Mini epiphany.

When I was younger we lived on military bases.  My mom worked, my dad worked, but we still needed a way to get around (I babysat a lot, and had swim lessons, and we had a horse we had to take care of, etc., etc.) so we rode our bikes.  Every.  Single.  Day.

I'll bet you that my thigh muscles could've cracked a damn walnut in two.  My legs were so buff it was skeery.  As an adult, I reminisce to those times, and think, "Riding my bike was FUN!  It was so EASY!  I want to do it again!"

But, um, it was a MILITARY BASE.  Meaning, the streets were well-lit, there were MPs patrolling all the time, we had lived there for years so we knew everyone, and I wasn't old (and *cough cough* out of shape).  I was young, and had places to go, dammit.  It was for necessity, a mode of transportation.

I've been riding my bike with Phoebe every night, at least around the block.  My muscles are perpetually sore, and I huff and heave like the dickens when I'm pedaling against the wind, but I'm starting to like it again.  I mean, not just for the sake of exercising, but for being able to ride through the neighborhood and see things that you don't get to see when you drive through in your car.

I forgot about how much you can smell things when you take the time.  The dirt, the road, the smell of grass, of car exhaust, plants and flowers, the hot air.  Last night we went out after dark, which is something I haven't done before.  I felt like I saw my town, for the first time, by smell.

I smelled cologne and dryer sheets, cooking food and freshly-cut lawns.  I smelled sprinklers hitting grass, I smelled cars being washed.  I smelled a working-class neighborhood, I smelled pride and cleanliness.  I smelled busy people at the end of a busy day in their busy lives.

It's not the same as riding around on base, and there's fear when I'm riding down a dark street with my kid strapped in behind me.  But there were people sitting outside fixing their cars, walking down the street with kids in strollers, talking on the phone in their yards, putting out their trashcans and yelling at their children to come back inside.  I used to see the shadowy streets and think... bad things.  This isn't the greatest neighborhood.  We've had our car broken into.  Shots fired in our driveway.  A rape and shooting at the corner market.

Now, though, I look down the street and think... families.  Working hard.  Living.  Kids playing.  It's not so bad, really, and I can't believe that I've lived here for this long and never took the time to see it, never really slowed down long enough to smell this neighborhood, this place I live and am raising our kids.

It smells good.

Old video.

Watch it.  :)  We love those damn eggs.

Belated Birthday Post.

Dear Marissa,

This post has been very difficult to write.  It's been hard for me to try to convey my feelings and thoughts, and I don't know exactly how to say it all.

You are eight years old now, and that feels strange to say.  In my heart you are still that twinkle-eyed two year old with budding teeth and a fearless step.  I blink and there you stand, all arms and legs and curly hair.  Your face is developing a disquieting leanness to it that shows me a glimpse of the girl you'll become.... I'm excited and frightened at the same time.

You amaze and astound me, you exasperate and frustrate me, you make me laugh, and you fill this house with your sunshine every single day.  I love you fiercely, and deeply, with everything that I am.

On the anniversary of your birth I held you tight, and I smelled your hair, and I kissed you all over your sweet face.  No matter how big you get, I hope you will always let me.

Happy Birthday to my (big) little girl.

~Mommy

Madness.... in a good way.

Time to dish on the room mate situation.  I was really worried, initially about having her move in, because she's such a dear close friend to us.  Generally, in room mate situations, especially with dear friends, they start to annoy you.  And you don't necessarily want to say anything to them about it (did I mention the dear friend part?) so you overlook it.  Until one day, you wake up in a cold-blooded rage and want to strangle them around their scrawny neck and scream profanities in their face about buying their own damn LAUNDRY SOAP!

No?  Is that just me?  Okay then.

Well, it's been, what 2 weeks?  3?  I can't remember, but our roomie is just heavenly.  HEAVENLY!  She fits in like she's a part of the family, and is not at all squeamish when Phoebe walks up to her with a huge ass booger on her finger and tells her to, "Eat it!".  She'll pick Charlie up, she's helped Marissa learn to ride her bike, and she comes with me to the store.  She does dishes, she cleans up, and she lets the girls hang out in her t.v. room upstairs watching Annie.  We make jokes that she's my wife, and that Bryan better watch out, or I'll leave him for her.

She does NONE of the annoying things that room mates usually do, and she doesn't hole herself up in her rooms upstairs.  She's really a part of our family.  So far she doesn't care about our slovenly ways, and she'll argue with me like a sister.  I can't stop saying enough good things about her.  In a nutshell, she rocks our damn socks off, and I think we're going to keep her.  FOREVER.

To switch topics in a completely unrelated way, a few weeks ago Marissa begged us for a fish.  She'd had a really bad experience with fish in the past (remember the aquarium she got for her birthday last year?  with the fish that subsequently bit the big one?) so I was hesitant, until she told me that she wanted a fish.  Singular.  Fine.

We got her a little female Beta that she named Shirley (as in Temple), and Shirley is doing quite well.  Having a fish is a novelty that I thought would've worn off by now, but it hasn't.  I think that it has a lot to do with Phoebe, and Phoebe's obsession with Shirley.

The first thing that Phoebe wants to do in the morning is "See the fish," and she insists that Bryan or I pick her up so she can ooh and aaaah over Shirley, and touch the bowl, and squeal.  She asks to hold Shirley in her hand, and wants to pet her.  With two cats (that she tries to ride like horses) and a dog (that she shares her food with) I would've thought she'd reached her pet limit.  Not so.

Last night, Phoebe fell asleep on the couch after eating dinner, and the adults stayed up to watch a movie in the living room.  Phoebe was having a nightmare, evidently, and woke up crying..... and screaming..... to SEE THE FISH.  I shit you not, that kid woke up with big fat tears running down her face, and *insisted* on seeing that fish.

I picked her up, took her into the kitchen, and let her see Shirley.  She did the whole ritual of touching the bowl, and smiling, and telling Shirley hello, and asking to hold her.  After about 5 minutes of this I told Phoebe that Shirley was tired and wanted to go to sleep, so we blew Shirley kisses and turned off the kitchen light, and Phoebe started crying.  I don't mean in that holy-terror kind of fit throwing way, I mean in that chin-quivering you-just-ran-over-my-dog kind of way.  It was the saddest thing EVAR.

I did what any self-respecting parent would do, and I moved Shirley into the living room with us, so that she could sit on the table, right in Phoebe's line of sight (and I swear Shirley was looking right at Phoebe, and even waved her little fin to say, "Thanks for the new digs, homie."  I swear she did.)

I asked Phoebe if she wanted a fish of her own for her birthday, and she nodded her head yes.  Then she got up off of the couch, walked over to Marissa, and said, "Have it, fish, sissy.  Have it for Phoebe," while nodding yes to herself as if this were an acceptable compromise.

Bryan and I stared at each other in amazement.  Could a not even 2 year old (yet) really want a fish for her birthday?  Really?  I mean, I know our kids are weird, but a fish?  I mean, it's not like you can hold it, or pet it, or carry it around with you, or ride it like a pony, or feed your popsicle to it.  Somehow, though, I think she's serious, and I have a feeling that the little weirdo is going to get her birthday wish.

Success!

The lottery went off without a hitch, thanks so much to those of you that participated (and those of you that didn't.... watch your back.... I'm comin' to getcha.).

Since my store opening, I've sold a couple of pouches, some dragonfly hairclips, and a custom bib for Charmaine (which I made her buy through my store because she was my first customer, HUZZAH!).  Do I chalk it up to my new location?  Or maybe people just have money to spend?  I don't know, but whatever the reason I hope STOPS IMMEDIATELY (because you always get the opposite of what you wish for, right?).

It's been easier to get things done lately because both Charlie and Phoebe have settled into their own routines.  Charlie is awake for longer periods of time now, but it's much easier to read her behavior.  When she cries either Bryan or I can generally figure out what she wants.  I know, you'd think with two kids under our belt we'd be in the know, but that's certainly not the case here.  For the most part she's a pretty happy little thing, but when you piss her off you'd better run for the hills.  She'll scream her head off whilst staring accusingly at us, and it's pretty damn frightening. 

Phoebe is playing outside a lot lot lot, and wears herself out (can I get a HELL YEAH on that?).  She and Marissa go outside and ride their scooters, or bikes, or just run around the yard like maniacs.  Phoebe's new favorite thing to do is to announce that she has to go potty, run to the grass, and commence to peeing.  Any ground that I thought I had gained with my neighbors by mowing the lawn and watering the grass has been effectively destroyed.  Thanks, Pheebs.

This is a busy month for us, with Marissa's birthday, mother's day, my birthday, and Phoebe's birthday.  We're going to celebrate each kid's birthday on the actual day, and also have a big party together.  One of my very good friends has a birthday the day after mine, so she's going to celebrate her birthday with us, too.  Did I mention this was a busy month?  Did I happen to mention it's expensive, as well?

I think I'll stave off the stress by getting drunk every single night, from here 'till the end of the month.  Wish me luck!