Captain Me Planet

 

Here we come…it. will. not. be. the. first. time (to the tune of "California, Here I Come", which is sorta funny, as that is where I was born, but I mostly raised in the Atlanta area). 

Looks like the Colonel is giving notice tomorrow, and Georgia will be on our minds.  

Pray for a good, quick sell, and that we don’t lose our minds finishing up the renovations.

I think, that this is going to be a good thing. 

 

 

It is bright blue outside.  With projected temps of low 90s today.  And the pool just opened.  Summer is here.  Forget the silly June 21 official start date.  Here, away down south, the AC is now running nearly around the clock.  It’s summer.

The Colonel and I are busy busy busy.  Painting, flooring, repairing, replacing.  There can be a lot to do in a 47 year old house.  And why rush?  We are considering a move to Atlanta.

I hear most buyers don’t like exposed steel i beams, studs, and unpainted sheetrock.  Although, I’ve grown quite fond of it all.  There’s just something about it that’s all so, I don’t know, urban?  Utilitarian?  Industrial?  No wait, I’ve got it.  With everything such a mess, there really is no need to clean all that well.   That, I love.

Atlanta?  My old home.  A better market for the Colonel’s career.  More restaraunts.  And the grandparents to take the children nearly whenever I wish (Hi Mom. Hi Dad, I love you.) That’d be worth a move to Timbutu.  Not that there’s anything wrong with Timbuktu.  It’s just the place you say when you think of something remote.  And it sounds funny.  Timbuktu.  Timbuktu.  Where is Timbuktu?

So there’s a job.  They seem to want the Colonel (naturally).  But we’ve yet to hear what the actual offer.  You know the details of the money, the benefits, the whens and hows.  It may not all come off.  We’ve been nosing around in Atlanta for months.  But in light of this nosing, the house really ought to get done.  

So that’s how we’ve spent our Memorial Day weekend.  Children begging to go to the pool while we say things like don’t you wanna help paint?  Hey, go haul this stuff to the garage for me, who wouldn’t want to do that for fun?  More cause for future therapy, I’m sure.

And I’d like to send a shout out to a new cyber-friend.  Zackintosh, who is from Pakistan.  How he found me, and decided that I was at all interesting to read is beyond my capacity of reason, but I feel all internationally important now, so I wanted my other 7 visitors to know in just what kind of illustrious company they keep.  And how far and wide my witty scribblings reach.  Hi Zackintosh, in Karachi.  Hey, that’s cool to type.  Karachi.  Karachi.  Karachi and Timbuktu.  How many times do you get to type both those words in the same post?  

 

Last night, at dusk, I saw the children out the front windows.  They were all three deeply ensconced in some imaginary world.  They were each either flying, with arms flapping in slow mo, or swimming, with breath held, cheeks puffed out, and hands, slicing their way through the water I couldn’t see.

It was awesome.

Just had to say something nice, because really, this being a mother rocks. 

 

Today’s excerpt from my 5 year old’s brain?

overheard in Private 2’s room…

Stooooop,  I said, stooooooop.   Mooooooooooom, he won’t stoooooooop.  Crash.  Bang.  Smash.  Based on the previous post, I probably don’t need to continue here. 

I handle this in my usual, calm demeanor.  What the?  Whaaa is going on in here?  What is that banging, 3, what the flip flop (we do say flip flop, not the "f" word) are you doing?

The informer, Private Girly steps up.  Mooooom, I’ve been teeeliiiing him, and he won’t liiiiiiisten to me, I told him and told him, and just kept doing it! 

What, oh dear calm and patient one, what praytell did you tell him?

 

That he can’t keep coming around, running in and out of the cord to my ProjectaScope, that he can’t run by it and bang it and knock off focus, because then I have to start aaaallllll over!  He keeps dooooooiiiiing it!

To which I say, 3?  Did you do this repeatedly, when she asked you not to?  Um, yes.  And did you at least apologize just now as you know you should whenever you provoke your sister?

No.

And why not?

Because I did the first time I knocked it over. 

 

 

in which, I feel I must be going mad.  It’s been busy around here, the Colonel overloaded.  The kind of overload to agree to for the money, oh, we’ll pay of this, we’ll get that, and then you find yourself wrung out and thinking you were stupid.  Colonel being busy, to which I agreed, means Captain Mom is on her own with the privates.  Every. hour. of. every. day.

And today, it may mean they meet their maker.

I have. had. it. with them.  And they aren’t even being bad.  Just constant.  Constant noise.  Constant needs.  Constant desiring nutrition and clean clothing.  Today, it’s like nails on a chalkboard.  Sandpaper in my eyeball.  Just go on and back the car over me now.  The Colonel even left the truck.  It’s heavier than the MPV.  Oughta work out fine.

Upstairs.  slam, bang, run run run, thump whack thud.  Scream. Hysterical laughing.  Door slamming.  Nooooooooooooo, doooooonnnnnn’t.  That’s miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!  Stop stop stop, I’m telling mooooooommmmmmm, run, laugh, cry, you hit me, did not, you meant to, did not,  I wanna try, I wanna try, no I wanna try, no I wanna try.  That hurt.  I told you.  No you did not. Scream scream run run, thud thump whump whack.

Want some more?  I’ve got more. 

Private 3 decides to bring the fun downstairs.  With 2 small kitty figurines.  

The scene: Private 3 trying to balance the kitties on the edge of the bar, back feet on, front feet off.

The outcome: Constant dropping, clinking, clunking while I fill out the Title forms for the DMV, for our new car.  He tried again to defy the odds of gravity.  Over and over and over.

Next scene:  Me, calmly telling Private 3, you must stop doing that now, while he holds one tiny plastic kitty on the edge of the counter again, it’s making too much noise. 

The outcome:  Clunk, clink, chunk as a plastic kitty nose dives to the hardwood floor again.  I thump Private 3’s head.  Oooowwwwwwww, why did you dooooooo thaaaaaaaaat?  You did it AGAIN.  AGAIN.  I just said not to do that!  What did I say, huh, tell me, what did I just say?

His reply:  Ooooh, I thought you meant the other kitty.  This one has a purple bow. 

Today, just might be the end of me.  THE END OF ME.  Send my husband covered dishes after the memorial.  He really doesn’t know how to cook. 

We should be eating better in the department of variety, less chemicals and artificial hormones, and more fruit and veggies.  And oh, less Chick-fil-A kids meals.  Leave my wine out of this, I can buy organic. 

We used to be total vegetarians.  Yeah.  Miso soup.  Kombu.  Wheat germ on our 2 year old’s cereal.  Made my own yogurt, bread and grew my own sprouts.  Live food, baby, live. 

Then you know what happened?  I got pregnant with number three.  And all I wanted for 5 days straight, and got, dammit, was a Wendy’s cheeseburger and fries.  With a chocolate frosty, thankyouveryMUCH.  That was tell tell, I tell you.  And 6 years later?  We’re average.  Well, above.  But not great.  I watch the sugar.  Very few sodas for the kids.  I encourage water.  We have a platter of raw cut veggies nearly every night.  Of course, it’s always just carrots, cukes, and cherry ‘maters, but that’s better than Cheetos.  And we are occasionally suckers to pizza delivery.  It’s just soooo easy.  Does it count if you order veggies on it?

So this is what I did.  Forewent my weekly Aldi trip, where I get scadoodles of groceries for about $125, and went to Whole Foods, where I got 3 items for $897.37.  OK, not really.  But let me just share.

Whole Foods - 4.5 bags, packed moderately with groceries

items like:  organic frozen edamame, sea salt pita chips, chick peas, organic cheddar puffs, oranges, grapefruit (which are gooood!), a persimmon (I’ve never had one, I don’t recommend), organic yogurt, parsnips (Private 2 loves them), veggie egg rolls, Boca chicken patties, avocado, flax oil, and wheat germ.  Some tea, and turkey sausage.

Total?  $172.19  OhMyGOSH.

At Aldi, weekly, I get more bags than I can fit in the cart, filled to the brim with foods, for about $125.  Frozen chicken breasts, low fat beef,  and yogurt.  Crackers.  Nuts.  Canned stuff.  Rice, and pasta.  Paper goods (chaps your butt, but it’s cheap - and I am starting to feel bad, even my children are complaining).  But they come with the hormones, and chemicals.  Sure, eggs are .79 a dozen, but what the heck are they feeding those birds?  We get lesser fat things, but they’re all with sugar, and trans fats, and hoodly boodly, and all that.  We can eat for that money for a week or more, but what are we eating?

Blue’s favorite apple cinammon oatmeal from Aldi:

whole grained rolled oats, sugar, dehydrated apples treated with stuff I can’t pronounce, salt, cinnaomon, guar gum, some B vitamins I’ve never heard of, and pryidoxine hydrochloride.

Blue’s fav apple cinnamon oatmeal from Whole Foods:

whole grain rolled oats, germ of the wheat, dehydrated apples, succanat, concentrated apple juice, and, and, and…NOTHING ELSE.  

So what do I want to give my 5 year old 3 packets of every morning of his life, and sometimes for lunch and dinner?  I think that’s obvious.  But the price?  Aldi - $1.29, Whole Foods - $3.79.  And when you go through at least 2 boxes a week, it begins to add up.

Milk from Aldi?  $2.69.  From Horizon Organic at Whole Foods? $4.29.  We go through 3 gallons a week.  The list goes on and on and on.  Why should we be forced to choose budget over health?  It’s ridiculous.  If I want to feed my family coupon purchased Hamburger Helper and 30% fat ground beef 5 nights a week, we’d spend about $30.  But fresh produce?  Organic?  Natural?  Get a loan, baby.  And go ahead and win Let’s Make a Deal if you want to purchase eco-friendly house products.   

I’m just ticked.  And I’m just saying I am.  It shouldn’t be that you must be wealthy to feed your family well.  Maybe there’s room in the budget if I buy less wine….Naaaaaaaaaa.

I just posted a cartoon.  It basically makes fun of many public school atmospheres out there.  And since we homeschool, and get so many critical questions about whether or not we’re doing the right thing, what about socialization, aren’t we over-insulating, my first reaction was ha!  this is hysterical.  And I posted it up tout suite, at about 4 this morning, when I couldn’t sleep. 

I have a dear dear lifelong friend.  Whose heart is as honestly desiring the best for her children, as any I’ve ever met.  Who longs to raise her girls unto the Lord.  And whose children go to public school, in a small town south of Atlanta, GA.  Friend, I will keep your anonymnity, but I’d like to quote you here.

You KNOW I love you, and I KNOW your heart and that you do not sit in judgement of people who don’t homeschool.  But, cartoons like the one posted … are very hurtful.  Yes, it’s true, a lot of terrible things go on in public/private schools.  But, a lot of terrible things go on at home, in families, too (and at church and the grocery store and at the office and basically everywhere in life).  I have a very close friend whose family homeschooled and her father also slept with her from the time she was 11.  The truth is most of us want to protect our children…most of us are doing the best we can, praying and making decisions accordingly…seeing something like that comic implies that some of us are intentionally putting our children in harm’s way with no regard for them.  which, as you and I both know is NOT true in most situations.  Things like that just give fuel to the judgemental, "we are right and you are wrong" group of people out there.

I think she may be right.  The cartoon is a (sometimes) truth in jest, yes, but just may be more harsh than I intended to be, and add to that judgmental fire which I have no desire to fuel. 

Thoughts like that pop into my head.  Primarily as a response to the dubious questioning we often get, for our choice. But maybe should be screened a bit more carefully.  What my friend says is true.  Most parents are doing their very best.  And their best, and where and what they’re led to do, just may not look like our household. 

I asked the Colonel about it.  I set him up.  Hey, look at this (show the cartoon).  He chuckled.  And then I showed him my friend’s email.   And he poured his coffee.  Thunk on it.  Added sugar and cream.  Stirred.  And said I don’t think that’s very Christ-like (the cartoon, not my friend’s email).  Now, I’m not quite as tender as my sweet husband, and sometimes I get perverse pleasure out of being controversial and hard-headed, but he might be right.  And if he’s not, I respect his gut on things enough to acknowlege I may have been hasty.

And even all that aside, and if I polled a thousand people who all said it was funny, and not hurtful in any way, shape or form, any thing I would or could ever due that would be hurtful to my friend, I am sorry for.   Her feelings count more than me trying to figure out if I was right or wrong to ever post in the first place. 

I love you, friend, and I am sorry if that silly cartoon caused any hurt.   Thanks for pointing out another perspective.

Fellow homeschooler Holly posted this.  And I LOVE IT.  I can’t seem to figure out how to make it not bleed over, but I think you’ll get the point.  The 2 nearly lost words are "daughter’s", and "experience".

Before some parents of children in public or private schools get riled, I know this is not every child’s experience.  But if you are not aware, it is the sad experience of many. 

I’m inspirationless.  Maybe because I’ve been doing writing for a site called BellaOnline.  Not for pay, unless you count the ad dollars I might receive once I figure out how to set all that up.  But they are calling me the Pregnancy Editor. 

I sort of like that title.   My site is here.  One of about 400 they host.  Not sure the pic is all that flattering, but yall, I love everything about women’s health, and pregnancy in general, so this is a fun place to be.  Heh, I get to be called an expert, and editor.  All in one place.  Not bad for never working in my chosen major -journalism- one day in my life.  Sorry about that, mom and dad.

One of my jobs is to find, and list as resources, links that are really good.  In many areas, like books, baby names, breastfeeding, fitness while pregnant, prenatal testing, nausea, birth plans…you name it.  If it relates to pregnancy at all, and you really dig it, send me the link.  I’m going to be spending an inordinate amount of time on the web if I have to find bunches of sources by myself! 

So, I’ve been sitting at the laptop quite a bit the last couple of weeks, going through their training course and getting the site transfered over from the last editor.  When I feel inspired to write something here, I will.  It should be soon.  But not this weekend.  My fingers are tired. 

a dear friend from waaay back.  The fabulous Renay, who is one of a very few women my Colonel thinks of as highly as he does me.  Sings like a rock star angel, escaped a very bad situation in the first part of her life, to enter the blessings she has now, and has a beautiful boy.  That it seems, she is homeschooling.  She is brave, and she is beautiful.  And when I first met my husband, she made me jealous!

She just began a blog, first time ever, if you stop by here, and kind of like it, check her out, and say hello and welcome. 

Hi Renay!