Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Take your tiny feet out
Of your mother's shoes or
There is going to be a
Terrible scene.
--Elvis Costello " You Tripped at Every Step"

As much as I try to balance the "girlie" side of things, the Short People are hell bent on becoming princess/cheerleader/cosmeticians. Dressing up in "fancies" as Kate calls them, is a near constant activity in our house. I often have to kick them out of my closet, where they enjoy parading in my shoes (it's not like I'm sporting sexy kitten heels; I'm most often barefooted or in Birkenstocks or Tevas).
To illustrate their proclivity for girliness; during the Superbowl I tried to educate them about football. I'm not the least interested in sports, sad to say, but want to give them a chance in case they like sports. India listened very carefully to my informative and educational speech about the game, but sadly retained only the pre-show Cirque de Soliel cheerleading exhibition. She ran upstairs to don cowboy boots, a skort, and JMU homecoming pom poms. I hid my shudder and nodded and smiled. Sometimes you just have to go with it.

Even more disturbing than the cheerleader trend (yes, I know, those of you who knew me in high school don't remind me I was a cheerleader) is the fact that Kate's dress-up proclivities often include nudity. It might be a top or a bottom, but something is likely to be exposed. This worries us more than India's cheerleading inclinations. Maybe she'll outgrow it. She also likes a lot of "bling". Tacky, but her own style, so I enjoy it. She'll learn to conform soon enough.

Two recent funny quotes:
1} When Kate saw the last post she stated "I'm good at shakin' my bootie"...long pause..."Mommy, what's a bootie?". I cracked up, but India solemnly replied "It's a bottom, Katie".
2} This morning I had to reprimand India several times for pushing the boundaries. She sorrowfully informed me, "Mommy, I am sooo sorry. I PROMISE I won't do ANYTHING you tell me to do ALL DAY".

Sunday, February 25, 2007

See that girl, barefootin along,
Whistlin and singin, she's a carryin on.
There's laughing in her eyes, dancing in her feet,

Shes a neon-light diamond and she
can live on the street.
Hey hey, hey, come right away

Come and join the party every day.
-- The Grateful Dead "The Golden Road"

Saturday was a day of cleaning, grocery shopping, errand running and a bit of resting, so today was all about play. Finally feeling a little more energetic, the Short People and I threw ourselves into a musical cooking frenzy this morning. The girls selected the Grateful Dead and blueberry pancakes, and I was happy to oblige. The selected quote is the song to which they were shakin' their groove thangs; the lyrics just seemed to fit so well. I love Kate's bootie slap, although I hope she forgets that move by the time she's 10 .

Later I made a homemade mushroom and four cheese lasag
na that is warming up as I type...I can almost hear the theme from The Godfather wafting from the kitchen . I've missed cooking, and I've also missed eating something other than take out or grilled beef products (Tracy's two areas of culinary expertise). He's really hung in there and held us all together, but it's nice to be back amongst the living and contributing to our daily functioning (or disfunctioning, as the case may be). The Short People have suffered the most from my illness, so we wanted to devote much of the day to them. We played "Insect Bingo" (where else can you shout out phrases like "spittle bug", "exoskeleton", or "dung beetle"), Simon Says, and completed several jigsaw puzzles. We listened to a lot of music and they played in the tub. It's been fun. Those who know me well understand that though I am not a churchgoer, I find my spiritual center in the outdoors, friends, food, music and family. It's been a great Sunday.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Dear one, I had enough
Killjoy lurking in the shadows
I been sick and tired
Playing out my day in a dream
-- The Jayhawks "Dying on the Vine"

I've had that "sick and tired" line running through my head a thousand times in the last few weeks. Good thing because, as I've said before (many times) I'm running out of "sick" quotes. I debated even writing about all this, but I've received so many e-mails wondering where the hell I am that I thought I should go ahead and tell you where the hell I've been. Today's photo represents where I'd rather's a San Diego sunset.

I'm feeling a lot like John Lennon lately, hanging out in the bed (though without the paparazzi or Yoko Ono, thank god). You guessed it, I've been sick AGAIN. Evidently my lungs must be a cool place to be, because bronchitis is digging my scene. I've had more steroids than a pro baseball player and I smoke the hookah (okay, it's a nebulizer, but I can pretend) every 4 hours faithfully. I've taken enough antibiotics that I should be able to touch bacteria on the kitchen counter and hear it sizzle but IT JUST WON'T GO AWAY. I was sick enough that the Short People had to travel across State to stay with my in-laws for a week...what a guilt trip I've had over that. My doctor is mystified and I am heading to UVA on Wednesday next week to see an immunologist. Maybe someone can figure out what is wrong with me before Tracy decides to put me down in the backyard like Old Yeller.

At the same time all this has been going on, Kate developed an infected lymph gland. I am talkin' bout a one inch long by 3/4 of an inch wide, swollen, bulging, goiteresque (put that word in for you, Clariee) lymph gland. The kind of lymph gland that makes your pediatrician mutter "oh, MY" under her breath as she breaks out the tape measure to determine it's size. In addition I can safely say that, like her father, Kate is allergic to meds in the penicillin family. I am certain because I am looking at my sweet baby covered (and I do mean covered) with red, swollen, hot hives. These beauties popped out a few days into her antibiotic treatment for the lymph gland. We are coasting through the weekend until the hives calm down, then trying a new and hopefully less offensive antibiotic for her. Maybe we can trade meds?


I'm writing this as I warm up oh so nutritious chicken nuggets for my children and send Tracy off with some of our friends to see the blue grass band we were supposed to see together. Feeling a bit sorry for myself and splurging on a glass (or two) of wine. Who cares; the antibiotics aren't working anyway!
Sorry for the long absence, and I'm sure I'll have lots of photos to post in the days ahead. None of them will involve hives, antibiotics or breathing treatments.