And I touch…

Cat vomit.
Now, I realize that you find strange and sundry things when you move. A stray sock here, an old wrapper there, a toy, a broken remote. But cat vomit. Behind a bookcase. A bookcase that to my knowledge has never been away from the wall.

OK, I love my cats. I really do. But the one refuses to cover his poop in the little box. I realize that may be because he was taken too early from his mother, but come one! He is eleven years old and has lived with a “motherly” (albeit not fit for human companionship) older cat now his whole life. Cover the shit already! Sheesh! But that is for another day…

And the other vomits on command. Doesn’t like her dinner. Phew!

Is mad at you for not giving her dinner exactly when she wants it (even if it is 3:00 in the afternoon), she eats and HURLS!

Ticked off that the dog chased her? Spew!

Just simply mad because you dared to try and pet her. Upchuck!

Yes, I love her but the hurling on command is getting old. She is healthy. I swear to God she just does it to bug me. And my husband can literally walk around a bit of cat vomit for weeks without picking it up. He just refuses to deal with it. After ten years of marriage the cats are still “mine” when it comes to the grossness that comes with, well, all cats to an extent.

My daughter is learning to speak. Guess what she can already say? “Cat vomit Mommy, look! CAT VOMIT!”.

But the cats will be making the move with us. And I’m sure that within hours of landing they will have pooped and not covered, and vomited on the new wall-to-wall carpet.

And somehow they will find a way to vomit in that tiny space that exists between wall and furniture and it will be there, waiting…

just for me.

__________ Art imitates life, and life imitates art.

“If you don’t laugh at life, it sneaks up and bites you in the ass!”

Do you ever wake up and wonder where you are? Not in a bad way, but in a weird dream-induced coma kinda way that makes you lay there for a few minutes. In wonder. In a calm sense of joy.

Then the cat jumps on your very full bladder, and you feel like you’re gonna explode with pee. Then as he nimbly leaps away, his claws dig cruelly into your belly and all bets are off. The day takes a tumble for the chasm looming below normal life. And you start to almost enjoy wallowing in the self-pity.

(And you also may wish you just had dogs.)

That’s the kind of day I had yesterday. One of those days where it all seems to go wrong, where everything and everyone seems against you. And then something happens that jerks you back to reality and makes you suddenly feel… lucky.

A little girl we know had a terrible accident yesterday.

I don’t want to go into details beyond that fact. But all my feelings of self-pity and orneriness melted away as I gathered my daughter in my arms and sat there thinking there was nothing we couldn’t overcome together.

And the self-pity, and orneriness, they disappeared.

And I realized how very, very lucky I am.

______________ Art imitates life, and life imitates art.

“If you don’t laugh at life, it sneaks up and bites you in the ass!”

So today, in honor of my friend, a Mom of three, I am asking funny questions, and simply posing topics about having kids for discussion, comment, and kicks and giggles for you all to comment back on (Dads can certainly reply to – and you better! We need both perspectives!). And don’t forget, I fly my freak flag regularly in my fears and freak-outs, so don’t be afraid to share real stories (and please, link us back to your blogs where you talk about this stuff!!!!):

- ear piercing – at what age, do Mom’s and Dad’s opinions differ, do the in-laws opinions come into play, friends, culture? This is a biggee for us in AZ, so I’d love to hear discussion…

- At what age are you exposing your child to computers and the internet? Which parent is more likely to do so? Check out “My Mother’s Typwriter” for our daughter’s first computer exposure at two;

- pets – in the baby’s room, cleaning (oops, sorry) licking the baby’s face, sniffing baby’s butt, eating some misplaced potty training poo that landed on the floor (don’t ask), protecting baby;

- do you cheer as loudly for farts in the potty as pee to try and encourage the dreaded (and very scary - for baby, AND mom and dad since they will be cleaning) yet highly anticipated first poop?!

- nudity (for baby) – running around naked in summer, inside/outside??, while potty training;

- nudity (for parents) – when is a child too old to see opposite gender parent NEKKID, potty sharing during potty training (as in, Mommy, please can I come in the bathroom while you poo?), showering, bathing together;

- dinner time – sitting still the whole time (LOL and GOOD LUCK!), eating what family eats versus allowing kid to go hungry versus making something separate once offending bit has been removed from plate; feeding pets as ploy to get kids to eat, which parent sits closest (ie. who DOESN’T get to eat food while hot and use both hands);

- Exercise – what do you do, your spouse and how do you ensure your kid is getting exercise? For example, do you bike, do yoga, hike, swim…?

- Is your fear of “owies” so great that you limit activities such as tricycle/bicycle riding, exposure to animals, activities on swingsets/monkeybars?

Just a few tidbits I thought it would be cool to discuss. Please identify whether you are Mom or Dad (or your role if a same sex parenting pair). It will be fun to see how we all deal with the same things!

‘Til next time. Look forward to your comments!!

___________ Art imitates life, and life imitates art.

“If you don’t laugh at life, it sneaks up and bites you in the ass!”

I am laying here in bed trying to think of what I want to say and all I can think is that I want to squirt more whipped cream straight from the can and into my mouth. I am an emotional eater.

A friend of mine had a loved one die in Iraq today. She is devastated and there is nothing I can do. I can listen while she talks, try and offer words of comfort, but what will it really do? He will never come home again.

I lay here thinking about friends, still friends even with extreme political and moral differences from my own, but friends the same who are still supporting this war. They are supporting this war out of some blind feeling that this is the only way to be patriotic, to be a true American. To follow blindly, to ask no questions, to basically be a sheep led to slaughter.

As my friend’s loved one was.

Regardless of beliefs, regardless of political party, we must never, NEVER stop asking why, never stop questioning authority. To question, to know, to be educated and informed… THAT is being an American.

“Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.” - Buddha

____________ Art imitates life, and life imitates art.

“If you don’t laugh at life, it sneaks up and bites you in the ass!”

So, I have been told I confuse people. I sometimes feel like I’m a little Donny and a little Marie.

I turn off the water while I brush my teeth. I recycle pretty much everything, and even bring scraps of paper home from work to recycle. I compost. I buy organic. I would love to have the money to own a Prius. I support the Democratic Party but believe they have gone too mainstream, too center. I am not that politically active, but I have my opinions! I subscribe to organizations like PETA, GreenPeace, the ACLU.

I hate paying taxes but would willingly pay more if it meant children had better schools, health care and nutrition. But I abhor the amounts of money being spent on the war, and the callousness with which it seems we are sending our brave soldiers over there to die.

I don’t think we need a gun in every home, and we certainly don’t need to ever be able to carry them concealed. I do not believe in hitting children or animals for any reason, ever, and believe people that do (parents, owners, etc.) should be held accountable. I believe we should protect endangered species. I love horses.

I believe in “live and let live” philosophy. I believe in hope.

But I also fit into another category, even if just peripherally, and on the surface. Maybe it is a remnant of a wild child side that I suppressed early on without realizing it. I love country music (“Boot in your ass” lyrics aside). NOTHING gets me going like a great “Big and Rich” song or an oldie like Hank Williams Jr. on the jukebox. I drink Budweiser, the colder the better. Sometimes I mix it with tomato juice (red beer!) and yeah. I prefer this over a fine glass of wine.

I am obsessed with Nascar (it’s true, the chick who wants a Prius LOVES that gas guzzling sport!). Why? It is just so damned much fun. The fans are real, they are family loving people. They are the salt of the earth. Although I must admit, some of the passion is gone now that Junior isn’t driving the Bud car. I have lost my edge - being able to stand on the bleachers waving my ice cold Bud can and yelling “You go you Mother f*%#er!”. Something is lost in the translation.

I love horses. (Hmmmm, that fits into either category!). I guess horses cross personal and political boundaries!

I live in a very rural area and hang out (or at least I did pre-baby) at self-proclaimed “redneck bars”. I much prefer these over wine bars and snooty hangouts where the cigarette ban in Arizona was met with a self-righteous nod.

I don’t smoke but I miss the smoky smell of a bar, mixed with old beer on the floor and peanuts or popcorn. There was something comforting about the familiarity of those smells.

I am also my daughter’s Mom. And unlike some friends and family I know, I haven’t gone right since she was born. Many do, I understand, out of a misplaced fear that we must surround and protect at all costs. Hey! I’m all for that. Just check out the things that scare the bejesus out of me. I got most of you beat on the freak factor. But I choose instead to take the road of compassion, hope and tolerance, rather than fear and hatred that seems to have sprung from 9/11 and the current state of affairs. I tend to lean further left so as to provide an example of the kind of compassionate child I hope to raise.

So for anyone who has been confused by my multiple personality type posts, this is who I am.

Nice to meet you.

____________ Art imitates life, and life imitates art.

“If you don’t laugh at life, it sneaks up and bites you in the ass!”

Violence against children is still violence.  I know I have spent a long blog post on this topic already, but it pisses me off and breaks my heart at the same time.  Here goes…

A woman in our play group was going on about how appalled she was about something that happened to her friend the other day.  Not realizing which party in the story was her friend I was at first confused, and then put my XL size ten foot in my mouth.  Then I thought better of it and was damned glad I said something.  It’s easy to rant in a blog, but you don’t necessarily make a difference in the world if you’re too chicken to butt yourself into something in real life.

So the story goes that a woman in the local town called the police on a Dad who was seen spanking (ie sounds like some good old fashioned beatin’ to me!) his son in the WalMart parking lot.  I guess the boy was about six and the Dad had his pants down and was hitting him with (yes, it’s true) a belt.  The woman who saw this called the police and reported child abuse.

Well, I of course, thinking this an abusive, archaic and just plain ignorant act, said so.  No one ever accused me of not having an opinion when one was needed, or even not needed. I agreed that I was also appalled that parents were still allowed to get away with abusing their children… and in a public place?  REPULSIVE!  ABUSIVE!  SICK!!  TWISTED!!!  PERVERSE!!!!

And of course it turns out that the person doing the spanking was not a random stranger, but rather the husband of her friend.  And her being appalled was at the audacity of a stranger “butting in” to a family matter.  A family matter made VERY public, in the ahemmmm, PARKING LOT OF A WALMART!  

Hmmmmmm, at first I thought “Shit, why didn’t I keep my mouth shut?” and then I was glad I didn’t.  The woman in our play group went on for quite awhile about how parents had the right to discipline children as they saw fit because it was a way to TEACH.  Most of the other Moms were pretty quiet and honestly, not one spoke up in support of this opinion.

“Ahhhh”, I responded (smart ass comment alert), “so I can go to work and punch a staffer in the face if it is to TEACH something?  Or your husband can pop you a good one if you burn dinner, right?  Or next time you’re stopped for speeding, the police officer can hit you because you would be TAUGHT something valuable about motor vehicle safety?  Right?  Huh?” 

Needless to say I will not be invited to playgroup at HER house.  However, I was pleased at how many of the Moms agreed with me (albeit after the fact) and three even called me afterward and said they were glad someone spoke up.

So I remain, as always, an anti-spanking , anti-violence, anti-hitting of children for any reason, tree-hugging, leftist, bleeding heart, liberal activist.  

And if you don’t like it you can kiss my ass.

________________       Art imitates life, and life imitates art. 

What I see every day influences what I create, so writing this blog and creating my designs are natural extensions of who I am. 

If you are interested in viewing my designs, primarily for kids but also some cool stuff for adults and also doggies (who we all know are integral parts of all families) check them out at:

http://www.cafepress.com/sugarsprouts

See you around the mountains and canyons of northern AZ!

“If you don’t laugh at life, it sneaks up and bites you in the ass!”

I started training again, marathon training that is.  It was a tough decision.  I was getting used to having more time at home to chill out after ten days skipped.  But I went the other day, and then again today.  Beat the heat and got my butt out there before sun-up. 

And then, second day back, I saw tracks.  Uh, huh.  Tracks.  Not little bunny rabbit tracks.  No, the maker of these tracks would have had that little bunny rabbit as a snack and used its bones as toothpicks.  Not even coyote tracks, an animal so ridiculously feared and misunderstood in the southwest that is would be humorous but for the danger to this mostly docile dogs.  I would gladly have met up with a bunny, or a coyote, or a bird, or just about anything except that big cat that left the tracks.

Yep.  One .  Big.  Cat.

A mountain lion.  Also known as puma, catmount, or cougar depending on where you’re from, this is a large and scary critter.  A sweet little kitty it is not.

But it is a fascinating animal and one that deserves protection.  I hope it can tell I feel this way as it is deciding whether or not to eat me.

And I, fool that I am was out running in a remote wooded area at dawn.  I was certainly making movements much like the deer whose carcass I had just seen cached surely had been making when it was taken down as a tasty dinner.  Whisker lickin’ good!

Oh yeah, I was nervous.  Was I to become the breakfast of champions to this big cat?

My hair stood up on my neck and I got chills.  I knew it was watching me.  I could feel it.  Probably just my imagination, but better to be careful. 

I never saw the cat, and I hightailed it the hell out of there… fast.  But not before I picked up a big ole rock and hobbled along lugging it with me.  I had grand visions of hurling it venomously at any creature that dared pounce my very meaty behind.

Hubby laughed when I told him what happened.  Apparently my wild imagination precedes me.

Later that day, just for kicks and giggles, I checked with my friend, a park wildlife biologist.  When I told him where I was running he gave me a look.  Apparently that was prime lion territory.  They had been tracking them in that area for months.  Goody.  I really was almost a snack.

A very meaty, and wildly imaginative snack though.

________________________       Art imitates life, and life imitates art. 

What I see every day influences what I create, so writing this blog and creating my designs are natural extensions of who I am. 

If you are interested in viewing my designs, primarily for kids but also some cool stuff for adults and also doggies (who we all know are integral parts of all families) check them out at:

http://www.cafepress.com/sugarsprouts

See you around the mountains and canyons of northern AZ!

“If you don’t laugh at life, it sneaks up and bites you in the ass!”

I have always said that I prefer the company of my dogs to many humans I know.

I write a lot about my daughter and husband.  I write a lot about the thing that still amazes me – that somehow I am a Mom.  Not a morning passes without me waking up and wondering how, after all these years such a wonderful thing happened so late in my life. 

But I am more than Mom to my daughter – I am also Mom to two adorable, loving, patient and gentle children with fur and tails – my dogs.  I love them so much and am so grateful that they somehow seem to understand this new need to wait their turn now that there is a baby around.  They have come to this understanding with remarkable grace. I think they are sometimes sad, because their walks are often shortened, and I’m sometimes too tired to go play fetch at the end of the day.  But as I pass through my days, they too pass theirs alongside me, ever loyal, ever loving.  Ever able to continue, unbeknownst to them to teach this old dog new tricks.

______________________

Here are a few things I have learned from my dogs:

BARK WITH JOY!  It really is OK, even if you wake the neighbors;

Love unconditionally, even if you might get hurt;

Never, ever, for even one second be afraid to show that unconditional love every day;

Live life to the fullest – play each day as if you were still a puppy because in your heart you are;

Poop behind bushes and pee behind trees.  It’s all nature anyway;

Protect those you love (bark, bite and snarl if you have to);

If a loved one is sad, wiggle into that space between their armpit and chest and nuzzle there awhile;

Kiss with abandon.

______________________

I know someday I will be without my dogs and of all the animals I have been blessed to share space with, these girls are my heart.  We still go for long walks, but we also chill out together a little more. Hot summer days seem a little rougher on them than they did last summer.  As I see small gray hairs appear in their otherwise clean sleek coats, I dread that day in the coming years when they slow down even more, and want their walks less and less. 

These dogs have protected me – they blockaded me when we were jumped by a group of wild domestic dogs while walking in the woods.  They fervently protect the baby, even if it is just from deer and bicycles.  And they protect the house with such an urgency that any burglar in his right mind would walk away and never look back.

During low spots in my life they have comforted me.  They know just when to nuzzle and just when to let out that sigh that only a dog can sound out that says simply “I’m here for you”.  They don’t try and fix things as humans often do.  They are simply there, with that unconditional love that only a dog can truly express.

When we were spending time in the NICU with my daughter, they were often not walked for days at a time.  They patiently waited, sniffing at the articles of baby clothing we would bring home, eager to meet this new family member, this new being they would be charged with watching over.

So let’s hear it for our dogs.  Let’s never forget that the role they play in our lives is not just as companion, but also as a barometer that allows us to measure our own humanity.  And with dogs as our guides, hopefully we might rise a notch or two on that scale.

________________________       Art imitates life, and life imitates art. 

What I see every day influences what I create, so writing this blog and creating my designs are natural extensions of who I am. 

If you are interested in viewing my designs, primarily for kids but also some cool stuff for adults and also doggies (who we all know are integral parts of all families) check them out at:http://www.cafepress.com/sugarsprouts

See you around the mountains and canyons of northern AZ!

“If you don’t laugh at life, it sneaks up and bites you in the ass!”

My daughter was due in mid February.  She was born two months early.  My intelligent mind tells me it wasn’t my fault – I did nothing to make this happen and today, she is healthy and strong.  My intelligent mind can reason.  My emotional heart can’t forgive.  I know it isn’t rational but there it is. 

I was not able to protect her when she needed it most.  So perhaps I may overindulge a bit now in my tendency to control her environment.  (I’m sorry but those grapes really, really DO need to be quartered – I don’t care if she is two.)

Pre-baby I was pretty carefree and easy going.  I didn’t live in a sheltered bubble.

But I have been told that many women who otherwise are pretty chill, get a bit, hmmmmmmm, zealous when it comes to protecting their new little one.  Especially when they have held them weighing in at only three-and-a-half pounds.

My husband would say this should read “Some Things I’m Not Afraid Of”, meaning of course that I am the stereotypical hysterical mother.  Hysterical I am not.  Cautious, well, yeah, maybe.

I am afraid that if I lift my daughter up too high when the ceiling fan is on that I will lop off her head. 

I am afraid that she will eat too much toothpaste and grow a tooth in a weird place, like her jaw.

I am afraid, as many mother’s are, that I will turn my back at exactly the wrong time and she will climb/run/grab something, anything she shouldn’t.

I am afraid that she won’t potty train by three and be turned away from the pre-school room, possibly scarring her emotionally into adulthood.

I’m afraid her hair won’t ever grow in at those little places on the sides that make her look like she has a Billy Ray Cyrus mullet.

I am afraid she will grow up and move very far away.

I am afraid I will warp her in some strange and unforeseen way if she ever discovers how crazy I really am.

I guess as we all do, I will continue on, loving her and trying hard not to stifle her sense of adventure and joy. 

Today a cracker fell on the ground at the community pool.  She reached for it.  I felt myself begin to lunge.

Then I stopped.  She ate it.  Five second rule wins.  Or is it ten…?

________________________       Art imitates life, and life imitates art. 

What I see every day influences what I create, so writing this blog and creating my designs are natural extensions of who I am. 

If you are interested in viewing my designs, primarily for kids but also some cool stuff for adults and also doggies (who we all know are integral parts of all families) check them out at:

http://www.cafepress.com/sugarsprouts

See you around the mountains and canyons of northern AZ!

“If you don’t laugh at life, it sneaks up and bites you in the ass!”

I can remember back to when my Mom’s typewriter (Yes! I am that old.) was something I wanted to play with and bang around on. It was a Selectric Quiet Touch I think – very cool and BLUE! I loved it because of its color, and because it made these amazing soft clicky sounds when she typed. It was a magical thing. We didn’t watch television much when I was very young so I can remember days when I would sit and play and color and just watch my Mom, in the morning sunlight, sitting at the dining room table typing away. These were always good days, peaceful days filled with the wonder of what she might be doing on those beautiful sheets of creamy white paper. She could type so swiftly and rhythmically that it sounded like music on the keyboard.

It’s amazing that after all these years I can still remember the sound, almost exactly, as if I had just heard it a few minutes ago. It had an impact on me. And I think that watching her type away made me appreciate words – words that I could type, that I could read, that I could write. And I remember the day, oh, I must have been three or four, when I was finally allowed not just to approach, but to touch that beautiful electric machine. I was breathless. I only typed a bit because I was afraid I would break it, and I had grown to love its sound and the joy it brought my mother. But she encouraged me and I typed a bit more. I learned my A-B-Cs on that old typewriter. I learned my numbers. I learned to spell my name. I learned to spell Mom.

And so I relented, sort of. I dug out my old laptop, the one I had finally retired after months of battles. I couldn’t get rid of it, and now I’m glad I didn’t. Yesterday I sat in the sun at the dining room table with my daughter, a little younger than I was with my Mom, and I let her start banging away on the keys. The look on her face as letters started popping up on the screen was priceless. The memories it brought back made me appreciate once again the gift of words my mother had given to me all those years ago. It made me realize my obligation, my gift of being able to share my love of words with my daughter. Today, that love of words is taught with a computer instead of a typewriter, but the love is conveyed with the same joy, the same breathlessness.

My Mom’s typewriter is long gone now, drowned in a flooded basement. Mom uses a really nice computer and she still can type faster than anyone I know. Her fingers have arthritis and cause her to occasionally drop things, but when she is in front of that machine, dreaming of beautiful words to share, the pain goes away and her fingers fly.

________________________ Art imitates life, and life imitates art.

If you don’t laugh at life, it sneaks up and bites you in the ass!”

“