Sometimes it really is idyllic.
The entire state of Iowa is sitting under 4 feet of snow. They closed the interstate. Even more amazing they closed the university! So Scully is home with us on a Wednesday--like a little present in the middle of the week.
We all had oatmeal this morning to warm up our bellies.
We painted salt-dough ornaments. Thumper kept trying to eat his so we just gave him a teething biscuit instead. All four of us around the table with paint and glitter and smeary, mushy teething biscuit.
And then we played. There were a few crashes (mostly Khubz and Thumper.) Thumper fell asleep for his morning nap. Scully and Khubz built a nest/fort/tent and then played connect four. In their version you just try and get your chips to the top. Now Scully and Khubz are coloring at the table.
And the snow keeps coming down and in this moment I hope it never stops.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Sometimes it really is idyllic.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
We are all okay.
But last night we had some firefighters over.
But we are all okay. And really, if you have to have a story about calling firefighters to your house at 11 pm on Thanksgiving night--this is the story to have!
So last night I was at the computer and everyone else was asleep. And I smell this foul, plastic burning smell. So I look around and can't find anything. But the smell gets worse and then a foggy, kind of smoky haze fills the living room, kitchen and study.
I look harder.
I wake Scully up. We both smell and see it. We cannot find anything. Basement is clear. Christmas tree lights are off. All the nightlights get unplugged. Everything looks clear. And the burning stench endures. The haze is getting worse.
Get the kids. Get out.
Sobbing Khubz in her jammies in the truck.
Wake up the neighbors.
Firemen come in. Boots. Hats. One guy had an axe. I am not kidding.
And they smell nothing. And see nothing.
I come back in the house with them. You don't smell that? It stinks but it is not as heavy.
"Smells like burned food." one says. Thanks but I haven't been cooking.
"Smells like potpourri to me." another says. We don't even have candles. We have kids.
"I smell it." Thank you. "It smells like there's a burned transformer outside. I think that smell must have come in."
I opened the door when I smelled it to see if the smell was coming from outside. It wasn't. But they couldn't find anything. The smoke alarms hadn't gone off. They found nothing.
They were very nice. I couldn't believe I called the fire department out for nothing. But that's what they found. Nothing. Nothing hot. Nothing smoky. Nothing.
"I am not crazy!" I tell Scully as we bring our children back in our house.
She thought it had smelled like an electrical fire.
Thumper, bless him, is asleep. He was asleep in his crib when I first smelled it. Fell back asleep in the truck after being evacuated. Slept through the lights and sirens. Fell back asleep once back in the house. And blissfully slept in his crib until six this morning.
Khubz was upset. She clung to Scully, crying in her arms because she was scared. They cuddled on the couch for an hour after the all-clear.
And then Scully and I sat on the couch. Clinging to each other with all of the "what-ifs" racing around us. And then what we need to do differently.
For example, no more sleeping naked. Or at least, I need to have some clothes handy. :(
We need to know where our keys are and make sure they are put in the same spot, easy to dash out of the house with.
Scully needs to save her dissertation work online as well as on flashdrives and our computer.
You know how this list goes.
And then we walked around the house catching faint glimpses of the previous smell.
And then. . .wait. . . the dishwasher. . .
Oh My F*ng G.
Since then I have been on a fast moving pendulum that swings back and forth between vomiting with fear that there could have been a fire in my house where my babies and my partner live--and vomiting from embarrassment for calling the fire department to my house because a goddamn tupperware lid melted against the heating element in the dishwasher. Not even a tupperware! Fucking GLADWARE!
At least the dildos weren't out.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
A number of things helped today.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
So it goes like this.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Khubz at preschool about 11:15: Where's my Mommy?
pickup is at 11:30 but this is her daily Q at 11:15.
Miss Wendy: Well, she's not here yet but I"m sure she is on her way.
Khubz: Oh. Well, I will not, not cry because I am very sensible and a big girl and so I will notnot cry.
As Miss Wendy was relaying this conversation to me at pickup and laughing Khubz comes over to her with a hug and says, "thank you for a fabulous day!" and Miss Wendy says "Oh thank you for a fabulous day!"
Miss Wendy begins to praise my child and her great vocabulary.
Go on. No. Really, go on! I am eating this up.
So I am convinced Khubz is brilliant--her favorite word is sensible for goodness sake.
And then it's naptime.
When naptime is over she announces that she has made a great big poop in her diaper.
This is bad news. She saves her poop for the diaper. She won't poop in the potty. It is disgusting. Really. And I have a considerable poop threshold.
So I am cleaning her off and informing her how very disgusting it is and she says,
"And Sensible, Mommy!!"
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
"That's pretty sensible" about getting a napkin for breakfast.
"That's so snazzy, mommy, I'm so snazzy." about new jammies from Tia Alex
Sometimes this blog is just post-it-notes for someone who wants to do a kiddo scrapbook one day. I do have a lot of other things to write about. It is going on the list of things to work on.
Posted by the fruitfemme at 4:41 PM
Friday, October 23, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
these are my children.
they did not hatch out of the earth
or a marriage
or a marriage bed.
they are my children.
they were created in my body
in a loving and holy way
with this woman.
I would not have these children
She is their mother.
My companion in creation.
My partner in the
of their lives.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
So my Dad was finally allowed to check in to his flight. We were all at the counter for a good two hours while the woman behind the desk called Amsterdam and tried to call Saudi Arabia (but she couldn't get the phone to work.)
My Saudi Dad. With his expired Saudi passport, his expired Saudi driver's license, his Saudi identity card (with no expiration date), his expired U.S. green card, a letter of extension for his expired green card, his current U.S. driver's license. All this. Even his grandson (Thumper) was vouching for him.
The woman had told them he couldn't travel on his expired passport because his destination would not let him enter. "But I'm Saudi." he said. She blinked. "They cannot refuse me. I am a Saudi national." My Mom tried to clear the confusion up. "He is Saudi. He is from Saudi Arabia." Hmmm. . . Repetition did not seem to be helping.
"I can only renew my passport while I am in the country. I have to be there to renew it. It is not renewed because I am not there. I am here."
And so he was. For two hours. Here, in the DSM airport.
"They have to take me. They cannot refuse me--where would they send me? They have to let me in." It seems there is not a hot market on rejected Saudi nationals.
After two hours one of the airport managers let him check in. Hamdillah.
That was yesterday. He just called my Mom to say he made it safe and sound and is with our Uncle and his son Faisal. But, wait. . .I don't have a cousin Faisal.
Apparently my cousin Nabil changed his name to Faisal. "Nabil" was a foreign name.
Big, big sigh.
Sigh that cannot capture all of the fractured parts between us Sigh.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
45 minute shower.
(sorry earth--But if you add up all the days that I go unshowered or two-minute showered I think it'll even out.)
So WOW and DOUBLE WOW.
A clean, relaxed kiss for all but an extra-special, squeeky clean kiss for Scully.
It is noon.
I have just woken up.
The children are gone.
The house is clean.
The kitchen is clean.
Even the FRIDGE is clean.
I am alone in my house listening to an NPR playlist and (obviously) blogging.
I may have woken up in heaven.
This is good because last night was horrid.
Our drive back from Denver the night before was even more horrid.
While this might be an excellent time to actually blog stories I am going to go take a shower. A long, hot shower with the door closed (I usually shower with it open so I can keep an ear on the kids.) Crazy, I know. I may even lock bathroom door. Because I can.
Friday, July 24, 2009
"Thumper and Mommy"
Friday, July 10, 2009
So if the previous post were not enough to convince you that I have good and bad mommy days, let me offer up this afternoon's frivolities.
Khubz is boycotting nap. Fine. We're at home. She's staying in her room. Thumper has woken up and he and I are playing in the living room.
Khubz asks if she can join us. Nope. Not yet. Go back to your room. And she goes. I think I may have mastered this casual authority thing. Sure.
So naptime ends and I go in her room. She is naked, having cast off her dress and pulled off her diaper.
"Oh. You're naked. And what's that on your chair?" several small whitish blocks. Oh. A chunky board book that has had all the pictures torn off before it was shred to bits. "Oh. I see that you've torn up your book. Hmpf." This is supposed to buy me time.
She puts her arms up in the air and smiles like she has been chosen to be on the price is right. "And I peed!!!" Smiles all around.
I look at the room. She has taken all her sheets and pillows off her bed. This includes the plastic sheet we keep on her mattress. And she then pissed all over her raw, unprotected mattress.
I left the room.
I couldn't think of a right way to respond so I left. She said she was coming with me because "someone comin to play with me!" "No." I tell her "No one is coming to play with you. Ever. Never. Ever. Ever." I shut her door and she begins to cry. This makes me feel slightly better.
What is a natural consequence for this?
Make her clean up the mattress? Would that involve cleaner and water? She would see that as a gift, a grand adventure.
Make her sleep on the floor? We leave for TX tonight. She'll be sleeping in the car and a hotel room (also a gift, a grand adventure.)
Make her stay in her room until Scully returns home? Just. Not. Possible. This makes me feel sad.
So I decided to take the mattress. It is a bright sunny day. I put the mattress outside to let the sunlight work its magic. And what did we find?
A gift. All the lost precious toys that slipped under or alongside the mattress. Found! Treasures! Gifts!!
"Oh!" a smiling oh. "Sheep! Thank you Mommy!"
I boiled with anger.
In the end I put her room in time out which only punished me.
It will be nice to be in Texas.
"Where's Tita? Where's Tata? They've missed you. Go with them."
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
It was quite a weekend and everyone is fine and still with us.
Our wonderful friend came to stay with us and Khubz demonstrated her gratitude by going through her bag. Everything in her bag. Including some prescription meds.
Poison control hotline. ER. Pediatric Ward.
You can imagine. I can't actually say very much because I'm still violently vomiting from the fear.
It doesn't seem that she actually swallowed anything. She did some licking, biting, perhaps got a corner of a pill. We just had no way of knowing for sure. So the night was spent relatively sure she was okay but just hanging out in the hospital in case she had a seizure.
Hamdillah, she is fine. The mommies want to murder her, sure. But she is fine.
And we are blessed.
Posted by the fruitfemme at 7:17 AM
Monday, June 29, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
We sometimes get in bad patterns, all of us do, right?
So Khubz has been going to bed later and later. This is partly due to the sun being up so much later and also due to our lax attitude. So we've started the crackdown because we can't have the two year old staying up later than the mommies.
We put her to bed and she asks for water, a different stuffed animal, she poops in the diaper, she wants to see what Thumper is doing, she needs her brother!! Whatever.
Tonight I tell her I don't want her coming out of her room unless she has pooped or needs to poop.
So she poops, I change her and tuck her back in bed.
She comes back out to see "what you doin, mommy?"
I tell her to go to bed.
She goes to her room. The light pops on.
I turn the light off.
She tells me she needs me to put the blanket on her.
I tell her no. When I tucked you in I told you I wouldn't come back in to do your blanket.
She wails. I leave. The light pops on. I ignore it. She beings kicking the wall with her feet.
I go to her room and turn the light off. "You do not get to kick our walls." (internal mommy: what the fuck will I do if she persists? How does one put the wall in time out??)
Okay Mommy. I leave. The light pops on.
I open her door walk in and turn the light off at the pull chord (which she cannot reach.)
Khubz looked at me, cocked her head and said, "Hmpf."
I shit you not. She "hmpf"ed me.
I left the room. She asked me to put her blanket on. I almost did I was so impressed with her use of the "hmpf" but I held my ground.
All seems quiet in there now but Thumper. . .Scully just finished his bath and Thumper is definitely in need of a beer. "Mommy! Get! In! Here! Now!!!"
I told Scully, "three minutes! Give me three more minutes!"
I heard Thumper's silent hmpf as well.
Okay, I'm off.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
My beloved Scully is back from a 4 day work trip out of state. While she was gone about 42 of my people (not kidding) gathered at Mom's house for family reunion of sorts. 16 of those people were under 13 years of age. It actually went really well. Khubz had a blast with her cousins, was thoroughly adored by tias and tios, and Mommy even got a nap (wow!)
Thumper's ear infection seems to be on the mend. My sinus infection is just about cleared up. The antibiotics have given me a helluva yeast infection but that's to be expected, right?
There's a lot of stories to tell, but as usual, I have other plans.
Scully, Khubz, Thumper and I all went out to a nearby lake. It has a great meandering path around it and it was a beautiful evening. While there a man on a bike slowed down behind me (even though we always clear out of the way) and finally he said, "Eh. . . 'scuz me? Fruit'femme?" only he used my real name (pronounced correctly.)
Ah. . . Ghazzi. One of my dad's old friends (or used-to-be-friends? I can't tell if they had a falling out or just lost touch.) I remember Ghazzi from when I was a kid. The last time I saw him was one sister's weddings where he was taking the photos.
"You remember me?" he asked in well spoken, Arabic-accented-English.
"Oh, yes. Yes--how are you?"
And so it begins. How are you. How is your Dad? How is your Mom? How is K? T? N? J?
I answer all questions briefly, everyone is good. I'm holding Khubz hand and I have not introduced her. Scully (because she is unbelievably fucking wonderful) has smiled generically and taken two steps back with Thumper in the stroller. She gets very busy giving him his pacifier. I don't introduce Scully. Or Thumper. I act like there's nothing to say about the family around me. My family.
And please, no menacing me with a damn rainbow flag. This is not about a lack of pride on my part. Actually, I am completely and often obnoxiously proud of my family--which includes feeling proud of my dad.
It is one of the things that has made moving back here very complicated. Sharing a community with my dad. More than that--his friend, ex-friend, whatever, walking along the lake suddenly turns our nice little stroll into a complex chemistry formula with respect for Dad's boundaries, understanding culture, what does/does not need to be explained, representing my family, teaching Khubz and Thumper, being around an occasional Arab who may/may not know my dad and what that may/may not change for us (all of us) as a family. . . Mix all of this up in a test tube and wait for something to pop.
It is way too fucking complicated.
We go over to my parent's house every day. We just had a fucking family reunion and my dad's best friend (my godfather) was holding my son and laughing about how beautiful he is. This is the man that came to be with my father when Scully and I got married so my dad would not be alone that weekend. Khubz was calling them "The Grandpas." I don't feel like my dad needs to prove anything and I don't want him to feel like I'm crowding him.
We spend a lot of time dancing around each other's hurt feelings. I just don't think we need to introduce potentially flammable other people into the mix.
It just makes me feel shitty though.
Just completely shitty.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Okay, he's down again.
Posted by the fruitfemme at 6:00 AM
Khubz is 80% potty trained. We put a diaper on at bedtime and naptime. I think we'll be preschool ready by September.
Thumper found his feet two days ago. This is unbelievable fun! He can't yet munch on his toes but that's coming.
Thumper has an ear infection and I have a sinus infection. We are both on antibiotics--fun times. Everyone in the house is alseep right now (it's 9pm) except me. I am exhausted but I never have the house or my arms to myself and I'm not going to waste this opportunity!
Thumper is eating rice cereal and applesauce. He loooves the applesauce. This also means that we no longer have newborn diapers. Bring on the baby poop.
And, as is obligitory, Thumper has just woken up. Unbelievable.
Okay, I'm off
Posted by the fruitfemme at 5:10 AM
Saturday, June 6, 2009
We say it all the time. "Oh, man--that is blog-worthy!" But, as you may have noticed, I blog a whole lot less than I used to. And I miss it. And I have things to say.
Dr. Tiller was murdered. I was speechless. I rented an old documentary on anti-choice fundamentalists (I've been asked to stop calling them fetuses extremists.) It is all terrifying. And though I have seen media calling the fundies "terrorists" I haven't seen this documented as an "honor killing" or questions about how their flawed, violent, patriarchal culture/religion makes them this way. I am so sad that he was murdered. If you don't know about the Peggy Bowman Second Chance Fund, go visit and donate if you can. They helped women directly and worked with the clinic in Wichita.
"The worm is broken. The worm broked. I have two wormz." We took the kids fishing tonight and Khubz got to adopt a worm. It is her pet or, I guess now, her pets. She had a blast. And now she is blissfully passed out in her bed.
Her brother, of course, is exercising his lungs.
So though there is much more that's blog worthy. . .
Posted by the fruitfemme at 5:35 AM
Saturday, May 30, 2009
And goofing off a bit (Thumper is being eaten by his best friend, a silver sting ray. He adores it! And Khubz is up front and center, as she is accustomed. Scully is there as back up and I am left to document the hilarity that is a toddler, an infant, two mommies and a sting ray in a hotel room)
Friday, April 24, 2009
What do you do when you wake up too late to roll out the roll dough and let it rise properly? Put it in a warm oven, of course. And what do you do when the oven is actually too warm and the rolls rise and then deflate looking like rolls that have had gastric bypass surgery? Tell everyone they're an exotic cross between rolls and flat bread! (I inform Scully, who has a pot luck today at work.) And when said mysterious bread product is then burned in the oven? What do you do then???
Celebrate! These damn rolls are not meant for consumption!
I told Scully "tell everyone that the children are fine but the rolls suffered a terrible death."
I do wish things at her office weren't so contentious. (How can a potluck be contentious?? but it is.) If we were in lawrence I'd have brought the overly browned hockey pucks and we'd have all just laughed about it.
Good thing the oatmeal cake turned out okay.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Posted by the fruitfemme at 4:32 PM
Smiley Smilerton enjoyed himself.
Here he is demonstrating "guffaw."
I'm sure its because I said something very, very funny.
Competition for eggs was hot at the ranch. Khubz held her own. Thumper simply charmed people in to giving him their chocolate.
Frog catching, turtle spotting and all the mud a kid could ask for.
What a great day!!!
And this one was all smiles. He was cackling with laughter even when we were at walmart. People stopped and stared because the sound of laughter had never before been heard at the walmart checkout.