Why they don't let me come more than once a week

So, this morning I was putting my waning time in at Supergirl's kindergarten.

The teacher says, "Supergirl's mommy is going to teach us a song in Spanish now!"
Supergirl says "YAY!!"
Emily says "I LOVE Supergirl's mom!!"
Sam says "Supergirl's mom used to be my music teacher when I was in preschool!"
And Molly says, VERY LOUDLY, "I saw a picture of Supergirl's mom NAKED with a BIG FAT BELLY!! And she was NAKED!!"

(Waste Free) Pink lunch

Supergirl is very psyched to use her all pink bento set tomorrow.

What's inside the boxes?

Snack container on left: dried mango, almonds, dried snappeas.
Top: blackberries and watermelon
Middle: cheese bears and bread, senbei rice crackers and cheese squares, cucumbers (in a little silicone cup so they won't get the bread soggy), carrot sticks.
Bottom (which is really the bento top): seaweed and peach pocky!
=
Lucky Girl!!!

Splitting Hairs

Look who's helping in the garden!

Okay, some help, some eat dirt.

He has his concerns...

...that perhaps I have gone a bit too far.



Edited to add:
a slightly more professional or at least relevant photo...

Bento Shopping Madness

I hit Ichiban Kan and Daiso in one day. Daiso was somewhat disappointing; far more chaotic than Ichiban, would have definitely been more fun with a friend (browsing the 'toy' aisle and finding strange, X-rated latex 'toys' was just not as much fun alone, which is why Jenijen has agreed to come with me next time!), and did not have the coveted egg molds for which I drove the extra 10 miles. They did have some interesting cookie cutters, tons of food separators for bento, about 300 different types of chopsticks, but a very small selection of actual bento boxes, and absolutely no bands (keeps them closed, as 'clickety click' is more of a concept than an actual function the box performs. Let us remember that the name of the company is 'lube sheep').

I was so sad not to find the egg molds, that I actually refused to believe they did not carry them. The first woman to help me replied, "Ah yes! EGG! We no have."

The second woman to help me said, "Oh! EGG! Yes, here for egg!" and offered me a very pedestrian looking egg slicer.

I satisfied myself with some interesting food cups/box liners, scored some very cute reusable silicone cups that I intend to use as food cups, and found some hilarious stationary. That made me feel better for making the trip into overwhelming shopping mecca, but I still think Ichiban is a better place to shop. Not only is it shockingly neat for being so stocked with STUFF (sure Daiso has an entire room devoted to pastel tupperware, but really - do you need more than one very well stocked aisle of that?), but they carry Pocky. And Daiso does not. Which is just wrong. Not only does Ichiban carry Pocky, but they have every possible flabor (it says so on the back, 'artificial flabor') they can get 'at good price', as the very friendly woman who is always working there says.
"Can you please get egg molds?" I asked her.

"If I see good price, I get!" She replied.

Ichiban also has a few things for $1, whereas some of the same things are sold at the blanket $1.50 price at Daiso.

Dh mentioned how convenient it is that this all came about just for the last three weeks of school, and questioned if my passion would be renewed come September...stay tuned, I suppose.

Meanwhile, back to the booty:

What flavor Pocky are you?
Top row: Pocky Strawberry, Pocky Men's (bitter chocolate), Pocky almond crush, Strawberry Pocky (different from Pocky Strawberry). Bottom row:Lucky mini almond Pocky, Pocky 'Decorer' peach (blechh. but supergirl likes), Pocky gree tea mousse (Dh claims 'perfection'), Pocky chocolate mousse, Pretz Salad. I realized that I did not even get original Pocky!

Bento in pink: Clockwise from top left- Classic Clickety Click of the bunny variety, reads: "My name is Rinda. Favorite food is the white cake and the sweet cherrys. Verry nice" - I got one for NakedJen, and Supergirl got all jealous. Next to that is a little snack container with locking handles, reads: "Enjoy a quiet lunch time while feeling a season. nature put a person at his ease." The Clickety Click matching Rinda chopstix (for Jen; Supergirl's not so hot with the chopstix), then an unknown maker (made in Japan) bento, reads: "Polka-dot. love me little, love me long." This was from Daiso- the rest from Ichiban. Underneath it all is the matching pink bag (also for Jen).

Bento booty in blue: Clockwise from top- Clickety Click blue bear bento, reads: "My name is Bobbin. It likes playing outside. I will carry out what and will play today." Then another unknown, three-tiered box in a lovely retro-aqua that included a strap and chopstix, that I got at Daiso. Another snack container in blue (see below), and a super-cute four-tiered (I do count the small top layer) mini-box from Daiso.
I love the 'feel at ease' snack boxes. They make me feel happy. And at ease.

Rice molds (bear and two kids), ball-shaped rice molds (hide almonds or whatever inside!), flying pig sauce containers (oh yes, I am serious), and two tiny tuppies that fit in bento boxes: seal and cat.

Cutters - though not as miniature as I would like. Heart and star, tiny boat and plane (my favorites), two corrugated squares, bigger heart and star, and unidentifiable leaf-type shapes.

Food cups and separators for bentos. I love the ones on the left with fruits on them - they are made by a company called 'Putifresh". I couldn't make this stuff up.
Also note the silicone cups and teeny tiny bread pans (yes, so you can bake teeny loaves of bread that fit in your bento box, but I see their future as reusable food cups) - they say "Ecology and washable"! Hooray for ecology and washable!!


Now, aren't you dying to see the stationary I got? You are.

"Puppet play ~Hello everyone~
I have taken rest now...Other men are dancing!"

And one more...I don't think I could top this....

"CUTE LADY
Today I want to produce a femininity different from the usual."

'Nuff said.

I was serious about the bento

Okay, I am not thrilled with the new camera. It is far too heavy for my delicate hands (ha).
But we are giving each other a trial period.


Bento for tomorrow? Dried mango/seaweed/ TJ's chocolate coated sunflower seeds, watermelon/nectarines/blueberries, chicken quesadilla/carrots/cukes/sour cream and ranch for dipping, and a swiss cheese bunny.

teeny tiny pity party

Okay, I know we've just met. But I am not very happy with you upon my first impression.

Sure, the UPS guy just dropped you off, you have been in my hand for less than an hour, but you don't feel right!
Canon, why have you let me down so? You turned your elph into an average-sized-joe.
tsk tsk.
This is not why we like your Elphs.

I know you are supposed to be better than my old elph; faster, clearer, bestest in every way, etc...I have to admit, the delay does seem a bit shorter.
BUT you don't fit right in my hand! You are too big, too long, too chunky in every way.
ELVES ARE SUPPOSED TO BE TINY, YOU MORONS.
Oh, I am so disappointed.

*sob*

Bustin my bento

I have not been posting lately because it is too painful to have this new obsession that is so very visual, and not be able to take pictures of it.

BUT...the new camera is supposed to arrive tomorrow (cue: choir of angels)!!!

There was the usual discussion before purchase wherein he wants to get the 'newer better thing' and I just want to replace 'the original lost thing':

"no thank you, i do not want that OTHER camera that is supposedly BETTER, i want THAT ONE, yes THAT ONE. JUST THAT ONE. yes, the ELPH. no, not the bigger other one. or the smaller other one. no, listen to me...the ELPH. yes. THAT ONE! yes. now click!"

But when he saw the little lunch I put together for Supergirl the other night, he said 'OH my god no WONDER you need a camera!" and got right online and clicked! He ordered me (er, us) a fantastic one - the one I wanted. (big, big points)

So...the obsession...I guess I can say that the gateway drug for me was Ichiban Kan and the first bento I purchased there, which was inspired by the hopes of creating more waste-free lunches for Supergirl.

Now I find myself trying to make food very cute every school night.

So, instead of taking pictures of the fabulous manifestations of my new obsession, I have been able to spend hours discovering that there are many others with this sickness.

And there is another store I will be visiting as soon as possible. One that can fulfill my absolute NEED for some of these (these, that mold the hard boiled eggs):

It's the little things...

Like when some self-righteous person, who had mistaken himself for my boss, looked disapprovingly at me as I poured a second (ack!) glass of wine before settling in to watch the downloaded season finale of Ugly Betty. (I heart Amanda)
(This disapproval included a loud sniff of my pinot and an even louder snort of mockery and self-import.)
And then, moments later, said person (who is not my boss), brought a bottle of beer to his lips to take a drink - from his unopened bottle!


(tee hee hee)

Once again, a great mother's day rip-off...

We came to Mammoth right after Elijah died.
Now, we come here every year at this time.
We got lucky this year and the quickest route, Hwy 120 through Yosemite (Tioga Rd) opened on the day we left.
When we stopped en route and put the little guy down on a huge granite dome in Yosemite, he went nuts. He was spinning in circles, running up the dome, hollering, "WOOT! DAT!! DihdihDATDAT! WOOT!"
Supergirl alternated between circling around him like a mama hawk and her own bursts of spastic joy.
I responded by taking literally hundreds of pictures and video clips on my beloved elph, with the backdrop of Yosemite's high country and perfectly blue skies.
The next night we went to the hot tub by the pool at the foot of the ski slope and took more great photos of the kids at high altitude.
The next morning was mothers day and we realized that the camera had not made it back to the room with us.
Reports were filed.
Signs were posted (please - keep the camera - just return my memory cards with my family pictures on them!).

The camera was stolen.
Fuck the camera.
My babies pictures were stolen.

milestones

Each year is different.

Last year I decided that Elijah's birthday was harder than the death anniversary.

So imagine my surprise when, this year, the birthday was immensely hard. And then yesterday and today sucked beyond belief. Beyond belief.

I have gone from being a crying puddle on the floor, to actual parenting moments and hugging my living children.

I am feeling very sick (which I am right now) and very emotional (also true).

This is very hard.

Anniversaries

As I get closer to two days of the year I have come to hate most, May 11th and Mother's Day, I have to remind myself how lucky I am. This keeps the sadness smaller than the love.

The love should always be bigger.

Eighteen months plus 6 days

Dear Sweet Bubbles

This was not posted on your actual 18 month birthday because you did not sleep the night before. Or the next night. And then I got busy with work. And then I got the barfies. And then you didn't sleep again.

It doesn't mean I love you any less. It just means I am fulfilling my obligation to be notoriously and consistently late.

(While I am here, we need to address this issue of your name.
'Bubbles' is a lovely name - a perfect name for a fetus or small baby - but I have to admit that you have outgrown it. Although you are indeed quite bubbly in your zest for life, you are so much more than that.
So I need help coming up with a new, appropriate bloggity name for my little man.
Dh thinks that EOS (Enemy Of Sleep) is a good choice. I am slightly reluctant to perpetuate that concept with a nickname.
I often find myself calling him 'Dangerboy', but again...the concept. Perhaps I just have to cave on the concept. I should probably resist the urge to go with 'barfing night freak'...
Any suggestions? Anyone?)

I know I have said it before, but you, little man, are just what our family needed. And how you knew that and came with the generosity to share it all with us - well, that is just one of the wonders of the world. You are all smiles, all the time (with the exception of sleep-related activities). You are full of love for life. You have only been walking for four months, so we find it rather amazing that your preferred method of transport is running. Full. Speed. Ahead.

In the months since you have learned to walk, you have become the boss of the yard. The master of your domain. We have to make the rounds several times daily. And if it is raining, woe to the parent who refuses him access to the great outdoors. The caterwauling rivals our siamese cat's own vocal displeasure at the downpours (which we cause of course, just to piss her off).

Showing off up the ramp. Notice small head wound.

You have mastered the ramp to the slide - the one safe for children ages three and over - in only two tries. You have to do it the big boy way, by holding on to the swingy ropes instead of crawling up the rungs. When you get to the top, you think it is great fun to go through the playhouse, stand at the opening to the monkey bars, catch my eye, and lean one foot out, as if you are going to jump. Then, when I look panicked or scream, "NOOOOO!" , you toss your head back and laugh as if you invented danger. And then you turn around and go down the slide, giggling gleefully.

I am afraid that I am about to become one of those 'harness mommies'. My desire to keep you alive through what I can only console myself is just a phase, far outweighs my own mama-pride. You are compelled, driven, to danger. You have turned me into a surprisingly sexist mama, as I believe in the past 18 months I have uttered every cliche ever pinned on the species that are little boys. Seriously.

Oh, he is such a boy.
He is all boy.
Such a mama's boy.
He is so testosterone driven.
Boys just come out different.

Guilty as charged.

But you are. You really, truly are. All I have in comparison (in addition to the 14+ years of teaching experience before my children began to arrive) as a parent is Supergirl: who came out covered in pink tulle, and although she can climb any vertical surface with only the tiniest amount of friction, and although she can run faster than a coyote, she was never attracted to danger and roaring the way he is. And then there was Elijah, who really doesn't even fall into the comparison zone - a bodhisattva born without ego has no need for such frivolities.

Riding the zip-line with Dada some guy who would prefer to remain anon.

You will run barrell-ass away from me up the driveway, yet if I walk out the front door without you, you sob and wail and must instantly have access to my neck and breasts as soon as possible following this type of trauma.

You love to wrestle. You get tackled routinely at music class by little Al, 2 mos your senior. He hugs you, then the hug turns into dropping you to the floor, then the wrestling. You walk up to him and beg for more.


If you see water, you must (attempt to) get in it. If you see a ladder, you must climb it. If you see a dog, you must try and eat it. If you see cardboard, you must take it into the kitchen and skate on it until you smack your head on the mexican tile or are stopped before this happens (imagine the wailing that then ensues, for he prefers to end this activity with a bang).

Feeding you is a bit of a challenge.
You refuse almost all food except:
Milk
Things that consist mostly of air (popcorn, freeze-dried fruit and veggies, rice cakes)
Bacon (which I don't know if we could technically call it eating, since you just suck on it for 1/2 hour and then spit it out wherever you happen to be)
Motrin (again, don't think we can really count this as food)
Chocolate (I am counting this one as food)

Because you only eat molecules of food, you poop molecules of poop. Much like a bunny. But you fill your diaper with these pellets at least 6 times every day. Frequently heard around here: He's poopy??!! AGAIN?!?!?!

The toxic remains of your bath. Often.

You pull hair. And then laugh. This is not nice, and you must be stopped.

But, you are as fabulous as you are feral.

You will give hugs upon request. You love to play 'lets's rub noses and stare deeply into each others' crossed-eyes until one of us collapses in giggles'. You love to sing. You sing every song with one word: deedeedee. You dance like a little white boy marionette. You love coming to music class with me, but are reluctant to share me with the other children. You are, however, getting better at this.

How Mama gets five minutes to herself in the morning

I love love love how, after all those months of carefully asking you if you cared to nurse, rather than offer you 'boobie' or 'chi-chi', you now point to my breasts and ask for 'moo', and you point to bottles and ask for 'nur'. You crack me up, little man!

You are a master at communication now, though your actual vocabulary consists of about five sounds, which represent approximately twenty words. (i.e. 'moo' =milk, more, moon, or moo... 'boo' = blue, balloon, ball, or, can I have a sip of your beer?)

You are the most snuggly little wiggle monster I have ever met. The idea of a life without you is one I can not even approach in my mind. We fully expect you to stick around. I fully expect to stick around for you. I love you so much it hurts.

When I wake up all crowded in the morning with the stowaway Supergirl pressed into one side of me and you attached to the other, and I feel your fuzzy head of invisible hair under my chin, I breathe you both in deeply. Because this is the best moment of my life. And I get to live it. Again.

Projectile Vomiting is for Babies

Dear Lady Who Sells Tamales Out Of Your Blue Cooler:

I hate you.

Excuse me, I must go now.

Gwendomama

global ovarian climate change

Dear Mister Bush:

When my daughter comes home from kindergarten with a piece of paper that says:

When I grow up, I want to be...a mommy, a doctor, and a scuba diver.

I want you to imagine that she is your granddaughter of the notsodistant future (you should be so lucky), and practice telling her this:
"I'm sorry honey, and I prolly shudda tole ya sooner, but you prolly shouldn't be having any children that you intend to live a nice long life. Cross 'mommy' off the list, doll."

Seriously,
Gwendomama

ps - you make me gag. the kind where I throw up just a little tiny bit in my mouth.