Tag children
Dia de los Muertos Ofrenda… no Offend-a
Reposted from October 2018…
Now when it comes to talking about Dia de los Muertos… as a white, middle aged, blond haired, green eyed guera, I consider myself no entitled-ass expert over here or anything. But know this- while I am not Mexican by birth I married one, we’re raising three, AND I made alters for Dia de los Muertos before the movie Coco came out. To further prove my bit of street cred, I totally love all things to do with the Mexican culture. Also I’m taking Spanish lessons on Rosetta Stone. So like… Yo tengo sandwiches, ya dig?
Continue reading “Dia de los Muertos Ofrenda… no Offend-a”On Meditation and Lettuce
“Pick a mantra that feels right to you” the meditation app says.
And I don’t even know the name of the app I’m using (but of course now I just HAD to check. It’s Meditation Studio) but it isn’t important. What is is that I was trying to follow a six minute Releasing Self Doubt meditation because I’d kinda felt like I’d been missing the mark, parenthood-wise lately. And I wanted to move past self recrimination to actually being a better parent and maybe self doubt factored in there and what the hell, I had six minutes to solve all my problems, sure.
Continue reading “On Meditation and Lettuce”Parenting Lesson #3,452
If you let your toddler play with an old (clean. unused. I’m no monster) dog dish outside she will forever after be picking the one up inside and pouring it out on the floor.
Toddlers loving pouring stuff on the floor.
I regret my decision.
It’s really the easiest of choices, Sweetheart
Our oldest has been moody lately. Distracted. Preoccupied. I chalked it up to upcoming tween years, but was keeping an extra eye on her as well. She’s a sensitive one, this child. Quite introspective- and so I thought, perhaps, something had been bothering her.
Last night, as I helped her pick out an outfit for her awards ceremony today at school and spent some one-on-one time with her it finally came out. There had been something bothering her.
In one of her books a father had to make a choice, save his son playing on train-tracks, or crash the train barreling towards the son but killing the hundreds of passengers onboard. He chose to save the train. (And WHAT THE F*CK, young adult authors?! A Bridge to Taribithia, Ol’ Yeller, Where the Red Fern Grows, the goddamn Lion King (a movie, but still), this shit… they’d be safer reading Douglas Adams and Tom Clancy!)
And so I found that the root of her issue lately has been the thought of that father’s choice keeping her up. She hasn’t been sleeping well. She’s wondering about the worth of a life/ her life, could a parent choose someone else over their own child, and what’s right when both choices are bad… life’s hard sometimes, my child, but this one is easy. I told her the god’s honest truth- that the world could burn for all I care, I would always choose to save her and her sisters.
She slept well last night.
Cooking with Toddlers
Last night I documented (for posterity and anyone considering having a third child) what cooking with a toddler is like.
This first picture is 10 minutes into cooking. I was able to focus and so was able to pound chicken breasts (tenderize and flatten) and get them in the griddle pan and snap the green beans. What’s my secret? Ye old blind eye.
1,000 piece puzzle in an even film over entire house.
2 seconds later…
999 piece puzzle
2 seconds later…
I promise dinner will taste better than puzzle if you just give me a few more minutes, sweet child.
Negative time later… think we moved backwards 5 minutes. Time concepts get hazy in the kitchen wormhole.
NOT THE SANDWICH BAGS, STAAP!
Time sense totally gone by now. Me revert back to primitive, pre-civilization time concepts. Somewhere between setting of bright sky ball and earth mother sleep in blanket of darkness later…
Insert soundtrack of desperately sad and hungry toddler crying here.
If it was only 10 minutes later how did I age 3 years?
YOU’RE F-ING WELCOME
Did I mention she woke up at 4:30am today? She woke up at 4:30am today.
Good thing she’s cute.
The Concept of Free Time/ Ode to a Young Family
My husband and I had some neighbors over the other day, both retired, and at one point they asked me- “You’re so busy! When do you get free time?”
Now, we were cooking and doing some minor kitchen cleaning afterwards, juggling a mildly fussy baby (we would find out less than eight hours and a fairly sleepless night later that she had an ear infection) and 2 well behaved but energetic older girls… music on, dog wandering around, etc. The question took me aback a bit- I didn’t even know how to answer! Is there an answer? Because this life- I don’t see any of that as not free time! It’s busy but not exhausting. Full but not taxing. Requires pretty constant effort, but not draining. And yet it was so foreign to them they were close to being shocked by the noise and pace of it. (and we’re not a pot banging, child screeching crew, mind you.)
I don’t know. I guess it’s because I work in an empty house all day by myself and travel and have all the free time I could want in the hotel rooms in the evenings… and I hate it. All I want is to get back to the bustle here. Free time isn’t exactly fun time- give me my four favorite people in the world all in one spot, existing together- I’d never want for more.
Sure. I don’t paint much these days, but I could if I wanted to without causing hard feelings. Or write. I conveniently use the general humm and cadence of the household to complain I can’t exercise… but I could if I wanted to. (Do. Not.)
And I guess, there are definitely days where I’m not keeping up. (Is running behind considered exercise?) The laundry never seems like I get in front of it. And the floor, well I think I wrote a blog post about it the last time the floor was mopped (before Christmas 2016, if memory serves).
And while I certainly don’t need their sympathy for the busy young (ha!) couple down the street… the husband and I will take our kind neighbors up on it; because they’re offering to let us step out for a date night soon. And if memory serves the last one of those we had was around my birthday in August. Unless you count the other ones, that is. The date nights that were every other night after that. And mornings. And afternoons… and I wouldn’t trade a one of them for all the open hours in the day.
the something garden 