April 2009 Archives

At the end of a long day


All I want to do is bake.

And then eat it all, obviously.
Backdoor breeze

I live for these days. The days when a breeze roars through the backdoor,


when the honeysuckle stretches and begins to knot and curl again,

Backyard fence

when the smell of a neighbor's bar-be-cue wafts over the fence, along with Mike Shannon's voice calling the Cardinal's pitches,


When the irises are the gem of the garden,


when the boys take to the dirt and bugs again (and I have to watch for Liam's asthma and allergies),


and when the afternoon winds down and grows silent as tired boys sleep.

This is one of my favorite times of the year.

A short haiku

My camera. Let me show you it.

over at my blog
all about photography

resides a coupon

you can download it
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a new update too
also many more photos
i hope you enjoy.

Five things

Life with kids

1. Do you see the Star Wars' Legos in the photo? There are Legos all over my house in the oddest places. As I stumbled into the bathroom early this morning I almost screamed and passed out after stepping on a little Hans Solo who was pointing his gun at my toilet.

2. My throat is sore. I've made it this far into spring without an allergy-induced respiratory illness of some kind, please let me make it to summer, pleaseohplease.

3. I was having trouble with my sinuses last night and sprawled out on the sofa and Chris made me hot chocolate. With marshmallows. That man.

4. Trying to teach an eight-year-old about the digestive system has made me feel sorry for all the times I laughed in biology when we talked about procreation.

5. There is clean laundry piled on top of my dryer, dust bunnies colonizing in the corners of my house, I'm exhausted, but it will be 80-degrees on Friday and the sunshine cannot come fast enough.    

Monkey see ...

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Liam playing

Every afternoon Liam plays on the piano. He's just a beginner, but he's learning. He already sings beautifully.

Ewan joins

Ewan is fascinated by everything his big brother does and watches in earnest.

Watching closely

Some have asked how I am able to teach both of them at home. I credit Ewan's desire to match the pace set by his brother.
Ewan's turn

It makes him eager to step up for his turn.

Liam watches

Because Liam appreciates having a fan (or a minion, depending on the circumstance) he welcomes it and encourages his brother. Being an only child myself, this is a wonderful thing to witness.


Even if it's sometimes hard to catch the moments.

A lunchtime prayer

A day after watching a program on Animal Planet about "river monsters":

"Dear God thank you for this day and for our food and for the animals, we really like them they're very nice and stuff oh except for the man-eating catfish. Amen."

Who controls the checkbook?

I was straight-up honest with my answer for my latest Momversation because I loathe dealing with finances. Chris is brilliant at it, he enjoys tortuous things like math. He's horrible at diagramming sentences but this is why we dovetail together so well.
Happy weekending.


I am recovering from yesterday.

My head aches but I feel content.

My voice is tired but my heart is glad that we live in a nation that accommodates all views from all people.

More to share later. Right now, as part of a new radio sponsorship, please to meet my third quasi-child.

Easter Day

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When I was a kid my entire family would pile into Grandma and Grandpa's tiny house in the Ozarks for every single holiday. The kids would run and holler up and down the small hallway and scream while running through the woods. After Christmas, Easter was my favorite holiday because it was the only day on which I had a divine right to eat an obscene amount of candy without fear of punishment from my parents. Chocolate rabbits are the childhood meth rock and after we all got tweaked up we'd trample Grandma's front yard, her daffodils, and every living thing in sight as we searched for eggs.

The hunt is on

After they passed away we stopped going to the Ozarks. The family unit split apart due to infighting and betrayal, and it's all just a very depressing story. Besides a good character and virtues and all of that, I wanted to raise up my children to know the same sort of large, loud family with which I grew up. They got a little bit of that this past Sunday and for the first time in six years I had a holiday (aside from last Christmas at my aunt's house) that felt a little bit more like "home."


After the boys decorated their plastic eggs with stickers, I stayed up late the night before and filled them with candy and loose change. I ran out about a third of the way through and left the rest of them empty. The next day the kids littered Chris's mom's front yard with the empty eggs and I was all "What about the THRILL OF THE HUNT? Back in MY day ..." and then I realized how incredibly old I sounded. So, eggs = FAIL.

My mother enjoys the tradition she created of buying the boys' Easter outfits each year; this year Paw-Paw bought them and Ewan did not want to take his dress shoes off. He kept talking about how fancy they were except he said fancy with three syllables and somewhere up in Heaven my Grandma smiled.


The grandparental units insist on getting the kids chocolate rabbits and Chris's mother surprised them with an actual pirate's chest she made herself filled with chocolate coins, costume jewelry, a parrot puppet, and tons of other things. "I love pirates and Easter!" Liam exclaimed.

Easter egg hunt

Just as I trampled all over my grandmother's yard, so did the boys trample all over their grandmother's yard. They had the best time climbing the hills, chasing each other, sharing candy, and trying to bust our ear drums. I watched them run around, remembering how much fun it used to be and I realized that I wasn't one of "the grandkids" anymore; I was one of "the kids." We're all slowly marching up a giant, generational staircase towards the only thing certain besides taxes. In the spirit of Easter, we'll all be together again after, someday.

See the entire photo set here.

What's Your Guilty Pleasure?

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We all have them, and in this episode of Momversation I ask the ladies to share theirs. I'll let it speak for itself. I also may or may not rap/sing/gawdi'msowhite Emenim in this video as an unintentionally frightening serenade to Giyen.

I showed you my can of Stag, you can at least tell me in the comments that you read like, People mag or something. What's your guilty pleasure? Do you listen to Nickelback? Watch "The Hills?" I'm all open and vulnerable here!

He has my eyes

Ewie Ewan

His cheeks weigh about five pounds each.
(Some new stuff coming around the bend with the site!)
I usually possess more grace when dealing with trolls of the radio variety but this morning I did not when I reacted to a man, one of the most disrespectful callers I've come across thus far, who behaved like a sexist, calling me "woman" in the same tone that someone uses an expletive, and saying "you're a woman, you're unintelligent." I'll spare you my what-equality-sexism-is-alive-and-well lecture but just know that everyone has their sticking point and this is mine.

I handle these sorts of things, usually, with a grace that sometimes takes a Herculean effort, but nonetheless this was, what I consider, my very first strike. My inbox is filling up with women (and men) who say otherwise and who are pumping their fist in their air via the written word and I appreciate that. Unfortunately, it doesn't help me to feel better (*update. I lied. It it a bit, thank you) because I allowed another person to determine the length of my fuse. I don't want how I react - even if provoked - to conflict with who I am. Balancing who you are with the urge to verbally decimate someone is a trick; not a parlor trick, but some serious David Copperfield stuff. I don't ever want to become that which I abhor just because some sexist baited me into it and I took it because I wanted to show him what-for.

Anyway, I had to get this off my chest because it's bothered me all morning and I wanted to apologize to anyone who may have been taken aback as well as to those who weren't.


My most unfavorite chore besides cleaning the toilet. The only thing that makes laundry pleasant is the smell from the dryer sheets we use. Recently Liam took over the task of folding his own clothes and putting them away. THAT ALONE should complete my parental requirement.

(The quilt you see was a handmade gift from my longtime friend, Rose. It hangs like over the stairwell to the kitchen because the idea of my boys making tents out of it scares me.)

Do you have a girl's night out?

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My latest for Momversation is a great topic. As I say in the video, I love my husband, I love my boys, but boys are not good at certain things like gossip and getting excited over bra and panties sales and the newest color of OPI nail polish. I love my girls; they are the most gorgeous and hysterical women I know. I feel recharged after going with them to take a little time for myself. It's a must: I work many hours a week, have two little boys in my constant care, and homeschool. A ladies' night out is a respite from my many demands and their support is better than any therapy.

(Over the weekend I hosted some of them at my house for a - I FORBID YOU TO GAG - "Twilight" movie-watching party. We made mixed drinks (including my friend Laura's "vampire blood" concoction which tasted like whiskey. Whiskey lit on fire), ate pizza, and watched both the film and the special features, narrating a la MST 3000 through the entire thing. Chris stuck his finger down his throat and rolled his eyes as he left to go see "The Watchmen.")

What about you? Do you have a ladies' night out?

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Dana asks: "Thanksgiving Traditions: Yours or Your Mother's?"