Cougars, Pirates and Butterflies

Hello chickadees. One of my latest adventures is my outing ("field trip" for you homeschoolers) to our neighborhood pub. This is the equivalent of Cheers for my brothers and cousins. We've been invited many times in the past, but yea, who has the time? Well, Saturday night we got the darlings to bed and my mom came over to watch the babies.

Darling Man and I got dressed and headed out the door around 10pm. I haven't started an evening that late since I was in college! Man, do I feel old. (Wait...I'll feel older in a minute). Arriving at the pub (pub sounds classier than bar, don't you think?) we could hear the live band through the walls. Inside we peered through the smoky haze, trying not to make eye contact with people we didn't know. Finally, Darling Man found my sibs in the farthest corner. We could tell it was them because it was the only group of about fifteen people (half of whom I'm related to).

After fully enjoying my sibs' and cousins' looks of shock, and something a little less than horror, we introduced ourselves to the people we didn't know as Mike and Carol Brady. (Old moment number 2 - some of these kids thought those were our real names). I don't think they ever thought we'd come by their hangout. Just the surprise factor was worth getting out past our bedtime.

It actually was a lot of fun. I got to see a real cougar in action, trying to make the moves on my little bro, aka Captain Jack Sparrow. (For those of you, like my mom, who don't know what a cougar is, google Oprah and cougar - I think she did a show on it). You don't know how disturbing it is to watch a late 40-ish woman, dressed as a skanky butterfly, tag teaming your brother with her daughter. After I pushed past the gag reflex, I laughed....and laughed....and laughed. Who would have though he'd be able to blush through all that fake tanning stuff? I enjoyed seeing him squirm. Another upshot to the situation of watching Madame Butterfly was that I didn't feel as old as I did just a few minutes earlier. By-the-way: the above pic is my actual brother - he looks a lot different with his eyes open!

My other bro was a vampire, sans creepy make-up. He only dressed up because his girlfriend "made" him do it. I guess he drew the line at face paint. They were a cute un-dead couple. I have to give her credit for keeping him safely away from the single girls trolling for a Halloween hook-up. Vampire brother had a nice little collection of give-aways from the alcohol companies and distributors, who apparently give stuff away at pubs. He slid the mound of flashing necklaces, key chains and Halloween goodies to me, "for the kids." The kids at homeschooling park day will love the Bud Lite Halloween bat necklace! (Hey, if the Halloween theme of the necklace doesn't get us excommunicated from the group, the Bud Lite insignia probably will). It was sweet that he was thinking of the darlings. Both bros are really good uncles.

Darling Man and I, wearing jeans and pullovers our mom and dad costumes, hang out for about an hour as we slam back the diet cokes. I can feel my eyes getting droopy and I'm ready to lay my head on the table - not from alcohol, mind you, but rather because it's almost midnight and I've got four kids who are going to be up and running in just a few short hours. We say our good-byes and leave before the costume judging contest. My brother, the pirate, won first place and $150. I think he spent that much on the fake beard and spray-on-tan.

Darling Man and I are not on the club/bar scene, and we never have been. But just having a place to "hang out" and visit was nice. Hmmmm.....how could we modify that scene for people in our homeschooling-yuppie-semi-granola-prohibition-crowd? Play dates and park days aren't it because our husbands aren't with us (and the kids are). Hey! I think I've got it.....wait, I think I've just invented Starbucks!

Wow! It Worked!

Well, who would have thunk it. I actually loaded Mozilla Firefox and it now allows me to reach my blog...all from the comforts of my nest! Yea technology!

So, how are you? I am sure, (and I'm sure Darling Man would agree), that I have sooooo many other things I should could be doing, but this is a great stress reliever for me. It's way better than compulsive shopping, counting the cracks in the foundation, and trying to figure out what I'm fixing for dinner tomorrow night. Ahhh...those were the days.

I digress...what have I been up to? Hmmmm. Where to start, where to start? Let's see. The nursery staff at our church basically insinuated that our Fourth Darling was being abused. They weren't so blunt or politically incorrect, but they were "concerned that she had so many bruises"...and..."were we doing 'okay'?" and" did I feel safe?" First and foremost, (because so many people aren't smart enough to recognize sarcasm) I understand the horrible realities of child abuse and 'objectively' I understand the nursery's concern - so don't send me any self-righteous comments about me not taking it seriously. What really pissed me off was that so many things were not taken into consideration before throwing such a loaded "insinuation" out there. First, my daughter is just slightly more tan than Casper the ghost. Secondly, she's one year old and a rookie at walking (although she has just about mastered climbing up on top of the dinning room table). Lastly, I had been asked once before, in a non-threatening aside, about her bruises. I explained then, without thinking twice, that all my children bruised at that age: they're white, (super white)- and very active. We don't keep them in a padded room (although right about now, I wouldn't mind one with a diet coke and some magazines). The first questioning didn't really phase me. I guess at the core of it, what just "got my goat" was that I felt that despite my assurances, they were questioning my love and mothering of my daughter, let alone the veiled implication that my husband was up to no good. I'm still pretty steamed...obviously.

Well darlings. Enough rage for one night. God is good. We are all fine...even the pale bruised one. Just so you'll rest easy...we had the Fourth Darling checked out at the pediatrician's office the very next day. (I was playing beat the clock with speed dial when I knew his office should be opening in the morning). He was incensed that we were questioned because, according to him, "these are very typical bruises for a toddler." She is not anemic nor a hemophiliac. I did let the nursery know the doctor's opinion, and thanked them for their concern, (of course my jaw hurt afterwards - it's very difficult to speak through clenched teeth).

On to next week. Monday morning the big green van will be bouncing down the loop towards the dentist's office. Poor thing, she has no idea what's about to burst into her office.

Sweet dreams!

AAAAAgggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!

I know, I know. I'm a slacker. Actually, I have a legitimate reason for not posting in almost a month. My computer has decided to NOT go to the website for writing new posts. So, here I sit - surrounded by used up cigarette butts, clothes scattered and an unmade bed....nope, not my house - although it could be except for the cigarettes. I'm at my brother's bachelor pad.

I can't believe my kids are being quiet. Now that I've actually got the chance, I don't know what to write about. Oh, I've got lots to say, but I can't get it together at this moment.

So, don't give up. Hopefully I'll be posting soon about such things as my night out with my brothers (yikes!), the drama-drama-drama with people who make me realize why the world hates Christians and more.

I've got to get Little Bro 2 to fix my computer. I can't think without piles of laundry around me, the dishwasher running full and the dog sleeping on a pile of groceries that still need to be put away.

Rescue Rangers

Wow. Did we have an adventure today. The darlings were outside playing with two little friends when they came screeching that there was a dead bird outside. Gross. Of course, I pushed through the crowd of crumb crunchers children to see what was going on. There, just off the patio was a dove that was, as Miracle Max from The Princess Bride described, "mostly dead." The dove was breathing, one of the darlings pointed out. Ighhk. What to do? "Let's let her rest. Everyone inside!" Okay nature, take your course. A nice nasty cat would be good...no spare parts please.

After our playmates went home my own darlings and I went outside. I fully expected the bird to be eaten gone, but she had actually hopped a little ways away.
Okay. I had an ethical dilemma. What do I do? She wasn't injured enough to be put on the alley-cat-buffet, and we're not going to mummify a live bird (we're studying Egypt in school), but she sure wasn't coming into my house. (Despite what many may think because I'm a breastfeeding, non-vaccinating homeschooler, I am actually not a crunchy granola earth mother. I enjoy wildlife in the wild). I sure wasn't prepared to render first aid myself, but I did want to help it. Aha, call the head of the household!

I called The Man, who told me to just leave it there till he got home. I think I could hear one of his patients snickering in the background as he heard The Man's side of the phone call. Thank you wise one, but I still have a bird here that something has to be done to help it. Super Dog's about to scratch a hole in the sliding glass door to get out to it, and my children are going to need thousands and thousands of dollars worth of therapy if I just leave it outside de-feathered and bleeding.

So...here's the adventure. We found the address to the Wildlife Rescue center. Hey, it's only 55 miles away. My bigger darlings helped to pack lunches. I found some surgical gloves (we perform unlicensed surgery in the garage on weekends) and carefully put the bird in last year's Easter basket. (Thanks Easter Bunny!) Wow. Did you know doves have really long and scary beaks when you're up close? Frightening. So, as my mom would say, we go "barreling off" in the big green van in search of the wildlife rescue, God-knows where, not telling anyone else what's going on.

I didn't worry until we had travelled several back farm roads in the Texas hill country (which was gorgeous) and lost service on my cell phone. But no worries. We found the place and just drove on in. There was actually a building labeled "animal receiving." So, I took my four darlings, and an injured suburban dove, and sloshed into the building. They took our dove and gave us a special ID number so that we could call and check on it. How cool is that? The "animal receiving" lady asked if we wanted to make a donation. While that would be nice if I had millions of dollars, I figured the gallons, and gallons, and gallons of gas I spent bringing it out was enough of a donation.

I really hope that they didn't feed it to one of the mountain lions out back that's there for rehab. As far as my kids know...."Ice Cream" or "Tweety" (depending upon whom you ask) is in an animal rehab hospital.

God is good though. My kids really felt good about what we did. I loved being spontaneous with them (which many of you know I'm not very often). I hope that they always remember this. I sure will.

It's a cloud...no, it's a train!

Last week I got the rare opportunity of going to the park with just my two littlest Darlings. The big ones were scouting out possible garage sale hits with their Nana - one of their favorite things to do.

I don't know if it was because I had fewer people to keep up with, or if it was, as my precious philosophy professor put it, an "existential experience," but I had such a magical time with my Third Darling Little Man, pushing him on the swing at the park. How simple, but so complex in my heart that I hardly know how to write about it. I definitely can't write it without shedding unexplainable tears. How I pray that I will always be able to see him in my memory as he swings up and down, smiling up at me.

"Wat you think 'dat wook wike, Mama?" he asked on an up-swing, gazing at the clouds. I looked up at a plump cottony cloud. "I don't know...a crab?" I offered. "Noooo" he said as if I had intentionally tried to be funny, "it's a twain." Of course it is my little man.

In those few minutes we shared at the swing, surrounded by others playing tag or looking for frogs, I was struck by so many things...at how our lives really are like vapor, as I thought about how much he had grown. Does God create the stars out of little giggles like his? What was God thinking when he made such beautiful laughter? Will my Little Man ever really, really know how much I love him? As I sit here, literally with a lump in my throat, I realize what is so precious is that I was really with him.

I wasn't hurrying him up to get his shoes on. I wasn't asking him for the 9,438,342 time if he needed to go potty. I was just with him. For just a few moments, time did not exist, (and thank God Fourth Darling didn't wander off). It was just him and me. I was just in awe of the beauty of him as a creation of God. Oh, how beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. I realized just how much I'm not with him or the others: when tasks, school, housework and just plain selfishness keep me shuffling them along and not stopping to just be with them in their own little personhood. I'm going too fast.

I'm stopping now. I'm going to go snuggle with my firey little Second Darling as she goes to sleep. Perhaps time will stop again.