I try really hard not to buy a lot of baby/kid gear. I don't have the room; I hate plastic; and quite frankly the amount of use hardly ever warrants the expense. But, THIS looks like it would make all the difference in my life. My littlest peanut is an adventurer and she loves to climb. And, so far, there is very little she hasn't succeeded in scaling. A couple of our favorite little friends nicknamed her Indiana Rose. She just loves to be part of the action, especially in the kitchen. And, well, she's tiny. Very tiny. So, this would just be awesome. Well, today, there's a great giveaway for one of these over at LivingCrafts. Check it out!
I'm fairly certain that those of you who aren't regular lobster eaters will not find this interesting. But, if you are a lobster lover, well, your gonna love this.
How often have you sat, hands all covered with gook from de-shelling your lobster, ready to devour the goodness, only to look down at your lobster virtually swimming in liquid? You then, with slippery hands try to dump the liquid somewhere. Ultimately, you lose some valuable piece that has you scrambling like an idiot.
Well, thanks to the brilliance of a New Hampshire woman (T.J. “Lats” Latvis), your worries are over. The brand new innovative lobster plate is two layers - the top boasts vents that let those lobster juices drain to the plate below. Get all the juicy details.
As referenced yesterday, sometimes desperate times require desperate measures - and, my desperate measure is to give my toddler band-aids. Not every day. Not all the time. In desperation. When I need just a few minutes for whatever and she is resisting all other efforts. Band-aids are her drug. It can take her from meltdown to zen in a matter of seconds. Sure, it's wasteful. And, that doesn't sit easy with me. But, in the scheme of things, it seems, well, acceptable. Here is what happened during my shower yesterday.
One day many months ago a friend said to me, "I'll be honest, I don't read your blog. You make life sound too perfect, too happy and it makes me feel bad."
That made me sad. Not that she didn't read my blog. Honestly, I don't expect anyone to - but it is nice to know that some people do! I just felt sad that somehow my reflections had made someone I care about feel bad.
Too perfect? Too happy? Really?
Naturally, this has caused a lot of reflection. It's true, I don't share the nitty gritty details of what is wrong in my life. Not because I'm trying to paint this picture of a perfect life, but rather because I'm trying to protect the privacy of the people in my lives. What I share is true. But, I realize that maybe every once in a while I need to give folks a glimpse of the not-so-wonderful pieces of life. So, in that spirit, here's a glimpse into my last few days -- but, first, some context.
I'm single-parenting for a long stint (My admiration for those who do this - single parenting - all the time continues to grow) while my husband is off working - doing some really interesting and inspiring work in a place that I love.
Meanwhile, I'm here, juggling a heavy workload, home and two children (and about a million other things that I decided to take on right now.). This is not a "pity me" statement -- ( it's not like he's off sitting on a beach for weeks on end. He's working hard. And, he's away from home. And, he's away from his girls which is very hard on him.) it's just the way it is.
So, here goes - some of the highlights (read: low points) of my past few days:
My toddler has regressed (?) to waking many times a night.
My toddler dunked her sister's very nice baby doll in a toilet that someone forgot to flush. She then proceeded to drag that baby doll around.
My toddler has, out of no where, decided that the way to get attention is to throw sippy cups, full drink, across the room. FYI, the tops of sippy cups burst off with the force of her throw.
The case of a library-borrowed DVD of Elmo has gone missing. I will now owe the library money for a DVD I could surely live without.
I organized a yard sale (along with neighbors) and a lemonade stand for my daughter. This, of course, amounted to much work trying to gather things, price things - and, now deal with the things that didn't sell. For $90. Yea, that was worth it. Not. My sometimes-annoying sister reminded me that a tax-deduction would have been a better move.
I had to set up the yard sale - among dozens of earlybirds who arrived 2 hours before we opened - with a very crabby two year old in my arms.
Moments after the yard sale "opened", that very crabby two year old vomited on me and spiked a fever of 102. Probably not going to win "Mother of the Year" for keeping the yard sale going.
I drove around for 30 minutes (yea, let's not talk about the cost of that - or the impact on the environment) with a feverish toddler asleep in the back, hoping to find a friend outside a store who would watch my child-filled car while I ran into get some much-needed Tylenol (for the baby, not me) and juice because it was the only thing that this child would consume while feeling so yucky.
I have knowingly given my littlest daughter 2 boxes of bandaids to play with (she thinks they are stickers and obsessed with them) just so I could have a peaceful shower. I got the peaceful shower, but only to find pieces of bandaid wrapper strewn everywhere and a childen laden with bandaids.
I had a wart frozen off (I've never had a wart, that I know of, and at the dermatologist noticed it and immediately zapped it.). It hurt. It made doing all of the above harder. To add insult to injury, it developed into a GIGANTIC, super painful, blood blister - which I'm told happens to less than 5% of the population. Yea for me, I'm in the elite.
In keeping with tradition at Maine-ly Home, here's John Updike's take on May. Have you gotten your copy of A Child's Calendar? It really is such a wonderful book with a monthly poem by Updike and beautiful illustrations by Trina Schart Hyman.
Now children may
Go out of doors,
Without their coats,
To candy stores.
The apple branches
And the pear
May float their blossoms through the air,
And Daddy may
Get out his hoe
To plant tomatoes
In a row,
Look at some baseball
Last night while trying to keep myself awake during the commercials of a show I was watching, I was thinking about my Monday a.m. posts.
I had many ideas.
John Updike's take on May. My May planner. A couple of great new recipes.
Those were some of the ideas circulating. But, then, I thought, I'll share a photo or two (and some words, no doubt) of my daughter who turned 2.
But, then IT happened. IT --THAT breaking news that interrupted my show watching and my blog plans. (Yes, shallow, I know.)
Osama Bin Laden, the enemy that has been sought for nearly a decade, was found. And, killed. Yes, killed.
All over Facebook, Twitter, the Internet and TV, people cheered.
It's not that I'm not pleased to have found the man who caused this nation - and so many individuals and families so much grief. I am. I really am.
But, something didn't (doesn't) feel right about the whole thing.
I've really never been a believer of "an eye for an eye". Maybe it's all those years of my parents telling me to always take the high road. Maybe it's something more.
Still, I'm glad that "we" found him. And, now maybe some will feel closure and we can move towards peace. Please.
So many people have died. So many lives have been disrupted and/or destroyed. So much hate has brewed. So many lives have been redefined.
I decided that I should proactively discuss this big happening with my daughter. Surely, it might come up at school - if not in social studies, surely in elementary school discussions on the playground. I was not anxious to have this discussion - but I did know that my daughter needed to hear it from me and to be able to get answers for me.
Ha. Answers? Like I have the answers. But, surely, my answers are better than some of the answers she might get from others?
So, I told her.
I was pretty frank. I told her about the tragedy of 9/11. I told her about Osama Bin Laden-- and his role in the events of 9/11. I told her that our country has spent nearly a decade looking for this man. (Ten years looking for someone? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds, particularly to a seven year old?) And, I told her that "we" killed this man.
There was silence. But, really only a moment of silence. And, then, she looked at me and said completely matter-of-fact, "Killed him? That doesn't seem right! We were mad at him for killing people and then we killed him? That doesn't seem right at all."
Oh my dear little girl. You SO get it. You always, always do.
I'm a Maine-r. Or, at least I like to think I am. True locals will argue differently simply because I wasn't born in Maine -- I'm "from away" they say. Whatever. It is crystal clear to me that I was born to live in Maine. Here's the catch. I fell in love with someone who really is "from away". So, I spend big chunks of time in a place very far from where I call home. But, I'm trying to bloom where planted, as they say. I'm trying to foster a simple (or at least a little simpler than some), reasonably wholesome and creative life for my family whether we're here or there. And, well, since you stopped here at my blog, you get to explore this craziness with me.