Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Let's Pretend This Isn't The First Time I've Posted In 6 Months, Hmmmm?
Max learned to say "cheese".
...and he's going to be 2 (2!!!!!!!!!!!!!) in 3 days. And I want to kiss/squeeze/snuggle him about 600 times a day. Except when he's hiding under our bed when we need to be leaving the house 5 minutes ago, yelling "no, mama no, mama no, mama!" at me and waking up for an hour in the middle of the night to sing "bringing home a baby bumbleBEEEEEEE, won't my mama be SO! PROUD! OF! ME!" at the top of his lungs.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Wild Kingdom
Rural living is relatively new to me, so I get inordinately excited about all the wildlife literally in our backyard (unless its big bugs. Not so then.) Early summer and its attendant yard work (Vegetable garden! Flower beds! Watermelon patch! Putting in a back lawn! Eesh. Bite off more than we can chew much? But I digress) means we are outside, puttering around the house a lot, communing with nature.
First there was this little guy trapped in a window well:
I heard his vain attempts at leaping and fluttering out while picking rocks out of topsoil in the garden one early evening. We put him in a box in the garage with some chicken feed and pear pieces overnight. I intended to take him to Jackson Harbor and let him go the next day. I was watching a friend's little boy and figured the children would get a kick out of watching the baby waterbird released into his wild home (ah, teachable moments). But the baby bird had other plans-he wouldn't leave his box.
Clearly I had made far too cozy of a home for him, or he wasn't ready to be on his own and had adopted me as his new mother. Obviously we had to keep him as a pet, if for no other reason than to see what kind of bird he grew into (despite copious Googling I could not find a match for him. Webbed feet, pointy beak, black and white markings...I'd still love to know what he is if someone out there has more bird identification ability than I).
I spent an entire Max naptime building a more permanent enclosure for the bird. (As anyone who has been following this blog and is aware of Max's dubious sleep habits knows, this is an enormous sacrifice for me. Usually I spend his naps sleeping or reading or some other self-focused activity). I used leftover garden fencing, added a plastic pond, some grass clipping for nest material, more food...it was a baby waterfowl paradise. Less than five minutes after I introduced him to his new home, he squeezed through the fence and took off into the woods, cheeping hysterically.
Asshole.
Speaking of assholes, the very next day, this guy was thrashing around in another of our window wells (which clearly double as animal traps):
Now I'm not scared of snakes. I generally like them. I was quite happy to wait until Max woke up (another teachable moment!), grab my gardening gloves, scoop it out and release it. I reached down into the well and grabbed it around the middle and....it bit me! Good thing I wore gloves. (Initially I wasn't going to as it was only a grass snake. Not poisonous, mellow. Right.)
I reacted by chucking it away from me (Max was safely on the deck the whole time, watching). Instead of retreating into the woods or under the deck like a NORMAL snake, it turned around and struck at me again! I was floored. I'd never seen a grass snake act like that. So I grabbed a big stick and used it to prod the damn thing into the woods. It hissed and coiled and struck and attacked the entire time. All to Max's shrieking chorus of "Bee say! Bee say!" (translation: "big snake! big snake!"). In hindsight, it was likely a mama with a nest and eggs nearby but still...I SAVED you! Those snake babies would be snake orphans if it wasn't for me.
Lessons learned: Wild animals are jerks and check your window wells daily or something is going to smell really bad come July.
First there was this little guy trapped in a window well:
I heard his vain attempts at leaping and fluttering out while picking rocks out of topsoil in the garden one early evening. We put him in a box in the garage with some chicken feed and pear pieces overnight. I intended to take him to Jackson Harbor and let him go the next day. I was watching a friend's little boy and figured the children would get a kick out of watching the baby waterbird released into his wild home (ah, teachable moments). But the baby bird had other plans-he wouldn't leave his box.
Clearly I had made far too cozy of a home for him, or he wasn't ready to be on his own and had adopted me as his new mother. Obviously we had to keep him as a pet, if for no other reason than to see what kind of bird he grew into (despite copious Googling I could not find a match for him. Webbed feet, pointy beak, black and white markings...I'd still love to know what he is if someone out there has more bird identification ability than I).
I spent an entire Max naptime building a more permanent enclosure for the bird. (As anyone who has been following this blog and is aware of Max's dubious sleep habits knows, this is an enormous sacrifice for me. Usually I spend his naps sleeping or reading or some other self-focused activity). I used leftover garden fencing, added a plastic pond, some grass clipping for nest material, more food...it was a baby waterfowl paradise. Less than five minutes after I introduced him to his new home, he squeezed through the fence and took off into the woods, cheeping hysterically.
Asshole.
Speaking of assholes, the very next day, this guy was thrashing around in another of our window wells (which clearly double as animal traps):
Now I'm not scared of snakes. I generally like them. I was quite happy to wait until Max woke up (another teachable moment!), grab my gardening gloves, scoop it out and release it. I reached down into the well and grabbed it around the middle and....it bit me! Good thing I wore gloves. (Initially I wasn't going to as it was only a grass snake. Not poisonous, mellow. Right.)
I reacted by chucking it away from me (Max was safely on the deck the whole time, watching). Instead of retreating into the woods or under the deck like a NORMAL snake, it turned around and struck at me again! I was floored. I'd never seen a grass snake act like that. So I grabbed a big stick and used it to prod the damn thing into the woods. It hissed and coiled and struck and attacked the entire time. All to Max's shrieking chorus of "Bee say! Bee say!" (translation: "big snake! big snake!"). In hindsight, it was likely a mama with a nest and eggs nearby but still...I SAVED you! Those snake babies would be snake orphans if it wasn't for me.
Lessons learned: Wild animals are jerks and check your window wells daily or something is going to smell really bad come July.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Kids, Man
Max and I spent a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon with our friends Laila and Walter and their goats. Mama goat, Wink, had her twins about a month ago. Not only have we been lucky to get some delicious fresh goat's milk, but Max gets to hang out with baby goats. At first I was a little nervous as the babies, particularly the girl, are rambunctious. Turns out, 3 week old baby goats and 17 month old baby humans are on about the same wavelength. The goats didn't mind Max and Walter chasing them and hugging them. Max and Walter didn't mind getting jumped on and head-butted. In fact, Walter, all 11 months old of him, head-butted right back. All babies, goats and humans, were equally affectionate and curious and playful with one another and evenly matched on strength. Max and the twins shared a love of exploring the random piles of wood and old farm machinery, jumping and climbing, while mama goat and mama humans looked on. It was an awesome day.
Someone Got a New Camera For Her Birthday/Mother's Day
Lucky for my family my birthday and Mother's Day come hot on each other's heels every year. I don't ask for much, just acknowledging the day is usually good enough for me. This year Dave went all out. I had a relaxing massage and shopping day in Door County last weekend and a new camera to play with this weekend while we hung out on the island.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Vacation Summation
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Charmed Life
...at least it feels that way at the outset of a long visit to the Sunshine State. Sleeping child on the flight, 85 degrees on the thermometer, and lunch on the beach today.
More pictures to follow!
More pictures to follow!
Friday, March 16, 2012
A Matter of Perspective
I knew my time would come. It was bound to happen. No mother emerges from motherhood unscathed by the grocery store screamfest.
Woodman's on a Saturday afternoon wasn't my best idea ever, but after living in the boonies for awhile, I've gotten soft. I forgot that there's a damn good reason I hadn't been in a supermarket on a weekend in ten years. (And that was PRE-bebe.) Supermarkets on weekends are hell. Hell. I worked in one for seven years for christ's sake. I know. Unfortunately, blinded by the promise of produce variety, organic meats and two whole health food aisles, I ran headlong into disaster, carting (quite literally) my 15 month old with me.
The first half hour was one of Max's finest. Flirting with strangers while mama deliberated over brussel sprouts and blood oranges, he was all smiles. Then squirrellyness, boredom, the presence of so many strangers, hunger and those flourescent lights (I read something once about how the lights in malls and supermarkets and big box stores have been proven to be disturbing to humans, particularly children, and the likely cause of many a public meltdown. Totally makes sense) combined in a shitstorm of "I want OUT! Hold me NOW!" which in 15 month old sounds like this: "EEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMA!!!! MAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! sob sob sob".
Lather, rinse, repeat. I placated him briefly with one of those vile foil squeezy packet things which ended up being shoved through the metal bars of the cart, squirting puree all over said cart and child. More screaming ensued. I was halfway done and not about to give up. If I lived somewhere other than an island, I would've ditched my cart and returned later, sans bebe. But alas.
Of course I left my babywearing wrap in the car (never entering a store again without it), so I picked him up, smearing myself with snot and pumpkin-colored puree, parked my cart at the end of the aisle, and dodged other shoppers, grabbing anything that looked appealing, dropping it back in the cart, hoping my purse doesn't get stolen, hoping my arm doesn't fall off, hoping Max doesn't start arching his back and wriggling, hoping I don't look like a lunatic (fat chance). Made it to the checkout lane. More screaming as I had to put him down to pay. We finally made it outside in the fresh air and sunshine and I put him down to walk along the pavement in front of the store while we waited for Dave to pick us up.
I'd like to say I'd kept my cool in the store, cuz I did, mostly. I certainly didn't get mad at Max. Don't blame him for freaking out. It was way more than a little one could handle and the fact he handled it with such aplomb for the first half hour is amazing. Like I said, I should've picked a less busy time to go and worn him instead of putting him in the cart. But it wasn't til I was outside I realized I was sweating buckets. So as I took deep breaths and followed behind my now-happily toddling, exploring (and by "exploring" I mean "picking up garbage on the ground and making sporadic breaks for the busy parking lot") child, a teenage boy pushing a cart, followed by his mom passed us. The woman smiled at Max and smiled at me. Her son called back to her, "You okay back there Mom?" to which she replied, "Yes, I just can't keep up with your long legs anymore" and then she smiled at me and Max again.
I wasn't imagining the wistful look on her face.
Woodman's on a Saturday afternoon wasn't my best idea ever, but after living in the boonies for awhile, I've gotten soft. I forgot that there's a damn good reason I hadn't been in a supermarket on a weekend in ten years. (And that was PRE-bebe.) Supermarkets on weekends are hell. Hell. I worked in one for seven years for christ's sake. I know. Unfortunately, blinded by the promise of produce variety, organic meats and two whole health food aisles, I ran headlong into disaster, carting (quite literally) my 15 month old with me.
The first half hour was one of Max's finest. Flirting with strangers while mama deliberated over brussel sprouts and blood oranges, he was all smiles. Then squirrellyness, boredom, the presence of so many strangers, hunger and those flourescent lights (I read something once about how the lights in malls and supermarkets and big box stores have been proven to be disturbing to humans, particularly children, and the likely cause of many a public meltdown. Totally makes sense) combined in a shitstorm of "I want OUT! Hold me NOW!" which in 15 month old sounds like this: "EEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMA!!!! MAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! sob sob sob".
Lather, rinse, repeat. I placated him briefly with one of those vile foil squeezy packet things which ended up being shoved through the metal bars of the cart, squirting puree all over said cart and child. More screaming ensued. I was halfway done and not about to give up. If I lived somewhere other than an island, I would've ditched my cart and returned later, sans bebe. But alas.
Of course I left my babywearing wrap in the car (never entering a store again without it), so I picked him up, smearing myself with snot and pumpkin-colored puree, parked my cart at the end of the aisle, and dodged other shoppers, grabbing anything that looked appealing, dropping it back in the cart, hoping my purse doesn't get stolen, hoping my arm doesn't fall off, hoping Max doesn't start arching his back and wriggling, hoping I don't look like a lunatic (fat chance). Made it to the checkout lane. More screaming as I had to put him down to pay. We finally made it outside in the fresh air and sunshine and I put him down to walk along the pavement in front of the store while we waited for Dave to pick us up.
I'd like to say I'd kept my cool in the store, cuz I did, mostly. I certainly didn't get mad at Max. Don't blame him for freaking out. It was way more than a little one could handle and the fact he handled it with such aplomb for the first half hour is amazing. Like I said, I should've picked a less busy time to go and worn him instead of putting him in the cart. But it wasn't til I was outside I realized I was sweating buckets. So as I took deep breaths and followed behind my now-happily toddling, exploring (and by "exploring" I mean "picking up garbage on the ground and making sporadic breaks for the busy parking lot") child, a teenage boy pushing a cart, followed by his mom passed us. The woman smiled at Max and smiled at me. Her son called back to her, "You okay back there Mom?" to which she replied, "Yes, I just can't keep up with your long legs anymore" and then she smiled at me and Max again.
I wasn't imagining the wistful look on her face.
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