11 minutes to make a HouseFairy!

March in Michigan...

Feeling rather underwhelmed/overwhelmed today. Kinda just sitting around. Its raining on the snow, my kids are all doing stuff, building stuff, plotting, planning, chatting. They ask me for food here and there. Its just casual. I fight off the little panic attacks that usually have something to do with life not looking like I thought. We are waiting for spring. We are just about out of ways to enjoy the now. Im going out tonight and that will be a nice escape. My blue hair has faded to a blech and I think I will go re color it in a little while. Dishwasher is humming, mail might or might not be here, Rokenbok machines are whirring, Eska is totting around, Greta and Mickey laughing upstairs, Charlie obsessively checking the jello we made this morning to see if it is firm yet. Phone rings occasionally, Toll Free Call. I wash some clothes and dry some clothes and sometimes seperate and or fold some clothes. Its a cozy kind of boring. I am neither loving nor hating it. I wish I were all clean and dressed and that we could bop out somewhere...but really I dont even know where to go.
Said it before but I'll say it again: Once it is nice out, don't expect to see me indoors, ever. I am going to set up a little encampment in my yard, and be out there the entire day. My entire soul depends on it.

The truth has been revealed: I am not a hippie.

I wear patchouli everyday. I named my child after a flower. I dont shave my legs too often, certainly not in the fall winter or most of spring. I have been or do go to whole foods and trader joes, and pay triple just cuz' its so fake small town-y. With the "handwritten" signs from corporate. But as sure as the day is long, I am a FAILURE as a Hippie. You know why? Because even though Sgt. Peppers is currently in my cd player in my car, I love BRAS and SHOES TOO DAMN MUCH!

Do you even comprehend how much I hate being barefoot---OUCH--glass, nails, rocks, ringworm, warts, pebbles, rust, spiders, staphylococcus---fuck that! I hate it hate it hate it! I used to run around the neighborhood barefoot, seriously, when I was a teenager, I walked all the way to my job at a pool barefoot. Didnt even hurt. WTF?! SO weird. Now I weigh a ton and my feet all all wussy and gentle. So instead of being a thin athletic teenager with leather tough feet, I am now the exact OPPOSITE of that, and therefore, I love shoes. And therefore I fail the BAREFOOT portion of the BAREFOOT BRALESS HIPPIE thing. You still with me? Good. So ponder this:
I like the sturdy, sturdy super uber clunky 90s shoes. I LOVE my Doc Martens. I have the oxford red 3 lace ones, I have black mary janes that are painfully horrifically tight because they are not unisex, but rather, girls shoes, ladies, what have you, well they only go up to a 10. And I am an 11 if not 11 1/2. OW. I also have 8 hole patent leather red Doc Marten boots that rule my life. Gorgeous fun darling you feel like some alien spacecraft barbie fashion doll when you wear them, not bad t'all :)

Recently I discovered Keen. Yummy clunky super crunked out mountain climbing-chic-- look I dont know what to call this shit but it gets me, I fuckin LOVE it, all that faux hiking shit yummmmmmy so cute. Ok so KEEN(s), Keen, I have a pair of green mary janes and a pair of clunky hiking shoe thingies. Also green. I adore and devour green articles of clothing and decor. Duh. I takes my breath away, a good green anything-- car, paint on a house, little signs, I just adore green, it is amazing. It is so hard to do green wrong, even if you go into mint which is disgusting ,but since this 80's chic just does not seem as if it will ever fucking DIE, pastel yes sadly is also back and somehow....Im falling out of hate with pastel green-- sick right? ;P

Well, green shoes, clunky shoes, hi top chucks, platform boots, combat gear, I love me a great shoe. Mmmm mmm mmm.

And now, my dears, on to Bras!
Bras, oh bras, brassieres, all those lame things like boulder holder and, ummm other things? Yes, bras, I LOVE THEE. I H A T E My boobs flailing around. It makes me puke. It is not free, it is not comfy, cozy, casual, political, it is GROSS. BLECH. shudder. I Like a very high quality bra, one that is like micro engineered, researched, cantilevered, I want it to be A M A Z I N G. Like ,armor. Fucking armor to go out there and cook meals for brats and deal with assholes in stores and drive with psychos on the roads, texting while drink driving, ARMOR to help you lift lift lift huge fat toddlers up into swings, carts, baskets, vans, carseats, high chairs, bathtubs, cribs, playpens, strollers, ergos, pouchie things---holy shit, my titties would be pulverized by some kid's shoe if I didnt have a seriously wonderful bra on! OWCH anybody?
Besides armor, both psychological and actual, the bra just--solidifies you. Or is should. I am talking about real big time bras here, not little pink thingie from Target---like big crazy cup bras, they sure help my ole fluffy moosh boobs somehow mold into a lovely round bowl, safe and ensconced, looking all but 1/2 of my actual age of nearly 36 if-ya-know-what-I-mean, I think it is just lovely and fantastic to be solidified. Lovely!

SO, thus having failed my BAREFOOT and BRALESS categories of the barefoot braless hippie, we must now all rationally conclude that I am not and cannot ever be, truly, a hippie. I admire them and love the few real ones I am lucky enough to know, I thank them for their work and vision and perfumes and big rolicky skirts that hide fucked up mom butts, truly, they're so pretty and awesome-- but Gen X, Gen Y, next gen, I dunno, but I just so NOT a hippie. and thats totally ok, cuz hippies really dig me, and I think they know Im a kindred spirit. And thats groovy.

Cleaning the cottage

I am so excited about this-- we bought a "Cottage"! I am not kidding!

It is actually a mobile home, "up north", on Lake Huron. It is in a mobile home park which is definitely not trashy but much more vacation-y/resort-y. There are a few year-round residents but it is definitely mostly vacationers and summer residents.

This is something that has caught my eye on Craigslist before, I have seen them for extremely cheap, and this year I started looking before we got our tax return and sure enough, $1200. Then we went and saw it and knocked 100 bucks off the price. I am seriously so proud and amazed at the sheer potential of this in our lives!

So, it was decorated pretty crusty, and it smelled like cigarettes. I know my husband and kids were thinking "hmmmmm no..." But I, of the infinite potential seeing abilities and lifelong experience of rehabbing gross things into gorgeous things, said YES yes yes and they trusted me and the deal was done.

So, yesterday, I got to go up there all by myself (woo hoo!!!!!!) to start cleaning. It had been 4 weeks since I saw the place and my imagination had been running wild, I thought I was going to have to rip up carpets, rip down wallpaper, who knows. But it was not that bad at all. Here is what I did:

Washed every single wall and door with Hot water+Vinegar+Tea Tree Oil+Mr. Clean Citrus. It was dripping down my arms, all over the floors, which I then mopped hard with this same mixture.

Took down the sheets they had up in front of a few windows and threw them in my trunk.

Took down most of the mini-blinds and washed them in the bathtub. This was harder than I pictured because the bathtub did not have anyway to keep the water from draining out. After that they were still crusty and so I am going to be replacing those with some curtains as soon as we can budget for that. I have a great design in my head for what I want, just thinking if I could sew them myself or have a friend do it.

Scoured the kitchen and appliances with Mr Clean magic eraser, and then the hot vinegar stuff. The kitchen was actually not that dirty. I was afraid to open the fridge and it was clean! Cool. But I dropped some baking soda into it and the freezer and just left it.

Washing all the walls in the hallway and the 2 bedrooms was more work than it sounds like. but it was good work, and even though I brought a music player, I did not use it. I was in silence for hours and it was wonderful.

They left me a twin bed frame, headboard, mattress and box spring. I do not want my kids sleeping right on smoke, but I also hate to waste, so I coated it in Lavender-Baking soda. An idea from my friend Michelle, I poured a box of baking soda into a bucket and shook drops of lavender essential oil into it. "Lots"? That's my recipe :)Maybe with a good deodorizing, vacuuming and a mattress cover of some sort, it can be one of our beds!

I scoured the bathroom. Used hardcore stuff in there, Lysol spray.

Made up a total of 5 buckets of Lavender-Baking Soda and dropped handfuls of the stuff on the 2 rooms that were carpeted. They also left one chair that seemed cool, and old fashioned rocker-recliner, so I coated that in the mixture, too.

I put Lavender-Baking Soda in some of the kitchen drawers and left it.

Somehow this took 4 hours. All of a sudden I was aware that it had been dark for a long time and I packed up and headed home. The cottage is already livably clean, but there is so much more I want to do. I did not vacuum any of the baking soda, under the idea that it will just continue to soak up odors while I am away. We might go back there this weekend, maybe one adult and a few kids to start some painting. Alot of it is fine and neutral, but the 2 bedrooms are completely gross. The one middle bedroom which I would like to be a Boys Room has this dumb paintjob where the top half is white and the bottom half is burgundy, with no discernible border in between. The back bedroom which we are thinking could be a Girls Room has a ridiculous sponge paint thing going on, with pink and mint green, and one wall that is brown paneling and blue carpet. Lovely, right!? haha

It is going to need good old fashioned fresh air, and lots of it. With temps in the single digits here, it might be a while till we can air the place out properly, but I am so excited!

On "belly".

I still have lots to say about birth. I read the blogs, I have friends, books, magazines :)

One I'd like to bring up is this idea of BELLY. We say our bellies, our pregnant bellies, our smooshy bellies, our stretch marked bellies, our scarred bellies. We think a thousand thoughts, have a thousand reactions, perhaps our own hands wandering to touch our own ---but it BUGS me, this idea of BELLY. Because when it comes to cesarean scars, unless you have had a vertical/"Classical" incision, is the typical scar on your belly at all? Mine isn't. Mine is nowhere remotely close to my stomach proper,( which at my height is a good foot or more up!) Mine isn't under my shirt, its somewhere else, somewhere that somehow isn't so cute or "ok" to access in those thoughtful moments--- its in my damn underwear. Bikini underwear. Ya ever heard of a Bikini Cut? That is crotch.

Crotch? Is that it, really? Coochie? PussyVaginaPrivates...linguistics theorem aside, seriously, its not my BELLY. Its way down there, and it is all jammed into layers of scar tissue, adhesions, loose skin, fat rolly chubs. Ouchie secret range, they SHAVE YOU range, and it is something I definitely classify as more of the fucked up stuff they don't tell you, lest you revolt and forgo reproduction and humping dudes all together? Hahaha...I don't know why they don't tell us anything. But even though I had my children starting out pretty young for nowadays, I am a very well read girl, and I seriously thought a c-section would involve some kind of straight line boo boo across the belly. B E L L Y. Not this. Its gross. Its stressful. When you feel like your contents will spill out onto the sidewalk like so many groceries out of your trunk, realizing that all those guts will come out of your ____??? is just so upsetting. Its undies and pads and secrets, girlie bleedy yucky secrets, secret pain, secret fear, secret knowledge that you really ARE weird, you really ARE broken, wrong, fucked up, so, so many little brown bottles of effexor and nice stretch denim holding you all together for the nice people to enjoy...but still.

I want to tell you that I am doing really ok. I am! But can I say that a day goes by that I dont think about birth, sections, babies? Not yet. Because I have this thing. This ouchy secret deep down thing. I sit down on the potty, and my sad little tummy pooch sits there on my legs. Just a little. And it hurts. Some. And my actual belly is kinda fat, kinda doughy, but its fine. Its not cut. Because they dont cut your belly.

They cut the baby out of mommy's upper vag, is anyone saying this to their kids?

Its not your belly. Its worse. That's all.

ADHD hell. ADHD is hell. ADHD in hell. ADHD go to hell.

No websites seem to get it, no friends or books seem to help. He takes Concerta and we get our son from 9 to 5, but beofre and after that....there is no family. There is no peace. There is no right answer, no better parent, no clever re-directing, there is hell. Hell for all siblings, hell for him, I am sure.

We tried 2 counselors; one was hung up on homeschool?? What is this?? and one wanted to take 5 visits to play connect four with him and send me out of the room. Sorry, our insurance pays for 20 visits a year, i dont have 5 to spare on this gettin to know ya shit.

This is so real and so unbearable.

My summer vows, should I be blessed enough to live through another 2 seasons

I will not let the fact that it is hot deter me from living this summer.

If I get too hot, I will ask some little person to squirt me; therefore I will say YES to waterguns, forget all that hoo-hah about them being "violent".

I will go to the beach at least twice a week.

I will buy a pool and swim in it everyday I can.

I will say YES to lemonade stands, YES to water balloons, YES to staying up very very late.

I will say YES to naked sprinkler babies. Or kindergarteners.

I will say YES to "can we catch him and keep him?" (and happily drive to buy it crickets or worms...)

I will buy myself a nice new bathing suit, in whatever ghastly size necessary, and I will wear it with pride.

I will open windows way more than turn on air conditioners.

I will say YES to popsicles.

I will say YES to ice cream truck.

I will say YES to setting up the tent in the backyard.

I will TRY TRY AGAIN on planting things, ever careful not to call it a "garden" until/unless it actually does become one.

I will be barefoot.

I will eat and drink outside as much as humanly possible.

I will make iced tea every morning and not give The Man any more of our precious money for gross cans of diet cola.

I will unplug any and everything I need to, as the mother and homeowner, knowing these kids will be all plugged in next winter, and that there is a season and a time for media and a season and a time for...life without it.

I will NOT leave all the barbecuing to daddies and men.

I will say YES to a campfire, and therefore, YES to marshmallows.

I will say YES to fireworks, and YES to them after 4th of July as well.

I will pull a wagon, push a stroller, pack a cooler, tie 7 folding chairs around my neck, whatever it takes but gosh-dang it, we WILL go to every single Music In The Park we humanly can.

I will NOT gasp when kids get too close to the edge of the water/firepit/mudpit.

I will say PHOOEY to locked doors, closed windows, video games, endless TiVo'ed tv shows, and yes, Facebook.

I will never, ever yell at little ones about "the water bill".

I will wear a tank top. My soft and giant mom arms are just another part of nature.

I will dry stuff on the clothesline, and take pride in it's ability to be a full time job.

I will say YES to farmer's market--but not the trendy crowded ones, the little wierd ones.

I will be the tan, sweaty, laughing mama, with dirt on her feet, dough on her apron, baskets of odd little carrots, tomatos and beans on every counter top, and scruffy muddy babies all around her.

I will hunt down every small-town Strawberry Festival and County Fair humanly possible, and be there when it opens.

I will say YES to every living thing, and never, ever forget this winter!