Harry Potter has been released, purchased and completely read. “Transformers the Movie” is now behind us, and the tie-in toys are mostly already broken. The kids are tired of playing outside, in the dirt pile and in their tree-fort. The heat is no longer warm and welcome on our faces, but now irratating and tiring and grump-inducing.
Thirty-eight days ’till school starts. *sigh*
What am I going to do with them for the rest of the summer? Birthdays, grandparents visiting, and even the county fair are all due after school starts. The long, long days of August stretch out before us in a hot, tiring yawn. I feel helpless, short on patience and even shorter on ideas to get us all through happy and intact.
Currently, they’ve pulled the cusions off the living room couch and are taking videos of each other with my cell phone. If I send them out back to play this time of day, their little red-head skin will look like a chalupa in a matter minutes. Even with spf 60 slathered all over them.
My allergies are manic and sneezing fits irritate the crap out of me. Not the least of which because I never know when a sneeze is going to be just too much for my poor birthed-three-children bladder.
Today, out of desperation, I have a babysitter coming over so I can get out alone. I think they may be looking forward to her more than I am. There is nothing really pressing I need to do- besides be alone. Sweet, delicious alone-ness.
Thirty-eight days. Thirty eight days thirtyeightdays thirtyeightdaysthirty…
A few of my favorite things…
I needed a breather after that horrendous Kate Spade colored-legs torture. Ugh. The bags, maybe. The shoes? Definately. The colors? Over my dead body.
This is the Frog Prince Under glass. I have made him a nice little nest from tree branches, and he can see out, but the little stinker is not going run rampant in my house. NO kissing of frogs for my little girl to find a prince. Nope. That sucker is mine.
As you can see, I have a thing for cloche, or bell, jars. Love, love, love them. The only green one I have is over the cast iron toadie. Oh, I know. Toads and frogs are devastatingly different. All you amphibiaovers just keep it to yourselves.
I believe it was Edith Wharton who said a well designed room should always have somethign whimsical for the eye to alight upon. I like that.
And again with the cloche jar. What can I say? This one is on cake stand, also something I positively love, and contains a woodland sprite I caught in south-eastern Germany in 1998. She is lovely, isn’t she?
Love the green rannuculas bursting roots from their gavanized little tin- nevermind that they came from Target. The picture is of a great-grandmother holding a parosel in the sun. Beanie strives to be like her.
So there’s a little tiny glimpse into what I think is pretty. These are my favorite parts of the inside. At least while the kid’s are awake. Once they’re asleep, my favorite part’s are their little faces. But until then…
This is the fall preview for Kate Spade in New York. Can anyone join me in crying a mightly “Nooooooooooo!” the Heavens? Please. Pleasepleaseplease. I’m not ready for the eighties. Candy colored legs are just nine ways of wrong. Wroooooooong! NOoooo!
Finished. 4:12 p.m.
Very nicely done, Ms. Rowling. No spoilers here, since I don’t split my screen, but if you want to talk about it the comments, I’m all game. Let’s just say it was a satisfying read and a good culmination of 10 years of waiting. I am not let down.
Now, I just can’t wait until my kids are old enough to thoroughly enjoy them.
Taking the day off to read Harry Potter. Be back soon!
A fenced yard is one of the tender mercies for mothers of young children. I know this is true.
How did I do it for almost five years at the Old Place? Oh, I have no idea. But now, now that we live in Heaven, and I’m beginning to feel like it may stick, like maybe no one is going to show up and tell us it’s all a joke and we have to move, I think I could give up disposable diapers, or running water, before I could go without a fenced yard. Well, ok, maybe not, but you get the idea.
Right now, I’m watching Beanie dance around on the patio, holding a large green Japanese parosel and twirling in the sunbeams- and I can see he forgot to put his undies on again. Jeffrey is zooming back and forth across the yard on his bike, and Abby is standing at the wall-length picture window in my sunlit studio banging on the glass and laughing at her brothers.
Because of our fenced backyard, the boys, and soon enough Abby too, have freedom they never knew and the Old Place. They can safely come and go as they please; creating forts and secret areas and hidden worlds away from mom’s eyes, but near enought that I know exactly where they are- a balm for them and for me.
Everyone needs a fenced backyard.
We’ve been Simpson-ized. It’s kinda scary! I wanted to give myself the svelte thin Marge body, but honesty won out. DH isn’t really that scary in real life- and we had a good laugh at the “angry eyes”. Even with all the crazy Simpson hair, this was the best I could simulate- and it’s pretty tame, folks.