Monday, April 27, 2015
While this evening had sweet touches: "This seedawing germinated under here," a hundred plus pushes on the swingset, and so on, I wasn't really up for the rest of it. I was happy when Jared came home.
Posted by Rachel Mackow at 5:36 PM
Saturday, April 25, 2015
Monday, April 20, 2015
Sink, fridge, table, sink, utensil drawer, bathroom, sink, dish rack, cabinet, utensil drawer, sink, sink, fridge, bread drawer, utensil drawer, table, sink, couch, dish rack, sink, table, utensil drawer, bread drawer.
Didn't I just wash this, didn't I just put a plastic bag away, didn't I just sweep, didn't I just put a pair of shoes away, why are there so many towels out in the bathroom, why is the utensil drawer empty again, why can't I find a flat surface to put anything down on, why can't I access the sink to fill a cup of water again?
I ask the same questions when whether we are well or sick, but it's all so much harder when we're sick.
Posted by Rachel Mackow at 5:16 PM
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Yep, that's the cat's head in the crook a Beren's arm. And no, that Lululemon bag is not mine.
Life's gotten in the way of writing lately. I've just been waiting for spring. Finally, spring has the plants jumping out of the ground. It started a couple days ago and is now very real.
I'll go easy on myself and not go for craft, but for a little quantity. Here we go...
Beren and Mountain Kitten are like siblings. Beren totes Mountain around like a sack. Mountain tolerates, if not enjoys it, I think. Then, they'll tussle.
It can go a few ways:
Beren might kick Mountain, unprovoked. Parents: "Gentle!"
Beren wants to cuddle Mountain. Mountain wants to play "Catch and Scratch". Parents: "Put him down, Mountain will scratch you."
Beren puts the cat in a box. Choose your own adventure. It can go anywhere from here.
Beren gets scratched. Blame can go either direction. "HE SCRATCHED ME!" or "HE'S NOT DOING ANYTHING. HE DIDN'T SCRATCH ME!"
Mountain happily explores. Beren intercedes to administer totings and cuddlings, or Beren says, "Let's just let Mountain do his thing. We're gonna let Mountain do his thing." It's nice to hear your saner self reflected.
Mountain jumps on the counter (no-no). Beren shrieks, "NO, MOUNTAIN! GET DOWN!" It's less nice to hear your other self reflected.
Once after a child-cat scratch out, I took this approach, "You and Mountain are friends..." "MOUNTAIN IS NOT MY FRIEND!" Alright. Got it. I smiled to myself. Beren's an only child, kind of.
After a day of being toted, boxed, unfriended, and cuddled, Mountain trots upstairs to visit Beren. Sometimes during story time, Beren will be treated to licks on the face (giggles), which devolve into "Catch and Scratch" (cries).
Sometimes after Beren is asleep, Mountain will slip upstairs and climb into Beren's bunk. Usually, we won't notice until we hear a thunk, or a cry from a still sleeping child (lucky cat). Either way, Mountain is deported.
Mountain is inherently social, or a glutton for punishment, or really misses his cat mom. He follows us, especially Beren (The Toter) through the house. He joins us in the bathroom while we take baths. He licks the water from the edge of the tub. He climbs on the tub. Once he went into the tub, courtesy of The Toter. Mountain Kitten joined us again at the next bath time.
The Toter and The Scratcher. I may need to find a copy of Siblings Without Rivalry.
Posted by Rachel Mackow at 7:09 PM
Thursday, April 9, 2015
December 14, 2010, 3:38 PM. Cuddling in the native animal blanket.
Our down quilts have made sleeping a sweaty matter. Jared and I wake from discomfort. Worse, Beren could kick his blanket off, and then get cold and wake up. Being that sleeping through the night is now status quo, by any means necessary shall it remain status quo.
"Light weight blanket for Beren" went on the shopping list. In the meantime, we've piled our beds with thin blankets and procrastinated on shopping.
Local box stores or the internet are our options. Neither seemed a good way to spend a sunny afternoon. "You can find anything you want..." except you can't. And, it costs time and money. Double time even - the time to shop and the time to earn the money to shop.
Then, Beren came down with the stomach bug that's going around. Of that, Jared asked, "Isn't something always going around?" True, but it's more true when it's true. It started with a runny nose, then puking (once with Jared, and then once on himself, me, his bed, and his sandbox bucket - thanks, Jared, for the bucket). He seemed to recover quickly the next day.
A night or so later, Beren woke, and he whimpered and cried. I crept into his room. "Beren? Are you thirsty? Do you have to pee? Are you cold?" "No, no." He cried on. I struggled with Beren's three layers of tangled blankets - a queen sized sheet, a threadbare blanket from my childhood, and a hand-me-down flannel sheet. I was getting cold myself. The queen sized sheet was the most frustrating. I could tell by it's cool feeling on my flailing legs and arms.
I murmured comforting words and inquired more of him, but he just cried. He didn't want to be touched. Finally, I said, "Beren, I really want to help you, but I really want to go to sleep, too. Can you tell me what is going on?"
Either enough time had passed, or I said the right thing..."My belly hurts. What will make it go away?" I had no answer. I searched my memory for what my mother had said to me when I had a bellyache as a child. I couldn't remember. "It really hurts, huh?" We drifted back to sleep. In the morning I woke in my own bed.
The day was cold, rainy. Wednesday. Jared's 'work' day. My day to care for Beren who was a sick, but spirited kid. I was slightly under rested mother, determined to make the day pass smoothly. Activities, meaningful activities are essential.
A set of Beren's receiving blankets were bound for a clothing give-away bin. [Why are there so many?] I'd always wanted to make a big blanket from them. A sick day at home would be the day. Beren choose the thread colors and helped me wind the bobbin. He giggled as he held the sewing machine's clutch, which spun under his little hand.
Four tiny blankets became one big one. Because the individual blankets had curving corners, they didn't meet in the very center. I cut a bear face from an infant sized onesie, and used it as a patch. Jared exclaimed as I held it up, "Nice!" It smelled like our damp, old house, so I washed it. I folded the queen sized sheet on Beren's bed and put it away.
"I'm putting your new blanket on your bed, Beren," I said. "No, it's a carpet, Momma," he answered.We hung it from his bunk bed like a curtain.
After Jared put Beren to sleep that night, I covered Beren with his carpet blanket.
December 14, 2010, 4:49 PM. One hour later. Another blanket for Beren, another shirt for me. Mysterious. Soggy diaper? Hardly looks like we moved, and we really didn't for quite some time, maybe 3 months. In the four years that have passed since Jared took this picture, Beren went from one tiny blanket sized to four tiny blankets all sewn together sized.
Posted by Rachel Mackow at 7:34 PM