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January 8, 2009

My oldest son and I in the elevator. Yes, I really am that short next to him, even with 3 inch heels on my boots. Note the WHITE sweatshirt.

*****
her: what are you doing today.

Me: at the Wizard, also known as the concussion doctor, to see if 14 yr old has a brain

her: good luck with that

Me: ARGH, we are an hour early for our appt. Scarecrow says he knew we left the house an hour early. Don’t have high hopes for finding the brain

her: Hahaha.

Me: Scarecrow taking assessment test right now. So nervous. Why???

her: Because you just don’t want him living with you for the rest of your life.

Me: Oh hell no.

her: I am shopping for furniture. SO very stressful.

Me: you need a shopper

her: I need a cocktail.

Me: yes, drunken shopping. Then you wouldn’t really care what you bought.

Me: Oh happy day. Scarecrow haz brain.

*****

We went to the concussion specialist today and my son was given the okay to begin doing small amounts of school work and reading. He can also resume physical activities that pose no risk to him injuring his head. Like shoveling.

Ok, maybe the doctor didn’t specifically mention shoveling, but he meant to. Along with unloading the dishwasher. I just know it.

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January 7, 2009

The Quintessential Teenager

I ask him every day if he is holding up that wall. It is his favorite place to hang out.

The baggy jeans WITH RIPS, the Etnies with DIFFERENT COLORED LACES, the oversized sweatshirt… what you can’t see is the bagel in his hand, because the boy can not eat enough carbs. His weight this morning was 150, giving him an almost 25 pound weight gain in the past month. I am not sure that he has stopped eating since we returned from Florida.

The Nerf gun right next to him, ready for him to grab at any moment and shoot one of his unsuspecting siblings. No matter how many times I tell him not to shoot at them. He is in the weird place between childhood and adulthood, vascillating wildly between the two. Even he doesn’t know quite where he belongs.

What you also can’t see is the attitude. With a capital A. And the eye rolling. Dear lord the eyerolling. And honestly? He is one of the good teenagers. I fell lucky to have him. Even if he does like to tell all of us exactly what we are doing wrong at any given moment. But without him? How would we ever know how stupid we are?

Tomorrow we go back to the concussion specialist. Where I hope we get the okay for the boy to start reading and doing schoolwork and doing some damn chores. I fear he is losing brain power faster than we can ever recover it. And I am tired of watching him lying around. I know… pass the mother of the year award over here. But damn, his laziness knows no bounds.

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January 6, 2009

Learning to play the guitar

The Ones That Don’t Make the Cut

Chosing only one photo per day is difficult. There are so many others that sum up my life. Like this one.

I know it shouldn’t make me laugh, but this is how his bipolar self frequently looks. I can’t remember what it was that upset him so.

Or this photo. This child has a huge personality, something I think often gets lost in still photos. I was taking photos of her with her window art and suddenly she said, “Jazz hands!” And THAT was funny. Right? It isn’t just me, is it? Looking at the photo still makes me laugh.

Or this one because Miles always rubs his chin and says, “Hmmmmmmmmm,” like a little old man. And I want to remember that.

Today the photo that didn’t make the cut is this one. The sky looks like this every night right before dinner in the winter. This is the color of bitter cold.

I love this photo because you can see that she is singing with all her heart. And playing the guitar with enthusiasm. So much so that I taught her this song:

Well, if you want to sing out, sing out
And if you want to be free, be free
cause theres a million things to be
You know that there are

-Cat Stevens

Ah, a throw back to my Deadhead days. Okay, I never really was a Deadhead. I enjoyed showering too much for that. And shaving my armpits. But I was envious of all my friends who tossed off the shackles of life and followed the Dead around the country. Until they all ended up in rehab, that is.

Oh The Places I Write

I told someone earlier today that I think I am finally out from under the holidays. I think I have finally caught up on everything. Or else given up prioritized.

Over at Work It, Mom! The ultimate 1970’s comfort food — the Tuna Casserole.

So grab your Screwdriver, the drink not the tool, and embrace the casserole and the era.

Remember I went to Disney World in December? I know that I barely do. I have been meaning to write about it, if only for myself so that I don’t forget about it.

Over at BlogHer, I have a post up today with tips on stopping the gimmees at Disney World. This is part 2 in the series. (Part One is here.)

Miles just came over to me and asked if I would read him a book. I hesitated for a second thinking of all of the tings I still have left to do, let out a reluctant sigh, and said, “Sure. You go pick out a book. I’ll be right there.”

He started cheering and then said, “I am going to pick out a book with a beautiful girl with long beautiful hair. Just like you!”

Awwww, how can I say no that. Especially after one of my children said to me yesterday that he was going up to his room so that he wouldn’t have to look at my ugly face anymore. If I had any advice for parents of babies and toddlers out there it would be to not let them grow up. Just don’t allow it. The End.

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January 5, 2009

Paper towel tube turned telescope.

Because you asked

January 4, 2009

How to make you own gingerbread house.

It is very easy. If I can do it, you can too. Seriously.

Also, yes, I will still be posting, not just doing the photo thing. I have nothing to write about today. The HIGHLIGHT of my day was the grocery store.

Where I bought :

bagels (plain, everything, raisin, and mini strawberry),

bread (100% whole wheat, makes me feel better when they slather Fluff on it),

French Vanilla non-dairy coffee creamer (that I drink in my coffee every single day, and have for years, because I am boring),

cereal (the sort I promised myself I would never buy my children back when I had only one kid that was still young enough to be completely under my control and I was therefore an asshole expert on such things)

bananas

ORGANIC gala apples (to cancel out the not made from real food substances cereal),

instant oatmeal (my youngest son eats the same thing for breakfast every. single. morning. Clearly he has inherited my adventurous spirit)

I realized at the check out that I had once again forgotten my bags from home. I have never remembered to bring them back to the store. NEVER. Not once. For awhile I kept buying new ones so I could share in that smugly superior feeling. Oh, c’mon you know you feel like an extra special tree hugger when you use yours. But Rob thought we had enough of them. And yes, I have to admit that even though there are a lot of us, we don’t need quite that many bags. Especially since I never actually use them.

The cashier asked me if I wanted to have bags at all. Oh please? Can I cradle all of my food in my arms? Can I? Because that sounds completely doable.

Oh, the other highlight. I was asked if my Mom or Dad was at home. To which I answered, “Well, they might be. I’m not really sure since they do not LIVE HERE IN MY HOUSE.” But secretly I was flattered. And I really don’t think they were just trying to flatter me. I believe lying is against the code of the Jehovah Witnesses. Nor were they blind. Just in case you were wondering.

Unrelated, I think Maggie Mason’s new book, the follow-up to No One Cares What You Had For Lunch, is going to be titled, “No One REALLY Cares What You Bought At The Grocery Store.” Amen.

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Just in case coloring wasn’t tedious enough… I present window art. Painting on sheets of plastic with non-washable paint. What the hell was Santa thinking?

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January 3, 2009

Earning his keep

Wherein I Turn into the Evil Witch

I know I am tired of hearing about the gingerbread house.

This is how you keep it from falling apart while the icing hardens. I left it like that overnight.

The short version is we built a gingerbread house minus one integral piece. Made do. Stuck as much candy on it as possible. Then ate it. The children possibly putting themselves into diabetic comas.

The long version ,with photos, below the fold. (more…)