Do we have it all?

My friend Susie recently pointed me in the direction of a Parenting.com writing contest on the topic of whether or not we have it all.  The deadline was Oct. 1st.  Some 16 days ago.  I'm a little late.  But I've been thinking about the topic often.  At first I started to make a list of all the things that parents do have:

first smile
vomit
giggle giggles
blowing bubbles in the bath
sleep training
finger grasping
snuggles
lost blankies
favorite stuffy
laundry laundry laundry
pooping on the potty
soccer practice in the rain
nightmare in the dark
waddle waddle diaper walk
first bike
feed the dog your dinner
not funny
time out
for mommy too
brush your teeth
try this peach
polka dotted footed pajamas
diaper rash
rats nest morning hair
did you just say "no" to me?
tickle bug
better yet...zerbert
peak-a-boo
nappie time
Cheerio
pout
Ring Around the Rosie
tumble class
finger paints
toe nail polish- on the floor!
1st tooth
favorite book
sweet sweet dreams
dimple
milk breath
sweaty fever head
the best hugs in the world
Whose bed is this?
That's okay, I'll share because you are mine.


I could go on and on but I don't know, this came instead:

All my jeans used to have holes in the knees.  That's when I was changing two sets of ammonia smelling cloth diapers every two hours.  Kneeling at the baby in front of me on the floor, kneeling at the toilet spraying poopy diapers, kneeling at the washing machine loading them in.  I should have bought more Carhart's with the reinforced knees.  Shortly after this I wanted to put a hole in my head because my 3 year old daughter started to say "no" to me.  A defiant stubborn absolute NO.  I spanked her once because I didn't know what else to do and then I cried.  Lately I feel like I have holes in my elbows as I arm wrestle them to pick up their dirty socks, put away their clothes, take the recycling down the the basement.  But then there are the holes in the ground we dig together to plant the crops in the Spring.   And there are the holes in the blankies that they curl up next to me on the couch to watch me mend.  And there are the holes in the socks that I have to throw in the trash- just one more symbol of their growth.  Like the holes in their mouths from missing teeth and the holes in their understanding of how the world works.  But we'll try to change that.  Me and him.  Mom and Dad.  We'll teach them to turn the pancakes when there are holes in them and how to mend a hole in a sweater, a wall, or even a heart.  They'll find out where the holes in their arguments are, what it feels like to have money burning a hole in their pocket, and maybe even the joy of getting a hole in one.  They'll make wishes on the whole of the moon and follow a road or two with many potholes, learning as they go.  I'm  hoping they meet beautiful people who complete them and who they can start on a whole new path together with.  I'm trying not to think about the hole in my heart that I'll have when they leave this nest or how I'll fill that hole, or mend it, or accept it.  But we'll build a bridge across that river when we get there.   I guess what I'm saying is that we can't have it all- ever.  Not with all these holes.  It's just that there are too many places to fill.  We can't have it all.  What we must do is seek the joy in filling in these empty spaces.  And then keep looking out for where the next small cave might be.



Thanks Susie!  I didn't get it in on time.  But you made me think and that's one way of filling in the holes in my brain!

Hey, Pig Pig!

Meet Pig Pig from The Homesteading Hussy on Vimeo.

GRR 2012

It's peaking right now.  I'm not sure who decides when it's peak foliage around here.  I'm not sure how he decides when it's peak foliage around here and where he sits to look at his watch to decide or how he doesn't know that maybe tomorrow might be the real peak, but I'm deciding right now that it's peak.  I wish you were sitting where I'm sitting and could see the blood orange color of the mini-mountain I call my own.  I wish you could.  I can't even capture it on film.  It doesn't do the blood orange justice.  I tried.  I wish I could photoshop the picture for you.  Brighten it up to match the real deal.  I wish I could.  I have stories stacking up- funny ones that I wanted to use a few photoshopping elements to enhance them.  But I can't cuz'  I'm in desperate need of Photoshop help.  Can you do it?  I'll organize your junk drawer for you.  I will.

Well, here are some SOC shots that could use a lot of editing help but then again so do I.  Two weekends ago my wombats and I forged the persistent rain and camped at this amazing spot for one short 19 hour period.  It takes a canoe, or two, or three to get there.  It's a short canoe ride, but a canoe ride none-the-less, with lots of ice-filled coolers and leaky blow up mattresses and Lafuma chairs:

for very important reclining and relaxing.  Being with my wombats is like going for a run in the rain, taking a hot shower, and reclining in bed to read a good book- with no kids around to interrupt.

 

Being with my wombats is like having a husband who knows you'll want hard boiled eggs for breakfast and cooks them for you ahead of time.  

Hanging with my wombats is like having all the laundry in the house washed and folded and put away.  It's like sun drying your sheets on the line and having your husband (same as the one above) make the bed for you to climb into at your leisure.

Hanging with my wombats is like having someone cook and clean up for you.  Often.

Being with my wombats is like sitting down at a table with my closest friends and fresh margaritas, salt on the rim, and a bowl of fresh made guacamole and home-made chips.  

 Chillaxin' with my wombats is like eating a whole bowl of this for breakfast, lunch, or dinner:

In a pot

     1/2 cup veg oil

     1/2 cup apple cider vinegar

     1/3 cup sugar

     1/2 tsp salt

     1/4 tsp pepper

bring to a quick boil to blend and dissolve sugar.  Take off heat to start to cool

In a bowl

   1 can black beans (predrained and rinsed)

   1 can pinto beans (predrained and rinsed)

   1 cup frozen corn

   pour marinade on top mix gently

add to bowl

  1 can diced green clilies

  1 medium chopped onion

  2 stalks celery chopped

  1 each red yellow green pepper chopped

Mix gently and put in fridge overnight

devour the next day and don't regret it for one bit.

Circling up around a fire with my wombats is like laughing so hard you piss your pants or at least have stomach muscle pain the next day.

 

 Being with the wombats is like hunkering down in front of the fire on a snowy day.

We've come a long way since 2005.  And yet in some ways we haven't.   We still love floating around the still dark waters of the reservoir shooting the shit, commiserating about our husbands, children, situation; celebrating our husbands, children, situation.  Maybe we drink too much.

We often eat too much.  We wonder if Cath will make it across the pond.  We read smutty magazines.  We privately celebrate our literal and figurative nakedness.  We sit around the fire; we retell stories and play the same old games.  We soak up and toast each other's ways.  We sometimes skinny dip in the cold morning fog and giggle at our sagging breasts.  And then we paddle that short way back to the parking lot and go our separate ways.

It never seems long enough.  Ever.