Worms

Taken on one of those rare days I did her hair.
And before she undid it all.

Today Coriel acquired a pet worm. I meant to post a picture of it here, but that would have required forethought, so I shall instead post a picture of her. Which is probably better anyway.

Coriel’s worm does not have a name yet, as far as I know, but it has been given some water and dirt, given a nice home to live in (formerly a water pitcher), and taken on a walk or two. Also, I have let her know that her worm is strictly an outdoor pet.

We discovered her pet worm when I was edging our sidewalk this morning. Did you have any idea how many worms are in the dirt under your lawn? I didn’t, but I now estimate it as at least one per square inch. I unearthed exactly one gazillion of them. Believe me, I counted. (This doesn’t make sense mathematically, since I only edged about 100 inches, but if you involve some parallel universes and time warps, it all works out.) Most of the worms I unearthed quickly squirmed their way back into the dirt. The worms that stayed out for very long got kindly relocated. Coriel wanted to make sure that they were safe and sound in the dirt. There was only one that somehow captured her attention enough to be made into a pet.

Can I help it if I am secretly hoping that her worm satiates her current hunger for pet ownership? She is frequently asking for one, and every time she does, I have this little parental itch.* Am I a bad parent because I won’t give my daughter a pet? I mean, yes, I’m allergic to cats, dogs, feathers, who knows what else. Yes, I have no desire to be attached for months, years, decades to any animal at all. Yes, I can barely maintain, feed, and clean my own pets children. But doesn’t every happy, nostalgic childhood memoir involve a pet? How will my children write their memoirs without a pet?

And then today I had an epiphany. Do you know what a happy childhood needs more than it needs a pet? A sane parent. And in our household, it’s one or the other, baby.

So yes, tomorrow we will go outside and check on Mr. Worm. Coriel will probably come up with a name that is significantly more creative than my suggestion. Something like Lum.** He might last a day or two, if we are lucky, before his pitcher gets tipped over or he dies. (Does anyone here actually know the life expectancy of a worm? Is it more like a mayfly or a turtle? Because seriously, I am not taking care of a worm until my 93rd birthday.) And then we will find another pet. I’m hoping for something a little bit lower maintenance next time.

Maybe a rock.

*(Don’t worry, it’s small itch, and I ignore it.)

**We once cut out some paper aardvarks, a mom and a baby. They were both named Lum.

Writing Avoidance

First, may I simply say, “ugh”? Over the past few months, particularly as I have been planning to really buckle down and work on rewriting my retelling of Beauty and the Beast (2008’s NaNoWriMo effort), I have begun to truly fine-tune my procrastination skills.

Have you ever noticed how many incredibly fascinating blogs there are out there? Blogs that you never knew you missed before, but now that you’ve discovered them, you cannot live without them? Um, yes, well, I have. Also, isn’t it just possible that someone posted something incredibly fascinating on Facebook in the 20 minutes since you last checked it? (I’m exceedingly embarrassed by this growing tendency to compulsively check Facebook—I used to be among the Facebook mockers, and now I am one of the mockees.)

In case you were wondering about exactly what I’m avoiding, here it is: My goal for writing in 2012, in a gazillion complicated steps. Rewrite B&B draft 1. Go through set of alpha readers (friends/colleagues/etc. who read and comment). Rewrite again. Go through another set of readers. Rewrite again. Finish up in time to plan and participate in NaNoWriMo.

Insane, yes?

It should be noticed that I’m already waaaaay behind and revising my plans. The above was my original plan, but now it’s more like this: Finish writing B&B draft 1. Revise it extensively until it makes sense. Revise it some more. Maybe show it to Brice. Revise it some more. Then get some other readers. Try to frantically revise it. Then off to NaNoWriMo. Still insane, but maybe possible?

Anyway, this writing avoidance thing has been expanding to include the blog. Blech. (Is there a hidden meaning in the fact that “blog” and “blech” are so vocally similar?) And now I have a stack—I mean really a stack—of things I’ve been meaning to blog about. So many it’s a little ridiculous. Pretty soon I might just have to start posting fragments of this ridiculousness. Or just scrap them all. Or throw them in a blender and then post what comes out.

On the upside, though, the writing avoidance has been slowing down. I’m actually on a 2.5-week streak of writing at least a little bit each day. Granted, yes, some of the days were kind of pathetic, some were not on my novel (like the Sundays when I worked on my blog instead), and some were just random. And, well, yesterday I added exactly 17 words to my manuscript.

But, hey, at least I wrote, right?

What are you avoiding today?

Existential Angst

I am having it.

(The end.)

Fifteen Minutes

If you don’t already know it, Coriel and I have been having a lot of clashes over the last several months. I sometimes end the day just wanting to go hide in my room and start over fresh, hoping that my impatience or anger or sadness doesn’t add to her matched set of Family Baggage.*

In those crazy moments, it is hard to see her—really see her, you know? As a beautiful, dear four-year-old who is just figuring things out. As a funny, imaginative girl with very real needs and wants, needs and wants that are no less valid than mine. (Soapboxily, I think most people have this problem with small children; we tend to be unwilling or forgetful of the fact that they are just as human as we are. But that’s a rant for another day.)

So one night this week was such a gift for the both of us. And since in church today we were counseled** to recognize and record our Father’s tender mercies in our life, here we go.

I am not the fun parent. This should be patently obvious to everyone who has ever met both me and Brice. So it is pretty much a given that if Coriel has the choice of which parent to be with, she will choose Brice. But this week, when we returned from a drive and Addra was asleep, Coriel chose me to go inside and play with her while Brice stayed in the car with Addra. A nearly unheard-of choice, and even though it doesn’t bother me that she usually prefers Brice (he really is more fun than I am), it still gave me a little warm fuzzy when she picked me.***

We went inside and had a little picnic on the floor (before you get too impressed with the sweet mommy-ness of this, please note that the picnic was Taco Bell on a blanket). We brought in groceries. We cleaned together for ten minutes (our egg timer is awesome; she loves keeping time, and it makes everything more exciting). Then we had fifteen minutes of super-dedicated Coriel-focused playtime.

Fifteen minutes, you say? Fifteen minutes is puh. It’s pocket change. It’s nothing.

Nope. Fifteen minutes is bliss. Think about it, you who are parents: how often do you have fifteen minutes of interaction that is centered and wholly focused on your child and exactly what she wants, free of distractions? (Okay, yes, I know it—if you are an awesome, organized parent, you’re probably saying, “Every day.” Well, not me.)

We played with her figurines. The princesses had pets, and we fed and took care of them. We read books and snuggled. We ran relay races back and forth down the hall. We played leapfrog. I stared at her harder than I almost ever do. Her expressions are so marvelous; she just makes me laugh in real delight (which delights her as well, so she laughs too). She gave me a huge hug and said she loved me. It was beautiful.

And soon it was over, and it was time to get ready for bed, and things returned to normal. But those fifteen minutes, they were huge even though they were so tiny. They really were a gift.

*It is my theory that everyone gets a fair amount of Family Baggage to sort through as they grow up. But you might as well not try to purposely add to it.

**Thanks, Meghan and Adam!

***I feel like that really awkward, geeky kid who nobody wanted on their kickball team…. Oh, wait. I was that kid.

Linkdump

It’s that time again, my friends. The tabs in Firefox have reached critical mass, and I think I will be exploding if I don’t cut back. So, in case you’re even remotely interested in all the junk I am, here you go. The linkdump du jour.

First of all, don’t for get to vote! For me, of course! For the Mormon Lit Blitz! mormonartist.net/2012/02/lit-blitz-voting-instructions/

Interesting comments from Orson Scott Card on portrayals of evil in fiction. Among other things, I liked his very succinct classifications: evil depicted in fiction, evil advocated in fiction, and evil enacted by fiction. Of course, it must also be said that our Uncle Orson is (as usual) a tad bit long-winded.*

http://www.nauvoo.com/library/card-talk.html

Mothering AWESOMENESS about what it means to be a mommy blogger and how you just can’t do it all and how blogs make you look shinier than you really are. Loved it. Completely related to the rained-on sock picture. And I swear her garden could be my garden.

http://www.arthouseamerica.com/blog/beauty-and-the-mess.html

An interesting (and again, excessively long) article on polygyny and whether it will be practiced eternally. I have no way of knowing if his point are all equally valid (though many seem quite good to me), and frankly I’m not willing to research it extensively at this time. However, if any of you scriptorian/historian folk (Dad and Makani) have anything to say on the subject, you can let me know.

http://eugeneengland.org/wp-content/uploads/sbi/articles/1987_e_001.pdf

Someday I will become a coupon person. Really. No, really, I really will. Just as soon as I get the rest of my households ducks in a row (you know, things like cooking and doing laundry and vacuuming). So, pretty much, never. But when that day (never) comes, I’ll be ready with some tips on how to start.

http://www.ldsliving.com/story/65554-coupon-savings-a-simple-guide-for-the-beginning-couponer

Um, yeah. Someone (can’t remember who) told me to read this wonderful article by Elder Maxwell about the Creation. I’ll get to it. Just after I start couponing. http://www.ldsces.org/content/talks/general/2002-maxwell-our-creators-cosmos__eng.pdf

A quite rational discussion of why picking on Mormons is totally okay in our day of political correctness. Interesting.

http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/frame_game/2011/10/mitt_romney_s_mormon_cult_controversy_anti_mormonism_is_the_prej.html

An LDS writing reference for me, may or may not be useful someday. Couldn’t figure out what to do with it besides linkdump it.

http://ldsauthorevents.blogspot.com/

This woman just makes me laugh. I’ve included a post about how she’s going to end up marrying Harry Potter** and a really gross, appallingly funny post about shoveling poo at a waterpark (K-onna, don’t read this).

http://www.verbal-vomit.com/2012/02/game-has-spoken.html

http://www.verbal-vomit.com/2011/02/how-i-ended-up-waist-deep-in-misery.html

A post that I think wonderfully captures the tension of being a mother and of trying to take care of your home and your children and everything else. It really captured how I personally feel about that tension. It’s a difficult line to walk. (And I’m totally getting rid of some of our junk.)

http://blog.cjanerun.com/2012/02/chaos-and-control-theory.html

Ah, ways to get organized and get your kids involved. If only I was organized enough to start getting organized.

http://www.clean-organized-family-home.com/kids-chores-daily-by-age.html

Seedless watermelon. http://urbanext.illinois.edu/veggies/watermelon.cfm

And… success! I have achieved the joy of only six tabs left. Sigh of happiness.

*And who knew that my spellchecker was going to change “tadbit” to “tidbit”? Who knew “tad bit” was two words? Not me. Oh the editorial shame.

**Please note that this Harry Potter post is quite funny, but if you surf to the “Harry Potter needs therapy” one, it sort of isn’t.

Quarantine (in which I whine excessively)

Germs are tiresome. This is what I have officially concluded. We are going on two and a half weeks of sick here at the Stay household. Just colds, you understand, and when my brain is not fogged and clogged with all the goo my body is creating, I am indeed very grateful that all we have is colds. Truly we are blessed.

Still…

This morning I woke up thinking of the bliss of one more day of weekend, one more day that I would at least sort of get to rest a bit and prepare for the coming week. A bit over two weeks into our latest bout of illness, and only Brice and I are still sick. Coriel was first to get it and first to end it. Then Addra. Brice came next and lingered in sickness as he often does, largely because he’s doing such an amazing job of taking care of the rest of us and saving no rest for himself. I almost beat it this time, thanks to my dad’s excellent vitamin A advice. But no dice, here I am sick too, with that dreadful pressure that makes my head feel like it’s going to explode every time I attempt to blow the gunk out of my nose. But, I thought to myself, a couple more days and I’ll feel fine.

And then, this morning, Coriel slept in. A blessing indeed, I thought. And then she got up for breakfast.

And then she lay down to take a nap. Hooray, you say? You do not know my daughter.

The second time she lay down to rest, it became official. Coriel is sick.

Again.

This means I have at best a week or so to finish getting over my cold just in time to get whatever she’s got. Oh, and during that time, both Addra and Brice will also be getting sick.

The most dispiriting thing about this all, besides just feeling like a pile of yuck, is that we become quarantined, stuck with only ourselves for entertainment. Social engagements are canceled (the few we have planned), trips to the store or the bouncy place or even the gym are postponed. You can’t hire a babysitter, you can’t drop your kids off elsewhere for a couple hours of relaxation. (Well, you can sometimes foist them off on the grandmothers, but I doubt ours are coming back from Guatemala or whatever cloud my mom is crocheting on just to watch our sick kids.) There is no escape.

I have a friend who tells me to stay home and get some rest to get better. It has clearly been years since she had small children. There is nothing restful about staying home with two little ones. It is what I do every day. I do not get to nap when I feel like it or just sit around and watch romantic comedies. I get to take care of the kids.

I am tired of being quarantined. I am tired of being sick. I am entirely too whiny.

Write me something silly and completely unrelated to cheer me up?

Five for Friday, Coriel edition

Good (and/or other) stuff Coriel has said this month:

Tragically, I have officially reached “worst mommy ever” status. I was hoping to make it at least until she turned five. Why am I the worst mommy ever, you ask? Because, at a restaurant after a funeral* we attended yesterday, she needed to go potty three times in a row. The first time I took her. The second time Brice took her. The third time I told her I had to take her again because Brice was holding Addra. She wailed and told me Daddy had to take her. I told her no. Hence, worst mommy ever.

She’s very into knock-knock jokes these days, and she makes them up all the time. “Why didn’t the head cross the road? … Because it didn’t have any arms, legs, or body! Ha ha ha!”

Here’s another one: “Why didn’t the mitten cross the road? … Because it was too chicken!”

She is always wanting to cook something. “Let’s make ____ (pudding, cake, rice cookies, etc.). It has rice, potatoes, corn, and especially meat.” [Insert all sorts of random ingredients for all of those, but rice is usually one of them. And she almost always includes the “especially” clause or a “most of all” clause.]

Today we were reenacting the scene from the Book of Mormon where King Lamoni has fallen over in his overwhelming joy. His wife, the queen, is concerned because it’s been two days and two nights and people think he’s dead. We all took turns being King Lamoni, the queen, and Ammon. When it was her turn to be Ammon, I (the queen) asked her what was going to happen to the king. She told me this: “He will stay asleep for two days and two nights, and he will not eat and he will not go potty.” I asked her what would happen then. She thought for a minute and replied, “Then he will have a pee-out.”

And now, on to Heather’s blog hop!

*In case you were wondering, it was the funeral of our very old next-door neighbor, Jim.