My house is like that fourth grade joke where the questions "What did you eat for breakfast?" "What did you eat for lunch?" "What did you eat for supper?" and "What did you do all night?" are asked and the answer is "Pea green soup" for all of them.
Everything is green. The people who lived here before pesimst bought it painted EVERYTHING a horrible shade of split-pea soup green: walls, ceilings, woodwork, doors, built-in bookcases, wainscoting. Everything. And they did it all with a roller. So I have textured, green, painted doors, floorboards, etc. The only rooms not green are the kitchen (off-white with off-white cabinets, also painted with a roller) and the bathrooms (one is a sickly pale blue with rollered off-white cabinets, pink toilet, pink tub, pink sink and white-with-gold-speckles counter and tile and the other is rusty orange with white wainscoting and white sink and toilet). I've wanted to paint it since the first time I was here, let alone since I moved in.
Tonight, I began the task of creating beauty around me. I got fed up with feeling mopey and wishing I could make it better, got in the car, drove to the store and bought paint. I have one wall nearly finished (just to get the look of it), and I am THRILLED! The top two-thirds of the wall are a pale, creamy blue. It's clean and bright and surprisingly warm, for blue. The wainscot is being repainted a rich, chocolaty brown gloss. For the ceiling, I found an ivory the color of old piano keys to create the illusion of a bit of sun in the room; it doesn't actually have any windows in there.
In spite of being tired from a long day and a late night, I feel energized. I have come to the conclusion that I have to be surrounded by Beauty. Without pretty to look at, I don't feel pretty inside. By that, I mean that I get depressed, whiny, mean-spirited. It's not that I want expensive "things;" I just want the things I have to be as nice as they can be, as cared-for as they can be, and as pleasant to live with as possible.
I think I'm finally fighting my way out of the funk I've been in, thanks to post-baby hormones and general BLAH.
And, hopefully, soon I won't have to look at any more pea soup green!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
I should be cleaning the bathroom...
But it's more fun to play on the computer!
pesimst is out in the studio today. I think he's recording, because I can't hear anything. He runs it through the headphones, which keeps things in the house peaceful. I'm very proud of him for getting back to working on his music. I want him to be successful enough to quit his day job, which he hates. I think that place is killing him rather more quickly than I first would have imagined.
The Tiny Tyrant has been colicky, poor little guy. His tummy has been hurting, and so there has been much screaming and biting of nipples. I wish I could convince him that he's supposed to eat FROM the nipple, not just EAT THE nipple. Although the growl he gives when he's biting is adorable. Maybe I can get him to growl while biting a teething toy, instead.
It's been hard to get Van off to school the last couple of days. When it's just the two of us up in the morning, or the two of us and T-Rex, too, I never have a problem. He gets up, puts on clothes, waters his dog, and eats his breakfast while I get his lunch ready and packed to go. Then, when the bus heads for the end of our street (we're on a deadend, so it has to turn around and come back by us), he puts his shoes on and trots out the door. With his dad here, he dawdles. His feet drag. He's not sure what order things are to be done. He can't find his socks or his shoes or his bag. I'm not sure what the difference is, but it's a pain in the duff!
DC, on the other hand, is much easier to move when pesimst is here. Or maybe it's just easier for me, with another pair of arms to hold the baby. Either way, she gets there early when he's home. I'm usually the last car in line for drop-off!
Well, I think things have gone sideways in the music business; I hear swearing from the studio. I'll go see if I can help, and, if I can't, you'll probably be able to look for my freshly dug grave in the backyard. I off to beard the lion in his den...
pesimst is out in the studio today. I think he's recording, because I can't hear anything. He runs it through the headphones, which keeps things in the house peaceful. I'm very proud of him for getting back to working on his music. I want him to be successful enough to quit his day job, which he hates. I think that place is killing him rather more quickly than I first would have imagined.
The Tiny Tyrant has been colicky, poor little guy. His tummy has been hurting, and so there has been much screaming and biting of nipples. I wish I could convince him that he's supposed to eat FROM the nipple, not just EAT THE nipple. Although the growl he gives when he's biting is adorable. Maybe I can get him to growl while biting a teething toy, instead.
It's been hard to get Van off to school the last couple of days. When it's just the two of us up in the morning, or the two of us and T-Rex, too, I never have a problem. He gets up, puts on clothes, waters his dog, and eats his breakfast while I get his lunch ready and packed to go. Then, when the bus heads for the end of our street (we're on a deadend, so it has to turn around and come back by us), he puts his shoes on and trots out the door. With his dad here, he dawdles. His feet drag. He's not sure what order things are to be done. He can't find his socks or his shoes or his bag. I'm not sure what the difference is, but it's a pain in the duff!
DC, on the other hand, is much easier to move when pesimst is here. Or maybe it's just easier for me, with another pair of arms to hold the baby. Either way, she gets there early when he's home. I'm usually the last car in line for drop-off!
Well, I think things have gone sideways in the music business; I hear swearing from the studio. I'll go see if I can help, and, if I can't, you'll probably be able to look for my freshly dug grave in the backyard. I off to beard the lion in his den...
Friday, August 17, 2007
This Fits in With Family Conversations:
Thanks to Half Pint Pixie, came across this interesting bit. Great idea. pesimst and I have been talking a lot about how to reduce our environmental footprint in recent weeks, so this seems like a game way to challenge ourselves, if nothing else.
I'm a little late to the playing field, but let's see what happens:
Day 1: Stop Drinking Bottled Water
This isn't much of a problem for me: I don't drink water. No, I'm kidding! Really I just don't drink bottled water at home, since I have a perfectly good well that tastes lovely when cold. Now I need to challenge myself to never buy a bottle of water outside of the house, either. Ozarka selling to Nestle cut off about half of my away-from-home, bottled-water consumption, anyway (it was the only one I liked). I will buy a sturdy, reusable sports bottle the next time I'm at the store and fill it myself.
Day 2: Air-dry the Laundry
Oh. My. This is a challenge for me. Granted, I do keep asking for a line out-of-doors to dry Tyrannosaurus's diapers and the other white things. I figure the Oklahoma sun has to be good for SOMETHING! And none of pesimst's clothes go in the dryer, and half of mine don't. So, baby steps. I'll stop drying the rest of mine, and work up from there. Ask me where I am in two weeks...
Day 3: No More Plastic Bags
And now we've run into a hitch. I use those bags for scooping the cat box and for cleaning up dog poo. But can I cut back on how many come into the house? Surely so! Lemme think about this today and see what I can come up with. How many bags do I need for my grocery shopping, since I try to just go once a week to conserve gas?
And the baby dinosaur is awake, so I'm out of here!
I'm a little late to the playing field, but let's see what happens:
Day 1: Stop Drinking Bottled Water
This isn't much of a problem for me: I don't drink water. No, I'm kidding! Really I just don't drink bottled water at home, since I have a perfectly good well that tastes lovely when cold. Now I need to challenge myself to never buy a bottle of water outside of the house, either. Ozarka selling to Nestle cut off about half of my away-from-home, bottled-water consumption, anyway (it was the only one I liked). I will buy a sturdy, reusable sports bottle the next time I'm at the store and fill it myself.
Day 2: Air-dry the Laundry
Oh. My. This is a challenge for me. Granted, I do keep asking for a line out-of-doors to dry Tyrannosaurus's diapers and the other white things. I figure the Oklahoma sun has to be good for SOMETHING! And none of pesimst's clothes go in the dryer, and half of mine don't. So, baby steps. I'll stop drying the rest of mine, and work up from there. Ask me where I am in two weeks...
Day 3: No More Plastic Bags
And now we've run into a hitch. I use those bags for scooping the cat box and for cleaning up dog poo. But can I cut back on how many come into the house? Surely so! Lemme think about this today and see what I can come up with. How many bags do I need for my grocery shopping, since I try to just go once a week to conserve gas?
And the baby dinosaur is awake, so I'm out of here!
I've been tagged... like a graffiti covered wall...
by halfpintpixie
8 Random Things About Me
1. After being divorced from DC's father, I vowed never to marry again.
2. On 21 Mar, I broke that vow and vowed to love, honor and cherish pesimst; I'm so glad I did :)
3. My kids are Van, aged 8, in the second grade, Demon Child (so called because of her name, not her personality... most of the time), 5, who is in kindergarten, and Tyrannosaurus, who is 3 1/2 months old and gigantic.
4. Van came with pesimst, DC came with me, and Tyrannosaurus came at home.
5. I forget that homebirthing, toddler-nursing, whole-food-eating, positive-disciplining, not-vaccinating, cosleeping, and a whole host of my other decisions are not considered "normal," because I am surrounded by people who do the same things.
6. I used to be vegetarian, but that changed when I moved in with pesimst. his family runs a cattle farm where the animals are treated right and raised organically. I have a lot less problem eating meat from cows I've met, for some reason. Not to mention, I KNOW what's in those cows (grass that has never been treated, vaccinations only for local, currently-active diseases and hay from the same pastures in the winter).
7. In my non-mommy life, I'm a writer, but I can't write while pregnant, and new babies don't leave a lot of time or energy for writing. Give me a few more months, and I'll get back to work.
8. My dream, since I was 7 years old, has been to circumnavigate the globe in a sailboat. Originally, it was just because I liked the word "circumnavigate." Now I just want the chance to show my kids what a small, big world it is.
If you read this and haven't done it, consider yourself tagged. Link me in comments, please.
8 Random Things About Me
1. After being divorced from DC's father, I vowed never to marry again.
2. On 21 Mar, I broke that vow and vowed to love, honor and cherish pesimst; I'm so glad I did :)
3. My kids are Van, aged 8, in the second grade, Demon Child (so called because of her name, not her personality... most of the time), 5, who is in kindergarten, and Tyrannosaurus, who is 3 1/2 months old and gigantic.
4. Van came with pesimst, DC came with me, and Tyrannosaurus came at home.
5. I forget that homebirthing, toddler-nursing, whole-food-eating, positive-disciplining, not-vaccinating, cosleeping, and a whole host of my other decisions are not considered "normal," because I am surrounded by people who do the same things.
6. I used to be vegetarian, but that changed when I moved in with pesimst. his family runs a cattle farm where the animals are treated right and raised organically. I have a lot less problem eating meat from cows I've met, for some reason. Not to mention, I KNOW what's in those cows (grass that has never been treated, vaccinations only for local, currently-active diseases and hay from the same pastures in the winter).
7. In my non-mommy life, I'm a writer, but I can't write while pregnant, and new babies don't leave a lot of time or energy for writing. Give me a few more months, and I'll get back to work.
8. My dream, since I was 7 years old, has been to circumnavigate the globe in a sailboat. Originally, it was just because I liked the word "circumnavigate." Now I just want the chance to show my kids what a small, big world it is.
If you read this and haven't done it, consider yourself tagged. Link me in comments, please.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
A Ranting Post No One But Me Will Understand
I'm disgruntled tonight. Mopey. Pouting. Gloomy. Irritable. Grumpy. Bitchy.
For once, I want something that I want. Anything, really. Just one thing that I want. I don't want to wait. I don't want to delay gratification. I don't want to accept a half-assed measure. I want something new and shiny and "just right" and I want it right now.
I'm a large ball of stifled creativity at the moment, which always makes me prickly. I can't get the words in my head to come out on paper (or into the computer, as the case may be). I can't get the foggy, nebulous pictures in my head to become concrete images. Of course, it would help if I had paints and canvas on which to create those pictures...
Basically, I want things. There are several things that I've put off, waited on, been patient about. And tonight I'm tired of being patient. Maybe I just need more sleep. I'm sure that tomorrow I can be patient and pleasant and enjoy doing the things I HAVE to do, instead of hating them enough to mope and do nothing while thinking of the things I want to do.
Oh yeah, and it would help if I could just have that one thing I really want.
For once, I want something that I want. Anything, really. Just one thing that I want. I don't want to wait. I don't want to delay gratification. I don't want to accept a half-assed measure. I want something new and shiny and "just right" and I want it right now.
I'm a large ball of stifled creativity at the moment, which always makes me prickly. I can't get the words in my head to come out on paper (or into the computer, as the case may be). I can't get the foggy, nebulous pictures in my head to become concrete images. Of course, it would help if I had paints and canvas on which to create those pictures...
Basically, I want things. There are several things that I've put off, waited on, been patient about. And tonight I'm tired of being patient. Maybe I just need more sleep. I'm sure that tomorrow I can be patient and pleasant and enjoy doing the things I HAVE to do, instead of hating them enough to mope and do nothing while thinking of the things I want to do.
Oh yeah, and it would help if I could just have that one thing I really want.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
My Own Little Hoover
Vaccuum, that is.
Tyranosaurus will latch onto anything. At least, he tries. Pillows, sheets, blankets, his siblings' arms, his father's neck, my shoulder, the dog... ANYTHING. I swear he'd try to nurse from the house if I ever left him too close to a wall. His suck needs are high, but at least he's finally found his thumb.
This is a whole different world for me from DC. She had such a rough start to nursing, and it never got all that much better. For two years, her latch was always just a bit...off. The first several weeks were a constant hell, thanks to one bottle she was given in the hospital. That and, after one bottle and a refusal to suck on the breast, I was given the HORRIBLE advice to try a binkie to encourage her to suck. Yeah, I don't know about you, but my nipples just are NOT shaped like that...
The Tiny Tyrant, though, is a very enthusiastic nurser. Sometimes it's not all that comfortable when he's trying to pull my entire body inside out through my breast, but I can handle that. What's a little "ouch" compared to the lack of tears from not being able to get a baby to eat? I'd rather have one suck "too well" than not at all.
And I do so love the way his eyes attach to my face and sparkle while he eats. I will do anything to get that big milky grin when he's mostly full and just tucking in a few more swallows. I do wish he'd figure out that breasts are for nursing, though, and leave my collarbone alone.
Tyranosaurus will latch onto anything. At least, he tries. Pillows, sheets, blankets, his siblings' arms, his father's neck, my shoulder, the dog... ANYTHING. I swear he'd try to nurse from the house if I ever left him too close to a wall. His suck needs are high, but at least he's finally found his thumb.
This is a whole different world for me from DC. She had such a rough start to nursing, and it never got all that much better. For two years, her latch was always just a bit...off. The first several weeks were a constant hell, thanks to one bottle she was given in the hospital. That and, after one bottle and a refusal to suck on the breast, I was given the HORRIBLE advice to try a binkie to encourage her to suck. Yeah, I don't know about you, but my nipples just are NOT shaped like that...
The Tiny Tyrant, though, is a very enthusiastic nurser. Sometimes it's not all that comfortable when he's trying to pull my entire body inside out through my breast, but I can handle that. What's a little "ouch" compared to the lack of tears from not being able to get a baby to eat? I'd rather have one suck "too well" than not at all.
And I do so love the way his eyes attach to my face and sparkle while he eats. I will do anything to get that big milky grin when he's mostly full and just tucking in a few more swallows. I do wish he'd figure out that breasts are for nursing, though, and leave my collarbone alone.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
*Names Changed to Protect the Guilty
Yesterday morning, DC did not want to finish her cereal. She came out of the kitchen stating "I'm full, but I'm not done." I sent her back in to "wait and see if more room opened up" to finish her breakfast. Several minutes passed, and I went to see if she had finished it.
"No, Mommy," she said solemnly. "There's a fly in my cereal."
Now, I can't prove anything, but, as nearly as I could tell:
She had gone to the window sill, picked up a dead fly, and PERCHED IT ON HER CEREAL.
I'm not sure what that says about her. I'm REALLY not certain what it says about me that I had to bite down the urge to pat her on the head and say "Clever girl!"
"No, Mommy," she said solemnly. "There's a fly in my cereal."
Now, I can't prove anything, but, as nearly as I could tell:
She had gone to the window sill, picked up a dead fly, and PERCHED IT ON HER CEREAL.
I'm not sure what that says about her. I'm REALLY not certain what it says about me that I had to bite down the urge to pat her on the head and say "Clever girl!"
Friday, August 10, 2007
Sunday, August 5, 2007
More Posts Soon
theoretically, I'll be getting my nails done today. It might not happen until Tuesday. In the meantime, I'm having waaaaay too hard of a time trying to type, so no posts until it happens. Just typing this, my nails got stuck between keys five times. It's annoying. Have stories for you, though. So soon. Very soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
