another mother

In quiet moments when I am holding Alice, comforting her as only a mother can, I think about my own mother. I think about the gifts she has given me--- the wisdom and strength she has passed on to me by her very existence. I think about the sacrifices she has made for me, the things she gave up and the things she embraced for my sake. I think about her face and how it lights up when she sees Alice. I think about my love for her and how it's changed and grown over the years. I think about our friendship and the things she's teaching me even now. Looking at Alice, I think about my mother. And then I think about another mother.

This other mother is a little bit taller than me. She has dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. A big smile. She likes to crochet and spend time with her little boy. She laughs and calls her husband buddy. She's athletic: doing aerobics and whatever else she can to stay in shape. She likes to decorate and paints furniture. She loves her family.

I don't know this woman, but I share her eyes and hair - I share her face and smile. I've never met this woman. I've never heard her voice. I've never felt her hand in mine. I've never spoken to her. And I won't ever do any of these things. This woman is my mother, my birth mother. She died in 1985, when her little boy was barely eight-years-old. I was eleven. A carefree eleven, without knowledge of this lady who gave me her eyes and hair and artistic sense.

I didn't grow up with this woman. She was my mother, but not my mom. I was raised by another mother, a mother who wasn't able to have children of her own. People ask me how it is, to be adopted - to have a family that isn't related to me by blood. I never know what to say. I never know how to tell them that you know what you know. That my family is born in my heart and in my hands. That I am bonded to my family through experience and time. That these people - my mom, my dad, my brothers, my sister---- we ate dinner together every night, we went on long car trips, we ate pizza and went to church and cut down Christmas trees and watched movies and swung on swing sets and took family pictures together. We fought and we cried and we loved each other in the best way we knew how. And we still do those things today. These people I bled with and cried for and danced with in the kitchen. These people are my family in the only way I've ever known.

But my heart is beating because of another mother. Another mother who made the best choice for me that she could. Another mother who cried for me and bled for me and wanted me to be happy. Another mother who was so very brave, so very selfless, I can't fathom it. I share her eyes and hair and hands. I see the world because of her. I can love Alice because of her.

I am blessed to have these two mothers: the mother of my heart, and the mother of my hands. Two women who have given themselves to me in a way that only a mother can. I hope I can have the same strength, the same wisdom, the same sense of sacrifice for my daughter. I think I can. I have wonderful teachers.

you'd think i'd be more on top of these things

But I'm not. Luckily I checked in with Statia tonight and found out that she's holding the Plain White Box contest NOW. So get on over there and enter soon (ends on Monday). And be extra especially nice to her, okay? She is in the advanced stages of pregnancy and you know how fun that can be. Maybe tell her how pretty she is.

Oh, and if you're newish around here and want to know why I am caring about a random box? It's not so random. See where it started here and here. (MY DREAM IS COMING TRUUUUUUUUUUE.)

Now get out of here and try to win that box.

a true nursery rhyme

Mr. Chip NotMuffet
sat on his tuffet
bathing his baby girl.

Along came a spider
that wanted to bite her--
Mr. Chip's toes began to curl.

He moved the girl away
and kept the spider at bay
while yelling for mommy to come.

THE BEAST IS VAST
GET IN HERE FAST
AND BRING SOMETHING FOR SQUISHING, A DRUM?!

So mommy ran in
with nothing but a grin
and an itty bitty book to kill it.

She tossed dad the book
he gave her that look
while she ran to get a mallet.

Dad leapt into the fray
the beast didn't get away
and he squished it flatter than flat.

When mommy came back in
the gore was not lacking
with black legs and guts on the bathmat.

No spiders were seen
for the rest of evening
and everyone was happier for sleeping.

The next day mama took
to clean off the book
and found the spider's body was keeping.

For what did she find
but the irony in mind
was funny and out of pace.

The little book was the weapon
that sent the spider to heaven
what an ironic final resting place.

399

Well my friends, this is post number three hundred ninty-nine at The Creamery. I feel the need to celebrate 399 instead of 400 because 400 probably gets so much attention anyway, what with the extra zero's behind the 4 and all. 399, on the other hand, is sort of a rogue number. And we're all about the ROGUE element here. Viva la 399!

Have I told you I have a thing for prime numbers and odd numbers in general?

I am odd.

No really, I'm the third kid in a family of four which makes me both ODD and PRIME.



In other news, I have results from the quotation situation on Monday. No one got them all, though Parkingathome gets lots of credit for coming very close:

Quote #1, in the title of the post, GUESS WHO HAS A CASE OF THE MUNDEES.
Original quote was from Office Space and goes like this, "Uh oh, sounds like somebody has a case of the Mondays!"

Quote #2, I LOVE THE SMELL OF A TO DO LIST IN THE MORNING.
Original quote from Apocalypse Now, "I love the smell of Napalm in the morning."

Quote #3, MOTHER, NO, NOT MOTHER?
Original quote from Dirty Rotten Scoundrels - Steve Martin as Ruprecht, "Mother? No? Not mother?" And might I add that this is a most quotable movie. Another one, "May I take your trident, sir?" and "Ruprecht, if we keep banging our pots we won't have any pots left to bang."

Quote #4, I DON'T WANT TO GO IN YOUR CAR, IT'S ALL VOMITY.
Original quote from The Office, Michael says to Dwight (because Michael needs to take Dwight to the hospital), "I can't take you. I don't have my car and yours is all vomity."

Quote #5, from Bjork, "People are always asking me about Eskimos. But there are no Eskimos in Iceland."

Quote #6, from The Andy Griffith Show, "Opie, you haven't finished your milk. We can't put it back in the cow, you know."



It's also nice to know that other folks have a vomit story (Spadoman, I'm looking at you with the VOMIT in your POCKET????), and I figure I'm in good company with my losing battle for Mother of the Year.



Speaking of MOTY--- I was feeding Alice her dinner yesterday and was surprised with how much she was putting down. Five chicken nuggets? No problem! A handful of green beans? Done! Four whole rice rusks? Finished! ...So I went to give Alice a fifth rice rusk and saw her stash half of it down by her leg. I figured she was done, finally, so I cleaned her up and took her out of the seat.

And this is what I found:


Yes, that would be a good half of the food she supposedly ate. Behold Squirrelly: the Next Generation. I say "next generation" because the kid comes by it honestly. Chip is the squirrelliest squirrel to ever squirrel. Left to his own devices, the guy can squirrel away any treasure between the desk and the back wall, on a high shelf, inside a box that's inside a box that's inside ANOTHER box. These are all purely mundane hiding places for Squirrelly. When we're organizing a room, I regularly have to come back and CHECK to see what new items have been added via Squirrelly McSquirrel.



We finally got down and dirty yesterday and finished installing the cabinet locks in the kitchen. That was AFTER I found Alice sitting on the kitchen floor, quietly crunching away on DRY CAT FOOD. She was eating it like it was CANDY. Cat food-flavored candy.

look who has a case of the MUNdees

Doing my best to defunkify the funk - which, when I put it that way, makes it sound like I'm trying to get the smell out of something. And maybe in some ways I am. The SMELL OF THE GRAY DOLDRUMS. Today, I'm feeling both random and weird, which means that you get the benefit of random and weird. Now aren't you lucky?



I love the smell of a to do list in the morning!

We got back into town Friday night and woke up Saturday morning with a to do list that was about three feet long. A three-foot long to do list tends to make me simultaneously CRANKY and also MEGA MOTIVATED. Which is a weird combination. Luckily the mega motivated part of me won out and we got a lot done. Including some weeding. Which is strangely satisfying.




Mother? No? Not mother?

I received a really thoughtful email from Miss Sarah in Georgia, who remembers my SAD DEVOTION TO MOTHER'S SUGAR COOKIES. Being all connected and stuff, she received this message from the folks at Kelloggs, and had to share it with me, saying, "Yes, we're on the Mother's newsletter listserv". That's the kind of girl I can understand.

Mother's Cookies, Returning to West Coast Stores May 4

Posted by Erin Zimmer, April 30, 2009 at 6:45 PM

After filing for bankruptcy last year—but then being miraculously saved by Kellogg's!—Mother’s Cookies announces its return to West Coast shelves starting May 4. Many favorites seem to be back, including Circus Animals, Iced Lemonade, Iced Oatmeal, and Taffy.

I planned to head out to a grocery store today, to document this bittersweet entrance to the cookie aisle (I say bittersweet because the kind people at Kellogg's are all clued in to what YOU want back on your cookie shelves --namely those pink and white interlopers, the Circus Animals-- but are terribly uninformed what those with discriminating and complicated palates are craving --i.e. the irresistable Mother's Sugar Cookie--). ANYWAY. We went to the grocery store on Saturday and what did I find between the Keebler striped fudge and the Archway no-name cookies that no one eats?


Yep. That would be the NOTMother's cookies from Kelloggs. See how much I love you? I even took a picture (badly, but still: a picture). West coasters, you may now visit your local grocery store to pick up the circus animals or iced lemonade or iced oatmeal. Don't tell me I never did anything for you. East and middle/Not coasters? You're out of luck. Unless, of course, I do a giveaway at some future date and you win and I put a bag of circus animals in your package. That's a lot of If's.



I don't want to go in your car, it's all vomity.

There's a story about PUKE from last week that I haven't told you yet. And I'm still not sure if I want to tell the whole story, because it paints Chip and I in a very un-parenty / un-aware / completely IDIOTIC light. Um. Suffice it to say, there was some kind of middle-of-the-night puking event in Bean's vicinity (okay, IN HER PACK N PLAY) and we were totally oblivious to it. In fact, she woke up whimpering a little--- and we sauntered over to her bed, gave her a new paci, and then she went back to sleep. IN THE VOMIT. I know. I KNOW. It gives me the heeby-jeevies, and also scares the living daylights out of me because while we are totally STOOOOPID and OBLIVIOUS and obviously have malfunctioning NOSES, we AREN'T unschooled in all the bad stuff that could have happened to a little girl who throws up in the middle of the night. Namely, she could have choked. Or, like, DROWNED IN IT.

Oh nasty. ANYWAY. In the morning light (after Alice got some revenge on her dumb parents when they brought her pukey little self into bed, and she was able to roll around repeatedly against their faces and all over their pillows)--- Chip looked at me (after I'd been snuggling the smelly girl for a while) and said, "You know, she smells a little... vomity." And I was all, "Ummm... yeah." And then we turned on a light. And saw PARTIALLY DIGESTED BANANAS IN HER HAIR. And there was something of a freak-out on BOTH of our parts. We've never moved so fast to get Alice and I into the shower.

Also: can't say I've ever tried to rinse out thrown-up banana from someone's hair. If you're wondering, it's not an easy chore.

Let's move on from this nasty subject, shall we? But first: I have been trying to get the awful smell out of the Pack N Play for four days now and I'm not having much luck. And let's just say:

Febreze + Odour de Vomit = YUMMY



People are always asking me about Eskimos, but there are no Eskimos in Iceland.

You haven't lived until you have listened to my husband try to (poorly) imitate an Icelandic accent. Not that I know what an actual Icelandic accent sounds like. I just know it doesn't sound like the girl from Journey to the Center of the Earth. (Post-edit: Behold the power of the internet, and also dumb me. Guess I really DON'T know what an Icelandic accent sounds like because the actress that PLAYS the Icelandic chick in Journey to the Center of the Earth is actually FROM ICELAND. Well now.)



You haven't finished your milk. We can't put it back in the cow, you know.

Saturday marked the first day when Alice got all of her milk from a sippy cup. I had eliminated her two daytime bottles back in March, but I hadn't done anything about the first-bottle-of-the-day and the nightcap bottle, right before bed. Talk about stress, man. I did my best to take it in stride, but when Alice didn't drink any milk in the morning, any milk in the early afternoon, and then ANY milk before bed? I was a wee bit stressed. She drank some water, but it wasn't enough to make up for the nearly 12 ounces of dairy she'd been putting down before. Sunday dawned a new day, and I told myself that if things weren't getting better by afternoon, I'd examine my goal and see if I should make a change (like just remove the evening bottle, but keep the morning one). And... afternoon came and I decided that I could give it one more day. She didn't drink milk in the morning. She didn't drink milk in the afternoon. She barely put some down at dinner. What she did drink was a healthy dose of Pedialite, which I gave her telling Chip it was Gatorade for babies. He tried to drink a little and told me that it was DEFINITELY NOT GATORADE FOR BABIES because it was, in his words, "AWFUL". So again I told myself last night that if things hadn't gotten better by Monday morning, I'd just revert and not make a big deal out of it. But lo and behold, this morning Miss Alice actually DRANK HER MILK. FROM THE SIPPY.

I was going to ask you guys if anyone had some experience with this whole sippy cup switch for milk (she's been drinking from sippies for a long while now, but it's been exclusively water), but now, NOW I'M FEELING ALL SMUG AND STUFF. Behold my MENSA child who has figured out that she can actually drink the cow juice from a cup like the rest of us. My advice to anyone contemplating the switch: give it two and a half days. There. That's the end of my advice. Aren't I so helpful and stuff?



Now that I've done my best to bore you to tears with some of the Whimsy-brand Mundane, I'm curious to see who can name all the quotes I listed (and also annihilated) in this post. Game on, folks.