We are outta here!

Shedding this cabin and hopefully the fever that has gone with it! We're heading to the Great Wolf Lodge! The kids are so excited! I am so excited! Plus we will get to see a good friend of ours who happens to be in town while we are there. We only get to see him every couple of years.

very very excited!

see you all Thursday!

Dark night of the soul...

I need to share something with you. I have been diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Mainly manifesting itself as Religious Scrupulosity. I'm bringing it up now, because while Chowder is interviewing for new positions and our household future is up in the air, my OCD is "flaring." I am not on medication because I am breastfeeding. My therapist suggested that I try journaling to help rid my mind of some of my obsessions.

After panicking so badly that I almost threw-up, I explained that to write down the horrendous morbid thoughts that plague my mind would make them concrete. It would ensure them actually happening. There was no way. He suggested then that I write them down using fictional characters in the role of my various loved ones. I'm not completely sure that I can do that, but we'll see.

So, I started another blog. WAIT! Do not go rushing over there. There are images there right now that you do not want to see. They are horrid, tragic, and unfortunately real. The content over there will be, by intent, incredibly morbid and melodramatic. I will also not be censoring my language. I will post this link, just once. (you can reach it through my profile) The comments are disabled.

My reflections over there are not of my true faith. my true belief in God. They are distorted by this mental illness. I welcome any prayers that you would like to offer up for the healing of my mind, but I don't need advice on reading the bible more or any other theological teachings. I am seeing a therapist and soon a spiritual director. Chowder has tried to help me be more rational and understand the nature of God. This is not the problem. I know the obsessions are irrational. I know that worrying about things out of my control is not productive. I know these things.

My obssessions focus around my motherhood and the undeserved blessings that have been bestowed upon me. I feel the need to be the perfect mother, so as to deserve the children that God has given me and not incite him to take them back. That is the big umbrella. The smaller compulsions that fall under it are many and varied. My first post on the other blog is an example of one of my "penances." I couldn't figure out at first whether my morbid behavior was an obsession or a compulsion. But, after writing it down and thinking more about it, I realized it was a complusion. A penance. Because I have done nothing to deserve living my life in the company of my beautiful children, and yet I have been crabby and distant with them lately. Since, I have my children with me I owe it to them and those that have lost their children, to be a perfect mother. If I'm not, God might notice that and take them back.

I know I know. You are chomping at the bit to try and make me feel better. to tell me how we are all crabby and distant sometimes. how God doesn't work that way. And some of you, my darling friends will still try. I love you for that. But the reason I put that paragraph in italics is because it is completely irrational and I know that. I will continue to post about my faith which is seperate from my mental illness.

Time for another Boobfest Rant...

According to a Tacoma, Washington mother she and others have been kicked off MySpace for posting pictures of themselves BreastFeeding. People! It's a Freakin' mammory gland! That is it's purpose! Does it also participate in other activites? Yes. yes it does. Is it participating in that activity in these pictures? No. no it is not. I'm sorry. I just don't understand the confusion?! My husband understands the difference. When I'm feeding one of his children he responds by feeling protective and loving. When I slip into bed in my skivvies, he responds...well, that one you know.

I get so angry about this stuff. I just don't get it. I am a very discreet public breasfeeder. I wear nursing tops when I'm in public or nurse with the baby in a sling. Most people never even know I'm nursing. I'm not interested in exposing myself to all number of people.

Every night on TV, every time I open a magazine, every movie I go to see there are breasts presented in the most sexual of manners and many times completely exposed, but a mammory gland...doing it's job...offends and disgusts people. I don't get it. I just don't get it.

ahhh forget it. I've got nothing more to say on this one.

If you're interested, here's the online petition.

I took Behemoth in to get washed today. As I was waiting for the poor guys to finish vacuuming and washing the windows, a man standing next to me waiting for HIS car to get finished said,
"Um. Ma'am, Your car is done."
"sorry?"
"Your car. Isn't that your car?" and he pointed to this cute little sporty coupe.
Stifling back a laugh (and some tears) I said, "No. THAT is mine." and pointed at Behemoth.
very surprised "Oh! I just assumed that one was yours."

I almost asked him if he wanted to steal it with me and we could run away...but the patch of hair peeking out from under the back of his collar woke me from my moment of insanity.

me. in a sporty coupe. *swoon*

Love is....

letting go of hate. even when you don't know it's there...

A neighbor today, referred to us as "Urban Pioneers."

I cannot tell you how crazy offensive I find this term. It's a rather common title that young white couples call themselves as they rehab the crumbling mansions in our neighborhood. They will tell you that they aren't racist and that it isn't a racist comment. But, they are wrong. As I have mentioned before, we live in an inner city neighborhood that we happen to love. We are firmly in the minority (30% white), and this has been such a cool thing for my kids. One of their favorite places is the Natural Uhru hair salon on our corner. They love my kids there. They have a giant butterfly painted on the wall, and handmade dolls dressed in traditional African attire. They also usually have pastries which my kids gobble down. When we walk by on the way to the playground, the owner or another of the women there, will come out and call the kids in, or wave happily to my children's noseprints on the windows. And they laugh when Jellybean wants them to style her white blonde, pin straight, baby fine hair. She wants braids.

My kids love running to our next door neighbor's house and ringing her doorbell to find out what that wonderful smell is coming from her Puerto Rican kitchen. My kids love watching Jade and Jasmin (identical twin girls) rollerskate. Jellybean likes to chase behind them yelling, "Black girl! Black girl! I love your rollerskates!" I used to cringe when she yelled this. But Jade told me it was because she couldn't tell them apart. or maybe it was Jasmine. My kids love running across the street to pet Sr. Jeanne's cat. They love shouting "hello!" and "What a beautiful day!" to the "boys that have their pants falling off." They love Enrico's dog (whom I hate) that has managed to get into our house.

This is our neighborhood. Are there problems with gangs? Yes. lots. We have to be careful around initiation season. Our 95 year old office volunteer was mugged outside of the church in broad daylight. (What 95 year old lady do you know who carries cash around with them?!) There are drug dealers on the next block up. We face alot of anger and skepticism because we are white and serving a black neighborhood.

But, the idea that we are "Pioneers?" It just boils my blood!

As if we have come to settle this neighborhood and reclaim it from the "savages." What in the world, people?! But, really. I mean the reality. This is exactly the mindset. Chowder and I have commented before on the "reservations" that the African Americans in our city are pushed onto. We lived near a reservation in Minnesota and the similarities are striking. Neighborhoods that time and white government forgot. The people are living in falling down buildings, not getting any education, turning to drugs and alcohol from despair and hopelessness. There are actually neighborhoods that white people don't even know about within the urban city limits, that don't have paved roads! Paved roads! Generation after generation, on the Rez. That is until of course someone wants to "reclaim" that neighborhood and make it all bright and shiny for themselves again. So, they call on their old friend Eminent Domain. Give the woman in our church $15,000 for her house where she is raising 3 grandchildren and call that a fair price. Of course she can't afford to buy one of the houses that will be replacing her own, so she has to move. With all the other poor people. Relocate to another reservation.

And now I am no longer surprised by the comment from a teenage girl in our church. The daughter of Congolese refugees. She told us, "You know. Since I've met you guys, I don't hate all white people anymore." indeed. Somedays, I need to intentionally, forcefully let go of the hate, myself.

Happy Love Thursday

Well, let's just say...

My week started out with Chowder and I sitting in the family room watching TV. We hear something come tumbling down the steps. This is an hourly occurence so we don't pay it much mind. Then, Jellybean comes in. Rather meekly she says,



"I made a big noise. Did you hear it?"
"Yes, I did hear that noise. What was that?"
"ummmm. It was your camera."

*silence*

more calm than I feel, "Could you go get it for me?"

Jelly bean crumbles into tears. "ok."

In the hall I hear her whisper to Meatball, "Could you go give this to Mama?" and she runs upstairs.

Meatball brings me my camera. Well, what is left of my camera. Chowder tries to stick pieces back on it, but it's done. And here I thought I was going to get to buy a Dyson with our tax refund. ah well. Chowder announces that this is where children cost more money. Replacing the things that they break. Two weeks ago we had to get a new optical drive for our iMac. not cheap. Now, the camera. At least it was an older, obsolete camera. I mean 3 megapixels?! C'mon!

but I really wanted that Dyson...
Are the Fisher Price pictures that bad?

Laundry...

For whatever reason, there are two topics about larger families that seem to hold the imagination of people with only one or two children. The first being the grocery shopping/grocery bill. The second being laundry. If I enter into a conversation that turns to the size of my family, one or both topics are sure to make an appearance. It doesn't bother me, it just fascinates me. The quick answer to both questions is -- They are big jobs. Since today is one of my two designated laundry days each week, I'll talk about laundry. My friends with larger families than mine will probably give me a patronizing giggle at the amount of laundry I have, but we will all pretend not to notice.

Now, let me set things up by telling you how much I lurve my laundry room. I mean deep devoted lurve. I have for years done laundry in dark, dank basements until this house. We live in a renovated 110 year old two-family flat that has been converted into a single family residence. They brilliantly decided to turn the upstairs flat's kitchen into my beautiful laundry room. Yes, that means it's on the 2nd floor, you know the floor with all the bedrooms and two of the bathrooms. That's right I don't have to carry laundry up and down 2 flights of steps. It is 12ft X 10ft. It has two gi-normous windows and get this, a balcony that gets full sun. So, In the spring, summer and part of the fall I can put my drying racks out on the balcony. *yay* I get giddy just thinking about it. There is room for my ironing table and my big laundry table and my hanging rack and oh! It has a nice little closet. No lie, one of the things that causes me great anxiety as Chowder searches for another job, is the idea that I will have to go back to basement. The only thing that would make this room perfect, would be a lovely set of high capcity, high efficiency washer and dryer. but alas, I have a hand-me down washer and basic of basic dryers.

When I do laundry, I must have new bag of Runts candy from the bulk bins.

First, I only do laundry two days a week. That's it. You don't get the favorite dress you want to wear to your playdate into the laundry basket my Sunday night, you're out of luck. Mondays I do clothing and Thursdays I do household laundry. On Mondays I do roughly 7 or 8 loads plus 1 load of diapers. Each person in the family has a washtub that is their "laundry bucket" they are all (ok. not Ladybug) responsible for putting their own clean laundry away, and putting their dirties into the hamper in the laundry room. Everything is folded and sorted into their buckets except socks. (All children's socks are kept in a bin under the bench by the front door along with the bin of children's shoes.) I then iron about six or seven shirts and four or five pairs of pants. I do not sort adult socks, they all get thrown into the white laundry basket for you to find yourself.

On Thursdays, everyone strips their beds (ok, except Ladybug) and I then put new sheets on and remake the beds. Once a month I wash quilts, mattress covers and shower curtains. I wash all of the sheets, table linens, towells, cleaning rags, pot holders and rugs. Usually another six or seven loads, plus 1 load of diapers. I then iron all of the table linens and a couple of sheets Grandma bought that are a horrendous mess when they come out of the dryer. I only iron the top sheets and pillowcases.

Both days usually are completely consumed by the laundry task, but I never could do the one-load-a-day thing. I'd rather take two days a week and get it all done instead of leaving loads to mildew in the washer or never get folded out of the dryer. This system works much better for me. Plus, I get alot of alone time. That's a lie. I always have lots of "help" and a little help.