Janruary

I can't tell you how delightful it feels...

...to put some creative SPRING back in my step.

Even though my only camera is on my phone...

I think you can tell I've been quite busy.

(Ruby likes to observe the art up close. Preferably

while she's wearing adult clothing.)

I roasted a lady-like chicken for sustenance.

And I made a plum tart/pie/thing for dessert.

(I ate this whole thing by myself while Dustin

suffered through P90X in the other room. Sucker.)

Then I spent some time with a mismatched baby.

(I adore him.) (My use of parentheses is wild and rampant.)

Then we flew to California so I could hold my other favorite baby, Ike.

THE END.

A Jolly Good Fellow

Our sweet Henry passed away today. He was a fourth grader. A witty, sassy kid who was claimed as a best friend by at least 12 kids I know. He loved to "window shop" at Toys 'R Us, take trips by limo to the Lego store, and make his mom laugh. My wise friend Marla, the one who "walks like a penguin," in the words of Henry, says there's a cumulative effect when you see kids being snatched away by cancer. Just because it's our job to be in Cancer World doesn't mean we'll ever be immune to the inexplicable unfairness, the grief, the shit of it. It's like a big tower of Legos that stacks up and you can't ever unstack it.



Last week Henry asked our volunteers to help him write a song. He had already named it when they arrived at the hospital, guitars in tow: Henry's Happy Life.


*I wouldn't typically feel comfortable telling a family's story here on my ridiculous little blog, but Henry's mom has always asked for his story to be told. She has pleaded for prayers and support--email chains, you name it--for as long as we've known her, so it seems to me that his story should keep being told. Please be respectful in sharing their story.

Saturday Morning Run Down

Because I have no shame in my now-withered blogging skills, I give you a list of the latest. Ahem.

1. The husband is gone. This means that I have gone cray-zay with organizing, stopping in the middle of organizing to go organize something else, cooking, stopping in the middle of cooking to go back and finish organizing, stopping to watch an episode of The Real Housewives of [insert ridiculous city here], then deciding it's time to paint the bathroom. I have also installed a new shower head with great aplomb and uninstalled a toilet seat. Alas, the new one is still not installed. I am hovering.

2. I just read a story about a mom whose son used the word "retarded" to insult his brother. Teaching her son how hurtful/inappropriate/jerky it is to use that word wasn't what I loved most--his consequence was researching nonprofits that support kids with developmental disabilities and donating two months allowance to the one he liked best. Isn't that smart? I don't know if it's all Gottman-approved, but I liked it. Go Mom!

3. Typography is my current obsession. I've made some new friends who are designy, and let me tell you, I am greedy for their knowledge. Have you ever thought about the people who DRAW THE LETTERS WE TYPE? There are people whose job it is to draw letters. WHAAA? It just blows my mind. All I want for Christmas is a Helvetica t-shirt.

4. Our house is getting cuter. It's actually significantly cuter when it's clean. Cheap fix, eh?

5. Last night my two favorite curly haired girls came for a sleepover. We watched The Incredibles, ate quesadillas and Weight Watchers ice cream bars, and fought over a Care Bear named Monkey.

6. It's still no fun to ride an hour on the bus to get to work. Get with it, Metro Transit.

That's all for now!

Yours,

Spazztastic

Being my mother's daughter

It's taken nearly twenty years, but I have finally caught the bug my mom has always tried to give me--SEWING. Now it may sound a little unexciting to you, this novel idea of stitches and thread and fabric, oh my! But folks, let me tell you something. This is big. Because I have just found a new hobby, and I have the world's greatest link to that hobby in my super-connected-quilting-editor mother. This means my new hobby is subsidized!

Please enjoy the following snapshots of creative chaos. Dustin is loving the trail of threads and lack of time spent together. Ha! Just kidding. He's egging me on, every minute. Most minutes.

Pile of scraps, airmailed by la madre. Grazie!

Favorite small child, joining in creative expression.

Tadah! New pillow. Lumpy corners.

Future baby blanket? I think yes! Perfect? I think not!

I'm a sewing MACHINE. :)

A Personal Matter

Today I was eating a popsicle on the patio at PCC in Fremont, just loving the fact that my job on Fridays includes exactly that sort of thing. Popsicles. And small children.

My darling Gabs, who turned two on Saturday, was sitting on my lap when I felt the need to, um, break a little wind. I figured there were lots of people walking by chatting, cars vrooming past, dogs barking, and the usual Fremont hubbub of activists and clipboards. No one would notice my indiscretion.

So lo and behold, the child hears my (very minor, very ladylike) toot, and says, "Ooooooh, Holly. Poopy! Poopy diaper! Change your diaper, Holly!" And she is not at all timid in screaming these accusations. The kid is loud. And she isn't a mumbler either, every single bike commuter within earshot turned to look.

Of course I chuckled along and said, "Gee! What a bummer. You have to walk all the way home with a poopy diaper. BUMMER."

She looks at me, sees straight through my cover story, and scoffs, "SICK."

Who Needs Birth Control?

You heard me. Who needs birth control when I can be a daily witness to the vivid reality of toddler hissy fits? It's enough to make me head to the convent (with my new husband in tow, of course).

Today I spent some quality time with a three-year-old we'll call Rosie. Now Miss Rosie lives in an immaculate "castle" where she plays princess all day, every day. Somehow I think the princess gig has become a little too realistic, because this afternoon, when Rosie was sent to her room for refusing to cooperate re: using the potty, she stuck her head out her perfectly royal window and BELLOWED the following to the neighbors, who happened to be in the front yard.

HELP!

HELP ME, PLEASE!

HELP ME SO MUCH!

I NEED HEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!

And then I marched inside her jail-cell-pink bedroom, gave a wink and nod to the concerned PTA Mom next door and gave that kid the stink eye. Idealist.com, I need you now more than ever.

Famous Last Words

Lately the kids I work with (or for, depending on the day) have been hamming it up in the one-liner department. Some days, I can't believe a big shot editor hasn't secretly been watching me from afar, and then surprised me with a booming, "Holly Elizabeth, WRITE ALL OF THAT STUFF DOWN! We'll pay you for it--your loans are forgiven, your husband has a car again, and we're sending you to Sicily as a thank you for your groundbreaking, um, recording of kid-quotes."

Scout, age 2: Holly, well, I'm just not up to playing with you right now.

Jack, age 4: MY BUTT IS STUCK IN THIS BABY SWING! HEEEEEEEELP!

Maya, age 3: Are you going to wear a ruffly dress to my wedding, Holly? (She's my flower girl, by the way.)

Cole, age 6: Hey, I always put on my dirty clothes after the bath. It's how my mom likes to do it.

Scout, age 2 (again): Did you know that I had a really, super high fever last night? And then my Aunt Marcy put a bandaid down my throat that made it alllll better. And you know why it didn't hurt? She was just SO careful when she stuck her hand down my throat! It didn't even hurt! Really! Really!

Nia, age 4: (After being told that, unfortunately, there is no more bread for grilled cheese) Well, I wanted grilled cheese, but I guess a quesadilla will work alright. HOLLY! I AM BEING SO FLEXIBLE RIGHT NOW!

These are the zippy moments that keep me going in this somewhat haphazard lifestyle I'm leading. Makes me think that motherhood, in due time (in like twenty years, people), will be a whole lot of work, but a whole lot of sweet moments too.