“Mom. You are a nice mommy but you need to do what I SAY! You know?”
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Archive for June, 2007
26
Jun
Sassy Spawn
I have serious cottage-love. If the space is small and cramped and cozy (and incidentally easy to clean) I’m in! So we’ve come to some decisions around the homestead and finally finally husband has agreed we can start looking for a home that better reflects our desired lifestyle (more walking, less driving, less cleaning, more living), which translates into finding a smaller (much smaller) home in the central part of Bellingham. Closer to parks, stores, and all things pedestrian friendly.
Our house will enter the market the first part of July and we’ll officially throw our hat into the ring of slow-moving real estate and dashed hopes. If we don’t sell, we’ll try again next year. Meanwhile, we’ve found a lovely intermediary step.
We bought a trailer. It’s luxurious, but compact, bunkbeds for kids with doors that close, bathrooms (yes more than one) and an outdoor shower and all kinds of other bells and whistles. The trailer is parked at this family-friendly little resort where they have bike paths, a swimming pool, and community center. Oh. And wireless Internet. Did I mention that we call this “camping”?
If we sell our house before we find another (which is highly likely) we have a place to land so we’re not rushed into any decisions.
I’m somewhat embarrassed by my love of this trailer. It’s silly and lovely and so easy to manage. I sigh when I walk in the door. It’s the closest thing to home I’ve felt in a long long time.
Just don’t tell the real campers my secret.
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Suburban Turmoil writes a fabulous thought-provoking statement about being a stay-at-home-mom. She states simply that she thinks it’s easier than many many people let on.
And you should just *read* the comments!!
I have decided to take much of the next month off from my nonprofit job to stay home with the kids (esp since the twins are heading to Kindergarten in the Fall) and I’ve attacked our time together like a she-lion attacks a boar hog.. Activities, books, swimming, bicycling, talking, adventures and (yes I’ll admit) some “Blues Clues” thrown in for good measure.
And you know what? I think she’s right. I think staying home and spending time with kids is a hell of a lot easier than trying to also run your ass off at a job and then come home and spend 90 minutes of quality time with them. It’s more exhausting in certain ways, but flowing with the going and everyone flouncing around in ragamuffin wear has a lilt to it.
When I think my life is hard, it is. When I think I am blessed and lucky, I feel so much better. How does one strike the right balance between honesty and destructive negativity?
I think the lovely intermediate place is using generous applications of humor. When I can laugh at the spilled food, the crying and tantrums, I feel like I can handle it.
There are days when staying home with them seems incredibly difficult. What’s your experience of this?
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18
Jun
Sometimes I Turn to You…
Like you, I’m occasionally at a loss for words. Less sass, more morass. But the laughter is still there, just leaning underneath the existential dilemmas. Times like these, other blogs are like hands reaching out in friendship. Like good literature or fine wine or an old friend’s smile.. things that keep our lonely hearts comforted, quiet, and smiling.
Living life fiercely and with great passion comes naturally to some of us with more snark than softness, but when the snark lies down tired and worn, and what’s left is some sort of Hallmark pea gravel, one is disinclined to gaggify the blogosphere more than absolutely necessary.
So I’ll leave it at this… One of Emily Dickinson’s finest:
Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile the winds
To a heart in port,
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.
Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!
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13
Jun
This One’s for the Boys
Fathers are frequently under-appreciated hardworking, dishes-cleaning-up, bottle-getting, paycheck-bringing-home sports-watching, wife-angering confused-heads. Honestly, you could not pay me enough to swap my lady bits for a man package… no matter how privileged and easily orgasmed the lot of them are.
To be a man in this society means to be wrong most of the time, all the while carrying around the equipment and the gender of rightness. To have (on a good day) no clue what you did to deserve that particular look, or door slam, or low-level simmering resentment. If you are a man, to put it mildly, you’re in a bit of a pickle.
But let’s say you survived Mother’s Day relatively unscathed. You bought the spa certificate, the flowers, and watched the kids for the afternoon so she could get out. What are your hopes and dreams for Father’s Day? Maybe a nice sleep-in, a shag, a baseball game, or time to read a good book. Should you be a highly evolved sort, perhaps Father’s Day will involve a free morning for yoga, a kefir cleanse, or tantra.
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10
Jun
Tantrum Zen
Tantrums are an opportunity to find the depth of patience and love and failing that, a sweet secret quiet place to hide while the storm passes. If one were a zen monk, perhaps some cross-legged chanting would do the trick. If one were a sanctimommy, perhaps a good “use words!” discussion would ensue. If one were a grandparent, long long since well rested, vacationed, and slept, one would laugh it all away.
But alas, CrankMama is neither a monk, nor a sanctimommy, and certainly not a grandparent.
At best, the impact of a tantrum on the nervous systems of adults in my house is similar to the visceral gut punch of listening to George Bush talk about the Iraq War: It just ain’t right.
You know that old saw about a premature explicator repeating in his mind “dead puppies, dead puppies, dead puppies”? Well, a similar (if perhaps not as effective) mantra is: “She’s a puddin’, she’s a puddin’, she’s a puddin’”
And when the three of them are Stalin and my ass is thrown in the Gulag, I simply concentrate on them as babies. And think of how darling and precious they were. Back then before they could sass.
Sometimes this operation is more successful than others.
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Which sounds more fun?
1. Investing in real estate
2. Buying a house
3. Making a home
The McMansioning of America would indicate that many people have mistaken the first two tasks with the third. With all the pressure to expand and fill spaces with more and more stuff (each kid needs POUNDS Of toys), it’s easy to become enslaved to the assumption that each little person needs his or her own room, his or her very own well-organized shelving system.
Architect and unintended revolutionary, Sarah Susanka, has a beautiful series called the Not So Big House, which lays out beautifully the joys of smaller, and well-crafted spaces.
As my family and I try and recapture our gypsy spirits, our cottage hearts swell at the thought of making something homier, better suited, and smaller out of our housing dream. Less fortress, more neighborhood. Less driving, more walking.
I’ve always been enchanted by home, nesting, and finding a place that feels, smells of love. But I’ve often been so busy responding mindlessly to a sense of restlessness, I’ve mistaken adventure for home. Real estate investment for home.
When I hear others’ tales of house sprucing up, buying and selling and moving and recreating space, I’m often envious, but always always riveted.
Somewhere in my future is my home sweet cottage. Have you found yours? Your dream home?
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02
Jun
Every Daddy Needs…
Here at CrankMama we like to stick up for the mamas. We love to encourage shoe-worship, girlfriend gallivanting, kid-free quiet time and much soul-fulfilling romping. But what about the poor papas? Is there no room left in all this fun for the man-love? Oh my yes!!
In fact, our love for the daddies is so incontrovertible and often over the top, we sometimes get into trouble while wearing gold lame and quaffing fancy drinks (but that’s a story for another time).
In honor of Father’s Day (and everyone is somebody’s daddy don’t you know), we’re sharing secrets of CrankMama man baskets that even the most diffident confused man will enjoy.
Today’s Man Basket Tip
If he’s anything like Daniel Craig (and praise God, let’s hope he is), then your man likes a woman to dress up. Surprise him for a date. Pick him up at work (or home) all dolled up with heels and makeup and perfume and whisk him away on a kid-free evening adventure.
If the night takes you somewhere evilicious and questionable and mysterious, so much the better. Tattoo parlor? Head shop? Sex shop? Who knows?
Meanwhile. There are some seriously funny and talented (& hot) daddio bloggers out there. You should check them OUT.
Cry it Out
Mitch McDad
Moobs
Doodaddy
Nummy!!
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