assurances that I am far from anything resembling perfection in any way

.




In case you harbor some romantic notion that I'm Motherhood Perfection On a Stick, or something equally appalling, I present to you my latest and greatest failings as a human being.

If perfection was contained in a score of 100 on the Universal Scale of Human Perfection, I lowered my score to considerably respectable levels yesterday.

(Also: I love you and I'm very tired.)



. On day seven kajillion of the road trip to end all road trips, I found myself snapping angrily at anything and everything my family did. Chip chewed too loud: GLARE. Bean spilled Fruit Loops on the floor: HUFFING AND SIGHING. Del Taco chicken strips were deemed inedible and tasting entirely of deep fat fryer: CHAOS ENSUES. Bean decided that the last five minutes before we were about to get out of the car for lunch to be the perfect opportunity to remove her shoes and socks and then toss them wily-nily on the floor, underneath the seat: 10-MINUTE ANGRY MOTHER TIRADE. (- minus 15 points)

. Our last stop before home happened to be a lovely spot in Richland, Washington on the Columbia River. The view was gorgeous, the river was quiet and serene, and the hotel room was clean. And yet I found a thousand things wrong with it: a bathroom that barely fit the pack & play for Bean's temporary sleep quarters, a power outlet too far to said sleeping quarters for the white noise and monitor cords to reach, a television set surely manufactured sometime in 1988 that would not and could not show a clear picture of ABC or NBC. (- minus 9 points)

. I spent approximately 3.5 minutes attempting to open the mini-fridge from the wrong side. (- minus 3 points)

. Considerable muttering and swearing for approximately 3.5 minutes while attempting to open the mini-fridge from the wrong side. (- minus 5 points)

. I suggested that I could read out loud to Chip while he was driving. (+ plus 5 points)

. After reading to Chip for 10 minutes, I spent the following 90 minutes reading silently (and ferociously) to myself, ignoring all attempts at witty banter from my husband. (- minus 7 points)

. A walk down the river to the park next to the hotel was suggested by Chip to help us all unwind and relax a little. During the walk I was absolutely BESIEGED by tiny flying river gnat creatures set on invading my body through any orifice in my face (nose holes, ear holes, eye holes, mouth hole). I wasn't exactly quiet or kind in my running commentary to Chip as he walked next to me. (- minus 4 points)

. I got mad that the flying evil gnat creatures left Chip alone entirely. (- minus 2 points)

. And then I told Chip that I was mad because the flying evil gnat creatures left him alone. (- minus 1 point)

. When we got back to the hotel room I tried to open the mini-fridge from the wrong side. Again. (- minus 1 point)



It has occurred to me that I should have left this post up all week.

if you want to win something fabulous

.









Well hello there.





You may recall a little something called the Golden Minion Box of Awesomeness. It's been making the rounds through the Minions and its current stop is with Alicia, of fabulous Bethsix fame.





Ms. Alicia will be giving the GMBOA away on Monday, and I can't stress to you enough just how fun and silly and amazing she is. Which means that she gives absolutely spectacular packages away. Seriously.


I should probably add, that this box is sort of my personal childhood wish and by participating in this contest, you are giving me the gift of my personal childhood heart. I dreamt of releasing a balloon with my name and address tied on a string - watching it float into the upper atmosphere - and then on some distant day, getting a postcard from China or Mexico or maybe even NEW JERSEY saying that my balloon had been found drifting in some little girl's front yard and she couldn't BELIEVE how far my balloon had traveled. But my balloon never made it that far. I can't say it even ever made it farther than the powerlines down on Marguerita Avenue. But the GMBOA--- my dears, it has been in several different locations so far, and I can't tell you how much I want it to just keep traveling and traveling. Please do throw your hat in for the honor of hosting the box. You won't be disappointed.





So here's what you should do, if you're interested in picking up that GMBOA for your very own (and who wouldn't be, right?).


1. Make sure you're a follower here of The Creamery. Just go join down there on the right.


2. Visit Bethsix on Monday to enter to win.





May the luck of the Minions be with you.











And for your viewing pleasure, because it's nonsensical but also funny, this is what happens when you tell your two-year-old that she can sit on the bench with Elmo. And she happens to be very tired.

sunny days

.

Mom keeps a large green bin on reserve for visiting grandchildren and other dignitaries of the under 3-foot set.

It contains the remaining bits of our childhood toys.

Matchbox cars and trucks of every shape and size.

Boats and a circus train.

And Little People, dozens of Little People (you know the ones)--- Not the Little People of Leprechaun fame, but the Fisher Price Little People with the round-barrel bodies and spherical heads.

I had a blast sitting them in tiny rectangle cars and pushing them in tiny little strollers.

They still have a motor boat and a yacht, but no one has the keys to Main Street or the Parking Garage. The castle is gone. So is the schoolhouse. And sadly, most of all, the loss of the big apartment building over on Sesame Street.

However, in my search among the survivors, I spied a few familiar faces.

I believe Ernie is sporting a black eye from the fight he had with the blond teacher with the pony tail. And Burt, poor Burt is looking a little worse for wear, what with him sleeping behind the dumpster and underneath the schoolhouse swingset.

Gordon is the only one still looking like he can sing Making Believe with Maria and Bob. I have to question his use of the Sanitation Truck as Big Bird conveyance--- though Big Bird himself can't offer much of a backstory. After losing his head feathers in that unfortunate toxic waste spill...

That is, unless Big Bird always looked this blitzed.

we are...

.

So.

Very.

Tired.

as time goes by

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A significant day. A date to remember now, and in the future. Markers to date my life by.

I've been thinking of signposts since yesterday was Winston's birthday.

Three years ago I was just pregnant with Bean, visiting my parents and seeking solace in their presence.

Two years ago I was getting back from a trip to Montana with a very smooshable Bean and an equally smooshable Chip. I spent dad's birthday feeling overwhelmed with projects long ignored at the house during our absence.

A year ago I was lying awake and fretful in a hotel room in Spokane. It involved visions of zombies and giant mice, need I say more?

What I'm thinking about today is how quickly the time goes. How fast things speed from one memory to the next - like hilltops of visionary imagination, we skip from one highlight to the next, with the valleys of our every day sinking from view. Even as I am wrapped in the present of today: watching Bean in her two-and-a-halfness... surrounded by her experience of the world. All of it seems so bright, so prescient, so very palpable. Inconceivable that I won't hold every bit of these memories in my mind a year from now.

Experience has taught me otherwise. As vivid as these moments feel today, they will slip from my fingers and sink into oblivion tomorrow. It just happens. These little bits of life, they slip by and are gone. What's left in their wake are the highlights (and lowlights): the things earmarked in our brains as something monumental to hold on to. I don't really understand the workings of it, because this system has cataloged a moment spent in my childhood bedroom when I was probably six or seven, the room I shared with my sister, standing at the foot of my bed staring at Kimmie's poster of Andy Gibb (red shirt, blue jeans, gold chain). This memory is safely stored in my mind alongside sizable chunks of my wedding day and the first time I held Alice. I don't always understand why my brain chooses one thing over another, but I know that it is so.

So my answer is this: make something count. I can't be present in every single moment, no matter how hard I try, but I can do my best to commit certain images to memory. Force my cranium hard drive to record these times that I so desperately want to remember.

Helping mom and Alice pick pears.

The thrill of dad's face when he's spending time with his grandchildren.

Watching my little brother's huge hands as he's changing his daughter's diaper.

Kissing my mother on the top of her head.

Eating lunch with my sister and talking about the madcap adventure of raising a toddler.

Running into my sister-in-law who was only in town --from Louisiana-- to spend time with her mother who was in the hospital--- in (of all places) the Target parking lot.

Marveling at mom's patience as she's trying to get Alice to eat strawberry yogurt (WITH CHUNKS IN IT).

Singing happy birthday to dad on his birthday.

Because it is such a happy day. A stupendous day. A day to certainly remember.