Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

Right now Caroline is in the hallway putting together a toy and completely in her own little world, singing “Three Blind Mice” to herself with made-up words. Utterly unselfconscious. Her small little voice fills the upstairs. Every once in a while she plays with the sounds she is making, moving from words to “blums” to “nee nee nee” as she hums the tune. She’s been doing this for about half an hour, and I’ve been observing covertly, wishing like hell I had a video camera nearby. I don’t think anything could be sweeter.

She’s gonna be like me and sing in the car when she gets older.

When Caroline was a baby she would not go to sleep unless I was holding her. I spent countless hours rocking her to sleep. At first she curled up with her head on my shoulder, and later she would sleep facing outwards. It drove me nuts to be so tied up for so long.

I finally got her trained to fall asleep in her bed. She would make me sing to her every night though. Usually “Sing a Song” (where she would accompany me on the “Good things, not bad” and “Happy, not sad” by singing “Baaaaaaaaaaaaaad” and “Saaaaaaaaaaaaaad” while frowning and shaking her head “No”). Sometimes “Over the Rainbow” where she would sing as much as she remembered, ending with “Why oh why can’t I?”.

She’s a big kid now though. Wearing big girl panties. Tonight she was up far too late and went nuclear at bedtime. I picked her up and held her in the rocking chair, singing her some songs. She politely listened, then said, “I wanna get OFF!”

Ouch.

We got the kids vaccinated for chicken pox. They ended up getting a mild case of it anyone while they were at Grandma and Grandpa’s house last weekend. No fever, no scratching, just red dots.

I lie in my bed for nearly two hours this time before giving up. Wonder if maybe the sleeping pill fell out before I thought I swallowed it. Think about all manner of things. Past hurts, and how I developed defense mechanisms to keep them from happening again. What to do with this summer, which seems like it’s almost over already between the kids spending so long at Grandma’s house (they say they don’t want to come home, and cry if I suggest it) and the fact that school starts the second week of August. Is there time to do all the things that kids need to do?

• piano lessons
• swimming lessons
• dance lessons
• gymnastics lessons
• finally getting around to using the rock tumbler
• going camping
• going to the lake
• going to the ranch and fishing and looking at fireflies and stars and the moon
• going to play on the school playground
• setting up a wading pool to splash in the backyard
• going to the San Antonio Zoo
• taking a picnic, or dining al fresco on the porch while we barbecue
• playdates at the park
• going to see a movie

There are so many things to do and so little time to do them. Is there time to take a week off for Bulletfest? I don’t know if I can stand being away from the girls for so long, so soon after this visit away. Hub claims that the night they come home, we will all sleep together in the big bed.

There’s so much grownup stuff to do, too. Bulletfest. ARGFest NYC. Looking at land. Contemplating a career. Each day I rush through so I can do something else – wasn’t that a poem somewhere? I have too much to do. I don’t have time to be sidetracked with unkind words. Friendly ones, yes; not hateful ones. Decided long ago that life is simply too damned short to be unhappy, so if something’s making me unhappy, it is my responsibility to myself to move on. I have used up my unhappiness quotient for this lifetime. I hope.

I don’t want to be worrying about test results. It leads to the inevitable “Better think about doing it now, just in case…” and the “just in case” is said (in my mind) barely above a whisper, as if it can hear what is said about it.

Last night I dreamt about land again. I have a recurring dream about the land that I own. Sometimes it looks like the ranch. Sometimes it looks like nothing I have seen, but it is still familiar to me. The soil is dark and loamy. There are hills and hollows in the riverbottom. If you take that road to the right, you’ll come to the stock tank just past the hill. The entrance is down a long dirt road; the front field clear from brush and full of green grass and an occasional flower. There’s a drive down the road where you admire the field for a while before you get to the gate. Once in a while there’s a tree hanging over the fence. Last night we were driving through a slough full of snakes. I was not scared of them, in my dream. I was happy to be on my land.

I wonder, is this property out there somewhere waiting for me, as I have been waiting for it in the past couple of years of my dreams? And what on earth am I going to do if I am ever confronted with the land of my subconscious? Would it be a good thing or a bad thing to see it? Does it mean I will live there or die there? While I’m there, will I dream about some other piece of land?

If I find it, I might name it Through the Looking Glass. Or Brigadoon. Narnia? Avalon? A place which should not be, but is.

Caroline just walked up to me, batted her big blue eyes, and asked, “Want some splashes?” She then proceeded to flick water all over me from her hands.

Congratulations to my sister in law who just delivered a 7 lb 6 oz baby boy! 🙂

Good: Went to Scarborough Faire today, and the kids had a ball.
Bad: It’s smaller and not nearly as fun as Texas Renaissance Festival.
Good: The Prius averaged 45.5 MPG for this tank of gas.
Bad: I had a stomach bug at the festival today and spent more time in the privy than anywhere else.
Good: The kind medic at the gate gave me 4 Pepto Bismol tablets.
Bad: One of the workers at the festival started telling a kid in line in front of us how we could all learn a lesson from Robin Hood, who stole from the rich and gave to the poor (what lesson? didn’t they try that in the USSR? and it failed miserably?)
Good: I think I startled said worker with my “From my cold, dead, manicured hands” shirt… he was so flustered he gave me back too much change, which I promptly told him and gave him three more dollars.
Bad: My firewire charger for my iPod is broken, and radio between here and Dallas sucks.
Good: We stopped at the Czech Stop on the way home and picked up a ton of kolaches.
Bad: I am going to gain 20 pounds from the ton of kolaches.

Last night hub and I were discussing the fact that Caroline hadn’t woken in the night for at least a week. We had put a little crib mattress on the floor in our room for her to sleep on, she was in so frequently. Then all of a sudden, she wasn’t there anymore. Today, she was standoffish which she never is. I tried to pick her up and hold her and hug her and for the first time she said, “Put me down!” and meant it. I kinda missed our nocturnal guest. She’d come in, put all her stuff on the little bed, and climb in. For minutes, sometimes an hour afterward she would watch me read and do my crossword puzzles and wield war with my personal insomnia demon. I’d see her out of the corner of my eye, raptly staring at me. I’d wink at her to make her dimples appear. As she drifted off, every so often she would whisper, “I love you, Mommy”.

Tonight was something different. She came racing in around 5 am, talking upsettedly but coherently about something that happened in her room. Turned out she threw up in her sleep onto her bed. I cleaned her and her bed up, pausing to help her through some more nausea. She’s a little disjointed, like half of what I say doesn’t really click the processor relays in her brain. “How’s your tummy?” “….um… good?”

We’re in the living room watching Max and Ruby right now. Guess we’ll skip school and shoe buying and the fabric store tomorrow. I hate it when my kiddos are so miserable.