An open letter to Momma B.

Dear Momma B.,

I am writing at the request of my four year old daughter.  She has a crush on your son, Matty B.  She watches his YouTube videos all day long.  She props up the iPad and dances along.  She is somewhat obsessed.  She trolls Matty B. videos for clues about his age, where he lives, what he likes, and how to get in contact with him.

My daughter would like to invite him over for a play date.  In fact, she has asked if he could sleep over.  Before you get the wrong idea Momma B., let me assure you that she is not that kind of girl. Does that matter to you?

Before I extend the official play date invitation, I have a few questions.

Whose idea was it to start creating these music videos? It looks like he started when he was seven.  I know, I know, it's super cute to see a blonde, blue eyed boy singing and rapping with his suburban homies. Believe me, it's got appeal. Who comes up with the revised lyrics? The video concepts? You most certainly aren't using your phone to record these choreographed masterpieces, are you?

Now that Matty is the ripe age of 12 I'm wondering how you feel about all the so-called "B. Girls"?  I assume you welcome the attention based on the gang of young girls that appear in the later videos. How do you feel about a four year old B Girl? Inappropriate?

How do you plan to tackle the whole coming of age thing that inevitably happens to young celebrities? Throw a few house parties? Give him unlimited access to Twitter where he can tweet to all the "single ladies" out there? Oh, you already did that?

One last thing, what are you going to do when Matty's voice changes? Do you remember Ben Lee? I loved his "Grandpaw Would" album.  Did you know he recorded it when he was something like 15? But then something happened-- his voice changed and he could no longer sing like he used to.  It was really hard on me as a fan. So, for the sake of my daughter, tell me you have a plan. Please, don't let puberty kill Matty B.'s career.

Thanks for your time, effort, and marketing expertise in regards to your son,

Momma W.

Chickie update

The other day Chickie told me she wanted to invite a boy to our house so she could hide from him and pull him into a closet when he walked by. Today she said when she's five she's going to have boys over. I don't know what that's about except that I'm pretty sure it's too mature for a four-year old and I'm pretty sure she saw it on YouTube.

I hate YouTube. 

I love a minute (or 45) to myself. 

It's time to try this blogging thing again.  I mean, how long has it been?  I've been pretty much drowning in four kids for two years.  I still feel like I am just barely recovering from the baby that sent me to the brink.  But that's boring and we don't need to go into that right now. 

I've started trying to chronicle our lives through Instagram (and subsequent Chatbooks) but I fear I'm overloading my "friends" with family pictures no one really cares about. Plus most of my photos are of my two youngest. Is it because I love them more that the other two? Likely. Actually, I realized that they are in the prime story-making time of their young lives.  This is the season of cuteness and I need to record it as effectively as I did for my older two. 

And speaking of my older two... they are in the prime of their formative years, and depending on the day, that can be painful if not exciting.  I guess I'd better figure out how to chronicle their efforts to survive as well.  

But mostly, and I've said it before, the blog is for me and my sanity.  I have felt the pull sporadically in the last four years and I finally feel like I might be able to fulfill the need to record and write.  At this point I am not going to advertise my updates on "social media" like I was, mostly because I need to get back into the swing of things without feeling the pressure to be understood/likable.  Whatever that means.

So here's to round two:  I restarted my blog and it was OK.

My life according to Pinterest

If I lived according to my Pinterest boards:

My house would be filled with natural light, colorful furniture, handmade slipcovers and quilts, wallpaper, and embroidery.

My kids would never hear a harsh word because I would have the 10 essential things to tell them memorized and at the ready for any situation.

I would give my friends handmade gifts wrapped in butcher paper and fabric twine (made from quilting scraps) with a witty hand lettered card attached.

My container gardens would keep us stocked all season with a variety of produce because I knew exactly when to plant the seeds I self started during the dreary months of winter.

Oh yeah, and my house would be sparkling clean (with just a little Dawn and white vinegar) and organized because my kids would do their age appropriate chores without a fight.

Forget about the food-- I've tried enough of those recipes to know they don't really taste as good as they look.  And the exercising-- I know enough about genetics to know it is physically impossible to change the girth of my hips.

Instead I'm stuck with this:

Road Rage, Podcasts, and Hot Chocolate

So I know it's not socially acceptable, and even dangerous, to text and drive.  I try really hard not to do it.  I mean, I have enough distractions in my car at any given time. I really don't need to try to compose a witty tweet, scream at and possibly pinch my kids, turn on the DVD player, and apply my makeup while I change lanes without my blinker at a speed probably at least 10 miles over the speed limit.

I'll let you decide if I'm exaggerating.

You know I love my podcasts.  I wish I would have cashed in on this whole podcast thing when it was just getting started.  What better medium is there for an NPR junkie who lives in her car? Or the anti-social employee (or former employee- more on that later) who doesn't want to be bothered while entering mind-numbing data or formatting a dry technical report? Or the disgruntled housewife who hates laundry but can be found with her phone blasting in her back pocket while traipsing around the house solving the murder of Hae Min Li?  Podcasts! I can't get enough.

The other day I dropped John at school and waited in the line of traffic to exit the middle school parking lot.  The traffic flow is slow and cycles with the light at the exit of the lot.  While creeping along I used my phone to turn on my podcast and answer a quick text from Kitty asking for hot chocolate.  As I put my phone back and looked up at the line of cars I noticed the woman in front of me elaborately reprimanding me for what I can only assume was "texting while driving". I mean, she was shaking her index finger into the rear-view mirror.  Shame on me.

I, in turn, raised both arms in the universal "what's your problem lady?" sign.  She continued with her finger and started shaking her head.  I felt the road rage boiling up from my feet. Why do some people feel like it is their duty to police everyone they come into contact with? I did not put anyone in danger while my foot was on the brake and my finger was on my phone. There is a drop-off zone so it's not like the parking lot was busy with people running around. But I think what bothered me most was the nerve of that lady.  The nerve!

Caroline is one!

Carebear is one.

It takes a lot to impress this baby.  She isn't your typical happy-go-lucky-I'll-smile-at you if you smile at me kind of girl. I think she get's that from her dad.

She loves her older siblings, especially Chickie. The only binkie she'll take is one that Chickie has had in her mouth, otherwise she's not interested.

She likes to bounce and dance and she can't wait to start really walking.  Walking has been on her to-do list since she was about three minutes old.  She finally got her top-heavy weight balanced and took a few steps the day before her birthday.

She's quite independent and doesn't really love to snuggle. She viewed me as a sole provider of sustenance for the first nine months of her life. We moved beyond that and now I not only provide food, but efficient transportation.

She has snaggle teeth. Not really, but she got all four on the bottom and when the top finally came through it was the two right. I had visions of her teeth looking like Sloth from the Goonies movie, but they look pretty good now, so that was kind of irrational.

Less than a week old.
If I could crop out the crap in the background I would.  I could say it was because I'd just had a baby, but it's looked like that more often than not as of late. 

January 2014

March 2014?
Startled? No. Just irritated that I was trying to get her to smile.

May 2014
Again, that's her, "What are you doing? That's weird." look.

August 2014
This one makes me laugh.  She looks like Jared (at least he's smiling).

September 2014
She looks bigger than Chickie here... and a little bit like a boy.

September 2014
These two are going to be crazy together.

October 11, 2014
She thoroughly enjoyed the CareBear cake at her party, so did I.

October 10, 2014
And yes, she is related to me.

Not sleeping in Nakko

John and Kitty like to hear "funny stories" from my past.  They usually entail crazy embarrassing moments and lately the stories have been thin on unique and valid content.  In one such moment John asked if I could think of anything funny that happened when I went to Africa to visit my friend Christine, who was in the Peace Corps. That got me thinking about Christine, Burkina Faso and my not so relaxing "vacation" to Africa.  I went back to my journal and decided to record this entry for posterity- especially since the story I tell these days is about sleeping with pigs, and to be honest, I questioned the accuracy of my memory (were there actually pigs?).

Here is the entry in its entirety... a little boring, not very funny, but brought back memories none-the-less.

Saturday June 17, 2000
Last night was wild.  We took a bush taxi to Nakko to watch the theater group perform. We got a flat on the way- I guess it happens all the time.  the taxi is pretty much an old beat-up Mazda pick-up. Christine and I were lucky, we got to sit in the front while everyone else sat on benches in the back. The guy drove close to 60 mph on sketchy dirt roads. When we got there the troupe had a DJ blasting music into the streets and everyone was dancing- it was a crazy scene.  Finally, at 7:30 the group started their skits- the first was on AIDS, the second on industrialization, and the third on female genital mutilation. We had front row seats next to a high ranking official, his wife, and his two beautiful little girls. We shared the Chex Mix I had packed with them and eventually ended up giving it to them- he really liked it. (Christine was super irritated that they took it from us).

Sleeping under the stars with the pigs and chickens in Nakko

We were supposed to go back last night- but since we had the flat the driver didn't want to risk the drive at night without a spare.  So we were made to stay.  They provided sleeping mats for us and I at least had a pillow.  The house we stayed in was kind of like a bar or something.  The walls had tons of spider webs and there were crickets all over the ground.  I really didn't want to stay there but we had no choice.  It was a full moon so we moved outside under the stars.  Just when I was nearly asleep I felt a mosquito biting my fingers (despite the burning coils...) so I had to use the spray.  Then the second time I was almost asleep I was startled by pigs rummaging through the nearby marche. Finally I was almost asleep when suddenly I realized it was getting pitch black really fast.  We hurried inside with the crickets just as torrents of rain started to fall.  It continued to rain throughout the night.  I think I got a total of about 2 hrs of sleep.  I'm in a bad mood as a result.

This morning we waited about an our for them to load everyone in the taxi and then we headed back. About half way we had another flat. Luckily it was in Tainkoura- a village where we could patch one of them.  It took a few hours then we made it back, GUH.