I Mowed My Yard

A couple days ago, I mowed my yard.

This was a revolutionary step in my life for several reasons: for starters, it means I have a yard. For someone who’s been living in dorms or apartments for the last 11 years, that’s pretty exciting.

It also means that I’m still in better shape than I thought. You see, we have a reel lawnmower. No gas, no outside help, just you pushing this machine across the yard (with an incredibly satisfying *snick snick snick* as the grass goes flying in every direction in tiny pieces. Makes me feel like I’m pushing Edward Scissorhands). The yard isn’t incredibly big, but let me assure you, it seems pretty large when you’re mowing. Also, no shock to those of you who have known me for more than 2 seconds, I’m not very good at walking in a straight line, so I ended up going over parts of the yard multiple times.

Also, I have some incredibly motivating workout buddies:

For those of you who have never had the pleasure of stepping on a fire ant mound, it is very much like this. As soon as anything—anything—disturbs their mound at all, they erupt. Millions of them just appear out of nowhere, and you don’t want anything flesh-covered anywhere near the mound when they come up.

We have fire ant mounds everywhere in our yard, so in case you ever want to take a breather, just remember, if you don’t keep those feet moving quickly, they’ll be waiting.

But I did it!


It’s a Day

I’ve been trying to decide what today’s narrative should be. Is it a good day with a few bumps along the way? Is it a bad day with a few bright spots?

After a short bit of ruminating, I’ve decided it’s just a day. More specifically, a day with a toddler.

It’s my husband’s birthday. We’re not huge on celebrating them, but I was able to think of something small to do that seemed meaningful, so cool.

After a short shopping trip, Kara and I were just getting settled into some food prep when the Internet guy, who was supposed to come yesterday, showed up. When we told him the problem was with our speed, he said he had to fix something back at the … I don’t know, the headquarters or whatever. So he left.

Then… then Kara decided she wanted to take a bath in my big bath tub, and here’s where the real story starts, I suppose.

First, she needed to bring all of her bath toys. Of course, she can only bring one at a time. So she takes off half of her clothes and starts running back and forth between the two bathrooms, while I start filling up the tub. After about her fifth trip, I figured there was enough water, so I turned it off. When Kara came back with her final toy, she said she heard someone at the door. Guess who? Internet guy is back, so my half-naked child and I go answer the door. I had already done a speed test, so he just came in to check the modem and went again. Kara and I go back to the big bath tub, where she pitches a fit because the water isn’t running, so of course she gets sent to her room.

Finally, we’re calm and able to have the big fun adventure of taking a bubble bath in Mommy’s huge tub, except most of the bubbles are gone. But her toys are still there, so it’s still fun. Once she’s finally settled, I start cleaning the bathroom. I turned around from hanging up a towel just in time to see Kara jumping in the bathtub. Incredibly fortunately, the water was just deep enough to cushion the inevitable fall enough that she didn’t crack the back of her skull open, but not so deep that her face was submerged. I got her out, we cried and snuggled, and she said she wanted to lay down in the big bed. So I went to get her some clothes, and when I got back…

… she was back in the bath tub. Whatever, I think. She’s always been a get-right-back-in-the-saddle kind of girl. So I continue cleaning the bathroom, fielding the “why” questions with a little more grace and patience than I’d had before her near-drowning experience. (And yes, there are stupid questions. When you just almost killed yourself by slipping in the bath tub, it is in fact stupid to ask why someone is drying the floor, why they don’t want to slip, and why they don’t want you to drown.) My newly discovered patience disappeared as quickly as it came when she stood up in the bath again.

“I don’t like it when you yell at me!” she said when I scolded her.

Seeing this experience was going nowhere good, I decided to wash her as quickly as possible, hopefully beating the coming meltdown. I washed her hair, and then she decided that would be the perfect time to try to use a cup of water to rinse the bubbles off my arm, except that, as I was washing her hair, my arms were directly above her face. Can you guess what happened when she upended a cup of water on my arm?

We finally get her out and dry and dressed. We snuggle up in the bed. After laying down for 10 minutes, Kara jumps up and declares, “I’m not sleepy anymore!”

So I did the only thing a mother with fraying sanity could do: I put her in her room and told her to stay in there for an hour, whether she sleeps or not.

Thankfully, she fell asleep.

And my nerves are finally recovering with the help of writing and coffee.

Science Says So

I am intrigued by something I’ve observed across generations, from people who are so dissimilar I would hesitate to say they have anything in common. It is a very strange attitude about science.

I observe it most often in social media, because … well, that’s where I interact with the largest number of people, I suppose. They will post an article about something science has proven: the benefits of writing, the harmful effects of sweeteners, the medical benefits of coffee, etc. They will be victorious! Emphatic! Science has proven it; it’s incontrovertible.

But then science will prove something they don’t like. Perhaps they don’t like that tanning beds cause cancer, or that more and more evidence keeps piling up to support the big bang, or that … I don’t know, take your pick, there’s always something. Then suddenly, science knows nothing. Why, just 50 years ago, butter was going to kill you and you needed to eat margarine! Now they’re saying margarine is bad and butter is good. And 500 years ago, scientists thought the earth was flat! What do “scientists” know?

Never mind that not all branches of science are created equal. Nutritional and medical science, for example, versus earth science. The former has so many variables that, while we can continue building up strong foundations, we will probably never understand everything about each individual body, precisely because each body is individual. While earth scientists have a completely different data set and way of forming hypotheses and theories. Never mind that we have clearly made a net gain in scientific and technological advancement. When I want it to be true, it’s true; when I don’t like it, it’s false.

So which is science—magical guessing games or methodical, proven, reliable?

“I Like My Kids”

Last night, after the end of a day that was exhausting for no particular reason, it stormed. Badly. Loudly. It woke Kara and was close enough to keep her from relaxing long enough to fall back to sleep. So we brought her into our bed, which is something we very rarely do. She fell asleep snuggled next to me, clutching my arm with both hands and squeezing whenever she saw lightning until the thunder that accompanied it passed. She so rarely accepts comfort that it was an inexplicably sweet experience to help her keep calm and sleep during the storm. It brought to mind a conversation a few moms had a while ago.

A few months ago, I was at a MOMS Club meeting. One of the moms had 2 boys and was pregnant with her third child. She stayed home with her boys; neither of them was in preschool or daycare. She said many people had asked if she was planning on putting her boys in preschool. When she replied that she wasn’t planning on it, most people said she’d feel differently when the baby came. And this wonderful young mother just shrugged and said, “I like my kids.”

It’s a simple thing, but it’s stayed with me. All parents love their kids, of course, but for some of us—or me, at least—it can be easy to lose sight of the fact that I also like my kid. I like how she plays pretend and helps me when I’m working and how she squishes her blueberries with her apples in her fruit salad and then eats them together. I like how she adds a syllable when she makes her words plural (nest-es instead of nests) and how when she makes her stuffed animals talk, she’ll add, “said Bunny” (or whoever is speaking) to the end of the sentence.

In light of another marriage of two people close to me that’s come to an end, I’ve been reading some tips for spousal relationships, and it’s occurred to me that many of them can also be applied to relationships with your kids. We just spend so much time together it’s easy to get fed up and lose sight of the things I love about my little girl and focus on all the things that irritate me, so I’m going to make an “I like” list to remind me of all the things I like about her. And on those days when it seems like we can’t get anything right together, I’m going to revisit that list.

What do you do to remind yourself how much you like your littles?

Kara’s Kitchen, Part 1

Kara loves pretending to cook food and wash dishes and do everything Mommy and Daddy do in the kitchen, so I’ve been wanting to make a toy kitchen for a while. I’ve seen lots of people make really nice ones out of old entertainment centers, but that looks like it involves some measure of actual skill, plus real tools.

I’ve been wanting to try to make one out of cardboard.

Steve’s been ordering parts to build a computer. When the computer case came, I saw the box and knew I had a fine beginning for an attempt at a toy kitchen.

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Out With the Old

I’m not a person that’s generally into all this “newness” stuff. New years, new beginnings, new belongings, etc. New clothes? Blech. I think I wore the same sweater every day I was cold all 4 years of high school until it literally just fell apart. It may have disintegrated. (I always wore undershirts, so it was more of a jacket, really… not quite as gross is it sounds, but even more unfashionable.)

It’s the whole “making decisions” thing. Maybe the “making decisions that don’t really matter to me” thing. Like, yes, I need new clothes, and I would like them to be comfortable, and other than that, someone else should tell me what to wear. Yes, I need a new car, and I need it to reliably get me from point A to point B, and I need to afford my monthly payments. That’s it. Capiche?

But I am really enjoying all of the newness of everything in this town.

I was very unhappy that there’s no MOMS Club here, but today at the library’s story time, I met some moms. Score! Know what else I found at the library? A notice for a book club meeting soon. And not just any book club: a science fiction and fantasy book club. I think I’ve found my people, guys.

I miss my friends and my surrogate family to distraction, but for now, this is newness I can not only live with, but embrace and enjoy.

It’s a New Life

 I’ve spent the last two days trying to imagine where to start sharing my experiences of the last several weeks. Being homeless, traveling around the country and visiting wonderful family and awesome friends, and beginning the process of settling into our new home.

But I can’t. There’s too much. So I’ll start with this week.

I went to the farmer’s market and got a sack full of food for $3. I made chicken stock with our leftovers from chicken ‘n rice. Kara can help me cut salads and make granola bars and everything so much easier than ever before. My kitchen is heaven to work in.

Kara has really taken off in the “playing pretend” department. We spend most of our time pretending to pierce her animals’ ears, giving them checkups, and throwing pretend birthday parties for every. single. stuffed animal she owns. 

Which is to say, we’re in a new place. We’re still the same wonderful, frustrating, loving family we were before.

And that’s an awesome place to be.