my conor left for hawaii today.
somebody come visit me. 2 weeks is too long.

Meme-o-licious

Your Fake Band Meme:


1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random

-First article = Band name

2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3

-Last 4 words of the last quote = your album title

3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/

-Third picture = album cover

4. Take picture, add band name and album title, post....voila!


I love mine! And I discovered Arp 299, which would have tragically eluded me my whole life, had it not been for this meme.

You totally get the shaft when your birthday is one day, and Mother's Day is the next. I've had my last birthday. I'm 29. twenty-nine. tweeeeenty-niiiiiiiine. In the thick of my Saturn return.

Brief conversations with Violet

Conor: (standing outside the bathroom out of view) *BURP*

Violet: Where is mama?

Conor: She's downstairs

Violet: I hear her.

Fin

Conor got this text message in the middle of the night. We're not sure who it's from. But Conor read it to me, and then said "Fin, sexy? What is fin sexy?" F-ing sexy, Conor. "Oh."

So if you're going to send Conor sexy texts, be sure and spell it all out for him.

SLC

I've been recently overcome with the desire to move to a cabin in the woods and raise my barefoot brood.

A few notes about real estate in Utah.

1) 3 bedrooms must not be much in demand, as it seems 4-7 (yes 7) bedrooms are more the norm.

2) Lots of pencils or pastels of Jesus on the walls

3) Next to Jesus, lots of dead animals on the walls as well.

So, what's the appeal to me? Could someone enlighten me, cause I really have no idea.

overheard in the kitchen

Violet: "You drinkin' all the beer, daddy?"

Conor: "Yes."

Violet: "The delicious beeeeeer."

A little guilt goes a long way.

It seems that every blog I read lately is decrying the bondage of "mommy-guilt". Mommies everywhere, championing the cause to rise above the guilt and....do what exactly? I've found guilt to be a powerfully motivating factor. I'm not talking about beating yourself up about things over which you have no control. But geez louise, sometimes a person should feel guilty. Not all choices are equal, damn it. It reminds me of the people who resort to "well, that's just the way I am" as an excuse. The way you are? A stark-raving lunatic bent on alienating everyone around you? Well if that's "the way you are" then that makes it hunky dory. You should feel guilty if you're making poor choices, not putting the needs of your children ahead of your own. Yes, I said it. Ahead. Not the ever so popular advice to take care of yourself first, and the rest will follow. If taking care of yourself is a shower and some breakfast before your kids get their hair brushed, then by all means. If taking care of yourself is watching Maury while the kids eat glue, then no (for the literal among us...that was hyperbole). Like I said, not all choices are equal. I am not recommending that women just completely forget themselves and devote all time and energy to their children. That just annoys the kids. There obviously has to be a balance. But for heaven's sake, when did it become ok for mothers (and fathers..) to put their needs ahead of the kids'?

Can you help me?

I watched 20/20 last night. It was one of those hidden camera "what would you do in this situation" ones. They used an actor to portray a lost child. In 3 different scenarios, he/she stood quietly alone, cried, and asked for help. Out of 1700 people who passed by, only 40-something stopped to help. I said to myself "I'll bet kids noticed". Sure enough, the kids who saw the lost child made their parents stop to help. I, of course, cried. I've always agreed with the advice to tell your kids to ask a woman for help, preferably one with kids, if they're lost. Looking for a policeman could take forever, not to mention depending on age, kids can't tell a policeman from a security guard, from a bus driver. Power to the kids, it's adults who are the scourge of the planet. Although, standing above the rest was this European woman who chased down John Quinones when he tried to walk away with the boy. She was about to tackle him. Restoring a sliver of faith in people.

Oh, those midnight ramblings

Can't go having my weird virginity rant at the top anymore. People thinks I'm cray zay. I tried to go to a class tonight (on Waldorf education) but, alas, the gnomes (which I'm told they believe in) must have run off with the school, cause I couldn't find it anywhere. So instead I hung out with Jenny, eatin' soup, watchin' the Idol. Which I have nothing to say about that hasn't been said.

I've been thinking about Mommy blogging a bit. And whether or not it's exploitative when it gets to a certain level. I've kept most of the nitty-gritty of my day-to-day parenting to myself. I have a hard time putting stuff out there. I used to crave conflict. I thrived on it. Now, it seems I've mellowed in my old age. When I started the new blog (Poopsy-woo), I deliberately used a different blogger profile. I just didn't want to open my personal blogs up to the world to that degree. It is the reason I've hesitated about joining any mommy blogging consortiums, or blogging in a truly public arena.

My parenting philosophy (...can you picture our grandmothers using that term???) is so far afield of the mainstream. Like really really afield...off in the ditch...across the street from the field. When you say something, take "we don't punish" and put it out there, you get 2 general reactions. 1) The "if you don't punish, and I put my kid in time out, you think I'm a bad evil mommy with glowing cat eyes and Medusa hair" or 2) "Your kids are going to grow up to be the scourge of the planet, and my kids will pay the taxes to keep them incarcerated."

I have some pretty strong opinions about what is right and what is wrong to do to another human being. It just happens that I apply those beliefs to all human beings, including children. But, I also believe pretty strongly that kids are resilient. Kids who were spanked grow up to be perfectly respectable human beings (...though occasionally a little kinky in the bedroom). Kids who were allowed to run rampant like feral pigs, had kool-aid in their bottles, and cried themselves to sleep also often grow up to be contributing members of the human race. The reason I do things the way I do has very little to do with "how they'll turn out". I think loved and cherished kids, for the most part, turn out fine. It has much more to do with how they feel now. Do they feel respected? Do they feel that what they think is important? I care about those things NOW. It doesn't mean I'll ever let my kids believe that I think it's alright to hit someone small and defenseless, no matter how society may dictate I react to someone spanking a child. I reserve the right to react with all the fury of hell, lest my children sense I am complacent about the bullying of the weaker. It doesn't mean I'll pump their bodies full of Red Dye 44 and aspartame either.

I'm relatively comfortable saying those things here. Cause nobody reads it! Except Pants. I love Pants. But I spend my day biting my tongue. Cause those kids, they'll push you to the brink, God love 'em. I just can't spend what little time I have trying to be diplomatic with a bunch of crazy women. The comments on some of these blogs are unreal. Women like big cats pouncing on another mother. Then come the hyenas, circling for the last shreds of dignity some poor woman has left. And after everyone has corrected each others' grammar and apostrophe placement, they all go home. And there lays the carcass. Or lies? There lies the carcass? Oh well. Guess I don't deserve to live, have an opinion, or post a blog...since I'm not sure.

The sad thing is, none of this happens to me. I just stay out of the fray. Cause I'm chicken. Or maybe I'm smart. My children aren't my property to do with as I please. I hesitate to use them in a public capacity. I'm also tired of overthinking things. Come to think of it, I'm just tired. So no conclusion for you! I'm going to bed.

I'm sure I've mentioned once or twice how I feel about the concept of prizing virginity as precious gift to be protected by daddy, then handed over to a husband. I can't, for the life of me, get it to bother me that Conor has had sexual partners before me. Maybe I can't get it to bother me, since he has had fewer than I have. But I digress. That to say, I love LM Montgomery (authoress...her word...of the Anne of Green Gables series). And I love this quote:

"A man always asks to be a woman's first love; a woman wishes to be a man's last...I should not care how many predecessors I had; but I must have no successors!" - Lucy Maud Montgomery

"Let children learn about different faiths, let them notice their incompatibility, and let them draw their own conclusions about the consequences of that incompatibility. As for whether they are ‘valid,’ let them make up their own minds when they are old enough to do so."— Richard Dawkins

One of the dangers of subscribing to this philosophy is your 3 year old marching around singing "This is the DAY, this is the DAY, that the LORD HAS MADE, that the LORD HAS MADE." She doesn't actually sing those words exactly, but that's the general idea.

My anniversary gift

Conor said since he can't buy me a bungalow yet, he got me these instead. Cue the "aaawwwws".


Love you birdy.

Happy Anniversary, Birdy

See how cool he is?

It's that time of year my friends. The time that flowers bud, the snow melts, and new baby blogs are born. The collaboration of minds have emerged this spring with the blog "What to do, poopsy-woo?" dedicated to having fun with the small people in your life. Come visit us there, or come be our Myspace friend.

~Sarah

I love my job. Really I do.

it's just today. i'll be better tomorrow....

I just have to say...

I have loved rocking my babies to sleep. I approach with dread the day that Finn decides he wants to put himself down. There is nothing better than breathing in that sunshine and rainbows smell off that little blond head and snuggling his little body until he slips off. I would never ever trade the few years I've had of rocking my kids to sleep, despite the wakings and re-rockings we've been peppered with, for having a "trained" baby.

I know I've posted this poem before, but it bears repeating:

Song for a Fifth Child

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
hang out the washing and butter the bread,
sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Harvard Project Implicit

I've taken the race test before, but I just found this Fat/Thin one. I love these tests. Take one for kicks! Here are my results to my test. No big surprise to me there. Here is a link to the list of available quizzes.

PROJECT IMPLICIT

You have completed the Fat - Thin IAT.

Your Result

Your data suggest a slight automatic preference for Fat People compared to Thin People.

Thank you for your participation. Just below is a breakdown of the scores generated by others. Most respondents find it easier to associate Fat people with Bad and Thin people with Good compared to the reverse.

Many of the questions that you answered on the previous page have been addressed in research over the last 10 years. For example, the order that you performed the response pairing is influential, but procedural corrections largely eliminate that influence (see FAQ #1). Each visitor to the site completes the task in a randomized order. If you would like to learn more about the IAT, please visit the FAQs and background information section.

You are welcome to try additional demonstration tasks, and we encourage you to register (easy) for the research site where you will gain access to studies about more than 100 topics about social groups, personality, pop culture, and more.

SATs

Public kudos to Conor for his 1550 SAT score! Good job, birdy-brain!

My reference to Canon in D reminded me of this hillarious rant on Pachelbel:

1. Song that always makes you sad?

The Only Living Boy in New York (Simon & Garfunkle), I Do (Jude), In My Life (Beatles), Bring Him Home (Les Miserables)

2. Last thing you bought?

A pineapple.

3. Last person you argued with?

Probably Conor, I don't argue with very many people.

4. Do you put Butter .. putting the peanut butter on?

What? I don't know what that means.

5. One of your stuffed animals' names as a kid?

Matilda ( I liked old lady names even then)

6. Did you ever own at one time a Barenaked Ladies CD?

Nope. Conor has a couple I think.

7. Favorite day of the week?

It makes no difference, they're all the same.

8. Favorite Sundae topping?

Caramel and nuts.

9. Did you take Piano lessons?

Yes.

10. Most frequent song played?

Canon in D. It's the only one I remember.

11. TV show you secretly enjoy?

Celebrity Fit Club, Jack's Big Music Show

12. Would you rather play basketball or hockey?

I'm a beast at Field Hockey.

13. Date someone older or younger?

Out of the 4 that I would call "dated" 2 were slightly older, 2 were 2 years younger.

14. One place you could travel right now?

Anywhere but here.

15. Do you use umbrellas?

I can't without hearing that stupid "Umbrella, ella, ella, ella" song. Violet has a Hello Kitty one, that's about the only one we use.

16. Do you know all the words to the Canadian national anthem?

Oh, Canada! That's all I know.

17. Favorite Cheese?

That's like asking me which is my favorite child. I like basil cheddar. Num.

18. The Smith's or the Cure?

Smiths.

19. Do you prefer Blondes or Brunettes?

I significantly prefer dark haired people.

20. Best job you ever had?

I liked working for Starbucks. I haven't have any jobs I'd write home about.

21. Did you go to your high school prom?

Nope.

22. Perfect time to wake up?

8

23. Perfect time to go to bed?

10

24. Do you use your queen right away in chess?

I don't know how to play chess.

25. Ever been in a car accident?

Nope.

26. Closer to mom or dad... or neither?

Mom.

27. What age is this exciting life over for you?

Whatever age it is, it has passed.

28. What decade during the 20th century would you have chosen to be a teenager?

Hmm. That's a toughie. I like the style of the 40s, but progressively speaking, I probably wouldn't have dug it. I guess I'd have to go with the 60s if I couldn't choose the one I actually was a teenager in.

29. Favorite shoes you have EVER owned?

I had these rocket dogs. They were grey suede and had velcro straps. I loved them, and they got lost...I think in Omaha. I'm digging my new Kangaroos though.

30. Do you have an article of clothing you have had since you were in high school?

Not anymore. I had a shirt from when I was 14. I finally got rid of it. It was completely threadbare.

31. Were you in track and field?

Have we met?

32. Were you ever in a school talent show?

No. I was in plays and such, but no actual talent show.

33. Have you ever written in a library book?

God, no. Who does that?

34. Allergic to?

Religion

35. Favorite fruit?

Hmm. I like mangos. I like raspberries.

36. Have you watched sex and the city?

Not of my own volition. I think it is mind-numbing.

37. Baseball hat or toque?

Toque? Who goes around wearing a toque as a fashion statement? On a side note, I hate baseball caps on girls. I like hats. Just not baseball caps.

38. Do you shampoo first in the shower or soap?

Shampoo! I'm adamant about that.

39. Wet the toothbrush or brush dry with the toothpaste?

Wet. And I've always brushed my teeth with hot water, which other people seem to find strange.

40. Pen or pencil?

Pen. Really good dark inky pens.

41. Have you ever gambled at a casino?

Just a bit.

42. Have you thrown up on a plane?

Yes. I was pregnant.

43. Have you thrown up in a car?

Not IN a car, but I vaguely recall Justin having to pull over to let me throw up. Very vaguely.

44. Have you thrown up at work?

Yes. Pregnant.

45. Do you scream on roller coasters?

Doubtful. I haven't been on one in years.

46. Who was your first prom date?

We've established that I did not go to prom.

47. Who was your first roommate?

Jenny.

48. What alcoholic beverage did you drink when you got drunk for the first time?

Beer, I think. I don't remember.

49. What was your first job?

I worked for a weight loss clinic.

50. What was your first car?

Mazda 626 (1987)

51. When did you go to your first funeral?

I don't remember how old I was. 10 maybe?

52. How old were you when you first moved away from your hometown?

17. To Mississippi.

53. Who was your first grade teacher?

I don't remember. My kindergarten teacher was Mrs. Hartline.

54. Where did you go on your first airplane ride?

My sister took me with a friend on a little tiny plane ride.

55. When you snuck out of your house for the first time, who was it with?

I never snuck out of my house.

56. Who was your first best friend and are you still friends with them?

Kevin. Yes.

57. Where did you live the first time you moved out of your parent's house?

With a cult.

58. Who is the first person you call when you have a bad day?

Conor.

59. Who's wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid or a groomsmen?

My cousin. I was a "junior bridesmaid??"

60. What is the first thing you do in the morning?

Make breakfast for the kids if Conor hasn't, make Conor's lunch.

61. What do you do for fun?

Buy toilet paper, milk, and diapers.

What-to-do poopsy-woo?

OOBLECK! For those of you who have never experienced the joys of oobleck, here's the scoop:

Oobleck is made from cornstarch and water. The term was originally coined in the Dr. Seuss book Bartholomew and the Oobleck, and was later adopted by this fascinating non-Newtonian fluid. When pressure is applied, the mixture acts as a solid and can be rolled into a ball. When the mixture is free of pressure, it returns to a liquid state. My kids and my dear physics buff, Conor, had never known the joys of oobleck, so I whipped up a batch.

Oobleck is made by mixing 2 parts cornstarch to 1 part water (ish...). I just dump a bunch of cornstarch in a bowl and add water until it I like the consistency. That's how I cook, that's how I make goo. A little food coloring is always fun too, but I didn't have any...at least I didn't have any I could find.

The solid/liquid properties are brilliantly displayed on a Spanish TV show as the hosts run across a pool of Oobleck



Here is Conor explaining to me what I had just made:

And what does Violet think of Oobleck? Aside from having to wash her hands every 37 seconds...

little girl in the big city

------------------


Conor has applied to 2 schools, both of them in the city. Since the life I want is not one of him being gone an extra 3 hours a day commuting, we're planning on moving closer to the city. Conor has continually told me to look at houses in the city, and I have continually refused and looked at outlying areas. Yesterday I called him and said "you know how you tell me things all the time, and I never believe you until I find them out for myself?" "Yes," he says. "Well there are some awesome houses in Chicago proper in good areas in our price range." "Yes," he says.

I suppose with 2.8 million people in Chicago proper, there would have to be something, hmm? I have hated to admit to myself that the reason I didn't want to look in the city is that I'm a scaredy cat. We live in Aurora, for goodness sakes. Crime ain't so grand here either. I am officially suburban. I assumed that houses in the city don't have clean streets and yards and garages and such. I assumed that we couldn't drive, and I'd have to haul the kids around on the bus. The BUS, people. I don't know how to use a BUS! I don't even understand how people know where they're going. And then there's the train. All these colors! Red, green, blue, purple, chartreuse, puce, I have no clue where they go or stop or come from. Looking at houses has kind of started to cure me though. There are garages. And yards. And decks. And driveways...with cars in them. I've started to get a little more excited at the prospect of living in the city. But I feel like a country bumpkin.

finished! (with the first one anyway)

So here's my cutesy bag. I made it from the book Bend the Rules Sewing by Amy Karol author of the craft blog Angry Chicken. It was a blast. Her projects generally require little fabric, they're quick, and simple, and ubercute. So this is my first project from the book. A simple lined bag with darts on the bottom to make it a little flat. The handle is threaded through casings, enabling the bag to slightly gather when it's held. Pick up the book, seriously. It has something for everyone. Accessories, Home Decor, Baby stuffs. I especially love her philosophy on crafting, which is in a nutshell: Craft because you love to craft and you want something unique. You can buy nearly anything for cheaper than you can make it these days, so crafting to save money is obsolete. I needed to hear that.

Happy Crafting!

i bought myself a present

startin' a new project

I have cabin fever. And burnout. I'm living in a burned-out cabin.

brief conversations with myself

having one was a piece of fucking cake. that is all.


do other people really have clean houses? how does this work exactly?



if your house is a fucking wreck (i'm feeling like some f-bombs today) do people see fit to bring it to your husband's attention?