For this author, creative endeavors have been sorely tested by motherhood. But also transformed, and in ways she wouldn’t have imagined – couldn’t have, without her life “rewritten” as it has been, by her children. So linger here, to read all things weaverly, writerly and motherly.


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Monday, January 30, 2012

Ring of Death

Once-Upon-a-Tale Tuesday
So you know where to find my latest tales
 (autobiographical but fictionally finessed),
 I'm going to schedule them for Tuesdays
 (posting Monday night!). 

Stop by otherwise, for this and that and the other thing.

"Mommy, I don't know what to dooo," Kenny whined wistfully, gazing out the window, threatening to lick it, as he might doooooo out of sheer boredom.

He'd already mixed and remixed colored water with toothpaste in his test tubes; blown up balloons only to deflate them; glued cotton balls together; knotted yarn into a messy web for Spiderman; scotch-taped plastic-wrap "ghosts" to the windows; and stuck hot chocolate marshmallows to his face:

Saturday, January 28, 2012

The Loom on a Full Moon

On the loom:
Off the loom:

Here is a pile of wraps waittttinnnnng to be blocked and displayed for their photo shoot – stay tuned!

And here's my son. At bedtime:

It was a full moon.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Excavated Body Parts

Good News! In our investigative excavation for missing Ninja Lego man, we uncovered many missing body parts. Heads, torsos, you name it.

Even a tiny Easter bunny and the little Scottie dog from a very ancient Monopoly board game. This would make for a great Eye Spy puzzle:

The excavation site was vast:

And deep:

Kenny was in crisis, as he could not find his little red Lego Ninja. So for an hour we combed through the wreckage of literally countless Lego sets, from Star Wars, to Indiana Jones, to Batman, to Spiderman, to Ninjas.

Kenny was crying. " He's gone! He's gone forever, it's no use!"

This was most likely my fault, as I am forever scooping up these thousands of tiny Legos, at worst vacuuming them up, off the playroom floor (after threats for the boys to do so themselves fail). Panic set in. Would I actually have to buy a whole new Ninja Lego set just to replace this little red man? Would I be so suckered? I mean, it was his very, very, very very, favorite "Lego guy."

"Kenny, did you put him in your pocket?" I didn't remember Ninja man going through the wash though, along with the  marbles and rocks Kenny would collect.

"Noooo, he wasn't in my pooooocket," he drawled, as only Kenny can drawl so dramatically.

Suddenly Kenny brightened. He remembered where he was! He stumbled through the body parts strewn across the floor and flew up the basement steps.

He returned Ninja man!

All this time, thumb-size Mr. Red Ninja was in Kenny's backpack.

Now we could sweep up all the Legos back into their boxes. 

Though I wished we'd first swept up all the dead flies we'd been swatting down there this January....

For more news on the fly front, drop by here on your virtual coffee break next week, for One-Upon-a-Tale Tuesday!

Monday, January 23, 2012

Bearded Dragon Momma

Once-Upon-a-Tale Tuesday
So you know where to find my latest tales
 (autobiographical but fictionally finessed),
 I'm going to schedule them for Tuesdays
 (posting Monday night!). 

Stop by otherwise, for this and that and the other thing.

It's not so awful putting your back out. Slipping in slippery slipper socks Christmas morning, to wind up in a crumpled heap of pajamas and spilled coffee.

And there's your whole pajama-ed family looking down at you, in great alarm. Well, at least your husband the boys could no more be distracted from ripping open their Christmas presents than the gerbils from shredding toilet paper.

"I'm ok," I said, my husband pulling my up, uncrumpling me like a tangled puppet.

I had fallen in slow motion. A silly little slip. And there I was holding my back.

"You're in pain, " he said.

It was Christmas morning. There was an eye of the round to roast. "I'm fine."

And I was fine, at least when my middle back didn't seize up so I'd stand stiff as a board at the sink rinsing string beans.

The next morning I went to the doctor who confirmed that I'd pulled some back muscles. 

And who put me on very nice pills.

So pulling some back muscles finally isn't so awful, not once you're on nice pills (My Good News). With a few muscle relaxants and a bit of Tylenol and codeine, even the sun falling through your incredibly dirty windows, highlighting your children's hand and tongue prints (yes, in boredom they might resort to licking windows) looks lovely:

Friday, January 20, 2012

Grumpy Grateful Mom Good News Link up

I'm not a lover of linkys. Rather, I don't like new linky followers who merely post "Hi! new follower here, hope you follow me back!!" Like leaving a penny in those take-a-penny-leave-a-penny cups on cashier counters:

I prefer new linky followers who will go the length of breaking a higher-denomination coin or even a big bill, than merely recycle a penny. Not sure this is the best analogy, but we all would prefer new followers who actually read  our posts, not just leave a penny, right?

But if I can gain even one new follower from my most favorite blogging mom, Grumpy Grateful, I would be honored. She is a big-hearted, funny, genuine, as well as terribly astute lady, who has blogging down to a perfect T. 

And her linky is most challenging, as we must post Good News for the week personally, I prefer to complain.

Here's my Good News: I put my back out again. So I was put back on nice pills! Which meant I got to lie on the couch and not move.

"What's wrong with Mommy?" My six year old asked Daddy. As he'd once asked me what was wrong with the motionless bearded dragon in the tank at their dentist's office. "He doesn't look real," he had said, and I could tell he was wondering the same thing as he gazed wonderingly at me:

Bearded Dragons don't move much, so I too could have been caged behind tank glass Mommy isn't real when she's not in motion, shlepping loads of laundry up and downstairs, picking up their itsy bitsy Legos, or scrubbing toothpaste off bathroom walls.

So my good news for the week is I got to be unreal for a day. Or two.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Opening a Chicken

I was making dinner. My mother called in great distress: "I can't get it open. The chicken."

Meals having become an issue, on my weekly visits, I'll either bring her meals to freeze, or pick up precooked meals like recently, a roasted chicken, that came in a convenient plastic storage container.

Well, I assumed it was convenient....

"It has a lid on it," I said. "You just have to take the lid off."

"I know it's got a lid, I haven't completely lost it..."  she snipped, the kind of comment she can make when I remind her about an upcoming doctor's appointment; one she may remember is on a Friday, but unable to find her datebook, she neglects to write down what Friday.

I've resorted to these precooked chickens for ourselves, so I was familiar with the "convenience" of this container, a plastic lid fitted over a black plastic base. 

There was a loud raucous crackling of plastic.  "I've been struggling with this for hours..."

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Coming Unravelled

Well what are these? Triangles, yup... this one up close but not perfect...

...because I had to rip the whole damn thing out. (Then I had to go make a dinner my boys wouldn't eat anyway because they don't like "mushy"):

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Googling Girdles

Happy New Year to all my faithful followers! And if you're a silent regular reader, I would appreciate hearing from you;  a single comment perhaps, a raised hand from an otherwise empty seat? Every writer hopes for a full house.

Its time you bought a girdle."

This was a pronouncement by my mother. A quite casual one actually, as she was combing through the messy, confusing racks at TJ Maxx, determined to find me something in blue "Such a good color on you."

When my mother and I had first made the decision to venture into T.J. Maxx which otherwise I would find entirely too daunting, racks upon racks of mismatched clothes to fumble through I was only looking to pacify her; she  was stressing over the fact that she had no Christmas present for me. Her energy level, as well as balance, are too diminished for shopping expeditions by herself.

When my mother made her girdle pronouncement, I was trying on a blue slim-fitting sweater dress over my shirt and jeans. Granted, trying a dress on over your clothes can make you appear to have a tummy. Poor excuse though; I know I have a tummy. On my husband's iPhone, there is a perfect profile pic he snapped of me at the beach this past summer. I'm in a magenta one-piece bathing suit and look nothing other than a good five months pregnant. And at my son's school Christmas party, some far too astute and least tactful little first grader ran across the room to ask quite loudly, "Hey, are you pregnant?"

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