Sew Sweet!

They’re here!  My latest distractions!   I was so twitterpated when I saw the patterns online, but Oliver + S also do packaging right!  The  little extras they add to the patterns are hugely appealing to me, and that guarantees that I will be a repeat, though annoying, consumer.

I took the patterns out to stare at them a week ago, and have to say that even the patterns themselves are lovely. 

Being mostly house-bound has allowed me (or possibly forced) to finish up lots of needle-art projects, so my Gorey projects require only background stitching, and I can then begin new ones!  I finished a skirt, and am ready  to start on several dresses too! 

An unfortunate side of being without a great portion of my abdominal muscles now, is that I have to wait for assistance with most things that require lifting of any sort.  So, I have to wait for someone to go to the fabric store with me, which might work out for the best, since I am definitely not the one to choose colors or match anything well.  In other words, the one who accompanied me to the fabric store will also have the burden of picking out fabrics/patterns/colors, etc.

An unfortunate side-effect of my mostly sofa-bound-hinder, is that Liam has taken to conversing (deep and thoughtful) with my big toe, also known as “Toe Bot!”  These interactions (though one-sided) can last for up to 20 minutes.  Should I worry?  I don’t suppose it matters, since for his three-year checkup, he worked some of his voices on the pediatrician, and she now thinks he is retarded, due to his choice of a mumble-voice.  So, while he can speak better than most children his age (all of them that we have met, I am giving the others the benefit of the doubt), he appears to speak unintelligibly and doesn’t make eye-contact (yet another part of his act).  They also did a urine sample, since he has used the bathroom every three minutes or so (8-10 times while at the doctor’s office).

Thursday, we have Finn’s appointment, and I am desperate to get him to respond directly to my questions of color, number, or letter.  So far, no luck.  I was convinced that Finn is color-blind, but Madame Ovary tells me he has me snowed, and that he knows all of his colors, etc.  I am still worried, as the doctor has become a real force/authority (moreso than I ever would have imagined).  She actually told me that Liam needs to be out of the house, with other kids at least twice a week.  Well, my mind can spin that out in all manner of webbed and sticky ways. 

Overly distracted,

Pru

Shenanigans!

  I am continually reminding myself not to take things so seriously anymore, and certainly to not forget the little things, which are inevitably the most significant, after all. 

Many thanks to Mr. Mike Wozowski for the art!  It made me think that I should be adding a new animation to my ever-increasing list of “must do.”  So far, I have vowed to complete all of my Gorey needlework, as well as start all of my Christmas needlepoints, and begin sewing with my new AMAZING machine (Graduation, Christmas, and Celebratory gift to myself!); also, will finish up pesky texts I have been working on for FAR too long!  New ideas to complete my “Tillie” tale, so I hope that all works out for someone who might wish to read it.  I find that I spend too much time going back over what I have already done, rather than in continuation and completion.

I finally managed to catch Tillie on camera!  The tap, tap, tapping of her little Tillie-toes has given her location away many times.  She lurks, tiptoeing around the table before she jumps, looking for something tasty–hoping for pastry or  fine cheese. 

Finn, dryly told M. Ovary that he couldn’t finish his food because Tillie was eating it, and sure enough–There she was!

So, this year I will be reclaiming/claiming my right to be an adult/parent, and tidying up lots of projects!   Keeping Tillie off of the table and the boys out of trouble?  I don’t think I am suited for that.

In my downtime, I have even made homemade mac-and-cheese!  Complete with the homemade mac!  What is going on here?!   I need a manicure/pedicure/all-around spa-day soon!

Ta, ta! 

A very busy Pru.

Desmoid Tutu–A Holiday Drama of Misery and Miracles

What seemed like the worst possible holiday season and graduation present, ended up being the very best. 

What began as a few bad things, ended up as a long list of bad that could only be amazing, appalling, and ludicrous.  The longer the season went on, the longer the list grew, and the more unbelievable, until I felt as though I were living a David Sedaris essay.  Something like this:

July 1:  Taking bleeding dog to vet… 
July 10: Cannot see through tears.  Bleeding dog has rectal cancer.
July 15: Father-in-law just diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
August: Clean up after exploding dog.
August 30: Submit graduation application for MA!  Who wants to go celebrate?! 
October: Must get home to clean up after exploding dog.
October 20: Child bitten by dog on vacation.  Oh, and dog exploded again…but worse than ever.  How does one clean vomit, urine, and feces off the floors of ones home?  You know, when it’s gotten into the grooves of the hardwood?

October 30: Graduation request was rejected…I need a drink, can anyone watch my kids?
November 1: Father-in-law just admitted into hospital.
November 10: Father-in-law admitted into hospice.
November 15: Fought with Graduate Advisor/threatened to bring the boys to his office.  Graduation OK’d.

November 16: Found strange, hard abdominal thingy while doing sit-ups…right here, feel it?…do you think that’s weird?  Oh, Also, going to have to go to hospice early for family thing.

November 25: Think we might have to put the dog down…maybe after dinner.
November 26: Nope, dog just had a bad day.

November 30: Hey, you know that strange lump?  I could only feel it before… but now, I can see it!  Look! 

December 1: Doctor’s appt.  They are going to look at the lump.
December 2: Going in for a CT scan today.  Barium is terrible.  Oh, and my father-in-law swallowed his teeth last night!

December 2, 10:00: Nope.  Didn’t really understand about Barium.  Won’t be going anywhere today.  Also, nursing the wounds in both arms where the technician couldn’t find a vein, or blew them.  Those bruises are gonna be around for a while.

December 4: Going to turn in my last paper today.  Also, got the CT scan results back.  I have a quite large, aggressive, malignant form of cancer called a sarcoma.  I can’t stop talking about it and laughing hysterically, or crying every time I see the faces of my toddlers.

December 5: Going in for another CT scan and x-ray today.   Appointment in the works with a specialist, but apparently, I don’t call them, they call me…How long should I wait by the phone?  The boys are getting  weirded out by my constant staring and bursting into tears.

December 5, 3:00: Apparently, the sarcoma is huge, but my lungs are all clear, and it looks as though it is “encapsulated”  Oh, also have nodules on my thyroid, but the doc says that’s something to worry about later…maybe she should have added, “if you live” Ha, ha…hooo.

December 7: Finally met with specialist at Mayo.  Totally out of network, but she is supposed to be the best.  She tells me that she can’t tell me what it is without a biopsy…hmmm…wonder why the general surgeon could give me such a definitive diagnosis with just a CT scan.  Specialist says that it could very well be something benign, like a “Desmoid” tumor.  She says they are tricky, but at least it isn’t malignant.  Either way, she wants it out.

December 9: Going in for an MRI.  Hopefully, they find my veins this time.
December 11: Father-in-law passes away.

December 14: Labwork and Biopsy day.  Some guy in the waiting room couldn’t stop talking on his phone–something about how broke he is, and how ill he is, and how close the holidays are, and dealing with family, and how the higher the floor you are on, the sooner you’re gonna die…over, and over, and over…Hey!  Wait!  I have to go up to the 4th floor!  The most discomfort I have ever felt in my life!  They messed with the belly-button!!!!  I made everyone in room cry.

December 15:  I’m going to be waiting all day for a phone call.

December 16, 8:30 PM:  It’s NOT A SARCOMA!!!!  It’s a Desmoid, and benign!!!!  The boys can stop worrying now, because I won’t be bursting into tears at the sight of them.  We’ve named the lump, “Desmoid Tutu.”

December 17: Gotta go to the funeral…that incision from the biopsy still hurts, and I am NOT wearing hose.  Also have to decide what to do about surgery.  The 21’st or later?  With that specialist, or someone new and in network?

December 17, 4:00:  Going to have surgery with the same specialist, on the 21. 

December 18: Going in for lab work and pre-ops. 

December 21: No more Desmoid Tutu!  I will never have a “six-pack” again…more like a three and a half-pack, or a “four-pack,” and though I will be out of commission for about three months, that is perfectly okay, and seems like nothing at all. 

December 25:  The best Christmas I have ever had!  Getting to watch my boys understand gifting for the first time, knowing how many people have helped me and thought about me, and watching my dad with my boys, while knowing that I get to live to see another and another and another, was beyond miraculous, especially after having become intimate with my fragile mortality.  Being with family while on heavy pain medication didn’t hurt either…

  The Pru with 5 lives remaining!

The “Man in the Light”

I am not very good at being an adult.  For the most part, it seems my diminutive stature precludes anyone from taking me seriously, and rather attracts derision, scorn, and highly demonstrative sessions of people telling me what I need to do, when, and why.  People don’t so much comment or advise as much as they decide for me and rule over me, as though I am a small child, or seem to need my arms firmly grasped as they drag me in the correct direction. 

On a long drive, Will pointed out that I only ever dream about paranormal things trying to harm me, or control me or my loved ones, and mostly, I have to agree that is the case.  Even the way I fly is dependent upon perfect circumstances, and my lofty aspirations are tenuous and without longevity.  It didn’t occur to me how related that is to my childish feelings of constantly being strong-armed into things out of my comfort zone or that I just don’t care about, until just that moment.  I guess it often takes other points of view for us to see ourselves properly, which is why I hold Tarot cards in great esteem.

Having a child-like, overly imaginative mind can often lead to irrational and reckless thoughts and actions, but as in the case of my dreams, it mostly allows others to feel that they can or must exert control over that which appears to be in need of control, or possibly all of these people are sociopathic (which is much more likely…it is, after all, an inherited trait, no?)

Perhaps it is due to my view of humanity through the way I have been treated by others, or perhaps something else.  Either way, I am acutely aware of the fact that my lens is tinted toward viewing the supernatural in everything.  I want it to be that easy an answer when atrocities are committed, and not a complex mental cocktail of the nature/nurture variety.  What I have noticed recently is how I am coloring my children’s views of the world, and not just with being irrationally inclined, but by seeing me as someone who is powerless, or at the very least, malleable and easily dissuaded/persuaded.  Judging from their actions when around others, I am keenly aware that mine is not the last word.

For the last few months, Liam has been asking us, “who’s that man in the light?”   How could one not be a bit freaked out by that?  Especially a parent.  What do you say in response?  I don’t want to make him think there is something there in the event that there is not, but I also don’t want him to think that we think he is crazy, or make him deny something that he obviously sees…whatever that might be.  So, as my child stares at the ceiling fixture, and asks me what that man is, or what’s his name, or what he’s doing, I try to think of an appropriate response. 

The best that I could do was take him seriously, which scared me fairly well.  I got into his bed, lay down, stared at the light, and tried my best to see something (which he did not want me pointing at or speaking to…which jarred me further), I asked him what the man looks like, and he said, “he sa mean, scaywe man–I don’t like him.”  I started to tell Liam that if the man bothered him I would yell at him and tell him to go away, and he would have to obey me–because I rank higher, as mom.  Still staring at the light, Liam did not like that idea, and voiced that opinion in a rather alarming sincerity for a toddler.  I looked as hard as I could at the light, trying to figure out what it could possibly be that he was seeing, and settled on it being the reflection of a night-light.  So, I covered the light up, and asked Liam if the man went away.  He didn’t say, or I didn’t hear…so, I asked again, and Liam said, “yes,” though, not with very convincing authority. 

“It’s just the reflection of the night-light!”  I assured him.  Finn followed suit, with, “It’s just erection of light, Niam.”  Finn and I did our best to convince Liam, but as of tonight, I think he remains frightened and I can only feel that it is my fault for not being a figure of authority in his world.  I cannot make even an erection in the light go away.  So, how safe must the little guy feel? 

I have a plan for asserting some control, but I need to ask the cards first…

Pathic Pru

Seven Deadly Chocolates…

Which, as it appears, I will likely never experience. 

I am a sucker for good marketing, well, mostly.  I am even more of a sucker for products that play on my compulsive word-nerdery.  While undertaking a bit of midterm research I happened upon a most lovely find that I fear will end up utterly rending my heart into broken bits when I solidly discover that the company has ceased to be.  That said, Polidori Blog, and Polidori Website.  I was searching for information on John Polidori, but found this first…and, well, had to sign up for their newsletter.  Upon signing up for said newsletter, and then receiving none, I am assuming that the business has folded.  Which is such a shame. 

It was such a thrill to see someone so invested in their passions and products.  Especially gothic/author-themed confections!  Not only does she appear to be a reader, but a critical thinker!  Her creations appear to have, or had, a lot of thought put into them, as far as what flavors and design are suitable for a Byron or Shelley truffle.  What confection might be suitable for Sylvia Plath? 

“LUST:The poet Sylvia Plath once observed, ‘If they substituted the word ‘Lust’ for ‘Love’ in the popular songs it would come nearer the truth.’ So how can lust be so bad? Our wickedly scrumptious Lust truffle combines the essence of pomegranate (thought to be the true fruit with which Eve tempted Adam) and sweet-tart dried Bing cherries.” 

Of course, what else?! 

Possibly the very best part of the “proprietress’” marketing strategy is that you have to confess to her your favorite of the seven deadlies!  How fab is that?  Chocolate based on one’s sin proclivities?!  I am in heaven…or I would be if I found out how to get my lips around some of those truffles…

Lovely weekend to all,

Pru (who wouldn’t be able to commit to just one deadly, so it is probably just as well if the business is defunct…but still quite sad)

Anger Management Through Gardening

Apparently, I have chosen the right hobby to embark upon, as I find myself becoming increasingly frustrated by toddlers being, well, toddlers.  What better way to relieve some stress and veg-out (pun intended), than to weed?  Spending time with the dirt (even if it is crawling with horrific, repulsive creatures like wolf spiders), growing and nurturing self and nature.  Lovely.  I can just picture myself in matching tools, hat, gloves, and sloggers.  Such a thrilling image of children being cooperative, and then actually eating their veggies because they grew them!  And, the added benefit of having the children understand where food comes from.  The fortunate side to the boys refusal to eat meat is that I won’t have to show them where that comes from. 

Searching around for gardening “musts,” I happened across the “Red Dragon,” and these thoughts suddenly shifted.  Well, it appears that some folks really depend on gardening to manage anger…  It’s a flame-thrower-backpack!  What sort of rage must the customers who purchase such a product need to subdue?  What manner of weeds are so odious and insidious that they must be dealt with through the power of fire?  I can only imagine rampant, fire-bearing gardeners on a mission to destroy the most dastardly and nefarious varieties of garden pests and unwelcome vegetation. 

Contemplating…purchasing…one…of…these… 

Pru

Simple Things

Well, they should be simple things.  After driving around the hills of Virginia, and being in the mountains for the first time in ages, I realized how potent nostalgia really is.  I have been missing my Sandias, my Sangre De Cristos, Mt. Lemon, etc., for a long stretch, but this summer’s vacation has really made me question where I can actually grow.  Visiting family in Virginia made me realize that I really want a garden of the vegetable variety.  Simple, right?  Clear some land, plant some seeds, et voila!  Garden! 

No.

I have been staring at seed catalogues for days now, trying to figure out what I want to grow, and how I want to grow it.  Should I use a raised bed, or just plant things straight into the ground?  All of the seeds sold in Jacksonville are gone too, so starting anything from seed isn’t an option until the seeds come back (where did they go?  The state apparently takes them to check them and re-date them?)  This sounds like it may take a while.  So, heirloom and organic seeds from “Johnny’s Selected Seeds” sounds like the only way to go.  Plus, they have creepy blue pumpkins, perfect for Halloween.  How could one resist a grey-blue pumpkin, or a purple carrot?!  I could become a mad gardener and grow all manner of dastardly edibles.

In preparation for gardening, one of my big goals is to get all of the old mulch out of the landscaping.  This seemed simple too, but has now been complicated by my loathing and horror of Wolf Spiders, which apparently live in there by the millions!!!   We had been killing large spiders in our house for weeks, and I have seen them by the hundreds under the grass outside.  It didn’t look like the wolf spider I had last known, and I really hoped it wasn’t.

As I was preparing to rake up the old mulch, I saw several pin-head sized spiders in my bathroom.  I quickly did them in with wadded up tissue, and realized how many of them I was seeing.  My mind flashed back to the horrors of living with wolf spiders in Gainesville, and with good reason.  As I emerged from the shower, the mother was staring straight at me.  One tiny spider-ling was about eight inches in front of her, and it looked like she was calling him back.  I quickly stepped around them, squashed the little one, and then got the swatter to smack her with (far too large a creature for me to kill with my bare anything). 

I swung, and she exploded with hundreds of spiderlings, all over my floor and walls. 

That was one of my biggest reasons for leaving Florida the first time.  Now, I am going to need to seek therapy for this. 

Bugged,

Pru

Great Barrier Briefs!

There are plenty of things that I detest shopping for.  On the top of that list are, jeans, bathing suits, and underwear.  Since the arrival of the boys, I have been doing a lot more homework online prior to purchasing, or doing the groundwork search for any of these things.  Searching for PJs, I saw the words “Luxury Liners” in the column on the left, and had no choice but to check it out. 

What could they be?!  Certainly, that couldn’t be the name of a variety of underwear, for who would buy something that suggests as many odd and possibly degrading things as those two words together?  I mean, are they for the larger ladies?  Clever idea, if not a bit revolting.

It occurred to me that the existance of such a product begs for a witty competitor…Mike suggested “Modesty Masks,” “Practical Pouches,” and “Comfy Contours,” but I think that sticking with a gargantuan, ocean-ish theme is in order, so “Great Barrier Briefs” they shall be.

Now, what shall they do/look like?  I suppose they could be for sports/a barrier between wearer and elements…or they could be a barrier between the wearer and the rest of the world…  nearly limitless possibilities…I guess it just needs to be a brand all its own with multiple interests covered (pun intended).

Need to get started on this right away…

Pru

Two Cute

How can I be annoyed when they are just so darned cute? The boys have begun climbing into the same bed, along with all of their things. Two sets of blankets, two boys, two sets of animals, two sets of pillows…lots of stuff for a small toddler bed to hold!

The thing is that they have been talking back and forth for about 15 minutes now, after a full day, a busted chin, and lots of raucous spazing out for their cousin Catie.

I never thought the day would come, but suddenly, they seem to actually appreciate one another’s company and find comfort in one another again! A thing that hasn’t happened since their first few weeks of life!

Finn was even worried about Liam when he was “attacked” by a bird at the zoo. The bird just wanted to let Liam know that it wasn’t okay with him waving his hand in it’s face and bending down to its level to say, “Hi!” It flew at Liam’s glorious halo of hair with it’s talons outstretched, and basically just ruffled up his mane a bit. I think it really offended the friendly little guy, and scared him pretty well. Finn was pretty concerned though. He ran to Liam, bent down in front of him, looked up at Liam’s face, and asked very sincerely, if he was okay.

Ahh…nice boys.

Pru.

Crime Wave

So, the Creepy Mom strikes again.  Well, not really me this time, but Finn. 

There is a lovely grandmother from the Little Germ that has adopted us.  She has a grandson who is a bit delayed in speech and some physical abilities (I will call him “Jack”), but he is a very bright child, and all three boys seem to get along really well.  Liam enjoys making the little boy laugh, and Finn likes telling him what to do.  We try to get out of the house at least once a week and do something fun with Henri and her grandson, and she has always been super accommodating and understanding about Finn’s little issues…which are quickly turning into his big issues…mainly, his blood-lust and biting. 

With non-stop rain for the past four days (which will apparently continue into the next week), and everyone feeling completely stir-crazy ( I have seen a cannibalistic look in my children’s eyes this week upon denying them chocolate milk…), our adoptive grandmother and I decided to take the boys to the local Pump-it-Up.  Needless to say, every mother in this city, with children 6 and under (and some who seemed quite a bit older), had the very same idea. 

Long story shorter, the boys made themselves at home in the little Flintstone cars, and laid claim to them.  This meant that anyone attempting entrance into the cars was quickly removed.  Liam solved the problem of auto-theft by just remaining in the car and holding his ground in the exact same place.  Finn, however, decided that he really wanted to jump in the “bayoon houses,” so he ran back and forth between the car and the bounce house, expelling small and large children from the vehicle (and usually onto their heads) upon their trespass.  The boys can maneuver the inflated obstacles much faster than I can, in case anyone was wondering why I wasn’t doing anything to curtail Finn’s aggressive actions. 

At about the third kid Finn evicted from the car, I decided to keep him with me in the bounce house and watch he and the Jack in the same place.  Obstacles were decidedly more difficult for Jack, so he was the one I was most worried about, particularly with the insurgance of kids far too big to be with all of the little ones, and oblivious to stepping on them.  Finn, angered at my keeping him from his car, decided to sneak away when I couldn’t reach him, and pushed another child out and onto his head while he made a quick exit back toward his car. 

I was waiting for the year-old in the car to be toppled out while no parents supervised it, but Finn bypassed the car for the Foosball table instead!  Which was fine until I saw a six-year old girl run right in front of the opposing side of the table just as Finn thrust a rod her way.  Oif.  I think most parents know that sound (the dreaded, “Thuck!”)…sickening to hear…the sound of something smacking a head, really hard.  The rod hit the child smack-dab in the middle of her forehead.  And she dropped.   As none of the parents in the room seemed to be focused on any of the children crawling the walls, I was going to run to the child at the point where I noticed her trajectory and assessed that the rod was about to collide with cranium, but I was intercepted by grandma Henri, who turned me around and shook her head, and whispered, “No, you don’t want to get involved with that.  None of the parents were watching, that was their fault.”   Obviously, she is saving me from myself, as she has seen me fess up to Finn’s past incidents only to make things worse for all of us.

After trying to calm down a bit, Finn then turned on Jack.  I don’t think grandma understood just what I meant about Finn’s vampyric tendencies.  I don’t think she understood that when he does bite, he means serious business.  Jack was playing with a toy that Finn wanted, and although Jack is one of the kindest children I know, and shares everything he has without fuss, Finn lashed out with his patented “clamp and tear” bite.  Well, two of them, since Jack was mostly in shock and didn’t know how to react, or why Finn was doing it.  Grandma Henri understands my issue with Finn now, albeit a bit too personally.

Finn was totally unaffected by the morning’s events, as upon leaving he quickly discovered a stool that he could drag around to get him enough height to mess with the arcade games.  Really, I think his aim was to dismantle them rather than play them.  I just watched him, as I was still in shock.  I am still in shock today, and I think the weak-kneed feeling has been steadily increasing since my tripping of the 18-month old.   

Is it just boys?  What do other parents do?  The fighting in our house has been escalating beyond what I ever imagined two-year olds could accomplish in nastiness, premeditation, and vengeance.  The rain continues to pour, and supplies are dwindling…  At the point of this entry, I am not sure how much longer we can last…  I am hiding in the closet, but I can hear them sniffing around outside, and I am sure that I don’t have very long.  I will try to hold on… If you are reading this, please send h e l…Ahhhhhhhhhh…