In his defense, most people react this way to my cooking

Kelan and I have been clashing over dinner lately.  He argues that I don't make pizza often enough, and I argue that his palate is not as refined as it could be. Seeing as it's a struggle for me to put one dinner on the table, I kind of refuse to make him his own special foods, because in the words of every other sadistic mom, "You will eat what I make buddy, this is not a restaurant!"

On Friday it was cold, like, jack up the furnace when Sean isn't looking, cold. So I put together some chili and made some rice.  I hadn't yet put out sides when I called Kelan to the table. Because I am passive aggressive amused by his antics, I grabbed the camera so that I could share. Because if you can't learn to laugh at your kids (publicly and behind their backs, of course) you are in for a lot of crying. 

Someone hand me a drink, before I think myself to death

I have to admit, it's not writer's block or an insanely busy schedule that has kept me away from this blog.  Sadly, it's just my raging insecurities, and the fact that if you are reading this, you might be judging me.

Once in awhile I will think of a quote from that movie "What's Eating Gilbert Grape" that has stuck with me for years. Actually, it's a conversation that Johnny Depp's character has with Juliette Lewis' character. Juliette asks Johnny* what it is he wants in life and he starts to list the things he wants for his family. She ignores it and presses him to answer what it really is that he wants for himself. He finally replies with, "I just want to be a good person"* I know it sounds childish and completely trite, but I totally understand that line, which I guess kind of goes without saying, or I probably wouldn't be refrencing a strange film from the early nineties.

I've heard people mention that they "are not good at taking criticism," and I'm not sure I know what this means.  Does it mean that you instantly become super angry and defensive? Suicidal? Or that you just don't use the information to elicit any changes? 

I think I am amazing at taking criticism.  Which is why I think so many people offer it so freely. I just kind of ponder it and use the information to create crazy racing thoughts that keep me awake at night; wondering what it all means, and what I should do about it.** I had a therapist once call this process, "mental masturbation" I suppose because it is actually kind of a narcissistic process that hides under the guise of self improvement.

What I'm saying is that this has been a year of much self examination so far, and it's only April.  I have had the chance to see myself through a lot of other peoples' eyes, and am still trying to figure out what I want to do about it.  I vacillate between wanting to make people understand me and trying my hardest to make everyone love me, and wanting to simplify things by being so private that no one even knows what I do or say so they don't even get a chance to have an opinion.

So my solution I think, is going to be throwing myself into more volunteer work, so that I can get a break from thinking about myself period, because I'm kind of sick of humble pie. It's pretty much all I eat these days. True Story. 

Um, lighter posts to follow soon?



*I'm sorry, I am too lazy to IMDb this and find the actual names, well just hers because his is in the title, I suppose. 

** It's sick, I mean, you should be thankful that you were not in my head during the "I'm quitting breastfeeding, or aren't I era, that lasted roughly eight weeks. The social pressure of this decision has made me dry heave when anyone even mentions it.  And I dare you to ask me about my plans if I ever get pregnant again.  I. dare. you. 

2012. It's here.

Spring makes me incredibly uneasy.  It's my least favorite season, and it always seems to follow the same disturbing pattern of events. 

Right around the time that an entire hour just up and disappears, the restlessness starts.  Soon after, a girl scout comes to the door and hands me a couple boxes of sheer panic (Caramel deLites and I are frienemies). Next thing I know, there's that weird smell in the air and all that is left of winter are those random grey-brown piles of snow that just sit there until they melt into some sort of muddy goo that Kelan just can't wait to stomp in.  Finally, it all culminates in the terror of facing the stores for clothes. Clothes that don't cover enough of my seriously Casperesque skin. *shudder*

It's enough to make me ill.  Or more likely just stressed enough to dig out the boxes of cookies that I had shoved in the way back of the cabinet and eat enough of them to consider starting that weird fast where you drink maple syrup with lemon juice or whatever.

ANYway................

I'm right in the thick of it, and, ick. But there is a huge light at the end of the tunnel; the only thing that will pull me out of the annual spring funk, and just thinking about it makes me smile. That's right guys,

SPRING FREAKING CLEANING TIME !!!!! 

And it's been a superbly awful January through March, so I'm going to indulge, and indulge big time. In fact, don't expect to see me for a week or two. And unless you are at my door with a couple of toothbrushes and some bleach? You're not getting in. 

Peace and love and stuff!   

This might be insecurity talking. Or it could be pragmatism. I'm really not the best judge of this stuff.

I don't know Martha Stewart personally, but I'd really like to meet her... so I could kick her ass, although, she'd probably be able kill me*. And then bury my body in some sort of decorative way. 

Martha Stewart is not responsible for my insecurites, but I do, for whatever reason, correlate the start of this whole make-everything-look-beautiful-and-perfect-so-that-my-psychological-issues-don't-show phase. But I've really only been around since the mid eighties, so what do I know.  I'm sure she wasn't the first to advocate meticulously planned dinner parties and shoving all your skeletons in a box decorated with flowers that you grew and dried yourself. 

Wow. I have gotten off track here.

Kelan is turning 4!

Raising this kid gets more fun and more complicated by the day.  I like to use Kelan's birthdays as a way to pat myself on the back for having kept him alive one more year**.  I know you'd like to think I'm kidding, but this shit is hard! I'm amazed that any child makes it a day past their first steps. And we're talking about a child who eats crackers that he finds under peoples' couches here. Yesterday, I found him in the kitchen trying to open a bag of crackers. With a steak knife.

Naturally we want to celebrate his birthday, but since when has a homemade cake and a few relatives been a sign that you are a crap mom who doesn't know how to decorate your cupcakes with fondant whatever-the-hell-you-think-your-4-year-old-loves?  I have actually given this a lot of thought this year.  Sean and I just couldn't decide what to do.  Our house is small and a hundred years old and does not lend itself to gatherings any larger than about four people. Which is fine, because I hate hosting- it involves way too much pressure. And more forks and spoons than I own. 

Just now, I was paging through a community publication and I came across an article about planning a special party for your child.  It suggests a theme, four dishes that require intensive labor in order to be "on-theme", and suggests that you make your own birthday hats for everyone- the directions of which are mind boggling, and involve several trips to a craft store no doubt. Not to mention, I'm not even sure what "fringe" is, or where it goes.  Here's the best part.  The article tells you to, I kid you not, construct a photo booth complete with homemade costumes for the kids to wear.***

Now, these aren't bad ideas or anything.  To each his own, and if that's the kind of thing you really enjoy doing, go for it! I'm just the type of person who feels insecure at these types of parties.  I feel uncomfortable eating finger food that so closely resembles the animal it was made to look like.  I usually leave wondering if I don't love my child enough. I didn't plan his party six months in advance! I forgot to have an enlarged photo of him framed for the event! I suck!

In the end, Kelan's party will be at a local pizza place. We will invite some close friends and relatives, and we will probably buy a cake from the store the morning of.  There won't be homemade birthday hats, and there won't be any foods shaped like numbers or animals, but I'm not sure Kelan will care.  I hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure all he cares about is the cake, and the fact that he finally gets to be the one opening the presents. I think I'm OK with that. We'll save the "special table with pictures of your child and his many accomplishments!" for when he wins the nobel peace prize.


* She's been to prison. She can probably make some hardcore decoupaged shivs.   
   
** After all, it is about ME.

*** No doubt so that every mom can stand around with their digital camera and take a hundred pics for facebook and twitter. 



P.S. I don't really hate you Martha! Please don't kill me!

Halloween as usual- you know, with knives and cross-dressing and whatnot

          
                                         There were Pumpkins!

 

Kelan carved the crap out of this pumpkin, and he loved every second that he was allowed to wield a sharp object (Which was really only 4, because Sean had eight heart attacks). 





Oh, you were wondering who made that awesome ghost? That was all me.



                                                              And Costumes!!

And I knew I couldn't pick his costume forever, but I didn't know it was going to be such a "process" to settle on something. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that there isn't a lot of difference mood swing-wise between my three-year-old son and a teenage girl.

This is the costume I totally would have stuck him in if I had it my way :



Seriously!! How could that not inspire you to dump your whole bowl of candy in this kid's bag?

And here's the costume that Kelan would have worn if he had gotten his way:

 

Because he's just so sweet and innocent. I think it's safe (and so sad!!) to say, that our respective choices probably had the same percent chance of getting him beat up on Halloween. Because we are equal amounts of "out there", my son and I. Only, he'll probably grow out of it.

So here's what we went with:



Oh yes, he is dancing in this pic. Also, please note the three layers of clothes I made him wear under it. Because WI is cold. And it was daycare's day to deal with the potty breaks. 



Because as long as he stopped pining for that 60 dollar pottery barn witch costume, I didn't care what he wore.   

Screw living vicariously through Kelan. Next year? I think I'll go as Abe Lincoln. Who's having the party?  

And after we brought the guns and booze back to the car, they let us pick some apples.

Because it's fall. And that's what all the cool parents do.

And I wanted to get a posed picture of Kelan but he wasn't game. He just wanted to dance.

And I couldn't justify punishing him for not wanting to pose for a picture. So I just gave up and rage-tickled him.

And even though I had 14 panic attacks, I couldn't stop him from double fisting pesticidey apples.

So Sean threatened to throw him in with this really hairy bull thing. And he finally started bahaving himself.

Except during the hayride when he went and sat next to some random woman and held her hand. But we didn't get pictures of that because I was too busy being mortified. And Sean was too busy laughing.

On second thought, this is exactly what I would expect from someone who shares my genetic make up

I don't even know how to preface this randomness, so I'll just sum it up as "stuff from last week."





Another daycare art project. I was in the middle of telling Kelan how cool it was when I noticed the upper left hand corner. I'm no child psychologist, but this seems worrisome...

Above is the book that Kelan picked out during the last trip to the library. It was most likely just a random pick, but I like to think of it as an enlightened choice.

Also! Kelan has been into fairy tales as of late. I am amazed at how often I have to ad-lib for content, which is hard because I am very anti-censorship, but geez! I was reading "Hansel and Gretel" the other night and I had totally forgotten (or blocked out?) the fact that Hansel and Gretel were actually purposely abandoned in the forest by there parents-- the first idea their parents talked about? killing them off.