This is actually not a very well written post. Posting it anyway.

Oh parenting.  

I'm not sure that social media has helped you very much.  Everything comes and goes in waves of trends.  The tide comes in, the tide goes out, and we are carried off and tossed about on the rocks of public appearances, unless we can stand back far enough away on the shore and say "HO there, tiger.  That's just, that's just no." 

     I used to have a job selling clothes as a personal stylist. I would create whole outfits for people, and everyone was different.  But what I would tell them most of all was, "Wear what makes you happy."  People are difficult and complex, but clothing shouldn't be.  

      I just heard a sermon this morning as I was driving and the pastor was saying, "Back in biblical times, when someone was grieving, they used to actually tear their clothes and put ashes on themselves.  This was a sign to everyone around them saying 'I'm grieving.  don't expect too much from me right now.  Pray for me.'"  I think our outfit choices still reflect what's going on inside the person.  

     Parenting also follows trends.  One of the current trends is to write an "Open Letter" about a current method of parenting that is the way we all should now approach it/look at it/do it.  And then this gets passed around from page to page to page on Facebook and shared and liked and reposted until the next Open Letter.  I prefer the old school days of Facebook, when we all went on to add plants to our little garden, or get someone to send us cupcakes or buttons to add to our Facebook wall.  There were all these quizzes going around and we'd tag our friends to get them to answer the quiz questions all about ourselves. Then it got all serious and refined and "Open Letter"-y.  

    I say CLOSE THAT LETTER BACK UP!  

     What if God made you to be the person you are, with your personal personality hacks, your personal finances,  or lack thereof, goals, or lack thereof, your personal character qualities, or, let's face it, lack thereof, and what if God gave you these strengths and weaknesses and then deliberately gave you these particular children?  To compliment or completely rub raw all of that stuff about you?  To either teach them to grow through the cracks of all of your hard edges and personal damage or to flourish in spite of the fact that you have provided a sidewalk instead of a lawn, an ocean instead of a fresh water stream, a jungle instead of a city?  

I mean, what if GOD was intentional about making you just the way you are, making your child just the way s/he is, and putting that combination together?

     Go wherever you want with this logic.  

     I'm just "train of thought-" ing right now.

Cause I just don't think we all need to hear everyone else's opinion about every single thing, and I think we've lost the ability to see when it's valid to give our input and when it's not our place.  I think we can all get paranoid thinking that the whole world is watching and judging our choices and we don't want to be judged.

Throw all that away.  

Just do it the way that works for you.

Seek wisdom from those in your inner circle who have already earned your trust.

Not everyone will understand or like you and you don't owe them an explanation.

Some people will judge anyway.

Just know that.

And have a 

Happy Clothes wearing, 

Child rearing,

Person being, 

kind of day.

   
   

What used to grow here

What used to grow here?

before this was a house 

where I look out a window

at 10 feet tall weeds- 

We are having a drought,

 and the grasses have dried,

 but

these weeds, left untended, 

have flourished

10 feet. WHY

Does evil grow easy, with effortless grace,

 while

 beauty chokes back in retreat?

In the heat of this place, 

I am wilted 

by noon.

Two Words: Bovine Gelatine.

In other news of,

 "Moms, Stop Creating Entitled, Needy Humans* by Codependantly Over Planning Your Kid's Free Time**,  and even if they are bored, Let Them Be Bored*** til they figure it out": (*but I am not giving advice because what do I know based on my own memories of childhood and having birthed 5, what do I know-ok yes so I messed up here and here, all the ways, but they are all still breathing and growing and they even smile once in a while so what do I know, though I am going to leave you with this little nugget, just gonna leave it right here and walk away and what you do with it is now up to you: SIX. I am the mother to six, five by birth and one by rescue but again, WHAT DO I KNOW AND HOW DARE I ADVISE YOU ON ANYTHING EVER MAYBE I HAVE NEVER GLEANED ANY WISDOM OR HINDSIGHT, not to mention my own memories of having been a kid at one time myself.)

Ahem. 

Deep breath.

So here's what happened today: 

less than 20 minutes ago, in fact:

There I was, staring at the back of a bottle of Biotin pills. I wanted to know how many of these one is supposed to take in a day, and should one take it with a meal, full glass of water, empty stomach, what would be ideal??? And then my eyes looked lower, to the ingredients list, and it said:

 "gelatine (bovine.)"

 and then I thought, is it just me, or do those sound like two words that should never go together? Like ever? I don't know about you, but when I hear the word, "gelatine," I instantly think of Jello, fruity flavored and marketed as a light dessert or side dish, sometimes prepared with banana wheels or little orange wedges? Cool Whip and Church Pot Lucks?  None of those things speak to me of cows, which is what "bovine" means; it's just a fancy word for "cow."

   So I was considering all of the ramifications of what this thought does to the concept of Jello (kills it dead, that's what) mind you, this was all taking place within a span of maybe 3 seconds. And then, Four Year Old Child walked into the kitchen holding her deflated arm water wing things. The day before, she had asked me to blow them up for her, and I had said no. No, because blowing up water wings is a Daddy Job (DJ), and no, because I am that type of mom who puts "deliberately getting light headed and dizzy" near the top of my list of DTIWNDD. (Daily Things I Will Not Deliberately Do.). 

So here we have our scene: 

Me standing in the kitchen holding the bottle of Bovine Gelatine and Child has entered, holding deflated water wings and wearing a dress. 

    She had originally gone into her room to "Put On Your Swimsuit!" Because "We Are Going Swimming!" In the inflatable blow up wading pool that Daddy set up two days ago. (Inflatable: Daddy job. At least I am consistent in TICTBDJ. (Things I Consider To Be Daddy Jobs.))

    So there she stood and, remembering that I was not going to blow up the water wing, she informed me that she would blow it up herself. To which I said:

 be careful you'll get light headed to which she said that's ok if I get light headed to which I said  light headed feelings mean you aren't getting enough oxygen and it is your brain's way of telling you to take a break 

(yes I said that) 

(and I was sincere about it)

 ...to which she, um I forgot what she said next because I decided to stop arguing and focus on worrying about why she had yet to put on her swimsuit and didn't she know we only have SO MUCH TIME.  Doesn't she realize that bubbles are involved, so deeply involved, in my Grand Master Plan, too. But then I actually looked at her face and saw pure happiness, the kind that only comes from being a kid fully loving just this exact moment, how excited she was at the prospect of blowing up the water wings. And I did not say those last thoughts. 

I just said something like "ok." 

    She walked into her room saying, "I'll just be in here, blowing this up.  If I get dizzy I'll stop." 

End of scene. 

     A few minutes later, (5, tops) Child came out of her room with her hands behind her back and said, "Look at me, but close your eyes!!" the excitement practically oozed, people. So I closed my eyes. She said "OPEN YOUR EYES!" I opened my eyes and guess what. She had blown up the water wing. "I knew I could do it!" She said,  radiant in full gush mode. I almost "high fived" her but didn't. 

     She then decided it was a good time to put on her swimsuit. Some time during that (roughly) 38 second task, she decided it would be too much work to blow up the other water wing and chose to deflate the first one. "I decided I don't want to use them." She said. 

Which makes sense in a pool where the water level doesn't even reach her shins.

Blink

Blink

  So then commenced the outside inflatable pool play and yes there still were bubbles and yes a few moments of "I don't want to look right now, I already saw that, I'm busy writing, go play" (<<< me saying that.) 

*MSCENH

**COPYKFT

***LTBB

The Day The Magpies Descended (Birds are for the birds.)

So I just now said to my husband, "do you mind if I type a little bit?" because I just need to get some things off my chest, but we share this one laptop, and if he wants to use it, now would be his time to use it for whatever business he conducts on this thing.  Probably searching for truck parts and wires and things, in case you were wondering.  But tonight the NBA playoffs are on, and this is very exciting, as the new old retro sound system is on and amplifing our old retro tv.  Basically everything in our house is old and retro and we call it "retro chic."  So as that is requiring his full attention, I now have some things to get off my chest.  

    K. Just now before I unload.  Husband just stopped me mid typing to say "Can I show you this for a minute?"  His voice was grave and serious, and I knew he was wanting to show me a video of bird attacking a dog, but I was on a mission so I said "I HAVE to get these words out of my head RIGHT NOW."

     Preamble over.  Post begins now:

     Early summer of 2013, I had a baby.  The rest of that summer was spent recovering from having had that baby.  5 weeks after he was born,  I saw a bird I had never seen before in my front yard.  This happens often in this town.  One of the first things I noticed when I moved here 3 years ago was the variety of unusual birds.  This one particular bird had blue, black, and white feathers and a yellow beak.  What caught my attention and disturbed me was that this bird kept its beak partially open all the time.  It's a strange sight to see a bird in your yard, just a normal sized bird sitting there as if at rest, but it's beak is not fully closed.  Just no, bird, don't do that.  Don't just sit in my yard and look like you are on the verge of being a thing of beauty, but actually on this side of strange, which makes the whole thing now simply odd.  Just, don't do that, bird in my yard.  

     But then it wasn't just the one bird.  The next time I looked out at my yard, there were two or three of them, just like that, with the beak thing happening.  I will spare you the drawn out details and just say that for one entire week of that summer, exactly 5 weeks after I had had a baby for the fifth time, my front yard was invaded by this creepy breed of bird.  I kid you not, and I had witnesses to back this up: on the last day of that unique week, we saw at least a dozen in the yard at one time.  Talk about your creepiness factor.  I took a picture of one of them, found out that they were magpies.  And then they were gone.  It has been two years, and I have not seen any of their kind since that last day at the end of that one week when they descended in mass. 

 UNTIL YESTERDAY.

    There I was, unassumably parking the minivan in my driveway with my now almost two year old son in his car seat.  And what do I see in my neighbor's yard, all unassuming as if it owns the town?  Magpies.  Three of them.  Beaks partially parted.  No.  Yes.  But no, please.

      Now is probably a good time to point out that this is not a feel good 'wrap it all around to a happy ending" blog post.  This is ventilation for my soul.

     Since yesterday, I have seen several magpies.  I hear them calling as they fly overhead; the sound they make is like a strange siren noise; not at all musical or charming.  

     Now is probably a good time to point out that strange not exactly calm, peaceful, and charming creatures is TOTALLY NORMAL for my neighborhood.  We live in a ghetto part of town.  It's not the worst of the ghettos, so my husband says, and I take his word for it since he knows these types of things; but it is a ghetto, and the animals here play right along to type. There are several wild cats.  Or maybe they are owned, but their owners let them run free, and often we hear screetch cat yells as they fight each other.  I guess that's what ghetto cats do.  I don't mind the cats though because they eat the rodents.  (Do not get me started on the rodents.  It is another story for another day.)

     Our neighbor recently adopted one of the neighborhood cats.  It has no tail.  Like it has a stump where you can tell it obviously once had a tail which is no longer present.  It is a sad looking cat.  

     And then there are the neighborhood birds. Even the birds here seem to know that they are ghetto birds.  They fight each other, too.  I am not exaggerating.  They fight verbally and physically.  I have stood under the tree in the front yard and looked up because there was a whole lot of screeching happening up there.  I have looked up to see what appeared to be some sort of branch turf war between three different birds.  I have also seen a different type of bird FALL DOWN ON THE GROUND OUT OF THAT SAME TREE because they were in a wresting tangle, fighting each other.  

    So my point is that I should not be surprised that the creepiest bird of all, at least the creepiest I have ever seen to date, has come to visit our 'hood.  At least I sure hope they are just visiting.

    This afternoon, I was enjoying the glorious triple digit heat which typifies summer in this town by sitting on the porch and watching my youngest children play in our inflatable blow up kiddie pool.  And then I heard the siren call that I now recognize as that of the magpie.  I looked across the street to observe no less than twelve of them congregating underneath a dumpster.

    Yes, there is a dumpster there, right across the street.

     And yes, that is where the magpies chose to huddle.

     The end.

     And now, if you don't mind, I think my husband wants to show me a video of a bird attacking a dog.  I hope the dog wins.

Birds are for the birds.

UPDATE: It ended up being a video of AN EAGLE ATTACKING A FULL SIZED MOUNTAIN GOAT, LIFTING IT UP IN IT'S LARGE TALLONS AND CARRYING IT OFF AND AWAY IN THE SKY.  FOR THE PURPOSE OF EATING THE GOAT.
WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO.  I KNOW THIS IS NOT NEW NEWS, BUT I JUST NOW LEARNED THERE IS SUCH A THING AS A LARGE EAGLE CARRYING A MOUNTAIN GOAT OFF OF THE MOUNTAIN AND FLYING AWAY WITH IT AND I DO NOT LIKE THIS NEW (TO ME) TURN OF WORLD EVENTS.

the end.
Carry on with your merry making.

Sweet Potatoes

I don't know about you, but I can eat and eat and eat and eat and EAT the same things every day and never ever ever get tired of eating those same things day in and day out.  

    You would think I was exaggerting but I am not.  I am a habitual eater of the same foods.

"Hi, My name is Michelle, and..." insert whatever you might want to name this.  

     The contents of daily eating method have gradually changed over time, but currently they involve a lot of sweet potatoes.  I spend the time before nap time cooking them so that when they come out of of the oven, "Oops!  Look at that kids, nap time again!" and then I feel relaxed enough to give eating the proper attention I want to give it. 

     This recipe I am about to reveal has been perfected over time, and it's nothing super fancy, and you might already do this yourself and think it's all repetative and super not interesting.  Or you might think it's a thing of lack in your life, and you want to try it.  Either way, HERE YOU GO, GENTLE READER:

     My Favorite Sweet Potatoes:

Ok wait backstory: These came into existence when I set out to like sweet potatoes.  Previously, I had only ever experienced the Thanksgiving version of sweet potatoes, which involved sweetening them and therefore making them wretched.  That is a really sad waste of marshmellow fluff and brown sugar.  I stopped eating sweet potatoes altogether.  But then as certain vegetables do, sweet potatoes seemed to come back into popularity 5 years ago.  Hearing so much about their health benefits, I was sure a needed to find a way to like them.  I embarked on a recipe journey which, 5 years later, looks like this:

     Start by chopping 4 or 5 sweet potatoes into french fry shapes.  Skin remains on.  Who wants to deal with unnecessary peeling, plus the skin is nutritious.  I would say "Nourishing, but I can't handle the word "nourishing." 

     Once chopped, I coat them in melted butter, melted coconut oil, or a combination of the two. (Lately, it has been a combination of the two.)  I would love to give you exact measurements, but I eyeball it.  It's about 2-3 tablespoons of butter, plus 2-3 tablespoons of coconut oil.  Or all butter or all coconut oil, but equaling a total of 4-6 tablespoons rough total.  If that's not clear as mud.

     Next, spread the butter/coconut oil coated chopped sweet potatoes across two cookie sheets.  

Then I sprinkle them with pink himalayan sea salt, a very slight sprinkling of cayenne pepper, and a more generous sprinkling of cinnamon.  A little cayenne goes a long way, so err on the side of caution there.  

     Bake in a preheated oven at 400 degrees for roughly 32-25 minutes.  The exact minutes will depend on how thick you actually cut them, and the strength of your oven.  You will have to eyeball it until you figure out the time that works for you.  My particular oven usually cooks them to perfection in 32 minutes.  

     Once fully cooked, (they will look brownish on the ends and be french fry texture, not too soft.) I scoop them onto a paper towel lined plate, and then for the finishing touch not to be left out or forgotten: Squirt lime over them!  Wow, this is so so so good!  If you don't have a lime, squirt a lemon!  This is also good, and truly, I usually squirt both on my sweet potatoes. But if one had to choose between a lemon or a lime, I would say go with the LIME!  

     And then that's it, you are ready to consume these delicious bites of vitamin A and Beta Carotene.  Are vitamin A and Beta Carotene the same thing?  Discuss...

     B. T. Dubs, I also squeeze lemon and lime on my morning breakfast eggs with avocado.  Yes, yes, and yes.  Just makes your food tastes like it has WOKEN UP!  This is a good feature for a food, especially in the morning, wouldn't you say?  

    I'd say.

    I just did say.

I'm going to now do something I never do, which is to push the "publish" button on this very rambly train of thought post written in haste as two children watch the end of a movie and wait for their dinner to cool down enough to eat and my husband snoozes on the couch next to me.  

   Spell check has not been checked and I have not reread these words.  This is just exactly how they flowed.  

On days when I can't see the Mountain

Most days like today,
in the heat of this June,
my life is contained in this city
walled deep in these hills.
Just past the hills I've seen mountain peaks looming,
still white, as if cold still exists, as if comfort.
But today hung puffy white clouds low,
very low,
leaving nothing in view past the
burdensome hills
(If I want out of here, i must get past these hills)
I am tempted to wonder,
did I really see what I saw all those days?
does hope still exist, just above and beyond
as a frozen remembrance
of promise, of comfort,
or are there just puffs of unreachable clouds?

("Where there is no vision the people
perish")