Times

Maybe it's the fact we survive off of one meager paycheck, or maybe it's the fact we eat mostly organic, whatever the culprit may be, life is too expensive anymore. Food alone averages about $150 a week, and that's not taking into account the miscellaneous Target/Fred Meyer items: the diapers, wipes, socks, laundry detergent, dish washing detergent, winter hats, crayons, shampoo, deodorant, tylenol, rubber balls, vitamins, air filters, stamps, dvd-r's, batteries, fish food, sponges, soap, trash bags, ziploc bags, sippy cups, paint brushes, construction paper, lawn care equipment, tampons, band aids, meat thermometer, and a million other little things it seems life requires. It's all terribly exhausting, and not just the expense of it all but the acquisition of it all, the necessity of it all. At least twice a week my presence at said stores is required, and at least twice a week I walk out of said stores with a bag full of items it suddenly occurred to me while in the store my life can't go on without. I realize $8.00 isn't a lot, unless in our case it's $8.00 you don't have, but just this week while at Target that's what I spent on two very cute matching long sleeve shirts for the boys. I hate that I regret spending a mere $8.00 on t'shirts for the boys, or that I regret spending an extra $15.00 yesterday at Freddies on some organic snacks. It's the practical versus the sense of self-entitlement. We don't need SNACKS, and moreso, ORGANIC snacks-the boys would live without them, their little life's would go on without easy-to-offer yogurts and cookies. And that's where the sense of self-entitlement comes along and interfers with my rational train of thought, the part of the brain that insists : if you don't have it, you don't spend it, no matter how basic and worthy the cause is, and that families have been getting along just fine since the beginning of time without batteries and without meat thermometers and without cookies. Maybe not as conveniently and not as enjoyable, but somehow human kind has gone on.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg. There is gymnastic class, iced decaf mochas, haircuts, scones from Great Harvest, school books for Jon, car maintenance, birthday presents, and modest donations to Campaign for Liberty. There is credit card bills, auto insurance, furniture debt, medical bills, back payments to the IRS, rent, utilities, basic cable, and internet. How I would love to pack up and move to a hippie compound...but then again, i'm certain we would only be trading out one set of expenses for another, for things like patchouli, hacky sacks, a bongo, and self-help books.

All is lost.

I guess what we, like most families and individuals in America need to do is either start living within our means, or work harder. Of course, it's not always that simple. And in just writing that I start to think, maybe it is. Maybe that's the problem: a mentality we all have unique situations that warrant irresponsibility. That we all our due, some assume they are due more than others, and some assume a due with no effort for it.

M.Ward and Goliath
On the way to gymnastics class last Friday Conrad and I got into a conversation about one of the stories in his Bible-he told me how he climbed into the story, how he fought those philistines with his sword, how it made him so tired and hungry-he described to me the lunch he had after the fight, even the softness of the grass he sat on. I sit here now on the couch, children soundly asleep in their beds, husband zombie-like on the computer; i'm watching Austin City Limits, i'm closing my eyes and imagining myself stepping into the music, as i've done a million times before, encompassing me in a sort of lively, charged air, breathing it in while I move through it. Co-existing in the most meta-physical sense. And now in this moment, I'm fully aware where Conrad gets it.

blogging, once again

this can seem like a huge waste of time considering the little, often non-existent, time i have to get stuff done while the kids nap. then of course, knowing me and my birds size brain, if i don't put these days and their contents somewhere, they are sure to slip through the loose grasp of my mental aptitude. and these days, these days are amazing.

truman is practically fifteen months. i'm not sure how, though i've been told it has something to do with the passing of time. he took those first steps at 11 months and so by now he is running, attempting to jump, and dancing when the beat strikes him groovy. he is my dare-devil, my show off, and my little go-getter. incredibly independent, and knows exactly what he wants every second of the day. we are still breast feeding because of this, and breast feeding several times a day. he refuses milk, formula, and anything else that might resemble a substitute for his beloved breast milk. i often think how awesome it would be to have full control over my boobs again, but then i watch him nurse-how terribly content and happy is to be so close to me, to have me locked in his gaze knowing nothing in this world, apart from conrad swinging on the drapes, can peel my eyes away. truman is also my chatter box. unlike big brother truman started saying eligible words quite some time ago. now, at fifteen months, his vocabulary ranges from "shark" to "watch". it's quite impressive considering how young he is. on the dark side, truman is also insanely determined (also referred to as "stubborn" in negative circles). for instance, he has his mind made up he will not put himself back to sleep in the night, he insists i come in and nurse, and if i don't...there is hell to pay. hours upon hours of crying, to the point where our pediatrician suggested we let him cry for ten hours if that whats it takes, and to stop going in every twenty minutes and laying him back down and telling him we love him. and i do, i love him so much my heart feels like it could implode and send the cosmos into utter disarray. he is an angel, and i'm sooooo grateful God put him in our family.

a whole book, maybe even a trilogy, could be written about conrad. i'm already feeling a bit intellectually inadequate for him; his questions defy my high school level of education, and i've decided to start reading the encyclopedia from a-z to keep up. there are inquiries into what heaven will be like, the solar system, climate change, human behavior, and our judicial system here in the united states. he would be the perfect candidate for an upper manhattan family looking for a child to thrive in the elitist establishments of america. however, he is an eggert. and while i can not afford him private lessons in latin and violin, or tennis at the country club, i can however teach him his ABC's (which he can sing perfectly, so now we're working on writing them) and basic geography. and an eggert he definitely is; a few days ago he informed me he wanted to "study the Bible in college". i immediately called my dad, i know his heart melted when he heard. i should add, he also wants to be a race car driver and a jedi, and has used the word "catastrophe" correctly in a sentence ( that last bit has nothing to do with vocation. i'm just still beaming over it.)

conrad is still my sweetheart, a true gentle spirit. but no longer just sugar and spice, oh heavens! he is as boy, as boy gets: farts, bugs, buggers, dirt, climbing trees, and wrestling with any willing body who will oblige. these are a few of his favorite things. oh, and bubble gum. grrr, the bubble gum that was introduced to him this summer by his now favorite aunt michelle and uncle eric. that's all he seems to think about some days: bubble gum, bubble gum, bubble gum! it was enough to drive me so crazy the other day i threw half of his loot into the trash can.

and now that the overview is out of the way, to stories we find our way....

friday was the last known day we did anything; because friday was the day we meet some friends at wildlife images and in the process, caught their cold. since then we've been hanging low, blowing noses, making hot tea, reading "Bear Feels Sick", and sneaking cow colustrum in applesauce. i was really looking forward to the opening day at the ashland pool, and to getting all my t's crossed and i's dotted before our leaving for vacation friday, but alas. stinken germs. we're back to being backlogged. here is no exception.


pictures from friday:

truman looking the part.

conrad and zion running like wild animals at summer jo's.

conrad, probably being scolded by our nazi-like tour guide.

lavender lemonade, summer jo's. worth the trip.

conrad's photographic skills. not bad for an almost three year old.

Hanley Farm

if you go down hanley road, past a few vineyards and strawberry fields, before you get to the counrty store that sells "spaghetti on tuesdays", you'll find a still operating historic farm from the mid 1800's. i've known about Hanley Farm since i moved to medford four years ago, you see, once upon a baby free life, i met up with the volunteer coordinator of the jacksonville historic society about, well, volunteering. my duties would have included hoeing and egg collecting at hanley farm, that is if i hadn't got pregnant and a month later devoted myself to a toilet. four years, two children later i made it to hanley farm. this time, for a picnic under an old maple tree with my two boys, and the hanley farm dog, daisy.

we didn't bring all the fixins, but we had the essentials: a quilt, strawberries, blackberry-chocolate covered hazelnuts, hummus, pita chips, and water. the first order of business when we arrived was checking out the chickens, conrad informed me they weren't clucking, indeed not, they were laughing. which, i believe him. he seems to have a six sense about these things; many a times i have caught him talking to birds, snails, dogs, and his goldfish. whose to say he didn't hear those chickens laughing...not me.

after chicken watching and strawberry consuming, we made our way through the grounds, vigilantly inspecting every old tractor, petting every dog that came our way, chatted with every volunteer we saw, and read a few interpretive signs about when the giant willow tree was planted, and the such.

it was as pleasant of a thursday as thursday's get, and i can't wait to do it again.

this is wednesday, june 17th.

we missed story time this morning, but it had to be. truman woke up at 4:30am, a hour before his usual rise n' shine time, and couple that with a 45min. nap, i knew there would no way in hell he would graciously make it through both story time at the library and our wednesday picnic in the park tradition. here is what our day looked liked instead:

conrad requested cookies for breakfast, i compromised with blueberry bran muffins. i adore this age: their just as happy with nestle chocolate chips, sugar, and flour as they are with apple-sauce, honey, milk, and bran. i was surprised he wanted to help- i offered "bob the builder" dvd while i made breakfast. i trump bob!

truman was tuckered out after a lively crawl through the j'ville spray park; organic fruit mash ups on a blanket in the shade are the only way to unwind. ask any ten month old.

Thus Far:

our field trip of the day: the observation desk at the bustling medford airport.

conrad was determined to not look at me for this picture, obviously i won, all it took was a claim by me that i had sausages hanging from my nose ("The Three Wishes", for all of you who wonder how i came up with that one).

picked blueberries from our yard; in my defense, they looked alot more blue on the bush. i'm sure they'll taste fine in a pie with loads of sugar and topped with vanilla ice cream.

not featured: a cute little ten month old in an avitor shirt in a red stroller.

wish i could have caught on video: truman snuggling his sleeping daddy at 5:30am.