. But when you decide to do it, you go all the way. Repeatedly.

“Mommy, do you want to play?” succumbs to “I’d like some private time.”

You’re sensitive but not in a crybaby way. It’s more like you’re naturally empathic, almost too much at times. I see when your internal gauge tells you to step back from it all for a bit. Psychologists call it “self-regulating behavior.” You move to another table to be alone. You hide under the sheets for a few minutes. Most kids don’t understand why you do that so they try to get closer in order to understand. That’s when they do the unthinkable; they cross the invisible boundary you’ve set. Playdate over. Not interested in being here anymore. Time to go. Just. Like. That.

“Well, I feel angry when you say you want to buy my toy…” I eavesdrop on the conversation between you and a friend, listening to both of you communicate far clearer than some people who are decades older than you.

“I think this is a bone from a Tyrannosaurus Rex, not a Brachiosaurus,” you insist to the woman working the dinosaur exhibit at the Natural Museum. She won’t be able to convince you otherwise. You’re positioned to stand by your statement like a seasoned defense attorney; unwavering yet mistaken. If you’re going to be wrong, at least you’re going to be adamant about it.

“Here, Mommy, I want you to have this money I found. I have enough.” May you always feel generous, but not to a fault.

You’re good at drawing. Damned good. You study objects in front of you from all angles before you put marker to paper. You draw things from memory with amazing accuracy. May you always find a unique way of self-expression.

You’re a nascent perfectionist. May you learn from my trials and tribulations that Perfection isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s an unsatisfying, constant toil for an ideal never achieved.

You’re logical. Everything is black and white. A future Mr. Spock, perhaps. May you realize this critical thinking, this right vs. wrong and black vs. white can blind you from a world of possibilities. Again, take it from me.

“I know everything,” you tell me often. I have no doubt that you do. Just remember you came here to forget most of it in order to rediscover the beauty of learning.

Crafto Numero Quatro

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Thu, 03 Mar 2011 19:54:00 +0000

I'm still paying it forward with my FaceBook Pay it Forward Craft-o-rama. This one wasn't as challenging as I thought it would be. It was sent to Eric, a guy I went to high school with 20+ years ago (Ouch, it hurt to type that last part. Twenty years, really? I remember when my parents had their 20th high school reunion. Ack.).

Anywho, I remembered Eric had a great sense of humor. Along with Joe,he used to keep me awake in Mrs. Armstrong's English class. It was 6th period, right after lunch, and every day we'd tally how many kids fell asleep. I admit I was one of those hash marks on some days. C'mon....it was right. after. lunch. And she was boring. I still got an A. 'Nuff said.

I figured he'd kept his sense of humor but wasn't sure what he was into since we only recently reconnected on FaceCrack. I knew he was into technology so I managed to come up with the i-d-ten-t doll. "I-D-TEN-T" is a term I learned somewhere along the way at some time or another. Some companies refer to a special breed of clients as "I-D-TEN-T". Write it out....... id10t. Looks like "idiot" right? Yup.

The doll was intentionally sewn to look rudimentary to go along with the idiot theme. Plus, I didn't have to try to mask my terrible sewing skills if I went along with the rudimentary look.

envy my mad sewing skillz?

Stamped along various parts of the idiot's body are words that correspond to said body parts:

pea brain, big mouth, no balls, two left feet...

spineless, and dumbass.

Note that the pushpins are completely optional. I didn't make a voodoo doll. Every doll needs accessories. So there ya have it. Until next time.......chow mein.

St. Valentine's Day (Card) Massacre

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 21:33:00 +0000

As we prepared the valentine cards for E’s class, he decided to draw a picture on each one; a very noble idea even though I doubted he’d do it for all 19 cards.

And then it happened. He couldn’t draw a pillow pet the way he wanted it to look so he became very frustrated and decided to show it accordingly.

Can you tell we’re into art therapy? As much as I applauded his ability to express his frustration, there was no way I could see him handing out valentine cards with sad, crying faces on them. So what’s a crafty mama to do at nearly the 11th hour?

Improvise.

I pulled out some packets of sunflower seeds, drew up this little diddy, asked E to write his name, then made copies.

Granted it’s not my favorite valentine card that he’s doled out. I think my fave was the whoopee cushion but that kind of humor would never fly at his current school.

In any event, Valentine’s Day can now proceed with rainbows and sunshine and unicorns and sunflowers. Crisis averted.

If You See Kay

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Tue, 08 Feb 2011 18:42:00 +0000

photo cred

Allegedly my child has soiled the virgin ears of another child by dropping the F bomb at school. Here’s an email I received from the school’s director last night:

“Just want to make you aware of a situation where a student told their parents about a conversation with Eli about camping with a very strong emphasis on the "f" word…We did not hear this conversation and can not confirm or deny it happened…”

Lemme take issue with a few things here:

1. You can’t confirm or deny it. That means no one on staff heard this word allegedly come out of my child’s mouth. Don’t send me an email based on hearsay. Tell the parent to contact me directly. That’s the first step in civil, mature conflict resolution.

2. We’ve never been camping, haven’t talked about camping…dunno where he came up with camping.

3. I’d like to know in what context this word was allegedly used. I have a hard time imagining my soon-to-be 5 year old saying any of the following:

The rain really fucked up our camping trip.
That camping trip was fucking awesome!
I saw two people fucking when we went camping.

4. And this is my biggest beef with the allegation. IT’S. JUST. A. WORD, PEOPLE. A four letter word that means NOTHING unless you give power to it. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not running around saying “fuckity fuck fuck” in front of my kid but if it WERE to come out of his mouth (by the way, the last “fuck” issue we had was when he was two), I would remind him that there are other words that could be used to convey the intent of his message and help him come up with a few synonyms but I would not tell him it’s a bad word or a wrong word. What cracks me up is when people try to be stealth about the word "fuck” in print. If you mean to say “fuck” then say it. Everyone knows what your intention is when you type a cutesy little “f-ck” so just type it out and own it!

Personally, I can think of other four letter words that are much worse, like HATE. And KILL. And LAZY. (Okay, that last one is a personal hot button of mine. To me, “lazy” means someone sitting around watching Jerry Springer and eating bon-bons all day. I don’t have time for that. I’m too BUSY, which can also turn into an unhealthy four letter word.).

So I’d really like to tell say a four letter word to the director: chil…..l.

three down, two to go

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 04:02:00 +0000

Here is Craft # 3 in the FaceBook Pay it Forward game. This one was a little challenging because I wasn't sure what to make for CC at first. We've met once and I liked her right from the start...hip chic...but since then all communication has been via FB, even though we live maybe 10 miles from each other. In any event, I tried to glimpse some current events of her life through her status updates and figured she would dig these magnets I made for her.

Super easy to make: beer bottle caps, cutouts from various magazines, some clever captions, hot glue, these very convenient clear bottle cap covers to put over the cutouts, and some magnets. Throw them in a cool candy cigarette box I've had for a couple of years and voila! Instant hipness.

an early birthday gift

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Tue, 01 Feb 2011 17:52:00 +0000

to me, from me...another mirror in the IKEA installment

This is probably the 10th or 11th mirror I've made. I was asked how I make them. This one was made from MLK newspaper clippings from various parts of the country, a $1 doorhandle from Michael's, a $3 IKEA mirror, a headshot of Anthony Hopkins courtesy of a book I found at Goodwill, and lots of decoupage glue (the adult version of Elmer's).

Now if you meant how do I come up with these ideas? I couldn't tell ya. I saw the doorknob and knew I wanted to do something about an open mind. I looked for months for the right portrait, the goal being that when you look at the piece, you actually see yourself in the small square mirror and see yourself as open minded. The best part is the clipping on the back. It's something I saved from 1990. It reads:

Rallying to defense. Keshia Thomas, 18, shields a man being beaten with sticks by a crowd of anti-Ku Klux Klan demonstrators in Ann Arbor, Mich., on Saturday. The man was attacked after he was seen with a Confederate flag on his jacket during a pro-Klan rally. "Just because you beat somebody doesn't mean you are going to change his mind," Thomas said. Police used tear gas to break up the melee.

Keshia and I are about the same age. I wonder what became of her.

ouch, that stung (alternate title: gonna put it in the want ads)

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 17:58:00 +0000

On the way to school this morning---a whole month after Christmas---the kid announces, "We didn't celebrate Christmas" to which I replied, "Yes, we did. Don't you remember we put up the Christmas tree and opened..." he cut me off with:

"We DECORATED for Christmas but we didn't CELEBRATE it. We didn't have a Christmas dinner and we didn't have anyone come over."

Ouch, kid. Thanks. I stewed over it for a while (I still am, actually) and realized he has a point. We put up all the decorations, did the daily advent calendar, yadda yadda yadda....all the outward appearances of a Christmas but the ESSENCE was missing. The CONNECTION was missing. It was all so superficial: wake up, open presents, stay in pajamas all day, watch TV.

Maybe it hit home for me because I've really noticed the lack of nourishing rituals in my life lately. Maybe it bugged me because he saw it so clearly and innocently, yet so wisely, through a child's eyes. When I think of having to get together for the holidays (look right there, I said having, so I'm already innately biased about it being more work than it's worth) I think of the pains of packing, travel, etc etc etc, and it seems more trouble than it's worth. We live 1100 miles from the nearest relatives, and 9 times out of 10 that's a good thing, but all of a sudden that 1 time out of 10 seems to be much more important than the other 9.

Don't get me wrong. I have no inclination to move. In the same breath, there has to be a way to feel more connected. The husband has his friends, I have mine, the kid has his but there's no common thread linking them. Am I aiming for the impossible: a family out there where the adults all like each other, the kids get along great, we live near each other, and enjoy spending time together? It's like I'm nostalgic for something I never had.

Maybe I need to put an ad in the personals: Mostly functional family with one child seeks same for long lasting relationship. Bonus if the male is into competitive sports, the female is into spiritual growth, and the kid is into Transformers and Tom & Jerry (kid's interests subject to change without notice). Must be in town for holidays so we can celebrate Christmas.

Mindful Monday

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Mon, 24 Jan 2011 13:29:00 +0000

bye bye birdie (alternate title: what a strange bird)

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 02:23:00 +0000

Here's the latest give-away for the FaceBook Pay It Forward Craft. Hope Lani enjoys it. Two down, three more to go. I know what those other three people are getting. It just won't be any time soon since I need to restock my supplies and work on my own birthday gift first.

And yes, that's a fork.

what a craftastic start to 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Angel) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 22:14:00 +0000

I rarely play FaceBook profile games. You know the ones: "Post this status to your profile for the next two hours if you believe the Easter Bunny eats chocolate bunnies when no one is looking" crap. But I was compelled to do the "Pay It Forward Handmade Craft" because I luvs to get my craft on. The first five people to respond to your post are supposed to receive something you made for them some time during the year. Welp, I gotta comply when the Muse knocks me over the head with a glue gun so I completed my first of five and sent it off to the fabulous Peggy (the gal who also rode my arse about getting back on my blog).

Here are more photos than you'd ever want to see of something you didn't even get.