Busy, much?

So, I guess I officially suck at blogging.

But you know what? I don't really care. I still love it, and will blog when I can, but I guess I don't feel like I NEED to have an update every day, every week, or even every month. I can't force it, right?

***

I've been busy, too. Kinda keeping a few things under my hat for now, but I've been drawing again. Well, doodling, really. But the doodling morphed from small doodles (like the one at the left) to bigger ones, to stuff people might actually call "ART" on some occasions. This, in turn, has also morphed into some actual pen/ink/colored-pencil drawing. Again, I'm going to keep some of it to myself for now, but in the meantime, what I can tell you is that my ETSY store is open again! (There's a link on the right under the heading of "My Hobbies" - in case you're interested.)

The doodling (especially) and drawing has been fun and, more than I ever could have anticipated or imagined, has been amazingly soothing for me. So, though my thumb feels like someone has poured cement into the joints and the writing callus on my middle finger is slightly sore and definitely more pronounced, I'm creating something tangible again. Not just writing creepy micro-fiction, though I haven't let that go, either. Hey - you love what you love, right?

***

In other news:

• The month of March brought my kids each another year. Boy-child is now 14 and Girl-child is now 11. Please, pray for me. Mostly they're great kids, but every now and then I wonder, "It's wrong to kill my kids, isn't it?" Parenting is most DEFINITELY NOT for the faint of heart.
• I had dental issues. Well, one tooth in particular decided it didn't want or need to be in my mouth any more and tried to commit suicide. It was especially horrifying for me because I'm legitimately terrified of the dentist. I was quite proud of myself for handling the dental visit and subsequent oral surgery to remove the tooth without winding up in a padded room. I still have the dental implant process and eventual crown to look forward to (ha ha) but at least, at this point, I know I can handle it. I don't have to like something to be able to deal with it, do I?
• The Puppet Ministry I'm part of at our church is beginning to branch out. It is something else I truly love and, though the work isn't easy, it's fun. We now have a YouTube channel at H.I.S. Puppeteers, so check it out! Make sure to subscribe and ring the bell so you'll know when we upload a new video. Also, we've started taking the show on the road (Have puppets; will travel!) and so far, we have two shows in April on the same weekend, one in May, and an entire week booked at a Christian camp in Indiana in June! 

So, the humans at Chez Shell are fine, the felines are fat and happy and spoiled, and (as applicable) school and work are all going well. We are all truly looking forward to warmer weather so we can spend some time outside. The kids want to build a Bird Garden in the backyard, so we're collecting bird feeders and houses right now, and, once things smooth out weather-wise, I'll dig in with them and help because it sounds like such a neat idea and will be fun to do something like that with them.

I guess that's it!

TTFN
JMS

Dear Boy-child *OR* One Mother's Guilt

Dear Boy-child,

Sunday was your 13th birthday. I know I didn't do anything - really - to help you celebrate. I feel awful about it. My reasoning still stands, however. You've got to make an effort in your room, and with your other chores. We talked several times about consequences, and, unfortunately, that meant no major birthday celebration on a momentous birthday which should have been celebrated in a big way. You only become a teenager once in your life. I'm not blaming you for anything. I was just trying to be consistent in my parenting and discipline. But in hindsight, we should have celebrated. I'm so sorry. I know you feel let down. And I definitely feel like an awful mother.

I remember my own 13th birthday. My mom and dad (your Grandma Mary and Grandpa Bruce) purchased a huge motor home and took off on a trip across the country to see the sights. They were gone for several weeks, which happened to mean they were gone for the entire month of October and, therefore, gone for my birthday. I was so upset they weren't there, and to this day, it still bothers me. What I didn't understand at the time was how sick Grandma Mary really was. I guess they figured they should take the opportunity to go on that trip while she still felt well enough to go. I have postcards - tucked away, safely - from them, during that trip. I'll show them to you some day. They're painful for me to look at, because they remind me of my mom, and some of them are in her handwriting, and also because of my stupid missed birthday. Sometimes, I imagine they smell like her...which is probably weird.

But I'm not dying. I'm not even sick. Your father and I did not take a whirlwind trip across the country and leave you with family members and friends to take care of you. We should have celebrated your 13th birthday.

I'm sorry.

I love you so much. I am so proud of the young man you are. You make me a better person; I mean that quite literally.

Thank you for being you.

Love,
Mom

Birthdays and Head Lice

I did the thing.  The thing where I wrote and wrote and wrote - telling all about my weekend. Which, truthfully, was not awesome. And then, I realized no one really wanted to hear anything about the little stupid details of my entire weekend, so I just erased the entire thing. Poof! Gone. Clean slate. Sticking to important stuff.

I'm starting over.

The very most important and significant thing which happened this weekend was that Boy-child is now an official teenager! He turned 13 on Sunday. Newly-minted and all that.

I will say that I didn't have one thing planned for him - which, as I alluded to in my last post - made me feel like the world's most awful mother. But he got to go to a trampoline park with friends and get his very first fishing license. Since he is a fisherman of some surprising ability, getting his licence was a very good thing. He is super-excited. I think he half-hopes to be asked to prove he's licensed. (So, TVA/TWRA folks - if you're listening - if you see a 4'9" blond kid somewhere in the vicinity of The Secret City, ask him to show you his license. He'll get a kick out of it!)

I did bake him a cake, though. Which, even though it kind of fell apart on me, icing and decorations hid it pretty well. I guess that's something.

The other thing which happened this weekend, which, while certainly not as important or significant, is not to be left out - and if you find it gross, I don't care - is we discovered Girl-child had head lice!

OH MY GOODNESS YOU SHOULD HAVE HEARD THE SCREAMING!

Though, admittedly, finding one has bugs in one's hair is scary, the screaming and crying was over-the-top! I tried to calm her down. I explained this was a relatively easy fix and all I had to do was go to the store and get some stuff. (Side Note: As I was kneeling in front of her, with my hands on her face assuring her she was not, in fact, dying, she said, "Mom, you have a lot of gray in your hair!" Yes. Yes I do. And you just gave me twelve more.)  I left her - red-faced and puffy - wrapped in a towel sitting in the bathroom while I ran to Walgreens.

The pharmacist there was super nice and helpful and answered all my questions because I haven't dealt with lice before and had no idea what to do. Head lice has a stigma that comes with it, but I suppose maybe not as much as it used to. I'd certainly never seen them before. But the pharmacist assured me it was extremely common and easily treatable. Where Girl-child picked up the awful critters is anyone's guess - but I have a couple of thoughts on the matter.

As we were treating her noggin, I messaged anyone I knew she'd come into contact with that day and apologized, suggesting they also check their children.

The entire process, start-to-finish, took TWO HOURS! She finally went to bed (clean sheets; the others, along with all blankets, etc, got stripped off and washed immediately) at about 10:30PM.

The pharmacist suggested I, too, treat myself. Yay. (Hear that sarcasm?) So I did. Repeating the procedure on my own head.  So I am - and truthfully already was - bug/nit free.  Even so, I've got psychosomatic itching, which, more than anything is simply annoying.

So, poor Boy-child ended his relatively uneventful 13th birthday listening to his sister scream. (Yes, he was checked, too: nothing.)

Yay for weekends! I need a nap.

TTFN
JMS

Crying over Turkeys

I guess I should probably write something.  I feel not only like I've been neglecting my poor blog, but also my poor readers - should there still be any.  This time of year, as I'm sure everyone knows, is not only hectic, but frustrating, stressful, and - for many - sad.  Yes, I said sad.

Today would have been my mother's birthday.  Mary Pamela Nolton Greening.  Born on December 15, 1947.  She would have been 68 years old.  (I think I've got all that right.)  I've written about her before on this blog whenever an anniversary comes up - either date of her birth or date of her death - so for those who may have been following me for some time this won't be new information.

Yesterday, I was weepy all day long.  Anything could have set me off.  Even turkeys.  Walking back from the cafeteria to my office I saw some turkeys wandering around in front of my building and, as I got closer I thought, "Those birds are actually kinda beautiful up close," and then proceeded to get all teary-eyed for no reason I could discern.  I did this multiple times (wound up with dripping eyes for no reason) and finally decided I was just annoying myself and went to bed.  I guess it doesn't help that I don't feel 100% right now, either.  I'm sure it's just a cold, but in my "weakened" state, I feel vulnerable...therefore, weepy.  I'll get over it.

It didn't really occur to me until this morning that I must have been subconsciously remembering mom's birthday.  So, though it's been 26 years since she left us for the big playground in the sky, I still get sad.  And, among the discussions of Christmas and trees and decorations and gifts and (as I said before) the me, me, me, mine, mine, mine brand of selfishness this time of year engenders, I think of my mother today and remember the brief 15 years I had with her.

Happy Birthday, Mom.

TTFN
JMS

Birthday Weekend

My birthday was a couple of days ago and, a few days prior to that, my family wanted to know what I wanted to do to celebrate.  I couldn’t think of a single thing I wanted to do.   I’d already requested the day off from work, so that, in itself, was a small – restful – celebration.  (Don’t get me wrong, I actually really love my job, but it’s good to take a day off every now and again, if for no other reason than it being Fall Break and wanting to spend time with my family.)  So, I carefully considered what I wanted and came up with: Coffee brought to me in bed (check); a bike ride down by the lake (check); a picnic lunch (check); a round of mini-golf (check; and thanks to a Groupon it was half-price); and dinner at Cheddar’s (check).  To that, my family added going for ice cream (check) and seeing a movie (check).

To top it off, while we were picnicking down by the lake, hubby spotted a bald eagle and we spent some time watching him as he perched in a tree across the water.  That was pretty amazing.  I’d never seen a bald eagle outside of captivity before, and the ones I have seen had been injured in some way as to make them unable to be released back into the wild.  Talk about a majestic birthday gift!

Next year, I think I am going to ask for a pair of super-duper-uber-schmooper binoculars so, if my Birthday Eagle happens to comes back (and you can be sure I’ll be watching), I will be able to see him more closely and clearly.

The kids and I also went to a local festival on Saturday, which was lots and lots of fun, and on Sunday, I spent quite a large portion of the day at church for one thing or another.  I performed two small puppet shows (one, four-minute song, performed at two separate services) and had practice for the full puppet show later that afternoon.  Suffice it to say, my right arm is killing me.  Being involved in the puppet ministry is such fun; a perfectly acceptable way to unleash my inner weird person!

That is all, I think, for today.  I will return to my usual sarcastic, critical, and observational self another day.  I’m not sure you, my beloved readers, could handle too much happy on this blog.

TTFN

JMS

Boy-child's birthday

Today is boy-child’s 11^th birthday!  (Well, actually, in …Off on a Tangent world, which is my virtual world, which is me, mostly, boy-child’s birthday was yesterday since I’m usually about a day behind reality here.)  Anyway, boy-child is officially a year older, and so, therefore, am I.

He was born early – about 7 weeks – and while that’s not really as early as some other premature babies, it was certainly scary enough for this first-time mother.  He spent the first twelve days of his life in the NICU at Children’s Hospital getting a suntan (he was slightly jaundiced) and being fed through a tube (he didn't have a suck-reflex, so he had to learn it).  Visiting him there was scary, too – but I couldn't stay away.

One night, hubby and I had gone home for the night with the intent of returning to the hospital first thing the next morning, and I had an anxiety attack just before midnight absolutely convinced something was wrong with boy-child.  All alone.  In an incubator.  In a big scary hospital.  All alone.  Alone.  SOB!  So hubby drove my hyperventilating-self to Children’s Hospital (a 30 mile drive, mind you) so I could see our little baby boy.

Boy-child was so tiny.  Born at 4lbs 6.8oz and 17 ¾ inches long.  He had a full head of black hair which, as he got older, all fell out and grew back blonde.  He had giant brown eyes.  Giant.  And he had a way of peeking at you from under these mile-long eyelashes – even as a tiny infant – that just melted your heart.  He had a huge noggin!  As he got a little older and started sitting up, that head, more often than not, was the reason he couldn't keep his balance and tipped right over.

As a now 11-year old, not much has changed except that he’s bigger, and he has grown into his head.  He still has huge brown eyes and long, dark eyelashes, though, and he makes use of them regularly because he knows just the right look will still melt my heart and he can get just about whatever he wants.  (I’m really not a pushover, though, and he doesn't really get whatever he wants, but darn it!  He’s hard to resist!)  I just love him to pieces.

Happy birthday, buddy!  I love you!

TTFN

JMS (a.k.a. “Mom”)

The Pecking Order of Stuffed Animals

It’s a still dark outside, bleary-eyed, heavy-headed, shuffling, door-jamb-holding, not-enough-coffee-in-the-world kind of morning.  And no, I’m not hung over.  What I am is sleep and caffeine deprived.  Plus, like everyone else (or, most everyone else) I am dealing with the loss of an hour in my day which, apparently, affects me more strongly in my middle-age than in my younger, stronger, thinner years.  I feel thoroughly abused this morning.

***

I officially have an eight year old.  Good grief, where has the time gone?  Yesterday, we spent a wonderful day celebrating girl-child’s birthday, which included lunch, a trip to Build-a-Bear, an afternoon on a trampoline in a friend’s back yard, and making pizza.   Her new bear (which is really a tiger, I am told) is “Izzy” and, according to girl-child, going to have some trouble making friends with the other animals...especially “Cathy” – the stuffed golden retriever she got from Build-a-Bear on her birthday last year. 

Cathy has been girl-child’s constant companion every day for the last year and is very obviously a well-loved friend.  Last night, girl-child made it very clear that Cathy tends to be a little jealous of newcomers and made a big show of introducing Cathy to Izzy and explaining that they needed to learn to get along.  Cathy grudgingly allowed Izzy to sleep next to girl-child last night as it was Izzy’s first night in the house.  I suggested to girl-child that she rotate nights snuggling with her stuffed friends, to which she replied, “We’ll see, mom.  Cathy will have to decide.”  

The jury is still out.

TTFN

JMS