Whack-a-mole

The last few nights have been spent playing a game I like to call "Whack-a-mole." Only the contestants aren't moles, they're kids. And I'm not allowed to use an actual mallet on their heads.

It goes like this: get them all to sleep, one wakes up. Get that one down, another one wakes up. We all sleep for a while. Two pop up. Get one down, and the third wakes that one up again. All sleep again. One creeps into our bed, like a stealth bomber. Get him to sleep, carry him back to his room. Repeat all night long, until the crack of dawn comes and at least 4 of us are crammed into my bed like sweaty sardines. But don't leave the bed, no matter how uncomfortable, or precariously balanced on the edge, because one of the lucky ones that's still sleeping might roll onto the baby.

This is what I say in my head, as I stumble around all night, envisioning a rubber mallet: "go-to-sleep-Go-to-sleep-go-to-sleep-Go-to-sleep." This game is so much fun, particularly when Rick is away. I can't wait to go to bed & start playing. But my favorite part is when the worst offenders sleep late in the morning. That just seems wrong. Or when Phoenix takes a 3 hour nap at 8am. Wrong again. (But ok, I'll take it!) The other refrain in my head is that song from the '90's "I get knocked down, but I get up again... you're never gonna keep me down..." We sing that to Phoenix, king of the 20-minute cat-nap, a lot, and replace the words while we dance him around like a puppet: "I go to sleep, but I get up again - you're never gonna keep me down. I close my eyes and they pop up again - I'll never sleep the whole night through..." Just a little something to keep us laughing. :)

In Memoriam

Our gallant old gal, and kitty friend of 19 years has taken the Great Walk. Last night around 11pm Rick & I were puttering around before bed, tending to all the things that needed care before we could clock out. Rick went out to close the garage and call Knocker in for the night. I heard him calling, and went out to help look for her. Usually she walks right in to be fed, meowing all the way.

But as we stood out front softly calling her, we somehow knew her time had come. Rick recalled that the night before, she had been meowing and refusing to come in for the night. And I had been out at noon to give her some tuna from our lunch - but couldn't find her.

So we stood under the moon, shedding a few tears for a long-time pal who was endearing in her kooky, sometimes annoying way. We will miss her "Rawr. Rawr. RAWR." and her snoozing presence on the front stoop. But we know she has joined her own friend Sharkey, who took his walk last spring. Both of them went in the daytime, seeming to vanish into thin air. One moment, they were laying out front in the sun - next moment, gone.

We have gone out to call for her all morning, hoping to hear her loud meow, and knowing it to be futile.

And wondering why it is the way of animals to disappear at their time. I call it the Great Walk, sort of like a walkabout, as they search for a hiding place to lay their weary bones & call it a day.

So, when you think of us this week, call out a "Rawr" for Knocker and know that we are missing that crazy old girl.

Rolling around the 'hood

Today Isabella made great strides in becoming less squirrel, more girl. We take a lot of walks, since our neighborhood has a lovely, tree-lined parkway. And at every crosswalk we gather & cross together. Well, Isabella panics every time she even hears a distant motor rumble. And it drives me nuts.

Here's the scenario: Me pushing stroller, Cole darting ahead, Jadyn lagging behind, and "deer-in-the-headlights" Isabella freezing mid-road and running BACK across the road. Stop procession, call Cole, turn and go back to collect her. She gets so spooked, she keeps running, to the closest yard, zig-zagging like a squirrel. Sort of like Forrest Gump, she just keeps running, going far, far away from vehicular danger. Oh, and let's not forget the cars in both directions that have to stop & wait! I wave thanks to the drivers, shaking my head. They always grin - though I gotta say, unless you have kids, how could you expect this? I wonder if I used to be impatient with families like mine, kids strung out across the road as though the Mom were careless or in la-la-land. Little did I know then that despite all good intentions, kids will walk as they please.

My pep talk goes like this "Isabella. Where is the safest place to be? With Mommy & the other kids." Repeat as needed. Her answer? "Off the road!" Well, yes and no... And Jadyn copy pep talks her :"Bewa. Stay with Mom."

So, we walked to the Cleaners this morning, and had to cross a real road - and she did it! She simply held onto the stroller and walked across. What a miracle - there's no stopping us now! :) Yep, my entourage & I can now cross roads without stopping 2-way traffic.

On the deck

Tonight we grilled chicken & hung out on the deck for a while. The older kids played Roller Derby, which is flying around our little deck in crazy circles, on their trikes. They have watched Cars the movie a lot, and are really into crashing each other from behind. Fun. I think it lets out the aggression in a rather safe way, right? :)

Phoenix watched the leaves dance from his bouncy seat, chewed on his hands & tried not to get crushed by a flying sibling.

Rick grilled & smoked a cigar.

I enjoyed some white wine & tried to keep my toes out from under the trike wheels.

We were ready to go in and eat when Cole started crying - his toe got run over. Isabella & Jadyn wanted some "moolk." Then Phoenix tuned up - he was tired of hanging out. So I gave them all a bowl of ice cream OUTSIDE, we took our dinner INSIDE and enjoyed a quiet meal, watching them out the bay window. :) Phoenix is liking the idea of nursing while we are eating - in the way of all our babies, he gets crabby right at dinnertime. The witching hour. The arsenic hour. Or, as Rick's Bermudan client called it: "the nigglies." Whatever it means, Bermuda has it right - kids get the nigglies at dinnertime.

Truthiness

Yep, it's an election year, and the e-rumors are flying. I received one yesterday that I could not fathom. It was simply Not True! Something to the effect that Ob@m@ had stated that the US is not a Christian nation, but is made up of Christians, Muslim, Buddhists, etc.etc. Then the writer went on to declare this supposed statement a travesty, and proclaim that "our ancestors fought & died to make this a Christian nation" and he's trying to take that away.

Cough cough. If I know my history, I would have to say that the founders of America came here seeking....

wait for it.....

RELIGIOUS FREEDOM.

Yes, those dear immigrant Puritans, Quakers & Calvinists were being oppressed in those lands across the ocean, right? So they came here to worship freely, however they chose. And though they all happened to stem from Christian sects, and write their beliefs into the fabric of our Constitution and Declaration, there was never any PS "Christians Only" addendum. I have been under the impression for my entire life that the Revolutionary War was fought to free us from a colonial power - I never knew that was a religious war! Wow! Did I miss an attempted anti- Christian coup at some other historical juncture too? This is mildly distressing. Somewhere out there, many Americans are baa-ing and believing this innocuous email.

Geez, the things you learn on the internet...

All for one, one for all

Rick stepped outside with Cole to look at the tomatoes, and within a minute, everyone was on the doorstep. Even the cat walked up & started meowing. It's like some sort of communal consciousness, a "knowing". It also happens whenever I close my eyes for a quick, secretive nap. They come out of the woodwork from wherever they were previously occupied. Cole is the best at being tuned in - I can be sitting nearby for an hour, but if I step outside, or God forbid, into the bathroom, he raises the roof yelling for me. :) And then he looks all pitiful, and tells me he thought I left him. Where does this abandonment complex come from?! I have explained sincerely that I will never leave him home alone. I have explained that it's even against the law for parents to leave young kids home alone. Maybe that's part of the "knowing" too - he knows that some days, I just want to take a walk around the block... alone... and he's always on guard. :)

Yes, I have time for all of this...

People ask me every day how I have time to do "____" (fill in the blank - read books, maintain my website, upload pictures, play on F@ceb**k, cross-stitch, make banana bread, make scrapbooks, be on the HOA Board, etc, etc.) And I usually shrug and say something like "Oh, I read instead of cleaning the house." Actually, being online is an easy hobby with a houseful of kids. I can sit at the household crossroads of my kitchen table & view every in/out up/down move of the kids - and not have to put away tools, papers, or gear involved in other hobbies. Right now my other hobbies are on hold until the kids are all in bed, because I can't have them getting into all my "stuff." It's quite irksome to make a great scrapbook card, leave the room for a moment, and come back to a crayon-scribbled mess. Or to leave some sewing out, only to have all the needles and all of the thread color tags disappear into the void... No, I think for now the less tools & supplies, the better. Hit "save" and walk away! Woo-hoo!

I guess the biggest time-sucker that I don't fall into so much is TV. Sure, there are a lot of shows I enjoy, and even a few that I commit to for the season. And I do get caught up in mindless goofy shows now & then ("It's C&mplic@ted" - really?? No Denise, it's actually not that complicated.) , and often can't look away from a well-loved Seinfeld re-run. But for the most part, I can't stand to sit there and click around just looking for entertainment. I'd rather click around online or edit photos or make banana bread or.... blog! Besides, this has a purpose, a higher goal! Blogging will hone my writing skills so that I can pick up a career when the littlest Lear goes off to school in a few short years.

Come on, it's more fun than watching Lifetime.... :)

Why Borderland Traveler?

For a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that I thought it would be a pretty cool blog name! :-) And it covers a multitude of topics, so I can be as varied as I am. Oh, okay, honestly, it's the Floyd in me. Dad could never resist a good name. When all the Y2K hype was abuzz, he changed his email addy to "Y2KSeeker," and then named his own site "St@nes of F!re." So I come by the naming drama honestly, and I know Dad would get a kick out of this. :)

If I decide to go mystical, a borderland traveler hints at inhabiting the borderland between this world and all others. A fascinating place to be, and one that brings exciting insight and commitment to this life... thanks to Dad for this habit too - as anyone who has lost a loved one can attest, when your Dad goes somewhere you cannot follow directly, or see clearly, you tend to turn over every stone trying to communicate. Or maybe that's just me, and the Watson-bequeathed mystical side again? I'll let you know if Dad reads this & comments!

If I wax parental, it hints that as a parent, I am on the border. Of sanity? Perhaps! Any parent who says they have not been to that particular border is lying!

So, here goes. Borderland Traveler commences.

Whew. I picked a name. It's no easy thing, this idea of a name. But the blogging part? That's easy. I've been "blogging" since I was at least 12, only it used to be called "journaling." :) Writing is a compulsion for me, whether it's turning a harrowing day into a funny tale or writing poetry.

So here's to enjoyable travels from this inhabitant of the borderland...

Pencils, Chalk, Crayons and... Chocolate Milk?

May 21, 2007 - "Pencils, Chalk, Crayons and... Chocolate Milk?"

It has been the month of wall decor. These stealthy, sneaky, scalliwags have had their way with our walls.

It all started when Jadyn managed to sneak some sidewalk chalk into the house - oh, and it was wet, too, having been forgotten in the rain. Ot perhaps it was pre-planning on her part. Sure, it sounds easy, to bring a small chalk inside, but I am super-vigilant about coloring implements. Strict as can be, eagle-eyed, finger-shaking, doom-predicting, well, you get it.

You have to know Jadyn, aka The Phantom. She has way of traveling so stealthily that she can pass right by and go unseen. And that's what happened on this day. Only she left her calling card, as she apparently had a chalk in each hand, yellow and orange. Like airstrip tape in the night, she marked parallel lines down the front hallway carpet, by the kitchen, and - here's where it gets ugly - on our heretofore pristine den carpet. Ahhh. Did we need punctuation marks along the floor? A solid double line to demarcate a no-passing zone in the hallway? Well, we got 'em now. And carpet cleaner holds no power against rain-soaked, ultra-bright chalk.

Next, enter pencil art. Take 2 thick yellow preschool pencils, wielded by 2 mark-happy toddlers, and what you have is a playroom walled scribbled from stem to stern. From baseboard to the length of an excited toddler arm. Ahhh. Let's all hum the theme song to Magic Eraser. Who is responsible for this?? The reply comes from, who else, The Blame Phantom - "Sissy did it." And poor sissy takes it like an innocent Little Bear - all angelic naivete and wide eyes: "I need to sit in time out."

We've come full-circle, back to The Phantom, and a handful of crayons. Though I am wise to her sneaky ways, I have failed to factor the one-up the 2 of them have on me: 2 determined toddlers ace one harried parent any day. They have gotten into Cole's crayons, pretended to be all obedient and compliant ("Yes ma'am, we sit at the table"), and I have let down my guard. Rick comes in and as we chat, The Phantom hurries off to do the deed. But a new twist is added! She comes right back, so we suspect nothing! It's not until I walk down the hall moments later that I spy Picasso's piece. Slightly rushed in execution, but enough pressure to warrant some true scrubbing. Beautiful. Magic Eraser come on down.

Incongruously, chocolate milk makes it's appearance in this tale. Can you guess? Yep, it's our dear little Phantom. Once again, down the hallway I go, and I spy some suspicious puddles on the foyer tile... and some spatters down the bathroom door... and some drips down the hall. Oh my. Jadyn runs up - "I need a towel." Yes, you do, as you have chocolate all over your chin, and running down your shirt. From the look of things, Cole's milk was not to her liking, so she walked down the hall, spitting and shaking the straw. Particular care was taken to splatter the bathroom door, in order to get the drips to run down and collect in puddles underneath the door. Nice. This child needs a hobby.

We've reached the 2 year milestone!

I don't know where to start this time, as we've moved into a new dimension. A brave new world where babies have become people, and cooperation is replaced by exclamations of disgust and squeals of discontent. Is this the twilight zone? Has someone absconded with our sweet-natured angels? Well, I'll admit that my head does spin at times. And from the looks on the kids' faces, my eyes must bug out a bit when some particularly heinous mess has been made.

Cole is Squirrel Boy, dashing to and fro. Jadyn is smiling dress-up girl, marching around with a backpack, hat and stroller. And Isabella, well, she still prefers to perch on a lap with a menagerie of stuffed animals & a book.

And when mishaps occur, the children all have their acts down. Cole:deny, deny, deny! Three times deny, and I hate this house! Jadyn: blame, blame, blame! Anyone but me, and usually it's "Bewa." Isabella: stare, stare, stare! Eventually my cuteness will distract them, and they'll bring a snack.

Mealtimes? Cole: I hate this! Yuck! This is disgusting... may I have dessert now? Jadyn: Scarf it down, pass anything unwanted over to "Bewa's" plate. Isabella: she's been waiting in her chair ever since someone mentioned eating, oh about 20 minutes ago.

We looked through our photo album of the first months after the girls were born. Thankfully I have this journal, because those days have been smitten from my memory! I have to concentrate to remember the exhaustion and overwhelming needs of 2 infants plus Dr. Demando (Cole, not Rick!). Ah, the trick of nature, lest every mother avoid a repeat performance! Just an observation, not a hint. Settle down.

So here we are, still standing, after 2 years. A little frazzled, slightly scattered, definitely blessed. And still watching over these 3 when they don't know we're looking. These are the sweet moments of reflection that sear into memory. Somewhere along the way our life started, and rather than hurry to the next scene, we are content to rest here and enjoy the noise. The commotion. The graham-crackery smell of a toddler. The sink full of dirty dishes...-ok, not those. Somebody please wash up. I'll pay you.