AhahahahahaHAAAAAAAAAA.

Of course since I had the balls to type what beautiful weather we've been having, it is now thirty effing degrees outside again. And raining. I could almost hear God saying "You little know-it-all, you're so smug about how Spring MUST be arriving early this year. I will show you." And with that, I was smited (smitten? smote? smoted?). The great big fat cherry on top of this shit-sundae is that we tried to get out and go to the library today. The main library's parking garage was full. The next closest library didn't open until noon, and it was 10:30am at this point. So we head to McDonald's for some chicken nuggets and fries, and they're OUT OF HIGHCHAIRS. Like, "Ooops, we just had some, but now we've run OUT." How do you run out of highchairs? Do people steal them? Is there a gang running amok in West Nashville, sneaking out of McDonald's with grey plastic highchairs shoved under their jackets? So I held a very squirmy Charlie on my lap while he threw fries everywhere, and Ella whined that she wanted to play the games instead of eating, and I almost had a damn nervous breakdown. For real. I threw the food back in the paper bag it came in and hissed, "If no one wants to eat them we are leaving. LEAVING." Not my proudest mommy moment to date, but what the hell. It seemed that the universe was conspiring against me to trash my day's plans. We made it to the car with two more meltdowns (Charlie because he wanted to walk and I wouldn't let him, and Ella because she wanted me to ask if she could trade her Happy Meal toy for a different one, and I said no because I don't think the order-taker girl spoke English and I did not particularly feel like getting into a half hour long conversation about could my four year old have the penguin toy instead of the monkey. Por favor?). Headed to a different library where it is apparently against city code to work there if you are under the age of 85, and Charlie got told to "be quiet!" by a woman who looked like she maybe had snuck out of the funeral home to come back to work that day. What I said: "Oh, okay. I'll try to keep him quiet, thanks!" What I wanted to say: "Look, Crypt Keeper. He is a BABY. A BABY, who is fourteen months old and has just recently figured out the mechanics of walking and clapping his hands, but I'll be sure to explain to him how we must keep our voices down in the library so that the ten geriatrics in the corner don't have to turn down their hearing aids or get distracted from their Absorbent Undergarments Quarterly. Thanks, beotch."

We got home and I threw the kids into their beds as quickly as possible and ran downstairs to do some work on the computer. And maybe rock myself for a minute in the corner while I suck my thumb.

The Angels Sang And Moms Everywhere Did The Happy Dance.

WARM! WEATHER!!! However temporary it may be, we have had warm weather for three days in a row. If you have children of the playing-outside age then you know what I mean when I say that seeing three days with the little sunshine icon and the number 60 under it on the weather forecast is better than Christmas and chocolate and just about every other good thing on this earth. The windows open, fresh air, kids running around wild and free, a picnic lunch, and long long naps for everyone. Heaven.

Tiny Teachers

From a blog I just recently stumbled upon, and boy, oh boy, am I glad I did. I found this entry and my reading it may or may not have ended with a tear or two rolling down my cheek, because YES. Yes to everything she says here, it is exactly what I think every mother feels but cannot sometimes find the words to say.

Posted by A Holy Experience www.aholyexperience.com



Dear Babies that I have bore:

You teach your Mama and she be slow.

Every day we throw back the quilts and we do life together all day in these four walls and you six children teach this one hard heart what it means to love.

Thank you.

For learning your Mama --- what it means to show grace, to step over negativity, to bite the tongue, to hold and soothe the sadness, to work on when tired, to pray more fervently, to wipe up the ugliness with love, to cover up the sinnning mad with the embrace tender, to learn to do love the only way love is real: unconditionally.

It isn't always pretty. Every single day, many times a day, I fail.

But Love doesn't. Every way of living, every paradigm, every philosophy, every thing, that attempts to function apart from the righted love will unequivocally fail.

There is only one sustainable, enduring force to be found in the whole of the cosmos and it is sacrifical love.

Today again you children will teach me the language of the Kingdom that will never pass away, and today again I'll learn love, the reality that will never pass away and together we will work on rightly ordering love and I don't know if I ever really would have known it in the skin and the bone, the awe of the sacrifical love, without the love of each of you.

Of Dying Brain Cells And Cranky Children

The damn groundhog just had to go and see his shadow (or not see it, I can never remember which one it is that means more winter), and we are doomed to more cold weather, more cooped up-edness, more boredom. I am trying, good LORD, I am trying here. I am fully expecting any day to reach into my bag of tricks and find my fingers grazing the bottom of the empty sack. The novelty of Christmas and birthday gifts is worn off now, there are only so many art projects that a four year old can do before she grows tired of them, and Charlie's favorite pasttime of throwing toys into the wall/door/someone's face, while thrilling for him, isn't exactly barrels of fun for the rest of us. The kids are even sick of watching TV. &#^@%!????!!!!! As a last ditch effort last week I offered to put on a dvd for Ella, and she politely refused. I felt her forehead, she was fine. The only other logical conclusions are that she is as completely OVER winter as I am and cannot wait to get outside and run free, or it's a sign of the apocalypse. Either one. As I type this I am sitting on the couch, looking out at a snow-covered front yard, while on my computer I am going through files containing photos such as this:



and counting off the weeks until we can pack up the winter coats and boots and hats and head outside again.