I’ve been tending to two sick kids all day, and now that they are in bed, I’ll be honest, an original blog post just ain’t happening tonight. What is happening is a nice bourbon on the rocks and some reading. So instead of trying to pull a blog post out of my ass, I will direct…
Motherhood
Little Monkeys Making Messes
Dirt. Dirt, dirt, dirt. When you garden, a certain amount of outside comes in. Fine. When you cook 2 to 3 meals a day on a stove (in pork fat, no less!) a certain amount of grease distributes in a fine layer over everything. So in my 7 years as a gardener and my lifetime…
Sick Day, And Old School Reading
It’s a good thing I had a productive Sunday, since I suspect I’ll be just skating by for the next few days. I’m fairly sure my nose has been shoved full of cotton and a mid-size sedan is trying to drive out of my head from just behind my eyes. Yes, I fear I’m getting…
Labor Pains And The Harvest
As I sit here writing this, both kids just tucked in, a slew of new little boy’s toys to find a home for, and half a brightly colored, overly-sweet, train-shaped cake sitting picked over on the dining room table, it is one year to the hour since my boy was born. His was a fast labor: 90 minutes…
What Moms Want, What They Really, Really Want
Chances are good that if you are reading this you are a mother (much of my readership being female and of a certain domestic bent). Chances are excellent that even if you are not personally a mom, there is a mother in your life: perhaps your spouse or the woman who brought you into this…
Even Urban Homesteaders Get The Blues
My little boy had surgery last Wednesday. He’s fine, it was an expected and “routine” procedure. I put routine in quotes, because turning my not-yet-eight month old over to surgeons is, blessedly, pretty out-of-the-ordinary for me. Because he was going under general anesthesia at 7:30 am, he could not eat or drink, including nursing, after…
Lessons From Plants And Children
As my regular readers are aware, I am usually wearing my kiddo on my back when I’m gardening or building stuff. This is not because I’m angling for an attachment-parenting mother of the year award or because I can’t be parted from my little boy for even a minute. No, it is because my almost-seven-month-old son…
Why The Hell Do I Put Myself Through This?
There are those days. Those days start at midnight when your 7 year old wakes you up because she has explosively vomited a four egg-and-cheese omelette down the side of her bed and the putrid mess has leached so far past the sheets that it has permeated the very springs of the mattress itself. You…