Grow

grow,
grow,
grow in a circle


grow,
grow,
grow round n round

branch out
stop in the middle

gaze at the stars
stay on the ground

free,
free,
free in a prison

free,
free,
free in the cage

fortress walls
protect and secure

safe in the boundary
live on a page

No Escaping Allowed

I love my family. Honestly! That said there are times when I get an overwhelming craving for alone time. Here is what happened once when I actually got a bit of it. :::note – the following was first written when Anna (aka Baby Monkey Girl) was three years old:::
~~~~~
The three older kids were playing Metroid with their dad. Baby Monkey Girl, who normally frowns on that "yucky game," was actually cheering them on. Feeling a need to escape the noise, I mean, excitement that filled the room, I slipped out the back door. Freedom embraced me as the door shut behind me.

The first thing I did was jump on the trampoline. With each leap up, I experienced that wonderful weightless sensation that usually clears my mind of everything but the pleasure of simply existing. This time was slightly different. What ran through my head in that instant was a TV character’s description of a near death experience. She claimed that she had popped out of the top of her head. For a moment, I could totally imagine being able to "pop" out of the top of my head. How amazing would that be? Free of earth's gravitational pull. Free of all that tethers us here. Free from burdens and responsibilities. Free from the little arms that reach up to me. Wait…no; I wasn’t ready to be THAT free yet.

I climbed down from the trampoline, grabbed a broom and swept the carport. How weird am I that I actually like sweeping the carport? Now, I’m not claiming that I’m such a good housekeeper that my carport is always often ever spotless, but that once or twice a year that I do manage to get around to it, I find myself enjoying it. There is something downright therapeutic about clearing away dirt and debris. I finished, put the broom back in the shed and took a minute to straighten up the tangle of bikes, scooters and other toys that were carelessly thrown in a heap. All in all, I probably spent a total of fifteen minutes outside.

I walked back into our home feeling rejuvenated. Then I saw her. Baby Monkey Girl ran toward me, her face winched in distress and her arms open wide. Her pitiful pout turned into a loud cry as she drew near. Scooping her up, I asked if she hurt herself. She shook her head and suddenly it hit me. She was upset simply because her world was out of order. My mini escape hadn't gone undetected. She had her daddy and her siblings, but that wasn't enough. :::sigh::: So much for freedom.

Later that evening, she fell asleep in my lap. The weight of her slumbering body burdened and filled me at the same time. I could have liberated myself of the heaviness by bringing her to her bed, but I held her close just a little while longer. You see…I wasn’t ready for freedom.

Happy Father's Day

I was dicing an onion when my husband walked through the door and suggested that we go to Best Buy in Houma for the TV that we decided would be his Father’s Day present. Going to Houma meant eating out, so I abandoned the onion and did some quick calculations in my mind. Shopping + eating out + all four kids = increased possibility of a massive headache. Math just never works out well for me. Thankfully, gaming does. I told the oldest three that they could have ravioli for supper and then handed over the laptop, Wii and Dsi. Content that they wouldn’t move from the spots that I was leaving them in, I joined my husband and youngest child in the car. How much trouble could one little girl be? Don’t answer that. We were barely out of the driveway when she started.

Anna: I’m hungry. Did you hear me? I’m STARVING. Starving means that I’m really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really hungry.

Never mind that it was an hour away from her usual suppertime. Never mind that she’d been snacking since she came home from school. What the Queen demands, the Queen must receive. That’s probably why my husband decided that our first stop should be Walmart. You know, ‘cause that is the perfect place to bring a six year old who is dying of starvation. Amazingly we made it through Wallyworld without a single major meltdown. In fact, I think that she completely forgot about how hungry she was…until she was back in her carseat. This time her daddy took her seriously. He brought us to a local seafood restaurant.

Anna wanted macaroni and cheese.
They didn’t have it.

Anna wanted to look over the back of the booth at the people in the next booth.
I told her to sit still.

Anna wanted Dr Pepper with Sprite mixed in.
The waitress shot daggers out of her eyes at me.

What? W-what did I do??? Is it really that difficult to add a little bit of Sprite to the Dr Pepper, I silently wondered? As the waitress left to get our difficult drink order, my husband chuckled and asked if I’d heard her call him “baby.” Relief flooded me. She wasn’t showing disapproval of my parenting skills ~ she just thought that my hubby was hot. :::whew::: When she came back to take our order, I was careful to choose an item that wouldn’t easily hide a wad of spit. She left again and I drilled politely questioned my husband about the last time he’d patronized that particular restaurant. He laughed at me.

After that lovely dining experience, we finally made our way to Best Buy where we soon discovered that fueling Anna probably wasn’t the best idea after all. I’m not positive about the number of times that I had to say, “Don’t touch that” but I’m thinking that was probably close to five million. While I chased her around the store, D chased down an associate to answer his questions about the TV he wanted. Remember the good ol’ days when vultures salespersons descended on you the moment you walked through the door? Now you have to hunt for help. Luckily my husband is an experienced hunter. He tagged and bagged one in just under a half hour. Not just any salesperson either. He found one who knew his stuff! Anna and I caught up with them just as the guy was telling hubby all about how we were going to have to spend $300 to calibrate the $500 TV that we were planning to purchase. G-huh? Sensing my confusion, he turned to me and started to explain in terms that non-techy people should easily understand.

Smart salesperson: You know how when you buy a new van and one of the tires goes flat and you get a new tire, but then everything is kinda off balance…

I stopped him before he went any further because when I buy a new van, I expect it to come with new tires that work the way that they are supposed to work.

We did not buy a television that evening.

Playing around

I can only put this off for so long. Well, that's not true. As the self proclaimed Queen of Procrastination, I am sure that I could have found a way to put off starting this blog indefinitely. Perhaps it's better to say that my desire to begin a blog here finally found a way to quiet my excuses. I haven't any great wisdom to impart. Neither am I particularly witty. I feel it necessary to declare those things up front. There are friends who tell me that I possess some small talent for writing. They are well intentioned. Sometimes I wonder if their compliments are not unlike the praises and encouragement that some American Idol hopefuls get before taking that stand in front of the first round of judges, only to be told that they have a nice, average little voice.

Average. I was an average child. I was an average student (until I failed spectacularly in my first year of college.) I am an average housewife and mommy. If you set your expectations for average...then maybe, just maybe you'll find yourself entertained here. At least I hope you do. It has been my lifelong goal to somehow become more than I believe I am. If I can make you smile...if I can move you in some slight way, then I will count it as a step of success toward that goal.