Why?

I’ve spent the morning cleaning house. For some reason it keeps getting dirty. I don’t mind housework, usually. I like to be able to whip through it and get it done, and this wasn’t happening this morning. Belle pushed a chair up to the bookcase where my purse was this morning and got out my shea butter. For some reason she felt compelled to smear my costly, favorite moisturizer all over her body and also into her eyes. I washed her off but her eyes and nose have been running all day long as a result. She looks, and probably feels, miserable. I have sensitive eyes myself, and should I develop poor eyesight someday contact lenses will be out of the question. She has been sitting on my feet all day. I do mean literally sitting on my feet. I washed dishes with little arms clinging to my leg. I haven’t gone to the loo without help all day long. Why do little children feel the need to help with this activity? She is down for a much needed nap, and I’m sitting down for a little me time.

Anyway, back to cleaning house. I don’t mind generally. Today 2 things struck me. The first was that I haven’t been home a great deal the last few days, and neither has Belle, and it was odd how dirty the house was. There were articles of clothing and blankets all over. The second was that there were bottle caps all over the house. And I do mean all over. I don’t understand why the bottle caps don’t go immediately to the trash can. We have them all over the place, after all. Anyway, enough with the house thoughts. I’ve finished the kitchen, sans mopping, and I need to vacuum. This means I have to put together the new appliance. See you later.

breakfast

My offspring loves peanut butter. I hate it. Where did this come from? Its one of those odd genetic oddities. This morning, she wanted a banana and a spoonful of peanut butter for breakfast.

I’d have gone for some bacon, myself….

Morning!

I’m feeling sprightly. Probably because I fell asleep at about 1 in the morning and didn’t wake up until 5. That, folks, is 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep. I didn’t do too badly the night before, either.

And then I waited for the sun to come up. It took a while. It was worth it. I watched the bright planet in the east (can’t remember which one, I think it’s Venus) fade gradually. Eventually the sun made its appearance, and I felt refreshed. Its not that I’m not up when the sun comes up, I am almost always. I just hadn’t made it important in a while.

It means the seasons are still turning, and spring will eventually get here, and I’ll be able to smell the cherry blossoms again. I feel myself awakening along with the earth…

And to whomever it was who recently said sprightly to me….I borrowed your word, it’s perfect.

The cat

My Mum gets in some quality time with her grandkids.

Blogger spelling help

I must confess, when typing, I make use of the spell checking programs provided.
Blogger’s makes me laugh.
Here are a couple of words I am told I don’t know how to spell.
Icecream. Should be isochronal. I’ve a fairly broad vocabulary, but I’m not even sure what isochronal is. Going back to my Greek and Latin roots I’d have to guess iso=one and chronal I think is light or colour, but I’m not going to check.

Jasmine. As in the scent or the flower. It should be, according to this spell checker, jazzmen. Sounds like a sensual scent I’d wear.

Here is my favorite word that they are always telling me to change.

Ready?

Blog.

Even though this is a blog.

I love it.

A little known fact

I can’t blog with my hair in my face. I have to at the very least have it up in a scrunchee. I prefer my 5 dollar hat from American Eagle, but I was wearing a Dora the Explorer hat when typing the last post.

The story of tonight

So here I am tonight. Brand new book in hand. I’ve been waiting a week and a half for it. I got home at 6:30, saw it on the table in pristine packaging and got a paper cut trying to rip it open. Had to go find a knife. I dished up a bit of the supper I’d so smartly put in the slow cooker this morning, and opened the book. I’m sure what I cooked was good, but I didn’t taste it. There are all different types of books in this world, and I love them all. My favorites go into one category. The category is called “Fucking Fabulous”. Well, this book within 3 pages was there. So I have my new book, I’m trying to read, and my Belle is putting her food in her hair. And on the table. And chairs. Its also going in her mouth, and she hasn’t eaten well the last couple of days, so I’m doing my best to ignore the rest. I’m on page 10 and A FILTHY HAND grabs the book. I was able to wipe it clean, thank goodness. Child goes into bath. After child has bath, we sit on the couch. I try to read, she’s watching Finding Nemo. Except she’s not. She’s jumping on me, laying on my head, and everytime I laugh, which is often, because the book is hilarious, she tries to put things in my mouth. I realize its 8, and I’m only a third of the way through. She is obviously tired and I put her in bed. I type a quick email, thinking, I can take a bath and finish the book in the tub. What a marvelous idea.

I love to take baths. The kind of bath with bubbles and candles and good smelling stuff. I also like to combine this pleasure with a good book. A nice soaky bath lasting the length of a good book is wonderful. On days when I’m feeling especially decadent, I include a bowl of icecream (mint chocolate chip, is there really any other kind that comes close?)
Now, I’m a mum. I’ve been a mom for over two years and I quite like it. But somewhere along the way I made a mistake. When Belle was teeny tiny and liked to puke quite a lot on me, I figured out that instead of abusing my poor stomach, sore as it was from the C-section by leaning over the tub to bathe her, it was much easier to just pop her in the bath with me. We both got clean, all was well. Flash forward to two years later, my stomach is fine, she can take her own bath with a minimum of supervision. Apparently I can’t. If I try to take a bath during the day, I can’t lock the two year old out of the bathroom, now can I? Do you have any idea of the destructive force a child that small can conjure up in 3 minutes? Its not possible. So I don’t take baths during the day, because she has to come and take them with me. Its not that I’m not unwilling to share. About the only thing I can think that would make the above mentioned recipe for a good bath better would be someone to rub my feet or stroke my hair. The two year old likes to pour water on my head. And smash bubbles in my face. Not the same thing. So, as I’ve said, daytime baths out of the question. Even if her dad is home and I lock her out, she sits at the door and puts her fingers under it and cries for me and talks to me the whole time. I usually give up at five minutes. Nighttime baths are also out of the question. We have 3 bathrooms. The bathtub is in her room. She can be sound asleep, and as soon as I’m comfortably sitting in the bath, smelling the lovely bath salts, she wakes up. “You takin a bath Mom?” I love to talk to her, but concentrating on a book and talking just don’t work for me. I was sure that tonight would be different. She was exhausted. Sound asleep. I ran the bath, put in the jasmine bubbles and the bath pillow, got comfortable and heard “can I take a bath wichu Mom?”

I tried ignoring her, talking with her, but finally I gave up. I finished the book by my computer.

I was somewhat interrupted reading, so I’m about to go and read it again. That’s my story. I haven’t has a proper bath in 3 years.

Cat update

The cat is eating well and purring when petted. I think she’ll pull through. If she was going to be my cat, which she won’t, cause cats make my eyes water and itch, I would name her Pavlova, because she looks like a ballarina…

X’s and Y’s

I always find it interesting to see the genetic combinations produced from 2 people. Parents breed, expecting their children to be like them in looks, temperament and abilities. And it’s fun to look at the child and decide where which feature came from. My child, for example, looks exactly like me, 90 % of the time. The other 10 I think she looks like her dad, and I wonder whether I truly contributed any genetic material at all. She has blue eyes instead of my green ones, but they are the dark denim shade of her paternal grandfather’s instead of the light blue of her fathers. I could have told you they would be blue or green, and her hair blond or red, as those were the only possible outcomes of 2 people with mostly recessive genes. She has my facial expressions, but a few of her father’s thrown in for good measure.

But there are other examples.

My sister and her husband wear military fatigues and black, spike jewelry, paint their faces white, fingernails black, the whole 9 yards. When they got pregnant, they swore up and down they were having a boy, because they didn’t want a girlie girl. When they found out they were having a girl, they swore the color pink would never be seen on their child. Well, they got Kir’yn, who is as feminine a child as they come. At 5 months she knows exactly what she wants to wear, and she loves pink. If she doesn’t want to wear something, she will throw a fit.

My sister keeps saying that she hopes she’ll grow out of the faze, but I don’t see it happening. The baby will guide her through gently, I think.