From here on out, I’ll be blogging for ClubMom about life in a blended family at Blended With Salt. My first post is up, so please come on by and tell me what you think about the term stepfamily.
Technorati Tags: blogging, ClubMom, stepfamily
Summer has arrived in her full-bodied, humid suit of wetness. The air is thick and my lungs feel like I’m trying to breathe bubble gum. After a few heavy rains followed by sunshine, the garden has started to grow in that lush, big-leaf way of gardens. I’m behind with the trellis-making and need to take some time to finish that up before all of the plants begin to lay down and send roots into the ground from their stems.
Congratulations on making it through your 13th year alive and well, and in fact stronger and smarter in many ways. You’re not a little kid any more—not by any stretch of the imagination. And when I say stretch, I mean you’re one tall drink of water—six foot three–or really a tall drink of Root Beer because that seems to be the only thing you ever want to drink anymore. You know you’re not supposed to have soda with your braces on.
I know, you brush really well.
They’re your teeth.
To ruin.
I’m just saying.
You had your first money only, please birthday and you now have enough cashola to buy yourself a faster computer. Your dad and I both wish you’d hold out for the rest of the summer, get a couple more lawn-mowing gigs, and save more so you can get a MacBook. You’re hot and heavy to get something pronto, and think a Dell’s the way to go. It’s not. Trust us. Save for the Mac, you’ll not be disappointed. They make a nifty software that lets you run all of those fancy Windows Only games called Virtual PC.
But I know, it’s your money. Your dad and I are just purists when it comes to computers. Mac, Mac, baby. Sing it now, all together!
I think this is going to be your best year yet. Since we moved into the new house–a month already! Holy Mackerel!–you spread your wings a little wider each day. You adventure all over town, step up to the plate more with your responsibilities, and seem to communicate more clearly. You’re fourteen! I’m trying harder too. It’s about time, I’m almost 40! Thanks for sticking in there with me.
I love you to pieces.
Happy Birthday my young man who suddenly doesn’t want me taking his picture anymore so I have nothing but my love with which to illustrate this post.
The interview went very well but I haven’t heard anything yet. I will say that I’ll be very surprised if they don’t offer me the job, but then again, you never know. If they do I’ll take it even though I’m feeling a bit sad about giving up the rest of the summer and having only weekends to do things with the kids and work in the gardens. So much for leisurely days at the lake. Not that we’ve had any of those yet.
I’m just happy to have some extra days for unpacking, hauling more loads from the old house, building trellises in the gardens, planting more seeds, pushing Lila on the swing, sitting on the porch swing and talking about things like the power of money with Tyler. Time to prepare decent meals. Time for walks to the library. Time to sit and stare into the greenery and feel the gratitude wash over me in the warm breeze.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what to do with this blog when my time becomes super crunched. I’ve got another blog going public shortly for ClubMom where I’ll be writing about raising a teenager and a toddler in a blended family. I’ve also started a somewhat anonymous blog where I’m writing about love, sex, and marriage, and the unwinding of the patterns that have kept me from relaxing into my life. The anonymous part is just a psychological trick for myself so I can write a little more frankly. I haven’t yet found the courage to write more, shall we say vividly about sex, though that is my intention.
Just because I wanted to try out the platform and because I can’t seem to ever say no to another place to write on the internet, I also have a new blog at Vox which I’m using (thanks MizUntitled) in place of my lapsed space on LiveJournal. I like the gizmos, the ability to have posts friends and family, the music and book linkage, and the networking aspects. I have a couple of invites for basic service (you can read but not write–the writing ones will be forthcoming, I think.) I’m lucky to still be doing a monthly post at DotMoms, a site that has grown so much in the past year I can’t believe they want to keep me around.
So I think I’m going to focus Her Able Hands on food and garden, occasional crafting, and possibly writing. Though I think the writing about food and gardening might cover writing, in a way. At least in a way that pleases me.
And isn’t that what it’s all about? Me?
I’m two days late with this post because I couldn’t pull myself out of the vortex of busy that swept me up over the long weekend.
You’re three now (July 3,) and in the past week you’ve almost flawlessly potty trained because you’re so excited about the possibility of *school* and spending time with somebody other than your cranky, busy old Mom every day. You’ve also developed a new independent stance on everything from walking down the stairs, to climbing to the top of the jungle gym, to riding your poor mother’s last nerve like a two dollar pony, “No! Let me go first!â€
I wish I could find the photograph your Pink Gramma Carol took of you when we first brought you home from the hospital, slightly jaundiced and hopped up on breast milk and Vicodin. In the photo you’re laying on your side on my (soon to be our) bed in a patch of sunlight. You have one eye open wide and the other scrunched closed so tightly that you look like Popeye the Sailor Man. (I wanted to tell you then not to worry, you’d more likely grow up to look like Olive Oyle—just like your old Mom.) Your mouth is set in a bit of a grimace, lips pursed and nose turned up in mock disgust—I say mock because I doubt any being who coos and grins while laying in a sack of her own poop can truly feel disgust.
Well, you started making that face again whenever you feel challenged by any kind of authority. You push your face forward and scrunch it up like that and I really wish I could find that baby picture because it’s amazing that you can still do that and I’d like to be able to show it to you when you’re a teenager—maybe on prom night—and prove to you, and impress upon your date, that you were born obstinate. I almost caught it in this picture, but not quite.
"All through the long winter, I dream of my garden. On the first day of spring, I dig my fingers deep into the soft earth. I can feel its energy, and my spirits soar."
~Helen Hayes
Stories We Need to Know: Reading Your Life Path in Literature by my dear friend Allan Hunter who happens to also be married to my dear, dear, dear friend Cathy Bennett. This one is next on my list!
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