it's all so fleeting

My eight year old went on a Road Scholars' trip with her grandma.  For a week.  Away from my house.  As they drove away the strings of my heart were stretched in an entirely new way.  Oh, the ache, the one-sided ache.  

You know how it is, right?  Your heart aches so much that it bleeds down into your stomach, and all the while your beloved darling dances! and skips! and everything is PINK HAPPY UNICORNS AND I'M HAVING SO MUCH FUN!!!!!!

I don't think I'm ready for all of this growing up nonsense.

My six year old son weeps loudly, mourning the unfortunate crumpling of his beloved tricycle, vehicle of his babyhood.  The only thing that could have been louder than my six year old son weeping loudly was, in fact, the world's loudest and most obnoxious vintage orange tricycle that had just been rendered useless by a white Chevy 5000 van.

Half of me mourned with Wee Man, half of me celebrated quietly that the roadside score of five years ago had finally died.  

You know how it is, right?  Six of one, half dozen of another.

My two year old seizes every opportunity to shout, READY!  DET!  GO!  Because now, after two and a half years, he is finally starting to get ready to walk away from my shadow.  I say finally not because I've been waiting and waiting for him to discover independence, but because I have been watching babies younger than him do crazy things like (gasp) not sit on their mama's laps twenty hours a day, and (gasp, gasp) play in a room where the mama is not.   I have wondered if he will be sitting on my lap while waiting to take his driver's test.

Suddenly he is a dervish, running around with the Big Boys, shouting and playing and instigating and fighting back.  

And so it goes.

total amateur.

sunset at nana's

you will thank me for this one

I am not a fan of wearing shorts. They are fine for other people, except for excessive thongishness, visible coin slot, or epic brevity. They are not fine for me.

I prefer skirts. Long ones, knee-length, even (gasp!) a teensy bit above the knee. Skirts are cool, they are feminine, they are pretty... Everything that shorts are not.

However.

It's hot. And in my area of the world, we have The Humidity. The Humidity causes a girl to have sticky skin. Everywhere. And this can make the wearing of the skirt a little bit uncomfortable. I have the body of a mama who has birthed four babies in a relatively short amount of time, and that is fine with me.

It's fine with me EXCEPT FOR WHEN MY THIGHS STICK TOGETHER LIKE... WELL... ummm... They just stick together, okay? And it's gross. I don't like it, not one little bit.

But people, I am pleased to announce that despite the heat and humidity and the thigh bounty I possess, I am free of The Thigh Stickies. I can tell from the stunned silence and the slightly cringing looks you are wearing that you are hesitant to hear the solution. Never fear, my dear ones. It's safe, easy to administer, and I'm positive that you already have this valuable item in your possession.

Deodorant.

It's not really the no-odor ingredient you need, but the antiperspirant one. Just take your Dove or your Arm and Hammer or the homemade stuff your crunchy pal made you, and slather your thighs with it. (wondering if the pervs are going to arrive thanks to that last sentence.)

Don't let your thigh chub get you down.  Slap some deodorant on your gams and head out the door.  Happy summer, and also?  You're welcome.

what I've been eating while i am not writing posts

Pesto with toasted almonds and a little more grated Parmesan than the recipe required.
Peach-pear Italian soda with ice and gin, and then a little more gin.
Bread fresh from the oven, spread thick with red currant-rhubarb preserves.
Blackberries by the handful, still hot from the sun.
The daily ice cream.
Iced coffee, cold-brewed, with heavy cream and sweetened condensed milk.
Tiny balls of just-made mozzarella, quick-chilling in an ice water bath.
Hard-boiled eggs with their oh.so.creamy yolks, on the same day they were laid.
Bucketfuls (bucketsful? Bucketsfuls?) of buttery, salty popcorn.
Mostly ice ice-water, splashed with essential oils of lemon, orange, and grapefruit.
Chicken salad sandwiches (tarragon, green onions and mayo).
Lettuce salad with green onion, blackberries and raspberries, and chevre, dressed with cassis and red wine vinegar.
Raspberries and red currants.


(pardon the scant posting, but it's summer, and I'm enjoying the seasonal eating.)

some items for your consideration

1. New Sewing Machine. I love her. A whole freaking lot. Her name is Nina Bernina.

2. Another Busted Disc. This time, it's mine. Same one The Mister had surgery on. Some people wear matching shirts or share a hobby, but not us! We get matching boo-boos.

3. Narcotics. See item #2.

4. There is a super nice New York State Park near our house, and we got a season pass, so we go to the beach a whole lot. Last week, one of the lifeguards had to rescue a little boy. I was frightening and awesome at the same time, and I have never seen anybody move as fast as that guard did. Major thumbs up to the New York State Parks for hiring good people, training them well, and for keeping the parks open when many other states are not.

5. Fowl. We own ducks. And I'm sure this statement is going to result in more effbook mockery from that one guy who mocks us for having chickens and thinking about other unconventional pets, but whatever.

6. New Babies And Pregnancies. Four darling babies were born this month, and in the past two days I have learned that two of my friends will be having babies next spring. And before you get all crazy and start suggesting that we make us another wee Dayton, let me remind you that the likelihood that I even get to have a practice run at baby making is... Well... Dude just had surgery and My back is messed and there ain't gonna be no getting some 'round these parts.

7. Swimming Lessons. My town has a wonderful summer rec program with sports and crafty things and swimming lessons for the short people. On Wednesday, the woman who runs the pool approached me and said that more thN six people had complained to her the previous day because I had breastfed Elliott while the other kids were having their lesson. She handled the situation beautifully, and told the complainers that in NY, women have the right to breastfeed their children anywhere they want, and that she wasn't going to ask me to stop or to leave. How awesome is that? It's so rare to hear a story about breastfeeding in public where people know the law and do the right thing. And as an added bonus, I met a lovely mama who is just finishing her Lactation Consultant training. Super cool.

summer's shaping up

It has been a strange couple of weeks. The last time I posted, The Mister was in an Emergency Room somewhere in Western New York, being treated for an undisclosed injury or some sort.

It was not until 12 hours after I had posted that I knew where he was. That's a little bit scary to not know where your Mister is, let me tell you. As it happens, he had ruptured a disc in his spine (L4-L5) and needed to have emergency surgery. The hospital was about an hour from our home, and I spent a lot of time driving back and forth. My mother-in-law kept my children for almost three days straight, and my sweet MOPS mamas brought us wonderful meals for a really long time. We are so blessed to have loving arms to surround our family when we need to be helped and comforted.

The Mister's surgery went very well, and he was up walking and discharged from the hospital, if you'll believe such a thing, less than twelve hours after his surgery. He was a very nice patient, and the superty good pain meds they gave him caused him to be extraspecially sweet and appreciative of me, so much so that I'm wondering if we could just set him up with a little mainlining action.

It has been so ridiculously wonderful to have him home with us. The short people had been having some really horrible behaviour things going on, and almost all of it has disappeared since Jon has been stuck at home with us. And the good news is that he will be here all stinking summer long. Yes, it is not good that he hurt his back, but there have been so many blessings that have come from this, like a whole summer spent together, instead of a whole summer when our Daddy works a bajillion hours a week.

My favorite moment of the week happened one afternoon, when all six of us were sitting under the enormous beech tree in our front yard. Pitting cherries was the task at hand, and everyone was helping except Jack who instead was cramming cherries into his mouth like a human cherry cramming person. Thing. Whatever. The sun was streaming through the leaves and everybody was chattering happily. Well, not Jack. He was chewing and spitting the cherry pits at his siblings.

It was pretty much perfect.