NSFW or For Your Children. I’m singing this note because it fits in well with what I’m feeling

I’m in tune with the winds and with the way dust falls at sunset. I’m in tune with the way you breathe, I hear you when you dream, and I know when you are thinking. See, I’m so busy letting the good times roll is it any wonder I cannot sleep? I do not sleep well. I often cannot sleep at all. I have never been much of a sleeper and in my past only needed four hours to call it a good night. But these days four hours is understood to mean that mom is going to grow a beard and eat your soul. Four hours is not enough these days but four hours seems to be about all I can get. So I’m desperate for those four hours, desperate enough to get a Dr.’s prescription. Little did I know that the good Dr.’s prescription came with some serious side effects besides the ones mentioned in the commercials? Oh, like for example, eating two weeks’ worth of groceries in your sleep, ironing for the first time in six years, or talking to your husband for over two hours in the wee of the night all while thinking you are asleep. I Hate Laundry strongly recommends you not try any of this at home. I will only post the link out of respect for the sensitive types out there. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZCFynN9BVc&feature=channel_page

Also, if you ever wondered what I sounded like in real life just follow that link!

Tis' the Season to Eat Glass

I love to decorate as much as I love to collect things to decorate with. When Sir T. Browne said, “That acid and piercing spirit which, with such activity and compunction, invadeth the brains and nostrils,” I’m positive he was talking about the compulsion to collect. I just can’t help myself. I’ve got to do it to silence the drive but I am always left with a lumpy blob of what he said.

Decorating on the other hand kind of does the opposite for me. Decorating allows me to put all the stuff I’ve collected on display and proudly proclaim that there was indeed a need and space for it. As Yeats once said to me over a cup of coffee from the 123rd cup in my collection, “Joy is the will which labors, which overcomes obstacles, which knows triumph.” He was referring to my success in placing one more shiny thing-a-ma-jig on my whatsit without the whole thing collapsing under its own weight.

Christmas time is no different. I collect for it all year round. In fact it is my Wimbledon, my Grand Prix, the mustard on my corndog of decorating. But I have found myself less enthused as each year passes. When Miles was a baby I spent hours stringing cranberries for our ridiculously too large tree. It barely fit into our apartment and fell over more than once. The next Christmas found us with sweet little Isobel and me with a little less time and energy to string such enormous ambitions. So I settled on a smaller tree with less circumference and spaced the cranberries a little further apart. When Andrew arrived I somehow got a second wind and decided to not only string cranberries once again like they should be strung but also made all our ornaments. Maybe it was that Christmas that did me in.

Last year we didn’t even get a tree. I dragged inside one of the landscaping evergreens that Luke’s mom gave us and that I had failed to plant. It became kind of a joke and I adorned it with only the most absurd of my collection. The kids loved it and better yet it looked purposeful, like a houseplant, three months after Christmas. This year Luke has the bug and took the kids on a cold trip to hunt down the perfect tree. They posed with it like it was a game animal. They brought it inside and set it up with pride. I agreed to go get some more lights. I walked around Target for a bit and before leaving grabbed a box of lights. See, in previous years I would have grabbed enough to be embarrassed by. Luke strung the lights and I threw some ornaments on it. You can tell how involved I am in the decorating of the tree by how much I let the kids help. If the kids are helping then I’m not really all that interested. This year I let Danger Baby decorate the left side.

All this to say that I didn’t do much in the kids rooms this year. What is in there is of their own doing. Except for the lights. Like I said, Luke has the bug this year. He strung Christmas lights in their rooms. It’s very festive and makes them insanely happy. The first night they slept in their Christmas wonderlands Miles came racing down into the office with a mix of panic and the giggles. He sputtered out between laughs and serious, stern, and arched brows that Andrew had bitten off one of the bulbs and was now chewing it. After a thorough washing of his mouth and a frantic inspection for shards of glass he was sent back to bed none the worse. We are not having Christmas next year.

Here is a sampling of what I have done around the house. I remind you, this is nothing compared to my usual.









Here's a bowl full of what has been broken so far this year. I just might keep it as a reminder if I start thinking I want to "get into" the holiday spirit next year.

New Thanks I Think?

What if you had a new family upon a new family upon an old family you didn't really know anything about anyway? This is what you would get minus the old family you didn't know anything about minus the trailer park.

Old Tin Cups

I never thought I would be that kind of woman. The kind you see with a deep permanent wrinkle in between unkempt eyebrows. The kind with shiny & pale skin stretched over a nude and surly face. The kind who doesn’t have time to brush her hair and has hurriedly fixed it precariously above her ears. Supper time rolled around and Luke got home just minutes after I changed out of my pajamas. Over the phone I told him not to say a word about the condition the house was in or to utter a breath about my physical appearance or I would have to shiv him. He is a good man and didn’t really need the warning. But I was feeling like a good shivving and just wanted to give him a heads up.

I think Miles kind of felt the same way.

99% of human history

Day 1: War Berries

We were thankful that the wind wasn't strong and the day was fine and fare. Our new location has provided us with enough raw materials for shelter and kindling for at least half the winter. The scouts came back today and reported that we are surrounded by plenty if we should find ourselves running low. Ten paces south of our shelter is a small brook well shaded and deep enough for washing. It seems that it will not be a source of food itself but shows signs of being visited by land animals. My heart wants to believe that we have put enough distance between ourselves and the genetically modified super monkey dog creature like thing but I can't shake the feeling that we have not seen the last of it.

Our new homesite, on this coppery autumn afternoon, is favorable and beautiful. Although it is lovely it has about it a strangeness. Earlier we saw a muskrat in the trees. I wasn't aware that muskrats could climb trees (Note: must ask _____ about this). The bushes are heavy with war berries and opossum grapes but not much else. The children love it.


We are reading about hunter-gatherer societies and thought it would be fun to get our noses out of the books and into the sunshine for a little "a day in the life of". We pretended to be a family of nomads looking for greener promises.

Here is the skeleton of our shelter made of branches and grapevine found in our own backyard.

Here it is covered by "animal skins and reeds".

Here is Andrew inside the shelter decidedly not helping with operations.

A view of my fine grapevine stitching.

Chief Popasquat with clan markings.

Toothless tribesman.

War berries. The kids like to gather these and throw them at each other or sabotage me. They especially like to squeeze them first to insure proper marking upon impact.

Shadow stories after all the work was done. This was my favorite part. Especially when Andrew sang about butts and tried to stick his against the sheet and came crashing into the hut nekkid cheeks first!

At the bottom of the stairs

Tonight as I was standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Isobel to come down with her pajamas I noticed how warm the light was, I could smell dinner cooking, I could hear Miles and Andrew running around the house, the sounds of a football game and the excited mumbles of my gramps floated up from the basement, and I could hear Luke sing as he was making coffee. I thought of the coming election, looked back upstairs and wondered how anyone could vote for McCain and Palin. Smelled the coffee getting stronger and thought of Michelle Obama. I thought about her and her family. I wondered about our future. I ran my hand down the white washed panels of the stairway and counted the points of the stars I painted there four years ago and wished there was something I could do. I noticed there was peanut butter smeared all over the light switch. I smiled and wiped it off. I’m doing what I can.

Maintain your ride

This was the summer that we finally broke down and got bikes for all three kids. Luke has a bike too. It's a very nice bike. I have a bike too. It's not such a nice bike. Riding my bike is like using a typewriter. Kind of like "what's the point". If you want to enjoy your ride, notice the beautiful scenery, and feel refreshed and rejuvenated after your ride don't take my bike. If you saw all five of us together riding our bikes your first thought would be, "Ahhh, that family looks so cute and cozy and happy", then you would look again, a little closer this time and think, "I wonder if they know that they are being followed by a sweaty, red-faced crab on a dinosaur"?

Luke takes his hobbies pretty seriously. No seriously, you should have seen him this afternoon with our video camera mounted on his helmet. I could not decide if I wanted to laugh at him or tell him how awesome I thought he was. I did both then kicked myself for not having my camera, oh wait, it's on top of his head.

Anyway, here at the Thompson's you don't just get a bike, put some stickers on it, hang some tassels from it, and ride it. No, here at the Thompson's you study it, know it, become it, and if Luke got everything he desired you would have to read the full user's manual, the manufacturer's manual, and the entire known history of the bicycle from The Walking Machine, the "English 3-speed" of the 50's, to how when he was in college his favorite bike got stollen on his birthday. Here are some pictures of Luke giving the kids a bicycle maintenance lesson.



If you think I'm kidding about the manual thing Luke once came to me in our first year of marriage earnestly wanting me to read the manual for the carburetor of his Honda CB 750. Not the manual for the motorcycle itself but the manual for the carburetor of the motorcycle. He takes his hobbies seriously.

Contains roasted nuts

Ok, here's the deal my friends. I feel like long division with remainders, a mathematical equation not always ending up as a whole number. Wait, I just reread that sentence and it makes it sound like I'm trying to tell you that I'm crazy. Nope, not crazy, not psychologically anyway. I am however growing increasingly disturbed by American politics. "Oh no Buttercup! She's not going to talk politics is she?" Nobody wants to hear any more of this or that. Do they? I don't know.

I've been following almost every step of this election that I can stomach and there's not much I can stomach, but it's enough. I'm not sure what it is that worries me most about this election. I could, and have with much polite restraint, discuss the "issues" that are knocking around in my head and bones. The struggle I'm having right now is, "will it make any bit of difference"? The optimistic, every breath uttered counts side of me champions the idea that yes, it will and does matter and our destiny depends on our speaking up and out. The other side, the not so sweet, cheap-seats side of me believes it when people say that it doesn't matter what we say and that all this political talk is fruitloop and it doesn't add up to anything and won't change anything.

I don't want to believe that see? I don't want take another sip from government and slow dance through my day all out of touch with what is being "spoken for me". I never want to talk with you and try to persuade you to see it my way. I don't want to strong arm you into giving up on your convictions and jumping on board with my line of thinking. I want more than anything to find out where you're coming from. I want to know why you think and feel the way you do. I want to see it the way you see it. I want to understand, really understand. I don't want to tell you what to think or what to feel. I would never want to tell you how you should live. I just want to talk. It may not change the outcome of an election but it might change me. And that's something considerable don't you think?

Multiple intelligence explained

We are loving this whole homeschool bag. Although we are hitting the math and reading, it seems we are moving more towards the unschooling side of things. I believe what we are doing is more aptly called "eclectic unschooling". So far so good.

Luke and I are pretty tuned in to each of our child's learning styles and where they are strong and weak accordingly. Knowing this, we like to make fun of them and set up tasks that they totally suck at. I'm kidding of course! What follows is a fantastic example of the differences of learning styles in action.

This masterpiece was done by Miles. Here you see a distinct set of images, a police officer, his car, and headquarters. He likes order, themes, concepts, and setting and achieving goals.

This one was done by Isobel. She's all over the place. No quickly recognizable congruency upon first glimpse. She has figures, shapes, words, and a multitude of colors. For her, the drawings are not the whole story. She must narrate, elaborate with elegant and quirky stories, and make you laugh for her to feel like she has accomplished her goal.

And here's Danger Baby's. Self-explanatory.

Dear Mr. Anonymous,

"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."

-Theodore Roosevelt-

Genetically modified super monkey, dog creature like thing

I was going to write up a charming little post, with pictures, about how the kids and I have been spending these last days of summer, but after the conversation I just had with Luke I can't bring myself to talk about anything but the conversation I just had with Luke.

So tonight I sit down at my new desk, plug in the laptop, plug in the mouse, grab the camera cable and realize that I don't have the camera. I quickly remember that I more than likely left it on the garden bench out in our backyard. So much for setting that fine example of "if you get it out put it back like I do because everything has a place and should be in its place" campaign that I've been preaching. So I quietly get up and try to sneak out back to fetch it without anyone being any the wiser. I open the back door and wonder when our backyard got so huge. I don't remember that bench being so far back into the yard just outside the reach of the soft, warm glow of all the house lights I leave on? Ah snap! I may have some pride issues but I am incredibly pride-less when it comes to ensuring that I don't get attacked by the roving bands of red-eyed, fanged creatures of the night. I asked Luke to come and spot me as I went outside to get the camera. What a nice man he is. He didn't even ask me why OR laugh at me. I then calmly made the skull-numbing, ear-burning trek to get the camera. Man! I never realized how big our yard is. Walk calmly and with little movement. Don't run, don't walk fast, don't let them see that you are afraid. They can smell it though! Damn, they can smell it. Just like those horses from that one girl scout summer! Ok, you have the camera. Turn around and walk, don't run, back to the house like your panties are in the right place. Sh*t, f***, d*** now my back is wide open to the dark woods where they are waiting and watching and smelling me. Ok, I'm cool.

With a quiet sigh I sit down outside with Luke, for our quiet-adult, let's talk about our days time. I casually mention the nights during my childhood when I had to go outside and bring in the wash from the clotheslines. How I could see all these little red eyes in the not so far distance and hear the scufflings and runnings of creatures.

"The worst part about it was that I could never see what they were. I mean I never knew if they were just your basic wild animal or some crazy genetically modified super monkey, dog creature like thing." "You know that's one of my worst fears."

"I personally give you my 100% guarantee that you will never encounter, nor be attacked, nor meet your death by a genetically modified super monkey, dog like creature thing."

"Well I want you to make a promise, now that you have guaranteed me this, that if I do die from an attack from a genetically modified super monkey, dog creature like thing that you will stand up at my, whatever, and tell my multitude of mourners that you were wrong."

"I promise I will let everyone know that your fears were founded. But how would a genetically modified super monkey, dog creature like thing kill you? Would it have fangs? I mean the teeth would have to be some odd simian, canine combo and..."

"Hell yes it would have fangs! Why else would anyone want to genetically modify animals unless for the fangs and it's killing, mauling, limb-tearing potential! Ooh, I wonder if I would scream or just pass out?"

"These are all great questions you bring forth tonight. But unfortunately there is not enough time in tonight's presentation to adequately answer them all."

"Well whatever, you mock me, but that crazy crap is out there. And they can smell my fear."

Put the Yee-haw back in your motor and transmission

So the other day when they introduced us we just nodded and shook hands and said it was nice to meet each other. No one there knew about our history. They all said that we would probably get along.

Ah crap, how do you start doing this again? Do I give a detailed rundown on what we've been doing while I was inblogito? Do I hit the hi-lights, low-lights, make some stuff up, or just jump back on board like nothing has happened? Stop bugging around and just start again? Should the tone be ecstatic, dramatic, operatic, or apathetic? It's just nice to see you all again!

The store is still under construction. It's functional just not complete. I'll update everyone when changes have been made. Spread the word like it was liquid chocolate! Things around here are also going to be changing. Someday. There's going to be some new categories, new links, new graphics, some tutorials, and some nekkid pictures. Just kidding about the nekkid bit. That would be weird.

Here's a quick update for those who have a little IHL history under their belts. For those who don't, no worries, you'll get gleefully uncomfortable soon enough. Luke is no longer a high school teacher. He has emancipated himself from the safety of the given and has thrown himself into the world of... We're not sure yet. He is now working as the art/creative director for a software company here in town. I'm not sure if I can name the company or not. I don't know why I wouldn't be able to but as soon as I started to write it out I got all tingly in the uncomfortable bits. He will be finished with his masters this October. Word. I am still in school and probably won't be done until dinosaurs are replicated. We have also decided to homeschool. Say what! Yep, we are now homeschooling. As you know, I was in some sort of self-inflicted mental torture about this last year when Miles went off to school. We loved his teacher and we loved his school so it has nothing to do with our public school experience. In fact we really kind of miss his school and all those cozy, kind faces. So whateve panda bear. Our reasons are boring and not any that you would want to read about because once I got started I wouldn't be able to stop because I'm an incredibly wordy person who has terribly bad grammar and it would all read like some horrible after school special for the "special".

So tell me, what have YOU been up to? Now I'm sensitive about boring you with the details about my life but I'm not so sensitive about hearing the details of yours! Fill me in homeslice!

Here's a pic of Miles doing the homeschool thing.
The ducks are helping him with his math.

A little after the fact...

Kansas City has a new urban magazine called Ink and they thought it was a good idea to do a little piece about me and Chirp. I don't know about you but I have never done an interview and photo shoot before. In my head I have done a million, and I always sound so eloquent and sophisticated and cheeky up there in my head. But in real life I sounded more like a twelve year old who is painfully aware that her ears and teeth are too big for her head. "So, this is where I do stuff. And this is a quilt, I mean those are quilts, and this is my sewing machine. I like to make stuff like miniature things, um books, and you know stuff like that." Wow. Anyway the article turned out pretty good in spite of me.


Here is the link to their online mag.

Hugs

High Fives!

It's up, it's functional, it's hot and awesome, but it's not complete. But no bother, there's still enough there for you and all your neighbors to look at. It's in its infancy, and so am I for that matter (concerning website stuffs, not diaper wearing kind of stuffs), so will be growing on a daily basis only if you feed it, pet it, nurture it, and for the love of all kittens world wide don't leave it in the rain!

Thank you all for your patience, encouragement, and support. Can't wait to see you all again.

chirpdesigns.com

For any of you who might have missed it

Chirp Designs. New promo video, check it out. Thank you Luke.

We are Thompson. We are legion.

August 1st = Launch date of Chirp Designs and a relaunching of I Hate Laundry. Stay tuned for all the hits. Yeah, you want to click on that link.

Yeah, about that.....

Patience Iago, Chirpdesigns.com is taking a lot longer than I thought it would.

I don't know about you but I really hate it when I'm listening to Pandora.com and they slip Dave Matthews in on me and it inevitably turns my listening, for craps sake they just did it again! It happens no matter what station I'm listening to. Tonight I was listening to some Ratt and then the next thing I know it was "Grave Digger" by Dave and his members. I like Pandora for about oh, half an hour, and then it turns into hug a hippie fm.

The look of things to come...

http://chirpdesigns.com/

Friday night T 'n' H

We hosted a party Friday night for our friends from an organization that Luke used to work for. It was possibly one of the best times I've had in a very long while. Here's a little clip of some of the Friday night action!
Doesn't everybody refer to it as hoo-hoo?

Let's call this the comeback

All this time has come and gone.

Just because the light on “his” porch is flickering doesn’t mean that I should stop writing here. We’ve locked the doors, brought in the house plants, put up a privacy fence, dug a moat, and hung 'no trespassing' signs around the alligators’ necks.

Let’s step through the front door together and turn all the lights on in the house. Raise the curtains, open the windows, and let’s throw a party! I’ve been dragging these shadows around long enough. I think I better let it all go. Come on in and BYOB!
Angela and Qwingk have both tagged me separately with memes. For one I’m supposed to come up with a list of ten weird things about myself and for the other I’m to come up with a list of 8 things people may not know about me. For my comeback I’m going to go ahead and tackle those. But I’m not stopping there. I’m going to go ahead and let the good times roll and ramble on down this immodest and embarrassing road. It’s going to be a little bit stupid, a little bit embarrassing, a little bit ridiculous, very random, and a whole lot-a indecent exposure. Let’s get to know each other a little more shall we?

1. I simultaneously think I’m the world’s biggest loser and the best damned thing that ever lived.
2. I like eating dinner stuffs for breakfast. Be it meatloaf, fried chicken, or cold lo mein I’ll eat it as soon as I wake up.
3. I procrastinate a lot. My husband finds the ways in which I procrastinate a little disturbing. I like to waste time by looking up gory shark attacks, pictures of birth defects, and bizarre cases of mental illnesses, basically anything that is a bit gross or shocking.
4. I bite my nails.
5. I scratch my head when I’m falling asleep. This really annoys Luke.
6. I also intensely miss my children when I’m falling asleep.
7. I once lived in my car for a month while I was traveling Westward to find kind weather. I was 19.
8. My Westward journey brought me to San Diego. It was sunny, warm, and beautiful. I didn’t know anyone there.
9. I lasted only four months in sunny California. I was incredibly lonely and lost.
10. I was wearing velvet leopard print pants when Brian Setzer gave me a great big ol’ hug and told me that he’d like for me to meet his mom.
12. I clench my teeth and shiver uncontrollably when I’m having a big or serious conversation with someone.
13. I feel like crying when I’m having a discussion with someone about something that I’m passionate about and they hold a different view.
14. I cry when I get mad.
15. I cry like crazy when I get hurt. Even if the pain isn’t that bad. I can’t help it.
16. I say ouch out loud even if I escape from injury. For example, if it seems like I’m about to stub my toe I will still yell ouch even if my toe doesn’t make contact with anything.
17. I love to read.
18. I rarely remember the authors or the complete titles of the books I read.
19. I love music.
20. I rarely remember the artist or the name of the songs that I like.
21. Don’t even ask me what album.
22. While I was being born my dad was tripping on acid in a cave somewhere in Oklahoma.
23. I learned what a dime bag was before I learned how to spell my name.
24. I sit in the bathroom sink when I want to be alone and think about things. I’ve done this since I was a teenager. Your guess is as good as mine.
26. I’ve never been into drugs even though I grew up surrounded by them. But I failed to resist the genetic inclination towards cheap beer.
27. When I was 14 I pulled my own braces off with a pair of tiny pliers. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds.
28. I was a foster kid.
29. I ran away from home when I was 15 and never went back.
30. I’ve been homeless.
31. When I was homeless I gave my money away to other homeless people before I fully realized that I too was HOMELESS for crazysakes! I’ve never claimed to be very smart.
32. I’ve met Max Lucado and for some reason he thought I was a teenage single mother. When I tried to correct him I got a little carried away with the details. He politely but quickly interrupted me and made a hasty break for it.
33. I once looked like this:and this:now I look like this:
34. I love to watch Forensic Files.
35. I want to hold a midget.
36. I had some serious hardcore pornographic dreams when I was pregnant with my boys.
37. I've been bald.
38. I want a metal detector.
39. I've swam with alligators. Again, I never said I was very bright.
40. I wanted to be a rock star when I was a young Galadriel.
41. I have three brothers and one sister.
42. This is a picture of me and my older brother Gabriel when we were little:
43. This is a picture of Gabriel the year he died, he was fifteen (he's the one on the right):
44. I love to fish.
45. I once lived in an apartment across the hall from two women who had been on Jerry Springer.
46. I did some camera work and acted in an independent film.
47. I worked in Yellowstone when I was 18.
48. I went skydiving when I was there and here's a pic of me coming in for a landing:Yep, that's a dude strapped to my back.
49. When I was twelve I had surgery on both of my feet at the same time. I was horribly flat-footed and walked like a duck. I was in the 6th grade and had to go to school with a walker. At the time my mom packed my lunches in a bread bag. I had to hang my bread bag lunch over the front bar of the walker. Every time I took a step it would swing back and forth, back and forth. Needless to say, 6th grade was not a good time for me.
50. Morrissey once kissed my hand.
51. My sweetest friend and love of my life:



52. I was a theater nerd when I was younger:
53. My favorite photo of my dad (he's the skinny one with the cheap beer):
54. My favorite photo of my mom:
55. Four generations (I'm the one with the fro, just kidding that's my grandma, I'm the little blonde chunk in her arms):

I'm touched really if you made it all the way through that. Like I said earlier, I'm not going to go into the details about what's been going on but I've decided that I'm not going to quit writing here. In fact, as this post shows, I'm going to step it up and put it all out there! I've nothing to hide. I know certain people are going to continue to read this and find some random and not-at-all-related-to-them-in-any-way issue to freak out on. But hey, some people are just crazy and in need of some good therapy. I'm pretty sure though, that after what we have set up to protect ourselves, we won't be seeing any more of his comments. On here anyways.

Thank each and everyone of you for your kind words and support. I'm going to be contacting each one of you in the next couple of days. Either on your own blog or right here if you don't have one. I've missed you all muy mucho.

I'm supposed to tag some certain number of folk after this but instead I'm just tagging you all. Go on. Let your little light shine!

Tiptoeing

Trying to figure everything out all at once has left me half-awake. I am so incredibly overwhelmed by everyone's well wishes and concern. Thank you all for your kind words. I'm sorry for not updating sooner or for not replying to the comments you have left. I'm not supposed to talk about this situation any more here on the blog for various different reasons. This issue does not just affect my blog but our real lives too. Luke and I have talked everything through and have taken measures we think are necessary and right to get this harassment to stop. Certain people have been contacted and actions are pending. We are doing ok.

I've been woefully out of touch with you all, and I'm sorry. I'll post again here in the next couple of days. Hope you and yours are staying glued together. I wish you all so much love and a wonderful holiday.

love, hugs, kisses, and bugs
galadriel

Don't let the bastards grind you down

Several years ago a group of us friends and our spouses decided that we would all start up individual blogs. It was fun to read and comment on each other's posts. The comments took on a life of their own and became the true focus and fun of the blogs. We all took funny and lighthearted jabs at each other through the comments. You had to read each blog and their comments to get the full scope of the joke that was developing and unfolding. It moved on only when someone took it a bit too far with either something incredibly gross or laughably scandalous. We all sort of fell off of blogging for awhile and some no longer have one. I started back up when I launched Chirp. Through that little endeavor I found wonderful blogs that were family and art & craft oriented. They inspired me. So I took my blog off in yet another direction. I have truly loved writing about my family and our adventures. I never thought I would develop friendships through my blogging. But I have been truly amazed by the lovely people who have commented here and have made some awesome friends because of it.

But over the past couple of months someone has been taking advantage of the comments option to harass me. The first time it happened it really caught me off guard and kind of shook me up. Of course they said what they wanted behind the posture of anonymity. I thought it a bit perplexing that a stranger would leave such comments. That is until we quickly figured out that we knew this Anonymous. It knocked the air right out of me. The revelation of this person's identity was devastating and horrifying. It was because we knew this person that made the comments so frightening. I would have been able to have distanced myself from a strangers comments but this was different. It was an invasion and I felt extremely violated. Since the first time it happened I have really slowed down on posting. I've been getting nervous and a little sick to my stomach right before I post something or check the comments expecting to be met by more malice. I recently deleted an entire post not because it was offensive or I decided that I didn't like it. I deleted it because this person used it to attack me. The comments were so dark and hateful that I first just deleted the comments. The frightening thing was that every time I deleted Anonymous' comments he immediately posted another more threatening one. It felt like one of those situations in the movies when the phone rings and the person answers it and is frightened to death because the person on the other end begins to narrate that person's every action and starts to ask about how the children are upstairs. It freaked me out so bad that I just deleted the whole thing.

This person should know better. This person should also know that some day my kids are going to want to read this blog and will be horrified and hurt to know that this was the way this person talked to and spoke of their mom.

Another person is using my blog and the things I choose to share as a means of victimization. That somehow the fact that I'm in school and that she never had the chance or the means to go to school is in some way my fault. She has accused my life of being perfect and carefree and that the happy pictures of my family and friends have somehow made her unhappy. I've been getting emails filled with anger and judgment, mostly based on things they have seen on my blog.

All of this has left me feeling so at a loss. What I used to do for fun has now become something that feels violated and tainted. The past couple of months I've been questioning the purpose of keeping a blog at all. I have lost the joy I once had at documenting and sharing our lives with the wonderful people I've met through this blog. Like I said, I think I would have an easier time with this if these people were strangers. But it creeps me out that these are people that we know. Just knowing that they read my blog gives me the heebie-jeebies and it has affected how I feel about the whole thing now.

I know that having a public blog opens you up to all sorts of things, but I guess I never thought something like this would happen. So I'm kind of not knowing what to do right now. Part of me thinks, "Oh, to hell with them," but the other part of me is freaked the crap out.

Why do you blog?

Deleted Post

I had a post up. Took it down. In the meantime, if you feel like it, you can go check out some photos of Danger Baby and some ladybugs and pics of Luke's 30th surprise birthday party over in my flickr account!

Cheers!

I Hate Laundry's Person of the Month

Since I am so busy these days and have very little time to post I thought I would resurrect some old categories and bring forth some new ones just so that both you and I know what to expect. The old categories will be, "The Reluctant Domestic" & "The World According to Miles & Isobel; a Pictorial Perspective from a Five & Four Year Old." "Come unto me, and I will sell you something for five dollars in Spanish" is a relatively new one that I will continue, but the newest one of all will be "I Hate Laundry's Person of the Month." I will randomly pick the Person of the Month from IHL's readers pool. So if you have ever left a comment on here your name will go into the bucket. If you haven't left a comment but would like to be added to the bucket then contact me by tying your name to the ankle of your homing monkey and send it my way. If your name is drawn you will get the awesome duty of responding to a list of interview questions that I will create specifically for you. Who knows, I might even send you an unrelated and probably pretty random gift.

To inaugurate this exciting new category I decided to bestow Luke with IHL's first ever "Person of the Month" for October. He turns 30 in a couple of days and I thought it was fitting to gift him with my attention and shine some light on his awesomeness for all of the world to see. Here is the following interview:

IHL: So, you’re the IHL person of the month? What are you going to do with that power?

Luke: I believe that our education like such as in South Africa, and the Iraq,
everywhere like such as… and, I believe they should uh, our education over here,
in the U.S. should help the U.S. or should help South Africa,
and should help the Iraq and Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future,
for us.

IHL: Yeah, ok. Just so the readers know where you’re coming from and to give them a little background I’m going to ask some lame questions here quickly.

Nicknames: “Admiral Teabag”
Height: 6’4”
Eye color: Green
Age: 30 on October 30th
Occupation: Science teacher, professional appreciator.

IHL: Food likes and dislikes?

Luke: Guac,

IHL: Body hair, if yes, where, what color, how long, and does it form any shapes? You know, like how sometimes clouds can look like Falcor?

Luke: My chest is known in some circles as “The Tree of Life”. The roots wrap round my navel, the uppermost branches poke out of the top of my shirts, and it even includes a falling apple.

IHL: Speaking of Falcor, you remind me a lot of Bastian from that movie. Did you watch that movie, and if so did you ever find yourself identifying with Bastian or did you just want to make out with the Childlike Empress?

Luke: No.

IHL: Why don’t you tell the internets what your thoughts were when you first saw/met me.

Luke: You had short black hair, and your best friend Brooke was practically sitting on your lap at a coffeehouse when I met you. My first thought was a combination of the two keywords most frequently googled by Midwestern perverts: “Asian Lesbian”.

IHL: You have a degree in both English and biology. Do these degrees have any significance concerning your sometimes cheesy taste in music?

Luke: What the hell is up with this “interview”?

IHL: What are your guilty pleasures?

Luke:
A. Sliced hot dogs in bowl of peanut butter, microwaved until pb melts a little.
B. Everclear (only Sparkle and Fade, not the later touchy-feely crap), Blink 182, and Madonna

IHL: Yeah, gross on all of that.
IHL: I don’t want to ask you anything about politics or religion especially about global warming or your thoughts on evolution. Does that make you think less of me? Does that make you think I don’t care about such things? Does that make you think that I’m shallow and unconcerned about important things? WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME! IS IT ME? IT’S ME ISN’T IT!

Luke: Sweet baby Jesus you’re weird.

IHL: Do you still like me?

Luke: Yes.

IHL: Am I cute to you? (I better be the most fracking beautiful woman you’ve ever seen!)

Luke: I confirm your cuteness 450 times a day.

IHL: If you could do magic stuff what kind of magic stuff would you do? Keep it clean! You can show me that magic stuff later; )

IHL: Who are your man-crushes? Why do you like them? Explain what a man crush is? You’ll get five points for each question answered honestly and without perversion.

Luke: A “Man-Crush” is a slight infatuation that one completely and totally heterosexual man develops on another man, usually born out of extreme, lasting admiration for either specific, impressive skills or general awesomeness. I can imagine that if I were to have a “Man-Crush”, Bruce Willis might possibly possess the certain general awesomeness. Seriously. He’s friggin’ awesome.

IHL: How would you respond to me if I told you that “we danced like waves on the ocean?"

IHL: Um, ok, movin on then...

IHL: Do you mind that I think Bruce Springsteen and Willie Nelson are pretty darn cool and if they were lots younger I would want to hug them real tight?

Luke: Bruce gets a bit sweaty, and you just know that Willie smells seriously weird, so go to town.

IHL: Hey I could have asked you something about Johnny Depp! Arrr!

IHL: Did you ever think you would marry a girl from Oklahoma? Explain.

Luke: I guess not. I always thought that Oklahoma was chock full of backwards, braless, toothless spandex-clad folks, you know, who looked a bit genetically “off” and made livings by selling weird little tiger and dragon figurines at flea markets. And then you took me down to Oklahoma, and I realized that they also sell lots and lots of samurai swords and used fishing bait, too.

IHL: Word! What are the last thoughts that pass through your mind as you’re falling asleep?

IHL: Because whatever it is must be something crazy! You take over the bed like it’s the last corn dog in the world!

IHL: Ok, would you rather have a hungry weevil dropped down into your ear while you were strapped to a table OR would you rather have to listen to me sing?

IHL: Hey, are you asleep? You are sleeping! Wake up Hondo...

As you can see he didn't answer all of the questions. Maybe he ran out of time, or he had a deficit in brain activity, or maybe it was me and the questions. Yeah, it was probably me. Anyway, what a sport huh? So get ready and prepare yourself to be November's, "I Hate Laundry's Person of the Month!" I'm kind of thinking you don't have a say in it. If you get chosen and you don't want to participate I'll just answer the questions for you and then deny I did it. I know, I am an incredibly kind and fair person. Humble too.

Just one of the many last times

I posted a long time ago about Danger Baby and his new ability to crawl out of his crib. He really didn't crawl out so much as he threw himself out. Luke and I would be downstairs trying to relax after successfully shuffling three small children off to bed when we would hear a loud thump and crash followed by riotous outbursts of laughter and the furious pitter-pattering of feet racing across the floor. Danger Baby found all this attention too much to pass up and proceeded to throw himself out of his crib every night over and over again. Each time he would injure himself in some way but never cried about it. I was worried sick that he would break his neck even after surrounding his crib with a million pillows, blankets, and marshmallows. To him, my efforts to soften his falls were signs that we approved of his nightly escapes. It was all too much for me to take. So we took down his crib and set up the bottom bunk as his new bed.

As a mother it's not hard to find things to get sad about. We get sad when we have to pack away the newborn clothes and bring out the new 3-6 month items, we get teary eyed when they take their first steps, we fall apart the first time we leave them with someone other than our husbands, and breaking down and packing away their crib is no different. It's just this time is so much more sad and heavy. This is the last time. Danger Baby is our last. Before I left the hospital I called my husband's doctor to schedule the old "cut and snip." When you see the size of Danger Baby's head at birth you will forgive me.

We took his crib down several months ago but I have just now finished rearranging the boys' room. I was very sad the day we took his crib down and I still sometimes feel a little tightening of the heart when I tuck Danger Baby into his big boy bed. Tonight when I went up there to tuck them all in I turned around and felt my stomach drop when I saw a desk and chair in the spot where his crib used to be. Their room is such a big boys room now and I'm having a bit of a hard time moving on. I know there are so many fun things in store but it's such a final chapter you know?







Does anyone else do this?
Now instead of the loud crashes and thumpings, we deal with the silent creepings and the midnight revelations of a huge baby sitting on our chests trying to stuff toys up our noses.