Wednesday, January 28, 2015


It started out so small and innocuous.


But it grew.


And then Apple's parents couldn't help but get pulled in, and then it was all over. By which I mean, all over the house. Also all over for Mama's Christmas money (Legoes, Korra DVDs, and an alpaca blanket. I have no regrets.)













Lego!Family, and the family tractor, have been on some adventures, let me tell you.




... Lego!Mama, what did they do to you??

There's this weird cultishness around LEGO, and its current super-licensed hypermascule girls-are-dumb bullshit incarnation leaves a bad taste in my mouth. However, that is not invited into the house and so we have a terrific time... until Apple has one of his characteristic "I am angry and feel helpless about everything and so in my rage I will intentionally do things I know I'm not allowed to, like put Legoes in my mouth cuz I know it'll make my parents flip out" episodes, and the Legoes have to go away for a week or two. Sad times for the Lego!Family. :( And for me cuz, y'know, my Legoes. :( :( :(

But then they come back out and things are lovely again.

Monday, January 26, 2015


It's been a ten-pounds-of-shit-in-a-five-pound-sack kind of week.

I tacitly expect one or two major snowfalls a winter here.

But I rather wish it weren't, y'know. Right now.

It's just not convenient to my mood.

Why don't the weather patterns- nay the very world- rearrange themselves around my feelings?

I'll ask the snow when it starts falling, and the stick of dynamite still asleep in bed when he wakes up.

Saturday, January 24, 2015


1) No I don't really want one of the fancy German-sounding (actually Australian) boxes. I just think they look spiffy.

2) Apple's virus is still going strong and has spread to the rest of the household. Which really leads us to number three:

3) There's six inches of snow outside and still falling, with ice predicted later falling now, and we've not done a damn snow- or outage-readiness thing. Like bring the tractor around. Or bring in more firewood. Or make sure we have water.

4) Oops.

5) Before I shoveled, it was of course quite pretty.

Friday, January 23, 2015

Found Art

I love the small tableaus I find around the house. I am occasionally impressed by Apple's ability to ferret out things for "loose parts" play despite his mother's near-total neglect of the idea and her ridiculous refusal to buy a Spielgaben (that embarrassingly expensive wooden box of beautiful fit-together-y things the super-mama-bloggers all heap oodles of love on and I'm totally not jealous of those lovely things nuh uh).

Chickens and ducks are typically tasked with the farming in our house, for some reason.
However, small cars and tractors are often the drivers, which is just the best thing ever.

I know it's just a wall but I liked it.

The animals must see something on the wall I don't.
I like the peg people having been tucked in with pom-poms.

Meet Sheep the alpaca. I don't know what he's up to here.

This um... sculptural art is, he says, inspired by the
line "Sign your papers, check the clock" from Truck Song.

Note the Lego shark. Keep your distance.

This he built in anger one day, trapping his slippers inside.

Just balls in circles but they caught my eye.

This was a favorite; beads, a spray bottle lid, and a suction cup.


I had some recent less block-dependent* examples but they were on the memory card in Apple's camera and Apple deleted them all with his nimble thumbs, (I also lost a Papa-Apple art session. Stupid stupid woman.) and most of the best ones never manage to get themselves photographed. Ephemeral art is ephemeral!

Apple uses his little cars as loose parts decorations as much as he uses them as "proper" cars. He likes for Joe and I to build things and then he'll decorate them, or for us to start it and he'll finish it. And then decorate it. (He does this with Lego a lot, too.) I have no idea where he found the stuff for that last one  above; it's a manila folder with segments of a line of staples propped up on it, with small objects either tucked under those or placed atop them. He told me they're houses. And I believe him. Now where did the nail come from? Or the screw anchor? Or the tire air cap? Or the screw hole topper? Apple, where have you been??

As I've noticed his increasing love of arranging small fiddly things, I decided I should take seriously the task of providing for that need. Anyone know a Reggio Emilio school teacher getting out of the trade? Anyone with $450 they're itching to blow on lovely fit-together-y children's things?

I'm kidding, I took twenty bucks and went to the craft store.


* While I'm gnawing sarcastically on the price tag of something apparently beloved by other people's children, I guess, my sense of honesty dictates I mention Apple's good blocks were no small financial outlay. But the entire collection of beautiful FSC hard maple blocks, which he plays with every day and in many different ways and which fills a whole shelving unit, cost about a Spielgaben and a half, bought over the course of a year during sales directly from the chap who made them, and in the blocks' favor, they didn't come with curriculum. :D I could sing the praises of our blocks for days but I know they were very pricey and not something everyone can or would want to buy. So, she who casts the first stone, and pots and kettles, and glass houses, I know, I know. I both love and hate that damn box. It's everywhere. Not "Sophie the rubber giraffe"-everywhere, but still.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

My Baby is Beautiful (If a Bit Slimy) Thursday

Is that a thing? Like Wordless Wednesdays or whatever?


Well, it is now.

Right now though my baby is also sick. And when he is sick, he is also gross and cranky and barfy. Which means I'm gross and cranky and my bed smells vaguely of vomit. (It's not a stomach bug; he just gags on his snot and pukes. It's as disgusting as it sounds but getting less frequent as he gets older.) 

So it's fun times in CT. We're watching a lot of Mr. Rogers and doing a lot of reading. He often asks for the same book on repeat. Stacks of books I pulled out to offer him, and this time he wants Not Norman over and over and over. It's a cute one at least, if short, and I get to do my best goldfish and tuba impressions. 

How can you not love a kid who plays his tuba for his goldfish?

As the inevitable happens and I start to feel sick too (whether due to the virus itself or from being worn down by the intense and repulsive demands of caring for a grumpy snot monster with boundary issues and no sense of hygiene), there's less reading, more Mr. Rogers, and much more crankiness all around. Attempts to get nourishing food into his body has devolved into a steady diet of yogurt. Apple, you know that just makes you more of a mucus farm, right? Dear god please eat something else. Anything else. The laundry machine can't take any more abuse.

As my own system gunks up I also start to get irrational and petty. Grrr how dare my husband go to work to earn the money to keep the household running, how dare he not call off dead to mop up after his beloved snot factories while we roll around and whine and ooze?  The man who comes home from work last night and does two loads of laundry, washes all the kitchen dishes, sweeps the floor, occupies the mini snot factory while I absolve myself of all worldly responsibility for nearly an hour (headphones and all), restocks the wood pile by the firebox, and gets Apple all ready for bed. Y'know. That selfish bastard. 

It's just a bad cold, even, nothing truly horrible. I'm just a terrible person from time to time. My beloved does not read my blog, but I apologize to him here regardless, for being grumpy and sour beyond all reason last night. (Though everything I made for dinner came out crap which usually makes me pretty cantankerous on a good day. Except the orange slices. I sliced that orange like a pro.) 

Anyways, I slept last night from 9pm until 7am and only woke up once to pee, which was followed by a brief round of stomach pain cuz why not, then passing back out. I feel much improved this morning, and hopefully Apple does too. (I hear coughing from the bedroom just now.) In the spirit of positive-thinking, Apple, Fred, Norman, Norman's friend, and I all bid you a beautiful, excess-mucus-free day.