I hate the bats, I mean fruit flies, hanging from my ceiling

I looked up this morning in my kitchen, and immediately felt the motherly instinct to swoop up Anderson for fear that my bat-sized fruit flies may just carry him off like To-to was by the flying monkeys.

I am so stinkin done. I have done the vinegar trick. Caught a few. Others seemed to grow larger while laughing in my face. I had one other infestation a few years back, and the cidar vinegar totally whiped them out in days. This brood is highly evolved, too smart to fall for traps, and is telling its friends and family members that the Arthur kitchen is a happening place. And, by the way, - the damn things say - bring your suitcase, cuz this party's gonna last awhile.

And, don't ya know, the woman way back in 2000 who gave me my first lesson on how to run them out of a kitchen (I had been house-sitting for their family while they vacationed and I had slowly observed the haze of life everytime I turned on the faucet... but I did what I do when problems arise I don't know how to solve : nothing. And when this family returned, Deanne sweetly took me under her wing to present the ole vinegar-in-a-shallow-bowl-with-holes-poked-in-lid trick. I felt embaressed and enlightened all at the same time) is visiting us from out of town THIS VERY WEEKEND.

She's gonna think all I've done over the past thirteen years is raise kids. And fruit flies.

Lord may they smell tastier fruit or be lured by trickier vinegar traps in someone else's kitchen before Friday. (the flies, that is, not my kids) (although that would be fine, too).

Moon moment

We have two lime-green chairs in our front lawn which spent the first year here on Grenoble Rd mostly vacant. But this past summer, we've been loving us some adirondack lounging. Tonight, once boy #1 (#3) was put to bed, I plopped right on out there with a blueberry lemonade smirnoff (#2) while #2 and #3 were playing, #s 1 and 2 (ok, now even I am confused). I am amazed at what happens when I plop. I initially think to myself, "Hmmmmm. I'll be out of this position lickity split... cuz something else will call to me and there isn't much 'to do' here." Then all at once I realize just how hard it is to let my phone be. all. by. its. lonesome. On the arm of my lime green adirondack chair. (Cuz, after all, we have a thing-to-do attached to ourselve s at all times now... I shall name mine Frystone the Iphone) By the way, I've now been sitting for 15 seconds.

And then it begins: the let-the-world-pass-me-by-ness sets in. Tonight I was on that chair for about an hour. And here is what passed me by: 

** Neighbor boy, middle school aged or so?, rides bike back and forth with his buddy... he on a tandum bike with noone on the back and the buddy on his own bike. I think tandem bikes are awesome, so I shouted as such. He gave a polite reply. I wonder if secretly he is punkish. I wonder if his friend is punkish. Will J and S and A be punkish? How do you keep your kids from being punkish? Wonder why the friend just doesn't join on a tandem? Is it too dorky to ride tandem with another boy? Is it like 2 men sharing a couch or maybe love seat? 

** They are gone.

**Guy catty corner across street waters lawn. He is adjusting sprinkler. Lawn looks awesome. I shout as such.

**Boys come outside and drag a big fallen branch to center of yard. An obstacle course hath formed. Boys look like Patrick Swaze in Dirty Dancing crossing the famous log, except with shirts on and much cuter. 

**Next door neighbors head out for walk with darling lil doggie. Mom and just-got-his-drivers-license son. Their nightly ritual. I wonder if we'll have a dog by then. What a bonding time for Mom/son. Captive moments to talk about life. Having a dog = I bond with my sons. We need a dog.

**Empty nester directly across street leaves for 2 mile power walk. He had knee replacement surgery a few years ago and look at him go! Wonder what he does on his walks? No ear plugs. No dog. Kids moved out. Think about all that cleared up head space! And no music/sounds going in! He probably is solving the world's problems one night at a time.

**Other next door neighbor, Chris, checks her mail and I yell congrat to her, since her daughter just found out today that she got a job she'd applied for. This to that. That to this... and before you know it she is showing me the squid hats she just bought for her daughter and she to wear while volunteering at the zoo in the touch-pool area. Get it? I love this woman. Boys take picture with hats on. Chris shows boys "liken" (sp?) on said fallen branch, which basically is the mossy greenish crusty stuff on the outer bark. Boys loved squid hats better, but munch on liken information for a bit. Chris's husband pulls in the driveway with dinner. He points out full moon. I knew I was feeling awnry. Chris and hubby head inside.

**Boys revved up about moon. Hard to see with trees in way. Barefooted offspring convince me to let them get "closer" (someday I'll have to explain where the moon lives). I say yes. But a new tree keeps blocking moon-view each time they move beyond the tree that was blocking it. They are half-way down street with said shoelessness. I am shoeless too. And on my chair. 

**I humor their moon search. But then I get into it. Not only do I meet them on the sidewalk a few houses down, I likewise find myself angling for a better view.... which happens to be in the middle of the street. 2 boys, one mamma, and a bottle of Smirnoff (#2) staring at the full moon in the middle of the street with no shoes on. 

Now that is just Norman Rockwell. Yes?

So, if there is a point, the point is that having no deliberate goal of passage of time can really get you somewhere...It can get you shoeless, in the middle of the street... And a solution for how to ensure quality time with your future punkish pubescent boys (as a refresher: get a dog to walk). And knowledge about fungal tree growths. And some really funny shots of oversized squid hats on boys' heads to send to Dad. And a bunch of other stuff. It can get you now-ness. Which is now technically then-ness. And nowness gets ignored a lot these days. Tonight wI was perfectly aware of the beauty of that nowness. Lovely.

No lie

This morning, as most weekday mornings, the kids watched a show in their pjs while i was in the kitchen prepping school stuff and breakfast. When I re-enter living room, Jackson is on a different couch. With his pajama bottoms off. And his dingaling sticking straight up.

No lie.

He wasn't touching it. But there was definitely some fishy business going on. He noticed that I noticed and didn't even seem phased (minor back-point: we are still very much naked around each other in this house... I know, I know, I better put an end to it soon, now that he is in kindergarten. It's right around the corner... Read: Today Might Be The Day)

So I just passed on through with only the comment, "huh. You're nakey." To which he replied, "yup." And the morning then carried on as usual.

P.S. He was watching Curious George. Seriously?

P.S.S. I do regularly sanitize my leather couches. Read: I never sanitize my lether couches but will today since there was a naked 6-yr-old butt on it.

and...i'm (hoping to be) back.

Well hello there.

Been awhile, but I think I may be... hope I may be...yearn that i might be, in fact, back. 

Been a doozy of a year. Anderson born. I nearly lost my marbles. Anderson turns one. I find most of my marbles, and I am back. Well at least I think I may be... hope I may be... yearn that I might, in fact, be back. 

I find myself (as always) with a lot of thoughts in my head. But - more recently - they are curious and creative and open in nature. Not motivated by one of the two most unhealthy and unhelpful entities: FEAR. (the other one is PRIDE, just so ya know). P.S. That belief about what the two most icky entities in life are is just mine. I could fully be wrong. The point is: I had gotten sucked into some serious negativity and fear-based thinking (about myself, about the world, about - well - anything) and now that most of that is gone, I have a lot more space up there for awesomeness. 

This past Saturday morning, I composed a lil speech I was asked to give at Otterbein University. The event was at 11:30. I got done adding mechanical-pencil-in-the-margin edits at 11:15. But, boy let me tell ya, I was on fire. I was having a ball plucking out stories...inserting jestful one-liners... piecing and repiecing together a quilt of a speech. I was sort of in writer's intoxication, much to my husband's dismay. Because while I was "drunk" at my desk, he was slopping eggs on three boys' plates and answering all the "Mommy... I mean Daddy"s of the morning. And it was then, as I blocked out my offspring in order to whip up a 3 minute speech, that i realized just how much I miss writing the written word. Either that or I just liked blocking out my offspring.

So this afternoon, I stumbled upon the Mrs. Hall letter thing. I think I may be late. Because it appears to me from my Google search that every blog on earth has already commented on what Mrs. Hall had to say. 

Except mine.

So here goes: I guess I just think we ought not criticize too severely a woman who likely did not spend a ton of time reviewing and meditating upon her blog that particularly day. And who likely did not intend for her audience to be the WHOLE STINKIN WORLD. And who likely didn't choose her words carefully. 

And instead let her have her point in peace. And, if we can ignore for a second the package that it came in (a touch sarcastic, a touch critical, a touch self-righteous, a touch overprotective and motherly), I think there'd be a lot more productivity in addressing what we CAN agree upon is a pretty decent point: we have to be responsible for the messages we put out there about ourselves. Boys. Girls. On internet. Off internet. In public. In our homes. In our communities. In pictures. In selfies. 

Now, as I understand it, Mrs. Hall did edit her blog entry after so many views. Something about changing the title and maybe deleting a picture?? Which made some Mrs. Hall-hate-a's even more critical since she didn't tone down her critical-ness.  Who can win.

I doubt that I will send out a warning to all of my boys' lady acquaintances in the same way Mrs. Hall did when that awful, awful day comes when they have internet friends... but I probably will want to.

So I'm back... And that's about all the awesomeness I can muster for today.





P.S. I did a load of laundry while writing this entry and... well... let's just say there was a purple crayon that managed its way into the dryer.

P.S.S. There was no reason for the above P.S. except to make you smile at the thought of all of my undies looking like I pooped blueberries.