i write a fair amount about the things that my kids do that test the limits of my self control. i hope i do. someday, i hope years from now, they're going to want to be with other people more than they want to be with me. and when that happens i'm going to want to remember why it's good for them to grow up.

we have so many good days. and so many days like this one, when i lose my mind repeatedly. i broke a plate today--on purpose. i knew i was going to break something for hours before it happened. i had to break it.

we've made up, ally and i, and she's sleeping peacefully. at least i think she's peaceful, though of course i don't know what she dreams about. she's quiet now, i can say that much. and i have no energy left except to feel humbled, and spent.

when i think of the kind of mother i had, i can't bear that my girls would have anything less. yesterday, as per our memorial day tradition, i told a memory of her. last year lauren's memory was about the wooden spoons that mom named, and threatened to paddle us with. i remember being chased, but not hit. by far the balance of my memories are heaped on the gentle side of the scale, and i can't imagine any better mother-daughter relationships than the ones my sister and i had with our mom. there is redemption.

today the mystery of human relationships bested me. i prepared and offered the healthy food, i respected the nap, i held the little hands, waited patiently and spoke kindly. until i didn't. it's not unlike playing a game of chutes and ladders: every move could bring a windfall or set me way back--way back. you said thank you: advance twelve spaces! you broke a plate: go back twenty spaces!

and yet despite everything, despite my distaste for conflict and annoyance with over-stressed parenting, i do admit these little forest fires into our domestic wilderness, even though i know they'll make my goals that much harder to reach in some ways. ally will have to decide to trust me again, and i her. she's four and i'm thirty-four and harmony will come with its price.

i'm not writing about discipline, or guilt or even frustration--just about this moment in my real life, which resists categories and neat solutions. and if it resonates with any other parent out there, that might be a good thing and if it doesn't, it can be another place for me to tell my girl that i'm sorry. ally, you wanted me to say so. i am sorry. i'm sorry.

that happens to me all the time

I was listening to the Radiolab podcast the other day (a fine program that i highly recommend if you like funny people and science). The guest author was talking about a phenomenon he calls "rhyming events," which is more or less what it sounds like: when an event in your life nearly repeats itself. For example, a man hid from the Nazis in a room in Paris. Then, thirty years later his son moved to Paris and, without knowing his father's history there, rented the same room.

Tonight as I was putting babydoll Alice into her jammies, per Ally's instructions, I realized the doll was just the size and shape of the chicken I roasted for dinner (and probably would have tasted better). Rhyming event! Sort of.

Here's something that happens all the time here: morning hair. It usually only looks like this right after I comb it out, but this morning was something special. It's like an orange on a toothpick.

What I always think is that if Errol Flynn and Jerry Lee Lewis had a baby, this is what she would look like:

This would happen every day if I didn't *periodically* supervise the bunny's room.

Another thing that happens to me all the time: I stop by my neighbors' house because Ally wants to, and I accidentally mention something like, I need to go get some lemons, and they give me a big bag of lemons they just picked that day from their tree (which swear I didn't know they had). Marge & Guppy are the neighbors you dream of having and if Ally had her way we'd be there every day.

This post is out of order. So what? Also, I deigned to use capital letters, despite the fact that Ally broke my shift key. Don't get used to it.

mutti likes

mother's day is a decent concept, i must say. i got a hot, home-cooked meal, a virtually whine-free day, candy, and lots of attention. A+, family. thank you very much.

here's a little tribute to the people who make my parental status official:

'piggie' babysitter:

tinkerbell cowboy:

dragon shield:

the masked retriever:

draw it out

"draw it out" ought to be Ally's motto. {there's a double meaning in that.} drawing does seem to be her 'love language,' so to speak. when she's really upset about something, she will sometimes give us the option of drawing something for her to make amends. she is never happier than when one of her parents will sit down and draw through a story or idea with her. i'm particularly fond of her mixed media artwork, which incorporates tape sculptures, string, stickers, leaves, or whatever she has on hand. the creative spelling is a trip, too.

i couldn't possibly save every piece she produces, but even the favorites are accumulating into unmanageable stacks. i've been setting them aside to scan and, at this rate, will have to scan all day for several days before it's all done. until then, i find it comforting to cover my walls with her art. relating to a four year-old can be nigh unto impossible some days, but this is one place we can always meet, and find peace.

the best bun that ever bunned

i'm not proud of what happened a couple of months ago. after much research and preparation, i decided to indulge Ally's fervent wish for a pet--but on my terms. she had offered these choices, in this order, for the past year: a dog, a cat, two bunnies, a hamster and a goldfish.

my only pet experience having been with dwarf rabbits, i decided that was the pet for us. small, cute, and not requiring daily walks. everything would have been fine if it weren't for the crazy rabbit people. these people are very good to know, if you're a rabbit. but if you're a human being, they can make you feel guilty for...well, for being a human being.

i persevered. i went to the bunny rescue. i chose two {TWO!} rabbits, when i had planned on one. they were not small, and not even very cute. they were not well litter-trained. also, they were covered in psssst. i am not a pushover, so how did this happen?

i spent one sleepless night devising ways to get rid of the beasts responsibly. the next morning i put them back in the crate and drove back to the rescue. tearfully left bunnies with the judgmental people, who will probably hang a "Wanted" sign for my capture. cleaned up all signs of bunnies. told children we had only been "bunny sitting" for a day. slept very well.

since then i've been waiting and watching for the right pet to come to us. it happened this week. Meet LeBoeuf ("LeBeef"): he's two years old, grey and white, perfectly litter-trained, and gentle as a beef should be. we're all in love.

Ally: Mom, i know LeBoeuf is my son. and i'm his mother!

five minutes ago i went into the room where Ally had shut the door {always a risk}.

Ally: Mom, don't come in here!

Me: i just need to know why you took your pants off. and emptied everything out of this box.

Ally: Mom, i'm making my own potty.

this makes perfect sense. she has been observing LeBoeuf's behavior over the last few days. it was only a matter of time.

ma'ladies

the ladies have been taking turns getting sick, but i guess that isn't news as much as it is our regular life. here's a recent scene at bedtime: little sister crying to stay up. big sister crying to sleep.

Ally: mom, i wish we could send Liv back where she came from.

Me: that would be too sad. we would miss her too much.

pause

Ally: and then who would i chase? and who would i take baths with? okay. i guess it's good to have a sister in the family.

spring bugs

this post is alternately titled, "we're lousy, in a good way."

they say you should start small with pets, and work your way up. i really want a dog someday, but i'm reminded that we need to wait for a more permanent residence first. that could take forever. in the meantime, i have not disabused ally from the notion that bugs can be pets. she's partial to roly-polies {whose real name, i am sorry to tell you, is wood lice} and caterpillars. there is much disappointment here that the spring caterpillars are gone, even if there are butterflies to console us. there is an unlimited supply of potato bugs, tho. also earwigs, of which none of us are very fond. a friend who noticed ally's bug fascination brought her an insect book--it has been lovingly pored over these many spring days. as i write this, liv is dropping a 'wood louse' down her shirt. 'it walks!'

our canyon is in bloom and so is everything else. i might disappear into one fantastic sneeze. atchoo, baby.

easter 2011

crab legs :: fackrells :: roly polies :: doris, sammy, hannah, helene :: diaz trio :: bunny cake :: gluten-free eclair cake :: easter egg hunt :: evie, the easter bun :: laura & luis :: hot bread buns :: easter dresses :: crab legs!