Love wrapped in peanut butter

I've been on a three day marathon of tending two small children who sound rather like the love children of Marlon Brando and an irate Harbor Seal. That, of course is because of the cold...not because of me so sheddup anyone who wants to rag on my bowling alley waitress contralto. On the other hand, they behaved more like chimpanzees on crack. But of course, when Mother Nature blankets the earth in the softest prettiest six or so inches of fluffy beautiful snow, and the air is cool enough to sustain it, and warm enough to make it sticky enough for the first perfect snowball of the year, there is nothing a little boy wants to hear more than, "I'm sorry baby, you're sick, you have to stay inside." It is a hideous guilt wracking experience for a mother to utter those words, and guilt, most of you know, causes a mother to lose her stinkin' mind.
Thomas' Halloween Adventures Marathon - Round Number 1:
Mom, Mom! (cough, cough) Look there's Terrence!
Who?
Terrance, the tractor! Oh you missed it, back it up.
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Who wants muffins? Mommy made banana nut muffins!
I hate banana nut muffins. Can I have a peanut butter sandwich?
For breakfast?
(cough, cough) Yeah, can we go outside and build a snowman today?
OK, PBJ, on toast, maybe?
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Mom? Can I make a mailbox?
For what?
Uh...so you can write me letters when I'm at Dad's house?
Mommy? It's TERRENCE! LOOK NOW!
Uh...yeah OK...uh what do you want to use for this mailbox?
Mommy...LOOOK NOW.
I was thinking we could cut a hole in that laundry basket and...
WHAT?
You missed it AGAIN! Back it up, PLEASE!
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(Out of tape out of glue, have made two cardboard mailboxes, covered them in construction paper and stickers and hung them carefully on the wall, written several thousand love notes with and for each of the boys and stuffed them full several times. We've made penguins out of their traced hand prints. There are scraps of paper on every square inch of my living room, and sippy cups stashed in places I'd never think of. One is snoring softly on my lap the other emerges from the bedroom in a television induced trance like state.)
Mom...
Yes dear? You OK?
Yeah.
Mom?
Yes, honey?
This place is a mess. You should pick up.
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Thomas' Halloween Adventures Marathon - a reprieve after round number 23: Instead? Wonder Pets....
Trilling gerbil: We must save de dowfinn!
Trilling duck: Yes! We must save de dowfinnnnnnn!
Dev: Cut the karaoke and save the stupid dolphin, already!
My son, ladies and gentlemen. MY son!
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Mommy, I've got mail!
Huh, yeah, cool baby.
Dear Elyas, Leave me alone. Your brother.
That wasn't very nice was it?
(Lip trembling) No.
I'm sorry.
Mommy? How do you spell stupidhead?
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Can I have another peanut butter jelly?
We're out of bread.
Oh. Can I have a granola bar?
They're gone too.
I'm STARVING!
You still have soup left from lunch.
Oh. Can we build a snowman today?
I could make pancakes, I guess...
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Thomas' Halloween (WHY HALLOWEEN? It's JANUARY) Adventures Marathon round 483:
Look Ly! It's Terrence!
Duh mom.
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Hey Mommy. We had a nice time at your house this weekend. Daddy says we have to go to bed now. Hey mommy, maybe tomorrow you can go to the grocery store? You know, get some more bread and granola bars? Mommy? Mommy?

Reading material for the brain damaged (aka...mommies)

So I should tell you right now that the amazing DaMomma is now published. And you should flock to amazon and read her book, because she's a little bit rock and roll. (I have no idea what I'm saying. But I love her writing and you should read it.)

Winter

My life seems to appropriately be reflecting the seasons this year. My vision has gotten tired and blurred and my soul is cold, possibly even frozen...the thaw of spring seems eons away. I could see it coming, this blank, stark time. I tried to prepare myself. Hell, I TRIED to make myself excited for it. But winter is neccessary, but not something you can really get excited about, is it?

An excerpt from My Garden Book by Jamaica Kincaid

People will go on and on about the beauty of the garden in winter, they will point out scarlet berries in clusters hanging on stark brown brittle branches, they will insist that this beauty is deep and unique; people try to tell me about things like “The Christmas rose…in bloom in December is really very beautiful,” but only in the way of a single clean plate found on a table many months after a large number of people had eaten dinner there; or again they tell me of the barks of trees, in varying stages of peeling, and the moss of lichen growing on the barks of other trees and the precious jewel-like sparkle of lichen at certain times of day, in certain kinds of light; and, you know, I like lichen and I like moss, but really to be reduced to admiring it because nothing else is there but brown bramble and some red stems and mist… It is so willful, this admiration of the garden in winter, this assertion that the garden is a beautiful place then…

But this is not true at all…I want to say to…[these people]. This is just something you are saying; this is just something you are making up. I want to say that at this very moment I am looking out my window and the garden does not exist, it is lying underneath an expanse of snow, and there is a deep, thick mist, slowly seeping out of the woods, and as I see this I do not feel enraptured by it. But you know, white is not a color at all…white only makes you feel the absence of color, and white only makes you long for color and only makes you understand that the space is blank and waiting to be filled up—with color.

My minister read this in a sermon about a year ago. That's really what I feel right about now. I'm tired of straining myself to admire lichen. So I guess I'm kind of hibernating right now. I hope that's ok.

Thanksgiving Grats

Here is a story from our service at church on Sunday. There was a Zen master upon whom many people called for help over the years. People came to her with heart break and strife of all manner, from the seemingly mundane to extraordinary greif. Each person who called upon her undoubtedly recieved her full attention, but she encouraged all of them to practice a mantra of sorts throughout their day, every day. That mantra was this, "Thank you for everything, I have no complaints whatsoever." It didn't make much sense to one man in particular. After a year of trying this meditation he returned to her.

"I've been saying this mantra for a year and I'm still selfish and angry and bitter. Please help me!

"Thank you for everything, I have no complaints whatsoever." Responded the Zen master. And the man arose with a new understanding and returned to his life able to embrace it more fully.

Our minister Mark remarked how people in Zen fables always seem to just "get it" with the snap of the fingers, and how crazy that made him. But in truth, the Zen master was telling us, that we must be grateful for everything...even the things that drive us nuts are gifts. So with that in mind.

I am grateful for anger, for it reminds me that I love myself.
I am grateful for loss, for it teaches me to appreciate and also gives me room for new joy in my life.
I am grateful for my life's challenges, for they teach me that my love is strong and unbending.
I am grateful for being disorganized, for it teaches me that I am resourceful as well.
I am grateful for adversaries, for they teach me that there is another vantage point.
I am grateful for tears for they cleanse my pallet, making it a welcoming place for the next round of joy.
I am grateful for my solitude, for it teaches me to appreciate my own company.
- And on another note-
I am grateful for my children...in guiding them, they guide me.
I am grateful for my friends who ground me and remind me that we are all in this together.
I am grateful for my family who remind me that my past, present and future are all tied together.
Thank you all. I have no complaints, whatstoever.

The Days Are Just Packed

Elyas: "Mommy, is your car a bug?"

Mommy: "No bug, my car is not a bug."

Elyas: "What is your car?"

Mommy: "It's a Taurus."

Dev: "Taurus? Like people who visit museums?"

Mommy: (Laughing) "Taurus, not tourist."

Dev (DEVilish smile on his face): "Oh you mean a large slow turtle!"

Mommy snorts: "Well that fits, huh?"

Dev: "Or maybe it's more of a dinosaur. A Torosuarus!"

Mommy has tears running down her face from laughter: "You've captured the essence of my car darling."

Dev: "So what does Taurus mean?"

Mommy: "It's a bull."

Dev sits and blinks. He is much better at naming cars than Ford Motor Company.