My Library

This place is my sanctuary. I love curling up in the papasan chair with a good book and a glass of wine or a cup of coffee. I have just recently added a children's section to the library, and moved the papasan... maybe one day I'll finally have the upright piano I want so badly and it can go on the opposite wall. I added a couple of Bella's overflowing collection of stuffed animals, specifically the ones that are literary based, next to their books kind of like the children's section of a bookstore. It's fun, and the girls love going in there and playing with the toys and reading! And it went a long way toward getting some of the stuffed animals out of Bella's room!

There's A Hole In My Brain Dear Liza

Bella has this set of CDs full of children's folk songs given to her by a former coworker of mine. Most of them are... well... okay they're all pretty dang annoying. It's nursery rhymes and classic children's songs sung by a less than stellar chorus of preteen girls (or so it sounds). Bella absolutely loves these CDs, and literally blasts them throughout the house. I have to run in there to yell at her "TOO LOUD" and turn the volume down from earsplitting to bearable. Of all these irritating songs though, there is one I find to be the absolute worst. On a scale of annoyance, one being "mosquito" and ten being "process server" this ditty probably goes up to about a fifteen, or just high enough to compel you to run, screaming, onto a busy freeway.

You may have heard this song, I honestly hadn't until Bella played this CD. The song is called "There's a Hole in My Bucket". You may be familiar with it, but for those readers who aren't, the premise of the song is that this guy, Henry, has a bucket with a hole in it, and the poor imbecile has no idea how to fix it, so he goes to (presumably) his wife, Liza, and asks for her help, and she has to walk him through every damn step because he is seriously that clueless. On top of the whole foundation of the song being irritating, the song itself is INSANELY REPETITIVE. By the end of the song I'm getting twitchy and seeing oompa loompas in the corners.

The one redeeming part of this song is that by the end, Liza completely loses her shit and yells at Henry. I have to be honest though, if Henry were my husband I'd probably be stabbing him by the end of the song.


There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, a hole.
Then mend it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Then mend it, dear Henry, dear Henry, mend it.
This is the obvious solution, Henry. Duh.

With what shall I mend it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I mend it, dear Liza, with what?
With a straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With a straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, with a straw.
Sorry, I thought you had reasonable intelligence. Here's how you fix it, dude.

The straw is too long, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The straw is too long, dear Liza, too long,
Then cut it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Then cut it, dear Henry, dear Henry, cut it.
Liza is gritting her teeth now. Seriously, he can't figure that out?

With what shall I cut it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I cut it, dear Liza, with what?
With a knife, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With a knife, dear Henry, dear Henry, with a knife.
Fuck, Henry! For real? My mom was right, I should have married Sam Wainright.

The knife is too dull, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The knife is too dull, dear Liza, too dull.
Then sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry
Then sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, sharpen it.
Liza is getting a little frantic now.

On what shall I sharpen it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
On what shall I sharpen it, dear Liza, on what?
On a stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
On a stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, a stone.
I'll sharpen your face if you don't stop asking me questions you dolt!

The stone is too dry, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The stone is too dry, dear Liza, too dry.
Well wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Well wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, wet it.
Liza starts twitching and giggling maniacally to herself.

With what shall I wet it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I wet it, dear Liza, with what?
try water, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
try water, dear Henry, dear Henry, water.
This is total sarcasm dude. Ten points for Liza.

In what shall I fetch it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
In what shall I fetch it, dear Liza, in what?
In a bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
In a bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, a bucket.
Now Henry is getting attitude. Watch it, man. She's a ticking time bomb now.

There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, a hole.
Use your head, then! dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Use your head, then! dear Henry, dear Henry, use your head!
Liza's face erupts into flames.


Now if that doesn't set your teeth on edge, then you have some serious issues of your own. But, if you're like me, then after listening to that whole torturous song, you are now walking in circles and counting the clowns under your bed. As a friend of a friend once told me, if you only see three clowns then you're still missing two.

Seriously Henry? I could have fixed the damn bucket myself by now.

Sigh. Miley Cyrus.

I don't watch awards shows ordinarily. I do like the Oscars but I can never remember when they're coming up and, let's face it, if you have kids, you don't generally get to sit around for three hours watching anything. However, I saw the furor on Facebook and wanted to see what it was all about, so I looked up Miley Cyrus's VMA repulsive, pedophilia-inspired striptease performance. If you haven't seen it and you are also curious, don't say I didn't warn you.

As a mom of two daughters, I will concede that I have become marginally more conservative than I was as a girl. I had the standard fights with my parents about shorts that were too short, shirts that were too low cut, and song lyrics that were too vulgar. As much as I wish I had, I didn't save myself for marriage and I was once a wild 20 year old who did stupid things that could have potentially made me a target for predators. I can readily admit that having kids has changed my perspective on what is right, good, and just. I have also become more aware of how society impacts my children, and how it impacted me as a child, even when I swore up and down to my parents that it wasn't. So you can take this with the added grain of salt that I am an acknowledged hypocrite. I am now an old, fuddy-duddy mom, standing on my soapbox, wearing my mom jeans and wagging my finger at Ms. Cyrus.

I wish I could compose some kind of heartfelt and inspiring blog that would go viral and convince Ms. Cyrus to change her ways and be a good influence instead of the exhibitionist she has become. Sadly, I am not capable of such prose, and if I were, it wouldn't achieve its goal. Because Ms. Cyrus's performance received precisely the attention she desired of it. Any thinking individual witnessing it could not have assumed that such debauchery was unintentional. I mean, there is absolutely no way on earth that Miley didn't know that if she got up on stage in a nude bikini and continuously rubbed her crotch that people would interpret it as sexual in nature.

And therein lies the problem; our society has degenerated to the point that a person can get up on stage in front of a TV audience of millions, and an internet audience of even more, and imitate nudity and masturbation without consequence, and even be applauded. Vulgarity and shock value has replaced art. Self-worship and narcissism has replaced civility and community. The good folks at Jezebel did what they do best, deflecting blame, insisting the hubub is sexist because it's not directed at Robin Thicke, shaming the slut-shamers, and insisting Miley's blatantly pornographic performance is not as shocking as her appropriation of black culture. This is American life now. Nothing is worthy of criticism, everything is acceptable.

I am not unaware of past examples of revolting exhibitionism, I simply don't agree that they excuse the pushing of new, obscene envelopes. I am also aware that Ms. Cyrus is in the business of selling her image, and that nothing sells better than sex. I still don't believe that excuses her behavior. I realize she is not required to be any kind of good influence, but I nonetheless wish she would choose to be. It's true that Robin Thicke is also culpable in this charade, but that doesn't excuse Miley's complicity in his misogyny.

I guess I'm old fashioned in that I still think certain things (like strip teases) belong behind closed doors. I must be a dried up old prune because I think women (and men) should dress appropriately and not disrobe in public. I'm cool with that label, and any other that gets tossed my way as a result of my principles. In fact, I hope I raise some old-fashioned girls who believe that sex should only be had with their husbands, and who know that they don't have to get naked to have value. I hope they will learn to use their brains and speak with conviction against things they know to be wrong, even if it makes them unpopular. I can only teach them to have respect for themselves, and pray that they will always know their worth.

I am praying the same thing for Ms. Cyrus.

Taking a Nature Walk on an "I'm bored" Summer Day

Picture source: www.mrjacksfarm.com

It has been miserably hot here since about mid June so we have been staying inside with the blinds closed, the curtains drawn and the lights off, cave man style to save energy. We only have one family car, so Eric takes it to work and it leaves us with few options of how to fill our hours. There's only so much coloring a kid can do before she starts speaking whine-ese and repeating the phrase "I'm bored" like a broken record. She loves movies but I hate having her planted in front of the TV for hours on end so yesterday morning, before the whining could start I decided we would go take a nature walk.

Bella's "yuck" face!

Unfortunately, I didn't take pictures of us on the walk, because I was having too much fun! We just walked around the lake in our neighborhood and picked "samples" (aka leaves). I would have Bella run up and grab a leaf sample and we would talk about the tree or bush it came from, she would smell it and see if it smelled good and then we would put them in our "sample box" (the compartment in the stroller handle). After we picked a sample from pretty much every tree, bush and interesting piece of grass out there I walked her to the playground and pushed her and Vivienne on the swings, and even let Vivi go down the baby slide!

When we got home we had a snack of apples and water, and Vivi had this Dole "fruit squish 'ems" thing. I can't say precisely what it is about this thing that is so nasty, but it is just absolutely repellent. Eric bought them because we had a coupon for them, and it's essentially baby food so we thought we could take them with us when we went places and give them to Vivi, but they are gross! It might be that they have the color and texture of grainy applesauce and the odd flavor of blueberries, like, extremely potent blueberries. Whatever the issue, none of us liked it. Vivi and Bella made the funniest faces when trying it, so of course I had to try it myself. Yuck. After that I just gave Vivi an apple slice and let her use her two teeth to chomp on it a bit and gum it all up.

Bella's rubbings! I can't identify all of these - there's Juniper,
Crepe Myrtle, Red Oak, and some kind of evergreen, and I
don't know what that cat-tail looking thing is.

After snack we sat down with some paper and crayons and made leaf rubbings! We talked about each plant sample again and how to make a leaf rubbing. I had intended to press each sample and keep it for a scrap book, but Vivi got grumpy and needed to be nursed and put down for a nap and then afterwords I just forgot about them until this morning and they're all dried out! I suppose I could still press them if I had some clear contact paper or laminating sheets but I don't, and it was fun enough that we could do it again and I will save those instead.

The trick about doing something like this in the Texas heat is to do it well before noon. We left the house at 9:00 AM and got back before 11:00, and we were all still sweaty and tired! Thank God for air conditioning!

Stuff Bella Says

Bella has always been a talkative child. Whatever comes to her mind immediately comes out her mouth. The other day I was sitting at the island in our kitchen and (apparently) my low-waisted jeans were showing what I refer to as my H.A.C. (high ass crack - no seriously, it practically starts up between my shoulder blades). So she comes up and says, "Moooom! Your butt is showing!" I'm kind of sassy so I retort, "Do you like it?" instead of getting all grossed out she bursts into giggles and says "Yes! I love it, I want to hug it!" and then seriously, she hugged my butt. Where did this kid come from? She totally gets my sarcasm and she's still not even four years old.

Sometimes she doesn't even mean to be funny. For her third birthday we had a pool party at the neighborhood pool. Since we were outside we bought small boxes of Nerds™for the party bags (because anything chocolate would have melted in the Central Texas heat). A few days after the party there were still plenty left over and she asked me if she could have some. She had been good that day, so I relented and she followed me, skipping, to the pantry. I'm reaching up to get them when I hear her say "Mmmmm! Turds! I love turds!" I laughed for five solid minutes, and then had a hard time explaining to her what was so funny.

Just this morning she was looking at one of my copies of "Us Weekly" and said, "Mommy, is this magazine about fashions or boobies?". That's a valid question, I think.

When she tooted in front of my friend Kristen, her excuse was that the fart came from her elbow. Kristen advised her to go get that looked at.

Just the other day she was playing Doc McStuffins with my friend Michelle and told her she was sick with "bad-itis".

Bella makes a bubble beard and bubble hat

When I was first pregnant with Vivienne and we didn't know what we were having, we kept telling her she was going to have a baby brother or sister, so one time when my sister Pam was babysitting her she proudly proclaimed, "I got a baby butter sister... in da mama".

When I was working, I had to get her up early and drop her off at my friend Ashley's house who would watch her for us while we were at work, one morning she said to her, "I was sleepy, like a sleepy chicken" but she said it so somberly that it really made me chuckle.

Random Cuteness:

Bella cuddles her Jimmy John's sandwich

I love how she puts an "M" in front of everything. Her friend Alexis is "Malexis" (it sounds like "molasses" when she says it), she also says "Maprade" (Parade), "Magraff" (Giraffe) and "Magrage" (Garage).

She always asks you if you remember things that either didn't happen or you weren't there for.
"Mama, remember when Nanny and me saw peacocks at the zoo?"
"I wasn't there for that, sweet pea."
"Mama, remember when that hippo farted?"
(Laughing) "That was a youtube video, sweetie."
"Mama, remember when I ride on a unicorn on the rainbow and I'm a princess fairy?"
"Uh... no, no I don't remember that at all, honey."

She bookends questions with "why":
"Why I hafta take a nap, why?"

Some gems from my Facebook page:

Bella is well on her way to becoming a full on movie buff. She picked out "Young Frankenstein" to watch, and then ran into the living room about half way through and exclaimed, "Mama! The bookcase squish his face, and he say, 'PUT THE CANDLE...BACK!'" and then she ran around the living room for 5 minutes giggling and screaming "PUT THE CANDLE BACK! PUT THE CANDLE BACK!"

Bella this morning: "Mama, Bampires are mean!"
Me: "Vampires?"
Bella: "Yeah cuz Bampires are mean to princesses, and all peoples are scary to her."

Bella has learned to use her cuteness the same way a super villain might use his powers. She came into the kitchen tonight and the following conversation ensued:
Bella: "What are THOSE?!" (Pointing to some cake pops I've just made)
Me: "Cake Pops"
Bella: (Folds hands together like she's praying and squeals) "OOOH I WUV cake pops! I eat them?"
Me: (I pick her up because she's so cute I just can't resist) "Not tonight, but you can have one tomorrow."
Bella: (She throws her arms around my neck) "Okay. Lets be rain clouds!"
Me: "Rain clouds?"
Bella: "Yeah. Tickle me!" (She jumps down and runs off screaming and giggling.

Bella just ran into the living room as Eric was hanging my new curtains and said, "It smells like dragonflies in here."

I made up a little song with Bella's name to teach her what her full name is, but I think she may be a little confused about her surname, because just now in the tub I found her singing it thusly:
"Isabella Charlotte Abrahamsen!"
"Isabella Charlotte Abra-footies!"
"Isabella Charlotte Abra-booty!"
"Isabella Charlotte Abra-tooties!"
"Isabella Charlotte Abra-scratches!"
"Isabella Charlotte Abra-boo-boo!"

We're watching TV and a diet pill ad comes on, Bella watches for a second and then (parroting a phrase that is repeated often in the ad) yells, "EWW! WOOK! BODY FAT!" I bust out laughing, in response she starts trying to make me laugh by screaming out things like "Body fat in you head! Body fat in you feet!" So I'm laughing uncontrollably now thinking of all these people who need diet pills for their fat heads and feet.

"Bitamins make you all shiny and warm in your froat, mama." - Bella's assessment of the benefits of vitamins.

Last night I wrapped Bella in her unicorn towel after she got out of her bath and in response she said, "I'm a unicorn! Moo!" And I started to say that's not the sound unicorns make when I realized I don't know WHAT sound unicorns make.

This morning Bella came to me holding her "Fur Real Friends" kitty and looking all sullen and pouty she says to me, "Kitty BIT me." I seriously could not stop laughing.

Whatever you have, Bella has the sparkle version of that. According to her, anyway.
Sample conversation:
"What are you doing, mama?"
"I'm doing laundry."
"Oh. I got my sparkle laundry?"
"...Is that a question?"
"No, I TELLING you, I got my sparkle laundry, mama."
"Oh..kay... Sparkle laundry sounds interesting, baby."

And the pièce de résistance:

On the way home from viewing Christmas lights (two years ago) she made up her own version of Silent Night that goes like this:
Silent night
Tryin' to sleep
Under the blanket
Silent night
Dreaming night
Tuesday night
Silent night
In a blanket
And a cake
Silent night
Silent night
Night night
Sleeping
In the stars
Silent...
(long pause)
Silent night
Silent day
Silent sleep
(Unintelligible but emphatic)
(Makes snoring sounds)
And I wake up!
And I not cry!
And it's sad!
And I not cry!
And a wakey
Silent night
Never night
German night
Okay
Silent day
Stylin' lemon (<-- I swear she sang that)
Where Bella sleep

Reflecting in the Mirror of My Children

I'm up early to write and it's raining outside, I was going to have coffee but I think, when it rains, tea is more appropriate. I went to visit my Grandmother recently (I'll write a separate post about that visit) and  Vivienne crawled for the first time at her house! It was really neat that my Grandmother got to witness that, and that it happened in the same house where my own mother was raised.

Vivienne on the day she was born! She didn't cry much!

Whenever I see Vivi do something new it reminds me of something that Bella used to do as a baby. When Vivienne started clapping recently I remembered that Bella used to clap when she was upset, and it always made me giggle. I know that clapping is a developmental milestone and I just think it's funny that, as infants, we assign our own meaning to it. To Bella, it was a way to express irritation and malcontent, not happiness or praise. I could have made up a new song for her, "If You're Grumpy, and You Know it, Clap Your Hands".

Bella at about 8 months - this baby is mislabeled!

Bella was always more highly-strung than Vivienne. As a tiny baby, she hated to have her diaper changed, but hated more to sit in her mess. She would cry the instant her diaper was wet but wanted to hold your hands while you changed her, so a peaceful diaper change for that child required four hands. I guess it must be scary to be laid on your back (unswaddled) as a tiny baby because both of my children would throw their arms out when laid on the changing table as if trying to regain their balance, and Bella would always try to grab a hold of her self, if she had a onesie on she would get a good handfull of it and shriek for dear life, but if she didn't she would grip her own skin! I remember seeing her with a good handfull of the flesh on her chest, trying to pry free her tiny fingers and thinking, Stop it, kid! I bet that hurts!

Sweet baby Bella on her first day of life!

It's really neat getting to see all the ways my children are the same, and the myriad of ways they are different. I knew the first day she was born that Vivienne was going to be very different from Isabella. Vivienne had no latching issues like Bella had. When Bella was born I had already been up for 24 hours straight by the time she was born and when she couldn't latch I stayed up a further 12. I have never, ever been so exhausted, yet so unable to sleep, worrying about my child. So when Vivi was born and latched right on and went right to sleep I didn't know what to do. I recall waking up at 6 AM in a complete panic the day after she was born because she hadn't woken me up since midnight. Bella fed every two hours, Vivi slept for 4-6 hours at a time since the day she was born.

Every Mother Has Cassandra Complex

In case you've never heard of her, here's what Wikipedia has to say about Cassandra, "[according to] Greek mythology, Cassandra was a daughter of Priam, the King of Troy. Struck by her beauty, Apollo provided her with the gift of prophecy, but when Cassandra refused Apollo's romantic advances, he placed a curse ensuring that nobody would believe her warnings. Cassandra was left with the knowledge of future events, but could neither alter these events nor convince others of the validity of her predictions".

In case you haven't realized it yet, if you're a mom, this is you. Not that our status as Mom gives us the gift of prophesy, per se, however, our life experiences have imbued us with knowledge of actions and consequences, and human behavior in general. We may understand that the boy who is picking on our daughter probably has a crush on her, or that the girl who is excluding her may be reacting to her own fears of being excluded, but nothing we can say will make our children understand that the way we do. Things that roll right off your back as an adult can be truly devastating as a child. It's really tough to have to watch your child experience these hurts for the first time and know that there's nothing you can do to stop it or assuage her grief.

I haven't experienced this too much yet, but I know I'm in for it big time. They say when you become a mom, you get paid back in kind for the way you behaved as a child. When I was a little girl, my oldest brother, Steven, was about to graduate high school the year before I started Kindergarten. (I know, poor mom! She got one out and another just started!) and he took me aside and gave me some sage advice. He said, "When I was a kid, people told me I was stupid, and I believed them. Don't ever let anyone tell you you're stupid." He meant, of course, that I shouldn't let people tell me lies about myself, but, being that I was only five, I took it quite literally, and anytime anyone told me I was stupid I told them they were wrong. I stood up for myself and never, ever believed I was stupid. I wish I had understood the broader meaning, and not allowed others to tell me I was ugly, trashy or worthless, which are beliefs I held until I was in high school. 

I kept all the diaries I ever had, starting with the first one I ever got, in fifth grade. When I went back recently and read through some of them, the one I kept in 8th grade had a lot of musings in it like, "My mom keeps giving me stupid advice about how to get boys to like me," - that's what I thought of my mom's advice, it was all "stupid". In retrospect, my mother had some very wise advice, not just about boys, but life in general that I never, ever listened to. I simply sat in my room and cried when people were mean to me, instead of standing up for myself. I vividly remember the first time someone other than my mom told me I was pretty; it was my Freshman year in high school and I had gone back to the middle school to visit my 8th grade English teacher, Mrs. Lopez. I was walking with her down the hall and she kept looking at me and finally said, "Elizabeth, I have to say, you were always pretty, but you have gotten so much prettier over the summer!" I was abashed and said thanks, and I have never forgotten it. 

Why did I believe my brother when he told me I was smart, but not my mom when she told me I was pretty? She'd been telling me that since before I can remember. All I can assume is that my thought was that mothers are obligated to love, and love is blind, and so mom can't possibly know whether or not I'm pretty. 

I'm dreading the time when my eldest, Bella, comes home crying because some mean kid told her some lie about herself. I will hug her and wipe her tears and tell her all the same things my mom told me, and she won't believe a word of it. I'm going to have to let her fall and hurt herself, skin her knees and get emotionally bruised, because, as a Cassandra Mom, she will never believe me when I tell her differently. I guess, when that day comes, I will call my mom and cry with her over the phone, and ask for some more advice that I finally understand is not "stupid", but wise, and helpless in the face of her child's pain. 

Learning the Ropes...Again

Vivienne and Isabella, April 2013

It's been about a month and a half since I started staying home with my two daughters, on purpose this time. I was a stay at home mommy for 13 months when I was unemployed between February 2010 and March 2011. I had all but given up hope of getting another job when I was hired to work for Texas PTA as the Communications Coordinator. Working for a non-profit really changed my perspective of what I do for a living. Instead of looking at things from a sales perspective, I was using my talents to work toward a goal, which seems so much more self-actualizing. I loved working there but after Vivienne was born it became a lot harder to afford daycare, and then when the tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut happened in December 2012 I developed separation anxiety and I began feeling like I needed to start spending my time with my children instead of at an office while someone else raises them. This is not to say that I feel judgement for anyone who chooses to work, I just really, very fervently wanted to be the one to raise my children, see all their milestones and teach them their first lessons in life. This is my passion, just as some people's passions are their careers.

It has been interesting so far, Bella is much more advanced than she was when I started back to work, she talks incessantly and has a wild imagination that is very entertaining for all of us! I am trying to teach her the alphabet and she has the classic bright-child problem where if she doesn't know the answer to a question she will make one up. When I point to a letter and ask her, "What letter is this?" if she doesn't know it, she will make up some inventive new letters like "Key", "Co", "Bo" and "Bum". Vivi just sprouted her first tooth, and when she's not teething is just about the sweetest natured, mild mannered, easy-going child anyone could ask for. Whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed or exhausted I can just pick her up and hold her and her serenity seeps into me and calms me down.

I hope that this blog will be the personal side of my professional blog, and I expect to be able to write more often now that I'm staying home with my sweet babies. Thanks for stopping by!