Big Lovetown?

Had a dream last night that Christian was planning on bringing home another wife for some kind polygamous arrangement. The thing was, in the dream I was happy about it because she had a full time job…Not that any woman in her right mind would be able to put up with either of us. And both of us? Forget about it.

Black and Bluegrass

Hank’s back from a weekender with the grandparents. I certainly missed his enthusiastic stomping and hilarious commentary. But man was it peaceful around here this weekend. Felt a little guilty about how much I was enjoying it.

He’s a sweet kid--smart (of course) and funny, but a little pesky these days. He’s been throwing a lot of four-year-old attitude my way lately (I’m still of in disbelief that my firstborn is already four) giving me plenty of lip and instructions on how to conduct my life. And spending a lot of time in his room (smacking little sis around, not listening to mama etc). He’s always had kind of a Dennis the Menace thing going on, into everything with a nose for trouble.

He’s a Leo (Mick Jagger’s birthday—God help us) loves attention and is a bit of a show off. It seems like in the past few months, he’s gone from a little kid to a full on scrappy little boy. We’ve been to a couple of gatherings recently at which there were some boys in the 6-8 year old range. He had a blast and seemed to keep right up with them. He requested a light saber for his birthday and told me he’s looking forward to watching Star Wars next year (he’s determined that 5 is the appropriate age for that material).

Summer reading list includes a bunch of Richard Scarry books (including a 1970 first edition belonging to the old mama), Milne’s (as opposed to Disney’s) Winnie the Pooh and the Railway Series (where all the Thomas merchandise originated). We’ve sort of entered the dinosaur phase but it hasn’t yet become an obsession.

Lately I’ve been letting him watch one or two videos a day (Bob the Builder, Charlie and Lola, Sesame Street). Still no commercial television tho (easy to manage since we don’t have any reception). Anyway for the most part, he’s happiest at the playground running around and hollering. Got quite a shiner this morning falling off a piece of equipment. He was tough about the whole thing. He can be as whiny as the next kid but in the face of adversity, he knows how to suck it up. Kind of like his dad now that I think about it….

Coco and I had a nice, tranquil weekend (with Hank on his road trip and big daddy away working in another state). She is, for the most part, an absolute pleasure, with a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her lovely mouth. She’s also 20 months old: curious, demanding and exhausting. I’m always ready to spend a few hours out of her presence when naptime rolls around. And to be honest bedtime never seems to come to soon either. But in between, it’s a pretty good time.

For one thing, the kid has an amazing sense of humor. She always laughs right on cue. Our astrologer friend Colette (one of her namesakes) did her chart at birth and said she was destined for great things. I can believe it. She’s like some kind of Amazon princess: big, beautiful and brilliant. Some four-year-old twins were visiting us the other day, lovely little wispy girls. They had a few inches on her in height but I swear she weighed more than either of them (she’s not a fatty by the way—just healthy). She’s a joyful little thing who’s rarely been out of her mama’s sphere (I’m not necessarily sure that that’s a good thing but it seems to be working in her case).

She’s perfectly happy playing with trains, trucks and bulldozers, but I had to smile when I observed her pretend-feeding her doll the other day. I had heard about, but never experienced, that kind of toddler behavior. (Hank still sleeps with a grubby little lamb he’s had since birth but he’s never fed it.) Anyway, it was pretty damn cute.

When Coco was hanging out in my uterus, I was pretty positive she was going to be a girl, and I was a little apprehensive. The prospect of raising a girl is intimidating for a woman like me, overly conscious of my own inadequacy. But must admit, I’m loving the XX experience. I took her to one of my favorite country fairs on Sunday and she sat quietly and enjoyed some bluegrass with me. (Henry could never be counted to hold still for even ten seconds at this kind of event). It was a lovely breezy late August day. The music was uplifting and her smiles were radiant.
Bliss. Then we had barbecue.

Lucinda Rediscovered

Heard Mary Chapin Carpenter’s version of Passionate Kisses the other day while out and about. Never been much of a MCC fan, but it made me realize how much I miss Lucinda Williams (she wrote the song and won a grammy for it). So came home and got some of her stuff cranking on iTunes while I engaged in some household drudgery.

I played the shit out of Car Wheels on a Gravel Road during the tumultuous year that was 2001. That record helped get me through, let’s see, breakup with apathetic loft-dwelling photographer boyfriend, torrid affair and dramatic breakup with evil Bordeaux brat, 9/11, anthrax (the scare I mean—didn’t actually contract the illness), death of disabled half-sibling and meeting future spouse at funeral.

Loved Essence, too (have to dig that one up—somehow it didn’t get onto iTunes). I have mixed feelings about her more recent stuff (not sure how I feel about her foray into rap) but there are always at least a few great songs on every new record. I guess her work had more to say to me when I was a single girl on an emotional roller coaster, when loss and longing pretty much defined my state of mind. These days, it seems, I’m either fairly content or kind of pissed off. Maybe I should right write an alt-country song about that…

I was talking to an intelligent-seeming library mom at storytime a couple months ago and I told her she looked a little like Lucinda Williams. She had never heard of her. I mean really, who hasn’t heard of Lucinda Williams? I was completely stunned. One more example of why I’m convinced I’m in the wrong town.

The Latest from the Land of Nod

Not sure what’s going on around here this summer, but we’ve all been sleeping like fiends. It’s nice, if a little decadent, sleeping in, but it makes me a little uneasy. I am, for the most part, a morning person, but I’ve been staying up late (watching the Sopranos on dvd, reading ridiculous vampire stories, posting etc.) and waking up groggy and disoriented around 9 am. The ever lovin’ has been working late and snoozing right along with me. The kids have also gotten on this late to bed, late to rise train, which as we all know is just no damn good. Anticipating a rude awakening (so to speak) when preschool starts again in September, so I’ve decided to (gently) break the cycle. I’ve started setting an alarm (for 7:30) and spending some time with my uninspired thoughts before getting the kids up.

Have also been dying for coffee all week. Unfortunately, coffee makes me even more edgy/insane than usual so I try to save it for special occasions and the occasional (mild/ very rare) hangover. However, my mother makes fantastic coffee, and I couldn’t resist during our week at the beach. Wine in the evenings, coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon. Lovely. Have reverted to my old tea drinking ways since we’ve been back but find myself craving a scalding black Americano every morning around 10:30. Must hold back though. I’m not much of a yogi these days, but I am trying to hang onto what little mental equilibrium I have left, and I know that stuff is way too rajasic for my little brain to handle on a regular basis.

High Hopes, Crape Myrtles

Having some re-entry issues after a nice little vacation on Virginia’s Eastern Shore. Reality’s hitting me hard this time…

My mother had rented a house in the charming town of Cape Charles from someone she knows in NoVA and invited us down. Christian decided not to join us because of a work-related commitment. A bit weird vacationing without him, and we all missed him, certainly. But, I must say, it was nice to take a break from the cashflow-related bickering that seems to characterize our relationship lately.

The kids had a blast: we were right there on the Chesapeake Bay, and the water was warm, calm and shallow. There was a bike just Hank’s size at the rental house. I had the perfect trashy novel (Twilight—courtesy of cousin Amy who always comes up with just the thing). There was bad wine with dinner every night and ice cream for dessert. I will say I’m not wild about sharing a kitchen with my stepfather, who’s impossibly messy, a stove hog and does not share my concerns about food safety.

But overall, the whole thing was relaxing and low key. I didn’t come away with that feeling of needing a vacation from my vacation. Plus I was totally digging the crape myrtles (I’m missing them already) and the retro ambiance in Cape Charles. There was something about the place that reminded me of a mini-New Orleans, without the decadence I mean--just the sweet side. I think I even caught a whiff of some sweet olive, which has long had my vote for best shrub ever.

Anyway, I’m not sure what Christian did all week, but it was rough to come home to a dirty house and unmown lawn. Not sure what I was expecting--I think I had imagined some heavy duty home improvement/yard work transpiring during my absence or something. This, as usual, proved to be a recipe for disappointment. This week: chamomile tea and lower expectations.