My River

My daughter grips my index finger tightly. Her hands are small, and when she's nervous, she abandons our usual loose, whole-hand-grip and goes for the security of a one-finger hold. We're at the river. It's a new place for her, but not for me. I've been floating this river for years. For me, this river means escape and peaceful quiet. It means friendship, love, drunken escapades and stories told in great detail. It's my retreat from the real world. It's physically impossible to do the dishes, pay bills or run errands while you're on the river. All you can do is float... and dream... or scheme... and laugh...

I brought her here today to show her my special place. We're in the park where most of our float trips begin. There's the bridge we walk across. There's the stairs we usually slip off and flop onto our butts. There's the shady offshoot that will draw you in and send you backward, but it would be worth the trip.

Her eyes are wide as she tries to take it all in. No, she most definitely does not want to take off her shoes like Mama and step into the cool, clear water. O.k., she'll take off her shoes, but she does not want to step on that green stuff. "Mama, they need to clean these stairs. That's dirty." I talk about algae and how it keeps the water healthy. She remains unconvinced, and glares at it disapprovingly.

We walk along a sidewalk that runs parallel to the river. "What's dose bugs doing down dere?" "What fish, Mama? I don't SEE the fish!" "Can we go back? I want to take off my shoes again!"

This time, I hold under her tiny arms and swish her bare feet through the water. We giggle about how cool the water is and talk about the people who are swimming and floating nearby. We follow along side a dog as he fetches a water toy - jumping in with a big, joyous splash each time.

We've been here a while. I'm getting hot and tired, so I know that she is, too. She maintains that she is not hot, tired or hungry. She doesn't want to leave. Fine, she'll go back up to the car, but she wants to sit in the backseat and play instead of riding in her carseat. Eventually, an accord is reached - we'll come back tomorrow. She's not ready to float in an inner tube, but she would like to bring her dog (so she can swim) and a picnic lunch so that we can stay longer. We're one step closer to Mama's version of paradise. We'll be there before too long...

Gimme A Break

I would like a break, please. I know that to some, my whole life sounds like a break. I don't have a job to go to. I get to stay home with my amazing daughter. I have a pool... But when you're down in the thick of it, any Stay-At-Home-Mom can (and WILL) tell you that it's not always sunshine and lollipops.

My job begins when my daughter wakes up, and ends when she goes to bed. I'm not trying to minimize the effort put in by my darling husband. He does more than most of the husbands that I know of, and I am grateful to him every day, but it's different for him. Yes, he gets up at the ass-crack of dawn and goes into the office. And yes, he then proceeds to work his butt off so that he can be home in time to play with his daughter, have dinner with his family, and be the one to rock his angel to sleep most nights. BUT, once he's out the front door, his only responsibility is HIM. He can tune out whatever he needs to and just work. It's totally different.

I can vaguely remember a time when my own career was my focus. I got up every morning, made sure that I was clean, fed and at work on time. I worked my butt off while I was there, then came home and did whatever needed to be done that evening... or not. It didn't matter if I slacked off when I wanted a break. If the dishes were dirty, the errands ignored or the laundry undone, nobody cared, and I was the only one without clean underwear (My husband has never actually minded if the kitchen was a pigsty, and ever since The Great Laundry Standoff several years back, either he or the housekeeper have done his laundry).

Now, every move that I make is either shadowed by or impacts a tiny person who is completely dependent upon me AND considers me to be the ultimate form of entertainment, the giver of comfort and the receptacle of frustrations. Dishes have to be clean - you just can't feed your child off dirty dishes... no matter how tempting it might be some days... Errands must be run - those diapers don't just magically appear on the changing table... trust me... Laundry... oh the laundry! Food, dirt, paint, drool, snot - it ALL ends up on the clothes...

Mothers of small children joke about just wanting to be able to go to the bathroom by themselves. What you may not hear in our at-my-limit-voice or see in our exhausted eyes is the fact that we. are. never. alone.

Brushing your teeth isn't just something you do as you pick out your clothes any more. Now it involves getting out a tiny stool. Retrieving and readying an additional tiny toothbrush. Making sure that your spouse didn't leave his razor within reach of roaming fingers. Monitoring water splash-age and clothing dryness while trying not to spit on your kid's hands, head or toothbrush. Then the tot must be coaxed off the stool, dried off and shooed out of the bathroom (all kids LOVE the bathroom).

Making a meal isn't just a chore or an act of love, it's a battle of wills and a race against the clock. The child must be occupied in a way that requires little or no supervision. Cooking must be accomplished before said child's attention span runs out and they resort to whining, screaming or all-out destruction in order to procure Mama's full attention.

Lily Ruth has decided that meal preparation time is an excellent time for her to practice cooking as well. She scoots me out of the way with a 'cuse me, Mommy' and empties 'her' kitchen drawer one item at a time. She bustles in and out of the kitchen muttering about 'cooking' and 'Kee eat... Bingy eat... Lucy eat...' She creates piles of measuring cups and spoons. She strews bottles of kitchen spices and baking sprinkles from one end of the house to the other. She walks off with my dish towels every. damn. time. :-P Rarely do I complete a meal without stopping to give her my full attention at least five times. If it's not a request for my 'HELP, Mommy, HELP!', it's a cry for attention due to a manufactured fall or a giggled request to 'come get me' followed by a slammed door.

What I long for is a time that I can switch off. An actual break. Not just a nap time when I only have to listen with one ear while hurrying through a few (quiet) chores or obsessing about the things that need to be done, but a time when I genuinely am not expected (by myself or anyone else) to achieve anything. I used to get that feeling when I went tube-ing. No one can expect you to return a phone call, pay a bill or wash a sink full of dishes while you are floating down the Comal river in a giant inner tube. It's really just you, whatever libations you have brought along for the ride, a few good friends, and the water.

Ya'll, I think I'm gonna hit the river this week. Who's with me?

Today's Random Tidbits - 5

Monday was AWFUL. I had the stomach flu, and I thought that death might be my best option. It was the kind of bug where movement of any kind makes you positive that you are going to throw up again. Since you already know exactly how awful that would be, you just do your best not to move. Luckily for me, I have a wonderful grandmother who came over to play with my baby and also did my dishes. I know that she feels like she didn't do anything, but I'm pretty sure that she saved my life. She also brought me flowers:


I feel MUCH better now. Possibly the best I've felt in over a month. Now I just need a nap...

Lily Ruth and I ventured up to New Braunfels to see a good friend. It's only 30 minutes away, yet we never seem to make it up there. Before I had a baby, I went up to New Braunfels once a week in the summer to go tubing down the Comal River. *sigh* It has now been close to two years since I've plopped my butt into a tube and floated my cares away. Maybe next year Miss Lily will be old enough for a life vest and her own tube.

The friend that we went to visit always makes me want to be a better grown up. She has a great house (old, comfy, furnished, painted...), a garden, and always serves beautiful food that looks effortless. We had quiche for lunch. It has not occurred to me to make a quiche in AGES, yet I love quiche. I feel calm and more like myself when I'm around her. She is one of the first friends that I made that I wanted to model myself after. Twenty years later, that still holds true. She also sent me home with herbs that we clipped from her plants as we walked out the door:


There's Rosemary, Thyme, Lavender, Thai Basil, regualr Basil and Chives :-) She also gave me eggs fresh from her chickens:


That's not a trick of the light, they really are beige and pale aqua! My Mama tells me that you know what color eggs a chicken will lay by the color of their 'ears' (the membrane over their ear openings).

Lily Ruth is starting to figure out crayons! She is obsessed with pens and markers, but is just as happy to walk around holding them and running them through her hair while their lids are on. This was the first time she focused long enough to put anything to paper:



I know - toooooo cute!

Oh, I mailed my Dress Up Skirts off to Samster Mommy! I managed to include a rambling hand written letter that will surely convince her that I am crazy. Good Times.

I think that's all for now. It should come as no surprise that I have forgotten anything else that i intended to add. I really do need that nap.