Friday, July 6, 2012


Well. The laundry room is better. Not perfect, but better. 
Who knew we had fifteen flashlights and approximately one hundred and fourteen lightbulbs?
And three dog toenail clippers? We only have two dogs and they go to the groomer. Pearl, whom the clippers were bought for originally is DEAD. Okay? She's gone.
And two lint rollers? I don't personally remember rolling any lint in the past year.
And enough old rags to start a rag factory or cause spontaneous combustion, one or the other.
And three toilet plungers? We do have three toilets but what are the odds that they're going to all need plunging at the same time?
God forbid.
I threw out a dryer rack for drying sweaters that fit in a dryer we don't even own any more. And we never once used that rack anyway.
There was more.
For example: Enough mouse traps for fifteen houses.
And a lot of this shit is piled up because we have it but we don't realize it.
"Didn't I buy some mousetraps last year?"
Yes. Mousetraps were bought and then deposited into the Bermuda Triangle of that laundry room, never to be seen again until today.

Stuff. I swear- life all completely about stuff, no matter how much we wish to deny it. Going to work to  be able to buy stuff and we're always buying more stuff and then we have to throw away stuff and why the entire planet isn't one big landfill is beyond me.

I went to town. Lily opened this morning and Jason is closing so that meant a one-hour overlap in which they needed childcare. So I got a little Gibson cuddling. Owen was asleep the entire time.


I hold him. I croon to him. I give him a bottle. And can I just say something here? Back when I was a nursing mother, they warned and warned and WARNED us not go give our nursling babies any sort of nipple. Not one attached to a bottle or to a pacifier. Why? Because of the Dreaded Nipple Confusion.
What crap.
It turns out that babies aren't confused about nipples at all. If they are offered a bottle, they will take it. If they are offered a breast, they will take it. 
If both are offered frequently, at least. 
Gibson loves his bottle fine but he loves his mama's ninnies better than anything in the world. 

Anyway, I fed him a bottle and I rocked him and rocked him and I called him Mr. Big Eyes and I kissed him more times than we have lightbulbs. He had just started some serious fussing when his mama got home. He took one look at her and was completely fine. He knows who his mama is now and he worships her. You should see the way he looks at her. With complete and utter adoration. It's hysterical and beautiful and lovely and magic. 
She likes him too.

Owen woke up just about the time Lily got in. He called for his papa who had been there when he'd fallen asleep. But Papa wasn't there and Mama and Mer-Mer were! What a surprise! He was cool with that. He showed me his new twirly sword and he told his mother and me many things, some of them involving Power Rangers. When I told him I was going home, he kissed and hugged me a lot. He told the story of yesterday about how he did not want to go to my house. 
"I no want to go!" he said, his eyes big. I think he was amused by his previous day's behavior. 

I look at these boys and I think about how much a child learns in a few years. Gibson is three months old and he's just figuring out that his hands belong to him. Maybe. He is just starting to recognize people other than his mother and his father and his brother and those recognitions are pretty darn recent.  Yet, in two years, he'll know all of that stuff and he'll be talking and of course walking and he'll know what he wants to be for Halloween and he'll know that Halloween involves pumpkins and candy and he'll have already gone through the Elmo stage. He'll have his own favorite toys and books and he'll demand certain foods and refuse others. He'll be starting to understand jokes and he'll know where all the light switches are in his house and in mine. He will understand incredibly complex processes. He will imagine that there are tigers or wolves or alligators and he will put all of his fears in those animals. He will be his own person, even as he already is. 

I can remember so distinctly when Hank was four months old, maybe getting on to five months. I was a twenty-two year old mother and I had a friend whom I'd met in Lamaze class and she went with me down to Winter Haven with her same-age daughter where I baby-sat for my baby brothers who were, at the time, ten and eleven while my mother and step-father were on vacation. I can remember both of those babies racing through the house in their walkers, I can remember both of us nursing our babies, I can remember how they could almost sit up by themselves, just as Gibson is about to start doing. I remember feeling as if we were the first mothers in the world, how proud we were of our babies, how amazed we were at every single tiny thing they were learning, were achieving. 

Well. We were the very first mothers in the world of those particular babies. My Hank, her Dawn Rose.  I think of that friend often. Her name was Jena. Last I heard of her, she was in Bastrop, Texas. I wonder how she is. I wonder if she's a grandmother now too, remembering when Hank and Dawn Rose were babies and we went to Winter Haven and hung out in a house with air conditioning and a dishwasher and a washer and a dryer and so much stuff. 
A house so different than our little old hippie houses which made it a sort of vacation for us. 

So long ago. 
And yet, all these years later, I am once again dealing with babies and with stuff. 
It's all different and yet, in so many ways, it is the same.

I feel sort of bad that I dissed the Pioneer Woman today. Hell, she's just a mother who found a way to make a lot of money and really, there's nothing wrong with that. I hope she really does love her life, her kids, her Lodge, her dishwashers, washing machines, laundry-room cabinets, giant industrial stoves, English film crews, her husband whose ass she never tires of photographing. 

Here's my husband in his natural habitat.

He's a Viking and he loves the sea and catching the big fishes that swim beneath the waves.
Pioneer Woman's husband is a cowboy and as such, loves doing whatever it is that cowboys do. Raising beef cows and all that entails.
That man wears chaps whereas my husband wears fishing shirts the color of the ocean and he'd be seriously pissed off if I took a picture of his ass and posted it here.

Well. Life. We're all just here for a short time and we do with it what we can. Today I got to hold and cuddle my baby grandson, I had memories, I cleaned out stuff. I am waiting for that Viking to come home from the sea. Tomorrow I'll clean the kitchen and get rid of more stuff.

And so it goes. And so it goes. Until we die.



  1. It was a clean-out day for me too. I tackled the sewing room....tons and tons of fabric. What ever did I think I was going to do with all that, reupholster a town?!

    But it feels so good to get rid of some of it, which means... make room for more.

    God, that Gibson is the sweetest thing ever. Any cuter and it would be sinful !

  2. You had me laughing towards the end of this. Thank you! ha. At the beginning I was just thinking how adorable that grandbaby of yours is.

  3. I always enjoy stopping by for a visit, but I really enjoyed today's visit. Sometimes your words just resonate with me, and it is like a tonic to help me get through the rest of the day or remember what is really important. Thanks for having a wonderful blog and sharing your world with us. Take care.

  4. I think that Mr. Moon and I would have a lot to talk about.

  5. I've missed you. You made me smile. First real smile today. Thank you

  6. I love every word of this post. I want a grandbaby. I want to go out on my brother's fishing boat. I brought it up Saturday. He said he wants to get the boat ready to go fishing. I said NO I JUST WANT TO BE IN THE BOAT WITH A HAT AND A BOOK and he said okay if I'd go with him in the boat under the giant new ferris wheel they're building right on Puget Sound. He wants to park his boat there and throw water balloons up at the people who are on the ferris wheel when they come close to the water.

    I love my brother. The Pioneer Woman is going to end in a tragic divorce and no one is going to care because people just go there to get free shit. All her commenters are not umm well they're not like my commenters who are smart and funny. Her's will leave in droves once the tragic divorce sets in.


  7. What a wonderful and well written post!


  8. How funny that you wrote about Winter Haven. We were just there a few days ago,and I thought of you when we walked through the botanical gardens (original Cypress Gardens, I think?) I also thought of you when we went to Publix (very exotic for us, until we actually went in--Publix is not so exotic on the inside.)

    We are headed home today but have enjoyed our time in Florida. Hot and humid, but normal for us Texans.

    I took a pic of the big banyan tree, of course, which I will post after I get back home.

  9. People make broad assumptions about babies and people given only their experience with one or two. Every one is different.

    I don't follow Pioneer Woman. I think I read her a couple times a few years ago and was not impressed. I sense some phoniness creeps in when people start making money off their blogs. I also think they get famous from being famous. It's a failing in people these days to be interested in certain people because it seems that lots of others are interested instead of deciding for themselves whether those people enrich their lives in any way.
    I think we are allowed to like or dislike people and blogs at will, aren't we? So go ahead and diss whomever you please.

  10. Liv- Reupholster a town? Haha!

    Nicol- He's pretty darn adorable. Jeez. I can't keep my hands off him. That sounds wrong. Too bad.

    Mr. Shife- You know what? That made me feel really good so thank-you!

    Syd- I bet you would!

    Michelle- I think about you ALL THE TIME! I miss you so much. I hope you're well and happy and your beautiful kids, too.

    Madame King- Mr. Moon always used to have a fantasy that I'd do that hat/book thing on the boat while he fishes. However, he goes out about one billion miles and it's too hot. Poor Mr. Moon.
    I think you're right about Pioneer Woman. Tragic divorce. It'll happen when her income completely surpasses his (which is a pretty big income from what I've read) and his cowboy sensibilities are offended. And seriously- who WANTS commenters that are so rabidly excited about her ten-millionth picture of a beagle?
    I mean, I know I post a lot of pictures of chickens and grandchildren but at least chickens and grandchildren move around some.

    Georgie- Howdy! Come back any time!

    Blue Gal- I'm glad to know those gardens are still there. They are gorgeous, aren't they? They were a many-years' labor of love for Mrs. Pope.

    Jeannie- Good advice! Thanks. There is no doubt that at some time in the future I will be snarky about PW again.

  11. You had Dawn Rose, I had Katrina-she's still my oldest friend in this world. Us and the babies.

    So long ago, when we were soooo young.

    And our babies were magic.

  12. Hi there. I read your most recent post and scrolled down and down, because you do have a way with words. I loved this Stuff post because it is true and so darn funny. And I loved the bit about the grandbabies and the rant about the breast feeding lie we were sold. I didnt dare give my kids even water out of a bottle for fear of the "nipple confusion." It really kept me and the rest of the family tied down and made it all a lot more work than it needed to be. My grandbaby loved her mommy but she loved her bottle too, and like you said she wasn't confused one bit. Thanks for all the laughs and head-nodding that your posts provide.

  13. Beth- Weren't those magical times? Weren't they?

    Wrinkling Daily- Why did we accept that bullshit as truth? Our babies were way smarter than that and WE KNEW IT!

  14. Oh boy, that littlest grandson is the cutest thing ever! And is it just me, or does he look like a mini Owen?


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