Why is being 6 so hard?
Honestly. I didn't expect it so soon. I really didn't think I would be a total moron until he was at least 12. But at 6 he gives me the "can you be any more ignorant?" look. I swear, Eldest, I do know how to get to the grocery store, I do know how to play Mancala, and seriously, I do know how to operate the DVD player.
With knowledge comes power, with power comes the lust for more. He knows just enough to be dangerous, and is trying to figure out how to rule the world. He has begun stacking the deck when we play games and taking advantage of INBA looking the other way. Obviously, we have been having many chats about truth, (dis)honesty, trust, cheating, winning, losing.
It must make a little dent, even if he doesn't see it as always applying to himself. Eldest said to INBA, as he was looking for a toy that he thought INBA had seen last, "You lied, it isn't there, I can't trust you anymore." Of course, the search for a missing toy isn't what we were referring to when we talked about truth, not that INBA was even telling a lie.
I suppose this will get a lot worse before it gets beter. Until then, I need to think of a better way to deal with a back seat driver than, "who has a driver's lisence in this car?" I may be a moron, but I am a moron with car keys.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Home Sweet Chez Mayhem
I Missed You While I Was Gone...
And oh, how busy we have been.
Thanks to GMA, we were out of the house for 10 days while floors were done and drying... P-U, I was beginning to think that the smell woud never go away. Now we are functioning fairly well.
Here are pics of the powder room that The Mister did for me...
Before...
See how nice and yellow the fixtures were?
After...
See how elegant and white it all is. I need to make a curtain for the window. I have the fabric, but my sewing room hasn't seen priority to be organized yet.
And how about those floors?
Please note that the foyer floor was pretty much the same color as the rug in front of the door. Ah, the beauty of natural oak.
The family room is gorgeous, too.
Overall, very pleased.
Yes, but have You Finished anything?
Why, yes, thank you for asking.
I finished a Claudia Handpainted sock, began the second.
Ah, it is like wrapping a cloud around your toes.
And then ther is a Baby Tart hat that is morphing into a Raspberry...ok, not finished, but is a definate amount of work. Oh, yes, the Celtic Queen warned me (laughed, really) about the bobbles and how I would feel about them after a few.
Thank goodness it is for an infant.
Speaking of infant, if someone can produce a little girl this fall, a lovely and colorful cardi can be theirs. I do need to attach the lovely purple buttons. I do, however, consider this complete. Because I can.
This was fun, because I knit it in one piece starting at the botom of the back. I adapted a pattern that called for a worsted weight yarn. My math worked! Happy girl.
And oh, how busy we have been.
Thanks to GMA, we were out of the house for 10 days while floors were done and drying... P-U, I was beginning to think that the smell woud never go away. Now we are functioning fairly well.
Here are pics of the powder room that The Mister did for me...
Before...
See how nice and yellow the fixtures were?
After...
See how elegant and white it all is. I need to make a curtain for the window. I have the fabric, but my sewing room hasn't seen priority to be organized yet.
And how about those floors?
Please note that the foyer floor was pretty much the same color as the rug in front of the door. Ah, the beauty of natural oak.
The family room is gorgeous, too.
Overall, very pleased.
Yes, but have You Finished anything?
Why, yes, thank you for asking.
I finished a Claudia Handpainted sock, began the second.
Ah, it is like wrapping a cloud around your toes.
And then ther is a Baby Tart hat that is morphing into a Raspberry...ok, not finished, but is a definate amount of work. Oh, yes, the Celtic Queen warned me (laughed, really) about the bobbles and how I would feel about them after a few.
Thank goodness it is for an infant.
Speaking of infant, if someone can produce a little girl this fall, a lovely and colorful cardi can be theirs. I do need to attach the lovely purple buttons. I do, however, consider this complete. Because I can.
This was fun, because I knit it in one piece starting at the botom of the back. I adapted a pattern that called for a worsted weight yarn. My math worked! Happy girl.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Dude, Where's My Camera?
It's In There...
I am sure we put it somewhere safe, dust free. I just am not sure where that clever place was at the moment.
We spent our first night home in a good 10 days. Profuse thanks to GMA for letting us stay while the dust settles. Gee Wiz, these guys haven't heard of low VOCs, eh? I am sure that the house is still reeking, but the holes in my brain matter don't seem to mind anymore. And that is after 2 day of open windows and the whole-house-fan running.
But I care not, because it is done. And they are beautiful. BE- UUUUU- TEEEEE- FUL!!!
So, when I find the camera I will post pics of the floor (the foyer is most dramatic,) and show you what I was doing, knit-wise, in between. Hopefully that will be soon.
I am sure we put it somewhere safe, dust free. I just am not sure where that clever place was at the moment.
We spent our first night home in a good 10 days. Profuse thanks to GMA for letting us stay while the dust settles. Gee Wiz, these guys haven't heard of low VOCs, eh? I am sure that the house is still reeking, but the holes in my brain matter don't seem to mind anymore. And that is after 2 day of open windows and the whole-house-fan running.
But I care not, because it is done. And they are beautiful. BE- UUUUU- TEEEEE- FUL!!!
So, when I find the camera I will post pics of the floor (the foyer is most dramatic,) and show you what I was doing, knit-wise, in between. Hopefully that will be soon.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Why I Keep The Mister
So the floors aren't done yet, but as we were shifting the stuff from the remaining 2 rooms to the finished 2 rooms the Mister said and then did the most WONDERFUL thing. He said, as we were standing in our bedroom (get your mind out of the gutter, he would hurt me if I posted about such things,) "You know, if we want to paint this room, now would be the time since all the stuff is out."
And then he did. After all that work rearranging. He painted our room.
Just another fine example where actions speak louder than words.
Thank you, Mister, it looks fantastic.
And then he did. After all that work rearranging. He painted our room.
Just another fine example where actions speak louder than words.
My Mister loves me and I love My Mister.
Thank you, Mister, it looks fantastic.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Live Like You Were Dying
So, I have been thinking about Death lately.
How funny it is for someone to say, "I'm dying. " Well, duh. Every day since the day we were born is spent moving toward the inevitable. Sure, we grow and grow and grow, peaking, I would say from my own experience, around 22 or 23 years, and then the steady decline begins. Physically, at least. Perhaps that is the most difficult thing about life. Our body begins to give out just as the mind really kicks in, just beginning to make sense of all that information crammed in by years of formal education.
Upon further reflection, I would say that Childbirth really did me in. Ok, maybe it was the three years of pregnancy and lactation that did me in. Oh, hell, lets include the 4 1/2 years of continued torment, just for fun. It did me in. I shall never recover. As few have. But then I think of nature, all of the earth, and I think, "hey, who am I to complain about the length of time I have, just look at the flowers."
Yeah, the flowers.
Spring springs, the earth warms, (I am speaking from the perspective of a climate that gets unnecessarily cold,) and the flowers thrust themselves toward the sun. They grow and grow and grow. Then they unfurl their bloom. Swaying in the breeze, they graciously accept the appreciative glance, the deep breath of their fragance from an adoring passerby. Oh, to be so beautiful, full of life. Then, the bee is lured to her blossom.
"Hey there, Mr. Bee, sure is a fine day. My, you certainly are a hairy one, aren't you."
"Oh, yes, I do have some very tasty nectar. Would you like to try?"
"Mmm, I do enjoy the way you brush up against me."
"Oh? So soon? Well, do come visit me again."
So patiently she waits.
"Hello! Is that you, Mr. Bee?"
"Oh? A friend of Mr. Bee? Well, I suppose, but I'm not really that kind of flower."
And the next thing you know, she's been pollinated. A seed begins to grow and her beauty fades, is gone within a shockingly short time. And then, dead.
So who am I to be complaining.
Away, for now.
We are having the wood floors refinished. It is supposed to be done this week. I will be gone for a bit. I could take the laptop to the MIL's, but having been thoroughly spoiled by the Fiber Optic DSL, I think I would rather abstain than deal with dial-up. Such a SNOB!! *gasp*
ta-ta
How funny it is for someone to say, "I'm dying. " Well, duh. Every day since the day we were born is spent moving toward the inevitable. Sure, we grow and grow and grow, peaking, I would say from my own experience, around 22 or 23 years, and then the steady decline begins. Physically, at least. Perhaps that is the most difficult thing about life. Our body begins to give out just as the mind really kicks in, just beginning to make sense of all that information crammed in by years of formal education.
Upon further reflection, I would say that Childbirth really did me in. Ok, maybe it was the three years of pregnancy and lactation that did me in. Oh, hell, lets include the 4 1/2 years of continued torment, just for fun. It did me in. I shall never recover. As few have. But then I think of nature, all of the earth, and I think, "hey, who am I to complain about the length of time I have, just look at the flowers."
Yeah, the flowers.
Spring springs, the earth warms, (I am speaking from the perspective of a climate that gets unnecessarily cold,) and the flowers thrust themselves toward the sun. They grow and grow and grow. Then they unfurl their bloom. Swaying in the breeze, they graciously accept the appreciative glance, the deep breath of their fragance from an adoring passerby. Oh, to be so beautiful, full of life. Then, the bee is lured to her blossom.
"Hey there, Mr. Bee, sure is a fine day. My, you certainly are a hairy one, aren't you."
"Oh, yes, I do have some very tasty nectar. Would you like to try?"
"Mmm, I do enjoy the way you brush up against me."
"Oh? So soon? Well, do come visit me again."
So patiently she waits.
"Hello! Is that you, Mr. Bee?"
"Oh? A friend of Mr. Bee? Well, I suppose, but I'm not really that kind of flower."
And the next thing you know, she's been pollinated. A seed begins to grow and her beauty fades, is gone within a shockingly short time. And then, dead.
So who am I to be complaining.
Away, for now.
We are having the wood floors refinished. It is supposed to be done this week. I will be gone for a bit. I could take the laptop to the MIL's, but having been thoroughly spoiled by the Fiber Optic DSL, I think I would rather abstain than deal with dial-up. Such a SNOB!! *gasp*
ta-ta
Friday, July 07, 2006
Inspiration Seeks Me Out
Hmm, I wonder who is going to make this sweater for a certain Not a Baby boy. I am looking at this and thinking, great, intarsia, but a whole lot less loose ends than that Frog.
He is loving RED these days, so maybe a red sweater with a BLACK dog... like the "best dog ever," D.o.g.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
What is It Good For?
How do I explain to my Child, War?
Eldest is becoming quite the reader, when he tries. It makes a mother proud. But there we were, in the Christian Book Store, even in the Catholic section, and he is deciphering a title about the United States and Militant Islam at war.
Eldest isn't the kind of kid that just drops the subject. He doesn't question what Islam is, he knows what the United States is. He wants to know what war is, why anyone would make war. He is six. What, in God's Name, do I say to a SIX year old?! How much do I censor myself? How much can he handle (more than I think he can, usually.) Do I let my politics color my answers or can I really be objective for just a moment?
"Sometimes people, governments really, disagree and cannot find a way to communicate about their problems other than violence."
Quizzical look.
"Like sometimes you and your brother disagree and you forget how to use your words or don't know what words to use to express what you are feeling and then you both get so angry and fight and pinch and bite. It is like that, sorta, except governments do that with guns and soldiers."
"Oh, so who are we fighting?" Oh, come on Kid! We are in the middle of a christian bookstore and we are diving headlong into geopolitical religious ideology soup.
"Well, that is kind of the problem. It isn't another country this time. We need to go now."
On the way to the car, "Why would anyone want war with the United States? It's a nice place to live."
"It is a nice place to live, and that is part of the problem, too. We are a very rich country."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that we are very comfortable. We have food to eat, safe water to drink, warm places to sleep. There are lots of people in the world that don't have that. Some people think that we are too greedy and don't share enough or help enough other people." I start the car.
"Can we listen to High School Musical, Mommy?"
So, he was distracted for a moment.
But you know that this is going to come up again. I want to tell him not to worry, it has nothing to do with him. But it does. He was only 15 months old when those towers came down. Here we are, five years later and my fear has only deepened. My fear is not personal safety, my fear is for my children and the world they face. These people whom have been entrusted with our security, our foreign policy, our future as a nation, they scare me. I know that it was decades of policies and hundreds, maybe thousands of years of ideological disagreements that culminated one autumn morning. Am I the only one that sees that the old ways of working out, smoothing over, ignoring these conflicts didn't, don't, won't work? Yes, I know there are dissertations being written, intelligence being compiled, codes deciphered to try to gain new insights. Countries are being dismantled, people tortured, families murdered, all in the name of making peace.
My lament is so much more basic, so much more personal.
What am I supposed to say to my child when he asks, "WHY?"
Eldest is becoming quite the reader, when he tries. It makes a mother proud. But there we were, in the Christian Book Store, even in the Catholic section, and he is deciphering a title about the United States and Militant Islam at war.
Eldest isn't the kind of kid that just drops the subject. He doesn't question what Islam is, he knows what the United States is. He wants to know what war is, why anyone would make war. He is six. What, in God's Name, do I say to a SIX year old?! How much do I censor myself? How much can he handle (more than I think he can, usually.) Do I let my politics color my answers or can I really be objective for just a moment?
"Sometimes people, governments really, disagree and cannot find a way to communicate about their problems other than violence."
Quizzical look.
"Like sometimes you and your brother disagree and you forget how to use your words or don't know what words to use to express what you are feeling and then you both get so angry and fight and pinch and bite. It is like that, sorta, except governments do that with guns and soldiers."
"Oh, so who are we fighting?" Oh, come on Kid! We are in the middle of a christian bookstore and we are diving headlong into geopolitical religious ideology soup.
"Well, that is kind of the problem. It isn't another country this time. We need to go now."
On the way to the car, "Why would anyone want war with the United States? It's a nice place to live."
"It is a nice place to live, and that is part of the problem, too. We are a very rich country."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that we are very comfortable. We have food to eat, safe water to drink, warm places to sleep. There are lots of people in the world that don't have that. Some people think that we are too greedy and don't share enough or help enough other people." I start the car.
"Can we listen to High School Musical, Mommy?"
So, he was distracted for a moment.
But you know that this is going to come up again. I want to tell him not to worry, it has nothing to do with him. But it does. He was only 15 months old when those towers came down. Here we are, five years later and my fear has only deepened. My fear is not personal safety, my fear is for my children and the world they face. These people whom have been entrusted with our security, our foreign policy, our future as a nation, they scare me. I know that it was decades of policies and hundreds, maybe thousands of years of ideological disagreements that culminated one autumn morning. Am I the only one that sees that the old ways of working out, smoothing over, ignoring these conflicts didn't, don't, won't work? Yes, I know there are dissertations being written, intelligence being compiled, codes deciphered to try to gain new insights. Countries are being dismantled, people tortured, families murdered, all in the name of making peace.
My lament is so much more basic, so much more personal.
What am I supposed to say to my child when he asks, "WHY?"
Monday, July 03, 2006
Crafty Man
He's A Do-It-Yourself-er
No, the Mister is not to be out-done. Here at Chez Mayhem, we are a crafty lot. Uncle Dave started a bead project with the boys while here visiting with the Cousins. The Boys and The Mister finish what they start. Nice pliers, eh? Hey, if you need to crimp, you need to crimp.
INBA Displays his wares. They are quite cool. Magnetic clasp, glow in the dark... very boy friendly.
Cute Story...
Laurie, the Celtic Queen and I headed over to Knit One in Squirrel Hill on Saturday. The Celtings were in tow which provided an opportunity (at last) afterward for the Boys to all meet. Of course, they fell in like good buddies do.
As we sat on the porch knitting, Laurie noticed that a wasp was trying to build a nest in the leg of the patio table. Older Celting was aware of this and hot to tell the Mister. The Mister was out at Home Depot (he was working on the powder room, pics another day.) As soon as he walked up, OC ran over to tell Eldest's Dad about the wasp. He began sputtering, trying to think of what to address the Mister as, it came out, "Da.. Dude, there's a wasp building a nest!!"
Celtic Queen and I about bust a gut, dude.
Johnny Depp is Hot.
I don't know what it is. But he is hot. Maybe it is that pirate thing, maybe it is that he is 43 and looks like 23, maybe it is the impish glint in his eye. I don't know, but when I opened the July 13th issue of Rolling Stone and saw this, I wanted to rip it out and pin it to my bedroom wall. Do I look 14 to you? Hot.
The Mister laughed at me.
He's hot, but not in the I'd leave the Mister kind of way (I don't think that there is a kind of way like that.) He is rather effeminate, no man should be that pretty, but you know you could be naughty with a long hair, no chest hair, scraggly beard guy like that. Like when you were 23 and could be naughty like that and blame it on penny beer night. Uh, never mind.
No, the Mister is not to be out-done. Here at Chez Mayhem, we are a crafty lot. Uncle Dave started a bead project with the boys while here visiting with the Cousins. The Boys and The Mister finish what they start. Nice pliers, eh? Hey, if you need to crimp, you need to crimp.
INBA Displays his wares. They are quite cool. Magnetic clasp, glow in the dark... very boy friendly.
Cute Story...
Laurie, the Celtic Queen and I headed over to Knit One in Squirrel Hill on Saturday. The Celtings were in tow which provided an opportunity (at last) afterward for the Boys to all meet. Of course, they fell in like good buddies do.
As we sat on the porch knitting, Laurie noticed that a wasp was trying to build a nest in the leg of the patio table. Older Celting was aware of this and hot to tell the Mister. The Mister was out at Home Depot (he was working on the powder room, pics another day.) As soon as he walked up, OC ran over to tell Eldest's Dad about the wasp. He began sputtering, trying to think of what to address the Mister as, it came out, "Da.. Dude, there's a wasp building a nest!!"
Celtic Queen and I about bust a gut, dude.
Johnny Depp is Hot.
I don't know what it is. But he is hot. Maybe it is that pirate thing, maybe it is that he is 43 and looks like 23, maybe it is the impish glint in his eye. I don't know, but when I opened the July 13th issue of Rolling Stone and saw this, I wanted to rip it out and pin it to my bedroom wall. Do I look 14 to you? Hot.
The Mister laughed at me.
He's hot, but not in the I'd leave the Mister kind of way (I don't think that there is a kind of way like that.) He is rather effeminate, no man should be that pretty, but you know you could be naughty with a long hair, no chest hair, scraggly beard guy like that. Like when you were 23 and could be naughty like that and blame it on penny beer night. Uh, never mind.
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