Patriotic Musings

Just some totally unedited random thoughts on this 242nd birthday of The USA

I was born on April, 19, 1974, the 201st anniversary of the start
of the American Revolution. When I found out, sometime in 3rd
or 4th grade, that the American Revolution started with the
Battle of Lexington, exactly 201 years before I was born, I was
hooked, I was a lover of American history.  Being schooled in the
70’s and 80’s I, of course, was handed a whitewashed
version of the early days of our country. I watched
Gone With the Wind in 7th grade and immediately fell in
love with the gallantry of the late 1800’s.
 I watched Young Guns in the late 1980’s and fell in love with
the toughness and self-reliance of the old west.  I read My Brother
Sam is Dead in 7th grade and cried at the horrors of the Civil War.  
Again, in 7th grade, I read The Slave Dancer, and marvelled
at the inhumanity of man.  But these books and movies were written
by white people, for white people, and nothing in them
could actually make a young white girl living in the suburbs
understand that this stain was something that
couldn’t be erased.  

In high school history classes there were brief chapters of The Trail
of Tears, Reconstruction and Civil Rights, but looking back, there
were no in-depth discussions going on in my mostly white high
school.  No discussions
of poverty and how it is used so adeptly to keep people powerless.
Not until junior year in high school did I really get some of the
feelings of injustice in the world reading The Grapes of Wrath,
and that was a telling of white
people in poverty.  Okay, I could connect with that.

I think this country is magnificent.  It has some of the most beautiful
natural formations.  My favorite place on this earth is Zion
National Park. The beauty of it.  And when I go there and
meditate and think about
the humans living there thousands of years ago, living and dying,
hunting and creating culture, I am so
grateful that it has been set aside as a place where anyone can go and
commune with nature.  But of course, the nag is always in the back of
my head that it is stolen land.

I was born here.  There are no other countries that would have me,
a 44 year old American, and I don’t want to leave.  But I want it to
be better. I cry at the immigrants being mistreated to the point of
torture. Would a republican think I want open borders?  Perhaps
they would. I don’t. We must have laws, of course, to keep this
civilization going, but how can we do that humanely?
People who flee their countries are doing it for a reason.  There may
be a few here and there that are doing it for nefarious purposes,
but for the most part, people are trying to come here because
life at home has become unlivable. Why are you going to
transport your family across a country, to an unknown land, a
treacherous journey, unless things
are so hopeless where you came from?  
This country is big. It has a big heart that right now is trapped behind
a cold wall of fear.

What if that fear was melted?  If we had a country without fear,
without people calling the cops on their neighbors before
trying to suss out what is really going
on, what kind of country could we be?
 If we had a country that didn’t cling to the past, but instead
imagined a beautiful future, what would
that look like? If we opened the door and expected a friend,
how much richer would our lives be?

WTF Emotions

When Lucas was born, I was totally unprepared.  I thought I was prepared.  I had planned for months for the hypnobirth, listened to the tapes, read about baby's first year of life, breast-feeding, went to all the pre-natal visits.  I would bring a boy baby into the world, he would be tiny, he would cry - a lot - I would be sleep and shower deprived and eventually I would go back to work and Phil and I would take on the task of raising an awesome human being.  How hard could it be?  My mom did it 7 times!  She didn't have any special warnings or give any advice for what to do if things didn't go as planned.
Things did not go as planned.  My baby didn't want to enter the world easily.  I ended up with an unintended c-section that I was badgered into by a doctor who needed to leave for his holiday vacation because the baby was not moving into position after my water broke.  Fine, c-section had not event been on my radar, but fine.  Except, not fine, because I hadn't planned on it, so hadn't read up on any drugs they might try to give me after birth, which might make breastfeeding difficult and which might make my mind very foggy.  I just took what they gave me.
He was (is) a beautiful boy.  But soon after bringing him home, he was crying all the time.  I do not exaggerate.. it was pretty much most of the time.  He could not latch on and I did not get it until much later that the reason was because I was so engorged.  So we went to some formula to supplement.  He never did well with that and was pretty much unhappy for for a year.  I can happily report that he remembers none of this and is now a very happy teenager and the most "chill" kid.  He goes with the flow and will strike up a conversation with just about anyone.  Love him forever!!

Cut to 2nd child, I knew I might end up with a 2nd c-section but hoped for natural birth.  But my daughter also didn't want to move into position many hours after my water broke and I had gone into labor.  But this time I had a card up my sleeve.  I politely declined all pain medication, save regular tylenol, from the nurses.  I was not going to be in a fog when my baby was near.  I was going to read all of her cues and all the cues from my own body.  I ended up with a healthy girl who cried a lot, but not more than a normal infant, who nursed easily and was a very happy baby.

I learned a lot from my first pregnancy and from Lucas' first few years.  I was able to take that knowledge and use it to help with the arrival of Amanda.  I have often heard that first children are the guinea pigs... we parents don't really know what the fuck we are doing the first time around.  But the second time... we've got it.  Sucks to be the first kid.

Why am I writing all this... my children are tweens/teens?  Phil and I had a rush of emotions this evening when talking about Phil's mom, Jeme.
Jeme was a  beautiful woman who deserves her own post devoted to all the cool things she was, but this post has to do with what Phil and I were lacking when she became sick.

I have been racked with guilt ever since she died.  If I had known this, if I had done that, if Phil and his brother and father had done such and such... I have laid awake many nights in anguish, never sharing my thoughts with Phil.  Tonight I did.

Jeme is the first of our parents to die.  She should not have died.  And if she had been the 2nd of our parents to become sick, she wouldn't have died (at least not yet, we will all get there eventually).  She was our guinea pig and I don't know if I can forgive myself for not knowing what I should have known.
When she was diagnosed with cancer, we listened to what she said the doctors said.  We went along with her choice of treatments. Phil and I visited every few weeks and noticed her weakness and chalked it up to the Chemo.  We sent care packages to make her more comfortable.  The grandkids called.  But what we didn't do was go to a doctor's appointment with her.  What we didn't do was question her choice of treatment.  What we didn't do was be there more.  We knew Jeme didn't like to impose, that she didn't like to push.  She wouldn't have asked us for help if she needed it.  We should have insisted.  We should have questioned chemo for a 77 year old woman who was not the most virile of people.  She was strong in mind, but not in body.  We went with the flow, not wanting to rock the boat, just like Jeme.

Her death was totally unnecessary and avoidable.  Yes, she had colon cancer, but she could have lived with it for years without treatment.  Happy years to sing in the church, be with her husband and watch her children and grandchildren.  But she died too soon because we didn't push and she didn't push.

Phil and I have knowledge now about what we will do different next time.  But that is fucked up!  Next time won't save Jeme.  Next time is shit. And it kills me and I think it kills Phil too.

I miss Jeme most when I look into my son's eyes.  I remember the first time she cradled and rocked him and kissed his sweet head.

2016

One of my goals for 2016 is to write something in this space almost every day.  More and more I find that I am not working on the book project because at the end of the day there is not one creative morsel to be found... so I write nothing.  This is not good.  If I can peck out just a few sentences on any topic, I think I will be better off than going to bed angry at myself for not writing a single word.  I had a similar goal last year and sought out a domain name -- something along the lines of 500wordsaday -- but found that none were available.  So I didn't write.  
I decided that I don't need a fancy domain name at the top of my online journal -- I can just use this off-the-grid blog to write a few thoughts, just as I did when I started the Crousehaus blog.

Today was a calm day, and I was feeling subdued and a bit depressed from the time I woke up.  We made it through one year without Jeme.  I think that's about all I want to write right now.

My Beautiful Mother

He called her first, she, who is no longer his.  He has many who do belong to him and he didn't call them, he called her.  She picked up the phone and listened as he told her his fears.  She hung up, got her sweater and rushed off to the hospital to make sure that he was looked after.  Their past is icky and plagued with betrayal and disrespect, but still she went without comment.  She is beautifully human in a world that is less so each and every day.  God, how I love my mother!

February Rain

April rain came down in February.  That soft southern California mist that lightly softens the soil for spring planting.  It's the kind that you can sit out in.  It doesn't do more than dampen your clothes, and you feel better, more alive, like the wetness is getting you ready for the season of heat.
The dry months are in front of you, but you can imagine, you pray, you hope that there is enough time for your roots to grow deep, deep down into the newly softened earth and grab hold of something that will keep you from withering under the scorching sun.

Let them have it

I'm so tired of all the shit talk, of the blame game and gridlock.  Can they do it better?  Let them have the reigns.  Do it, fellow dems, give it to the republicans.  Give them EVERYTHING!  The house, the senate, the presidency.  Give it to them and let them run with it.  They have a plan for everyone?  They will help the poor and working class move up?  Let's give them a chance.  Will they say they can't do much because of their predecessors?  No, you can't play the blame game.   Let them repeal ACA, let them reduce SNAP and give tax breaks to corporations.  Let's see if it trickles down.  If their plans work out for our country, I will be in Line congratulating them.  But if not, watch out, the revolution will be at hand!
Give them a chance to fail.  We need the proof because a good portion of America doesn't see it yet.  They need to be convinced.  Let's give McConnell a chance to show them what he can do for them.

Haiku break...

Funky summer day

Wacky dog licking my feet

Spray from hose comes down

Discouraged

I wish they would tell you exactly what it was that made them decide, "no, you're not the one for us."  Each freakin time it is the same exact BS.  I'm guessing there is a Web site with templates for rejection letters.
"Dear Schmooby, While we think you really are the cat's meow, we've decided to go with another candidate  for a reason which we will not disclose to you.  Best of luck in your future endeavors."

I thought I really connected on this last round of interviews and it didn't help that I *really* wanted this job.  It was perfect.  My feelings are starting to get hurt and I don't know quite what is wrong with my qualifications.  Maybe it's my handshake.  Maybe I shouldn't have curled my hair this morning, or perhaps they don't like the fact that I telecommuted for the past 10 years.  I don't know how to get around that but it seems like a black mark on my resume.

I am feeling like this coming summer will prove to be one of the worst in Crouse Haus history.

Fragile

Today I am again reminded of the fragility of life. I have had way too many reminders in the past year. It seems like almost every other month life sends me a memo. These memos are painful and I feel like screaming, "I GET IT! ENOUGH ALREADY!"

But today's reminder was especially painful.

I have not lost anyone especially close to me. Some who have moved on were acquaintances in my younger years, others were friends of friends, one was a woman who was dear to me when I was a child. Today a dear lady I have known for many years lost her child. Her boy was just 20 years old and a hard-working young man who loved his mama. He took a lunch break to grab a hamburger -- just a 5 minute drive from his job. On the way home last Friday he was in a car accident. He was not wearing a seatbelt. He never woke up to talk with his family and say goodbye. He was in a coma for 5 days and was removed from life-support today.

I have no idea how my friend will go on. I feel pain for her and I when I try to reach the level of pain she must be feeling I cannot even come close to imagining it. I look at my two healthy, adventurous children and I really cannot even imagine. Words of comfort for her are hard to form.

This is a woman for whom life has been misery. But that is my definition and I would never say that to her. To her, life, until today, was okay. But to hear her story you would suck in your breath and find it hard to exhale. This is a devout woman and to her god I say, WHY? What more do you want from her? She began her life poor, the oldest of 8 children in Mexico. She took care of her younger siblings from a young age, and I'm sure she did this well. She is a loving person. If her youth wasn't stolen from her by having to parent young siblings, it certainly was when she was kidnapped at the age of about 13 by someone known to the family. She was basically enslaved and sexually abused and held for a couple of years. She was finally returned to her family and even though they knew who had done this to their daughter, nothing was done to the man. She made her way to the USA and worked hard and became an American Citizen (she voted for Bush, but I still love her). She worked and waited until later in life to have her three children. Unfortunately her choice in a partner was not a good one. The man who is the father of her children is a louse. She finally steeled herself and kicked him out. But many years later when he had health problems, she took him back into her home to care for him. She thought he was in his last days, but he rallied and regained some health. Although he has a job he has started drinking again.

She wanted her children to attend college, but she didn't have the means to provide it for them and they chose to work instead. Her daughter finally enrolled in college but became pregnant in her first term. Now daughter and granddaughter are living at home. The oldest son lives at home as does the louse of a partner and a sister and niece. She lives in a tiny house in Pacoima that backs to the freeway. The neighborhood is not good and she worked her butt off to make sure her kids stayed out of trouble and stayed in school until they graduated. She fretted about the hooligans roaming the streets and her worst fear was that one of her boys would be a victim of violence. Her dream was to rent an apartment in a safe area, but her husband wouldn't sell the house and she didn't make enough money to start over again.

I remember so many times her talking about her baby boy -- she had a very special relationship with him and she and I talked so much about the similarities about her boy and my boy. My boy and I also have a very tight bond.

Just last Monday she told me her youngest son was so excited because he got a new puppy. I can't believe it was just over a week ago. And now he is gone.

This post is rambling, but I am still stunned. Amanda wrote a sweet note to my friend to say that she "hopes your son is doing better in heaven," but I don't know if I will deliver it. It might be too painful.

I remember once I was on vacation with some friends in Palm Springs when Amanda was just about a year and a half or two years old. Some of our friends didn't have kids yet. I was hitting the sauce quite hard (as we do on this adult vacations) but I remember sitting with two friends who didn't have kids. They asked me what advice I had about having kids. I didn't hesitate. "Don't do it," I said. "It opens you up to experiencing the worst pain you could imagine. I love my children and now that they are here I wouldn't wish that they weren't, but I can say that I would tell someone contemplating it, not to do it. The pain that I can only just try to imagine is too much to bear." I distinctly remember that conversation and I remember thinking about it over the years. I don't know why but it just popped out and I felt so strongly about it that I actually wanted to grab one of my friends and shake her and scream, "Don't do it! The potential for pain is too great!" There has been so much joy with our family, but that lingering "what if" is always there.

A Matriarch Gone

Today I received very sad news. The mother of a childhood friend passed away. Normally this would be sad news that I could put on the shelf after passing on condolences. Parents die, it is part of life. If they aren't your own parents, you hurt for your friends as you think about the mortality of your own family. If you have already lost your parents you perhaps have more empathy and more insight and know what to say or do. But this woman was also a mother to me during the tender years from 5 to about 15. Those are some pretty important years and her guidance cannot be discounted because she wasn't my biological mother. She made her mark. She wasn't afraid to mother a child who wasn't her own.

Mary taught me lessons right along with her daughter, my bff in childhood.

I should let you know that Jenn and I were bosom buddies in the style of Anne and Diana of Anne of Green Gables. We were together all the time. I was usually at her house to escape the chaos of my own. We told each other all of our secrets. We created elaborate plays and had some pretty hot dance moves. We watched hours of Little House on the Prairie and watched the movie Annie at least 20 times. Her mother passed on to Jennifer the gory details of the birds and the bees and Jennifer of course passed this information on to me... otherwise I would have been in the dark. I learned about tampons from Mary, about how to soften your heels with a pumice stone and the importance of washing your dirty feet (because kids did not wear shoes in the summer back then... EVER) before you slipped them between your clean sheets.

Mary's house was a "door open" type of place. You peed with the door open or changed in front of others. This was in stark contrast to my puritan-like household where doors were closed and no information about personal body habits was ever shared. I model my own home after Mary's.

Oh, and pies. That woman could make some mean pies! There was always pie and tea. I remember Mary with her big mug of tea. Tea always makes me think of Mary. The woman also made her own jam and took her kids -- and me! -- berry picking so she could make her awesome jam.

There was an incident when I took one of Jenn's round hairbushes and it got all tangled up in my hair. The brush was not moving. Mary walked me out to the backyard sat me down in a chair and worked that thing out. I still look back on that day and I am amazed. She didn't call my mom -- a few blocks over -- she just took control like I was one of her own and got me all fixed up. She was like that. When I was in her house, she was responsible for me and she took that role seriously. I think about that all the time with my own kids. When they have friends over and play gets a bit rough and someone comes with a cut finger or they've lost a tooth (not an adult one thankfully) I take them and care for them like my own. I learned that from Mary.

Mary was a wonderful, loving mother and friend. I will forever be sorry that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. Jenn and I went our separate ways around the college years. There was no falling out, just distance and I'm not good at all with distance relationships. I didn't put in the effort and lost touch. Through the magic of facebook Jenn and I got in touch again and I had the chance to meet her and her husband and beautiful daughter (there is now another pretty girl added to the mix). We trade notes on facebook, but it can't compare to real friendship. And now Mary is gone and I realize that my own inability to reach out to those not in my immediate vicinity has robbed me of so much.

My heart breaks for my friend who first lost her father a decade ago and now has lost her mom. I have lost something, too. It can't compare, but it feels like the fabric of my own history has been ripped.

I know that I was given a gift in Mary. I hope my own children can know that gift. That beyond their immediate family, there are others out there who care for their well-being. It is a really good feeling, I can tell you. It means so much.

Mary, thank you for being such a great second mom. I will always remember you and will continue to share stories of you with my children.

He's Seven Today

The little boy is 7 today. I really can't believe it. Unfortunately, the boy is sick today -- came down with a fever yesterday and it has continued today. He's doing OK, though, happily working on the Lego set he received for his big day.
When I peek at him while he works -- he barely needs any help now -- I'm amazed that it's been 7 years since Lucas joined our family. Seven years ago my world changed forever.... for the better. I bonded with him pretty quickly and although we had a rough few months in the beginning, things smoothed out and he is such a wonderful boy. I'm so lucky to have a loving, thoughtful, smart and funny child. Yes, he does drive me bananas when he teases his sister or when he takes 20 minutes to put on his shoes, but mostly he just loves us and we love him right back.

Luc came in our room at about 5 this morning because he wasn't feeling well. He snuggled into our bed and I told him happy birthday. "Mommy," he said, "you are the best mommy in the world and I'm so lucky to have the best mommy."
No, Lucas, I'm lucky I get to be your mom.

Sickness and theft

We've had a pretty shitty week here at the Crouse Haus. Last Wednesday I decided to take the kids to get their h1n1 flu shot. We waited in line for almost 2 hours and I was blown away by how great the kids were. They didn't fight and they just climbed on the railing or looked at books and didn't even ask once for a snack (although I did have some in my bag).
About 4 hours after we got home, Luc was running a temperature. Great! Now the mommy-guilt kicks in. Did I cause him to get sick by taking him to get his flu shot? What kind of mother am I? I lay awake a good part of the night going back and forth over my decision.
He was sick for 3 days and still has a bad cough. We thought Amanda was in the clear, but late Saturday she started complaining of a headache and when I felt her forehead, yes, she was warm.
As Lucas was on the mend, Amanda was heading downhill. She'll be home from school for at least another day... that means at least 4 days with only minimal time put in at work. Ack!!! Don't these kids know I have to save up for Christmas???
I took Amanda to the doc today and doc suspects she has croup. She's not positive for flu, so the kids didn't get anything from the vaccine -- at least I can put that guilt to bed. It was just circumstantial because a lot of shit is going around right now.

Well, thanks to all the running around I've been doing trying to keep the house disinfected and my own compromised immune system (been fighting a cough for a couple of weeks), I've been hit with whatever the kids have. I feel like crap and I am letting the kids take out whatever toys they want and leave everything lying around. I just don't have the energy to clean it up. Phil is going to have a big surprise when he gets home tonight:)

Oh... on to the car. That's a beautiful thing. I packed the kids in the car to drive Lucas and our carpool kids to school this morning when I noticed a police officer talking to my neighbor. I rolled down the window to find out what was wrong. It seems her car was broken into, as were several other neighbors cars. The rascals only hit unlocked cars and apparently just took items out of the vehicles and threw said items into the middle of the street.
"Oh," the police officer said, "and we're trying to find the owner of this inflatable bed..." and he pointed to an aerobed lying in the gutter. Shit! That was in my car. It is my brother's aerobed (Tom, it still works, I'll dust it off, but it is okay, I swear!). I don't lock my shitty van because who would want to steal it... and I don't have automatic locks. I have to lock my back hatch with a freakin' key! Anyway, I guess I'll be locking up from now on.
The officer said for me to check my car and make sure nothing was taken. At first glance, nothing was. I had just cleaned the car out the day before. But then my heart sunk. I had left my flip camera in a little compartment up front. I opened it and sure enough, the jerks took it. Damn them!!!! I loved that little camera and I kept it in the car for when the kids and I made an impromptu stop at the park or something.
Anyway, I chose not to report the stolen camera -- too much work for the police and they won't recover it. It didn't cost that much, but it's not in our budget to buy a new one. Phil is going to be really pissed when he gets home. Shit... and it's going to be all my fault for not locking the damn door.

Neighborhood smells and Questionable Children's Literature

Phil was home late tonight and then headed for a jog, so I decided to take the kids on an evening bike ride. I put on their gear and added a few of those glow necklaces just to make sure they could be seen riding ahead of me. As I trailed behind them with the dog, I smelled something familiar -- Italian food! That's what we had for dinner and I stopped to pat myself on the back for successfully getting the kids to eat meatballs laced with pumpkin puree. We traveled on and more delicious smells permeated the air... was that taco seasoning I smelled coming from the house with the spooky Jack-O-Lanterns? Further down the block I heard the clearing of plates and determined that the family had just finished a nice dinner of BBQ ribs. One good thing about this recession... people are eating at home more and that makes my evening walks smell really great.

After returning home and getting the kids showered, Lucas and I settled down with more of his required reading -- Junie B. Before the boy could read, I might have thought this was a cute book that appealed to kids, but now it makes me squirm. I mean, the book is teaching really bad English. I don't have the best grammar or spelling skills, but I do know that "runned" and "getted" are not real words. The book is supposed to be in the voice of a kindergarten-age girl so, yes, that's how she may speak, but I don't want to confuse my new reader into thinking these words are real. It's just really annoying. Yes, I know Dr. Seuss has lots of words that aren't real words, but his words were completely made up -- of his imagination. Junie B.'s words are just real enough to confuse a kid. I can't wait until we're done with this book. On a good note, the boy is doing excellent with his reading. I'm constantly blown away by how well he is doing.

Gone

You weren't even on my radar.
I heard the news and hoped for the best
Things always worked out
We're young, we aren't meant to go.
You had no one, or so I assumed.
A person can't go like that
I searched for you and could find no news.
Too sad
You can't go, you still have a life
You have much to give you have to grow
I knew you before we shaved our legs
You were cool as a cucumber
I heard the news today
I thought it can't be true
Where have you been
Where have I been
What have you been doing
I don't know
Your family now a floating vessel without an oar
Where will they drift
Not fair
Too young
My tears won't stop
For whom am I crying
Myself
My sisters
You were surrounded by love
Of course you were
Why did I think you wouldn't be
I thought that would keep you safe
If they surround you you are gone for sure
You are gone
You are gone
You are gone

Close Talkers and Eco Vegetarianism

Did you ever see that episode of Seinfeld about the "close talker"?
While I was at the kids' swim lessons yesterday I saw close talking in action and it was so uncomfortable to watch. The close talker was totally unaware that he was invading someone's space. The conversation wasn't an argument... it was just one guy telling another guy a story about a car radio or something. Anyway, I wasn't listening to the particulars, but the close talker just kept standing right in front of the other guy and moving his face like 6 inches from his listener's face. The listener would then stand off to the side and try to gain some space. But the close talker kept on moving in. I couldn't believe it. How did this guy not realize that his actions were not normal? In fact, as he told the story (6 inches from another person's face) he was yelling. He wasn't yelling at the guy, he was just excited about the story.
Anyway, writing it down doesn't do the incident justice. It was too freakin crazy.

And now, dear reader, I have a question for you.
I've been slowly moving toward eco-vegetarianism (is that a word?). We've cut meat out of most of our meals -- yes, I did throw a bit of prosciutto in the dinner I made for the in-laws last week. If we go out, I know Phil will probably order meat, but for myself, I'm no longer doing it. I'm finding it easy and tasty to cook vegetarian. But my question has to do with if you are visiting someone and they serve a meat dish.
Now, I'm not switching to a no-meat diet because I don't like meat -- on the contrary, I do love a nice pork loin or steak every once-in-a-while and I'll miss that. So, if someone has prepared a steak, not knowing I don't eat it, is it OK to partake in the feast? I mean, the animal has already left its carbon footprint and I'm not encouraging the practice of raising animals for food because I didn't buy the stuff.
What would you do?

Veggin Out!

I was a lacto-ovo vegetarian in my late teens and early twenties. If I admit it to myself, I probably did it to get attention. I didn't really have a strong feeling about killing animals other than I wouldn't hunt myself and the whole "environment thing" wasn't that big a movement 15 or so years ago. Anyway, by about age 22 I was again eating meat. I had men taking me to eat in fancy restaurants and they didn't want to see me order the pasta primavera every time. In any case, it didn't stick. Now I'm 35 and I know a lot more about the environment. I've voted for bills that require more humane treatment of animals and I try to purchase animal products that are organic or "free range". But that isn't cutting it anymore.

You know when it really hit me? I was driving up the 5 freeway with my hubby last week on our way to a fabulous "retreat" with friends. I can't remember where we were exactly, but it was somewhere north of Bakersfield -- anyway, we were driving and I suddenly saw a huge number of cows. Thousands of them standing in dirt. There were overhangs where they could go to keep cool, but not a speck of grass to be seen (so much for California's Happy Cows). We drove for what seemed like almost a mile and on my side of the car the cows just went on and on. In the distance I spied a bunch of outbuildings. The slaughterhouse I guessed. I don't know why, but that really got to me. Not just the eating an animal thing, I mean there are countless animals that are born only so that they can be food for other animals. But we are making more of these animals. And we are killing the environment as we do it.

After a weekend with friends and so much drinking, smoking, maryjane and guilty indulgences in paparazzi magazines, I felt I needed some good, wholesome food. Our meals for the past 3 nights have been vegetarian. And to my surprise, the kids liked everything and everything was easy to prepare and cost next to nothing.

I'm not saying that I'm going vegetarian because I don't want to eat my hat, but I'm going to make a big effort to try and stay away from meat. I have to go lacto-ovo, though, because my body can't stay away from eggs and cheese. But even if my family of four gives up meat, that will do something for the environment.

If you have any yummy recipes that are vegetarian and not too out there (I have two youngins) send them my way.
So far the kids love the pita pizza with goat cheese, artichokes and local tomatoes. We also love butternut squash and black bean stew and pretty much any kind of quiche.

Procrastination, tie dye and Annie

I've been feeling so overwhelmed this summer. Overwhelmed with work and kids and projects that have overtaken our dining room table.
This afternoon I had a realization that it doesn't have to be like this. Yes, I still have kids and I still have a job (thank god!), but I don't have to take on all this extra junk.

A few weeks ago I came up with what I thought was a pretty good idea for something I could work on at night and hopefully bring some extra cash into the Crouse Haus. The only catch, however, is that the idea requires someone with crafty talents. I am seriously lacking in the crafty talent area, but I thought I could fake it.
I was talking to my mom about the project yesterday and I told her my concerns. Then she
told me about a documentary of Woody Allen she watched the other night. In it he said something to the effect of either you have it or you don't. This could be applied to many things like writing skills, acting, painting, comedy, music, etc....
I think it was sort of her way of telling me that I may not have "it". Not that I might not have "it" in some other area of my life, but this particular project might not be for me. Some other people might say, "well, gee, your mom is a bit harsh." But her telling me this little tidbit about Woody Allen might have actually set me free. It might save me from dumping money into a venture that will go no where. And this venture might actually just be an excuse for me to stop doing what I really want to do. The book I've been working on stalled, so I think "finding" this project was a way for me to avoid it. I know it won't come easy, but writing this book is something I know I can do, unlike decoupage.

Speaking of the crafty arts, the kids and I were in the backyard today doing tie dye. We've done one the past few summers. So, I went out and bought the kit from Joann's and we made a big mess. The kids had fun and now my fingers are totally stained because the gloves they include in the kit don't work for shit. I'm going to search online for some way to remove the dye from my fingers.

After work and tie dying was finished, I sat down to watch Annie with the kids. Now, this is probably the film I have watched the most times in my life (Breakfast Club comes in second and Friday, thanks to my husband, comes in 3rd). I saw the film opening weekend with my late grandmother at Grauman's Chinese theater -- then, my childhood friend, Jennifer, and I proceeded to watch it on video like 40 times. We LOVED the movie and the songs, but I don't ever remember getting choked up one time. Cut to tonight -- I watched it with my two children for the first time (they loved it!) and I got choked up more than once. When Daddy Warbucks is singing that little "Maybe" part, I was about to start sobbing. I don't think it was the fact that I was watching it with my own children and I was feeling sentimental... it was the grownup in me imagining what it must feel like watching a child you love walk out the door possibly forever. Damn! Anyway, I'm so stoked that my kids didn't think the movie too lame. You never know nowadays because there is so much crap offered to kids -- everything is non-stop action.

Today was good. Have a wonderful night!

Hey Summer! I'm So Over You!

Yes folks, it hasn't quite been a week and the honeymoon period of summer has officially ended -- there was yelling today. We actually had a nice first few days of summer -- the days were filled with getting Amanda's used bike fixed up so it looks more like hers, birthday parties and riding bikes everywhere.
Yesterday was a really, really good day. The kids actually acted like they were friends with each other. I got some work done in the morning and then we rode bikes down to the park and had a picnic and just lounged in the sun for a few hours. They rode their bikes home and there wasn't one complaint about going uphill. In the afternoon they played and I did a bit more work and then they rode bikes outside in the evening. Perfect day.
Today was a different story. The fighting started as soon as they woke up. I knew I had to get a few hours of work in before we headed off to the free movie (free movies all summer!) and the kids were determined to put me in a foul mood. They succeeded. The afternoon was filled with fighting, tattling, and grubby fingermarks on the walls.

Camp starts in a week and I cannot wait. It will be good for the kids to get out for a few hours every day and I won't feel guilty about yelling at them while I try to fit in as much work as possible. The little nerds haven't heard that there is a recession going on and mommy needs to bring home some bacon.

Shiny, New Things and Last Day of Kindergarten

My son is spoiled and I'm not sure what to do about it. I consider myself a nice person -- I try to always be courteous to others and I definitely have never made myself out to be better than someone else because I have more. So, I don't know where Lucas gets it except maybe it is because he is the first-born and he got a lot of attention for 2 years.
Anyway, he got a rad new bike last summer. It is a good bike -- shiny and red with yellow lightening bolts. He loves it and just learned to ride it with no training wheels.
We noticed last month that my daughter has outgrown her tricycle. I went on a mission to find a bike for her. Things are very tight around here, so I wanted to get a used bike. I looked on Craigslist for about a month when I finally scored a girls Trek bike for $40. It is pink and cute, but the seat needs to be replaced, as well as the basket. I picked the bike up yesterday and my daughter was so excited -- she's barely been off the thing since and she even wanted to sleep with it next to her bed. The first thing my son said when he saw it? "It's not shiny and new like mine. I got a new bike." What a little brat! I had a long talk with him but I feel like it went in one ear and out the other. Everything he gets is new. New clothes because he is the first boy cousin, new toys because he is our first child.... Amanda gets hand-me-down clothes from her cousins and used toys from her brother. She didn't seem bothered by the fact that her bike is used -- like I said, she loves it. But I am bothered by my son's attitude. I don't know where he picked it up. My husband and I try to set good examples with our own behavior.
I guess the answer might be to get all of his "stuff" (which we are trying to cut down on anyway) used.

But Lucas is 99% a really great kid. He is sweet and funny (so funny) and energetic and now he is no longer a Kindergartener. Today was his last day at his school with his most amazing teacher. I dropped him off and we had a small gift for Mrs. Smith. I got a big choked up when I went in to say hello to her and her eyes and nose were red already from all goodbyes she was saying. I wish every child could have a Mrs. Smith as their first teacher. I wish Lucas could have her again next year.
I went to pick Luc up a bit early because Mrs. Smith said we could come in anytime during the day. She was handing out scrapbooks she had made herself and I started crying again. Each book had pictures of the child over the year. There were examples of their work so parents could see the progress they had made. I can just picture her putting these together for each child and my heart grows.
We'll miss you Mrs. Smith and we are so grateful for all that you have taught our son.

Disappointment

I think I've come a long way from my teen years. I am totally able to roll with disappointment. Can't make a lunch date... no problem, I understand. Don't have my favorite halibut sushi on the menu anymore... no biggie. No money for vacation this year... we'll have a "staycation". You get the idea. I don't get too upset when plans change or I don't get my way.
I wasn't always this way, and maybe having kids has something to do with it. They are ready to disappoint you from day one.

Oh... you thought nursing was going to be a breeze -- well, Mom, let me tell you, I'm going to make it much more difficult than you thought.
Yes, I know you read that book about making your own baby food and it's all organic and home-made and you spent hours in the kitchen... I'm still not going to eat it.

If I was my previous self, I would have taken to my bed for a week over the fact that my daughter never crawled. But something about having kids forces you to rethink how you deal when things just don't go your way. When you are pregnant for the first time, you have all these dreams about how the early years will be. And for the most part, reality doesn't match the dream -- at least it didn't for me. Those first years were wonderful and crazy and hard and I love my kids, but the reality definitely didn't mirror the dream -- except for the love part. I dreamed about tremendous love and reality far exceeded my dreams.

So why am I bringing all of this up now? Tonight an old friend was supposed to drop by for dinner. I haven't seen her in something like 14 years. She was one of my best friends in high school, but then, you know, someone moves 3000 miles away and after a few years it is easy to lose touch. We did. I found her again through facebook. Whoo-hoo. I've had some correspondence with her and then a few weeks ago she said she would be in town and wanted to come by for dinner.
I planned a yummy meal (beef bourguignon) and even picked up the house a bit. I didn't really care too much about the food, I just wanted to see my friend again. I wanted to give her a big, humungous hug. It's now 8:45 and she was to be here at 7. I fed my husband and poured myself a glass of a good Malbec. I now wish I hadn't opened it because I know I won't drink more than one glass. Anyway, I am disappointed and I know that there is a reason she couldn't make it. Stupid me didn't ask for her cell phone so I could call her and I can't call her home because it's like almost midnight there. My kids were sweet... they gave me hugs and said, "mommy, I'm sorry your friend couldn't come." They were comforting me because if one of their friends canceled on a play date, they would be a mess. But I'm not a mess. I'm not sad about the dinner that I didn't eat or the hors dourves that are sitting on the counter. I just wanted to reminisce. Anyway, I hope she is OK and that we'll have a chance to see each other some time.

So now, I'll finish my glass of Malbec and sit on the sofa with hubby.