You are currently browsing the monthly archive for March, 2009.
Last night sucked. I could not fall asleep, and once I did, I kept waking up.
It was weird being alone. Have you ever noticed how loud “house sounds” are when you are alone, and it’s 2 a.m.? 3 a.m.? 4 a.m.?
Our water heater has always annoyed me. Sometimes it scares the shit out of me, to be honest. It makes this most peculiar sound. Sounds like someone screaming a high-pitched wail. I don’t know how to explain it, really, other than that. Sounds like someone in severe pain or terror. And sometimes, when it kicks on, it makes my heart leap to my throat. That’s how it was last night. Freaked me right out.
This might be a good time to introduce you to Danny.
I’m not sure how to say this without you thinking I’ve totally lost it. But we have a ghost. And his name is Danny.
Danny made his appearance known right about when we moved in, really. I was out-to-here prego when we bought the house, and I always felt something weird at night. Mostly in the same spots in the house-right outside my bedroom door, and what would become the baby’s room.
One day, when our oldest had just learned to sit up on his own, he was sitting in the living room, chewing on plastic toys. I was sitting there with him, on the step that separates our living room from the entryway.
All of a sudden, our little guy is looking up and laughing hysterically and pointing. At first, I thought he was looking at me. But he wasn’t. He was looking past me. And he really seemed, well, engaged.
It was then that I really, really thought I wasn’t going crazy. There really was something else going on. Or someone else.
But I didn’t feel scared. It’s the weirdest thing. I really feel like something is in this house, but it’s not a scary something. It’s just something.
Then, when our little guy wasn’t so little anymore, the freakiest thing happened.
He looked past me again.
He acted like he saw something.
And this time … he called it Danny.
Maybe it was an imaginary friend. But to be honest, he was too young to have one of those.
I’ve read a little about past lives and “ghosts” and whatnot, and I really think there’s something to it all. I think that even though it sounds nuts, it’s not.
So yeah. My boys might be in North Carolina. But I still have Danny.
Right now, Danny and I are listening to Dave Matthews Band-really loud on the Mac-and having some cotton candy.
If nothing else, writing about hanging out with Danny might start a fun rumor that I’ve got a “friend” over while the family is gone.
I got up with the kids this morning to get them ready for their spring break trip to North Carolina. Hubby slept in a little to rest up for the drive.
I’ve been a nervous wreck the past few days, thinking about him driving almost 10 hours alone with three kids in the car. Agh. Makes my stomach hurt thinking about it. I hate long drives, and I know how tiring it can be–especially when everyone falls asleep and you’re left alone, driving, trying to stay awake yourself. Argh. Not a good time.
I have been a bit jealous and sad since the decision was made for them to all head out together on a boys’ trip. I feel left out. Like the girl who wasn’t invited to the boys-only clubhouse or something. I thought I’d be jumping up and down for a week of QUIET. A week of not wiping pee off the toilet. A week of not screaming at the top of my lungs to be heard over three (sometimes four) screaming boys.
I’m surprised at myself. I cried when they left. I bawled like a baby.
Then, the worst. I saw Eli bawling his head off in the back seat. He lifted his hand and signed “I love you,” then quickly looked away as the tears fell.
OK. THIS IS NOT HOW THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE. I wanted to be all tough and lady-about-town while they were gone. I wanted to put my fat butt into my skinny jeans and go out with the girls. It’s wayyyy overdue. Holy hell. I can’t tell you how long it’s been.
But all I want to do is crawl into their beds and sniff their pillows.
So, I went into their room to do just that.
Then I teared up again.
They took the pillows. And I’m too big to crawl into the crib.
Or am I?
Last night, the hubby and I went on another date. I know. Amazing.
While downtown, we ran into an old friend on Monument Circle at the South Bend Chocolate Co., where she was setting up for a party to celebrate Earth Hour, an effort to get everyone thinking about conservation and what we can do to help the earth. For an hour, people around the world were asked to shut off their lights to make a statement–and to save some energy.
For my friend, Meghan, and her small business Green Piece Indy, it was a success. She was on TV, mentioned in the newspaper, and from the footage, it looked like a lot of people turned out on the Circle, in the rain, to watch the countdown to darkness.
What a fun way to make a difference. (Yay, Green Piece Indy AND IPL, for getting the word out!!!)
Then I thought about it and wondered what we could do in our house to make a difference. The kids already know about conservation and energy-saving efforts–we’re on them all the time about it. They’ve read books about the planet. They even know how about the huge risk facing many animal and plant species.
A lot of the stories they’ve heard come from books I’ve shared with them from my pile of Barefoot Books inventory–the piles that are hogging the space in my closet right now as I have had little time to get out and SELL them.
So, to honor Mother Earth and to share some great titles with you, I give you this: My top 5 favorite Earth-themed Barefoot Books titles.
So …
Celebrate Earth Day.
Turn off the TV.
Go outside.
Take off your shoes.
Run in the grass.
GO BAREFOOT.
What’s This? A Seed’s Story
Herb, the Vegetarian Dragon
Whole World (with CD)
The Barefoot Book of Earth Tales
A Forest of Stories
And a sixth, because if you know me, you know SIX is my favorite number!
Yoga Planet (Fun, heavy-duty cards that show fun yoga moves–with tips on how to save the planet!)
And, if you order before March 31, you’ll get FREE SHIPPING!!!!
Visit Barefoot Books Indy today for more information!
I suppose it’s time to share a few “secrets” from my own childhood, since I’m all about telling horrible stories about my own kids.
I remember the day I got chased on foot by an old man like it was yesterday.
I was 8 or 9.
My older sister and her friend were nice enough to let me tag along for one of their walks through my grandma’s neighborhood–which wasn’t actually a neighborhood like I think of now, but more like a long, busy main road sprinkled with houses and churches and the rare storefront. It was hot. I was probably carrying a stick. I know for sure that I was several steps behind them. It’s probably the only way they’d allow me to hang with them–as long as I promised to stay far enough behind as to not look like I had anything to do with them.
They were both 6 years older than me, and I was so NOT cool enough to be in their midst.
As I said, it was hot. It was mid-summer, and we were at our grandparents’ house for the weekend. This was our weekly schedule, since we were blessed to have both sets of grandparents living nearby. You see, this was “back in the day”–you know, when families actually lived near one another.
So, back to my story.
We’re walking. I’m probably dragging that stick. Who knows. But next thing I know, either my sister or her stupid friend decide to throw a glass bottle of Pepsi onto the road for a good time. Remember those? The huge ones you actually had to open with a bottle opener?! Well yeah.Some not-so-good times followed.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” is the paraphrased question yelled from across the street. (This is how I remember it.)
Either my stupid sister or her stupid friend yelled something rude back like “Whatever we want.” (Again, I don’t know exactly what they yelled, but whatever it was pissed this dude off in a big way.)
Some more yelling was exchanged, until the man yelled, “You better pick that up.”
They yelled no.
He threatened to call the cops.
They didn’t believe him.
Then he threatened to come after us.
And he did.
So, picture this. Three girls, about 15, 14 and 8 years of age, being chased ON FOOT by an old man (old being probably 50 or even younger. Like I said, I was 8. 30 seemed old to me then.)
I just remember my sister up in front of me, her long legs flying, yelling over her shoulder at me, “HURRY UP, KASEY! RUN!!!”
Oh my god.
I ran like the wind.
I think I ran faster that day than I EVER RAN in high school track.
We ran and ran down the street. Then we zipped through yards. Cut through the neighborhood like kids who’d been playing in these streets for years (we had been).
Then, we dove under a huge bush and tried to catch our breath.
We outran him.
I couldn’t believe it. I was huffing and puffing and tearing up and my sister and her stupid friend were telling me to calm down and shut up …
When … all of a sudden … there he was. Coming our way. We could see him. Could he see us? He ran right up to near the bush, where we were hiding, and he stopped.
Then, he walked away.
Whew!
We did it. We totally won this one. We busted (they busted) a glass bottle on the road and this dude, who had been ON HIS ROOF at the time, saw us, screamed some crap about causing people to get flat tires. Said something about how HE better not get a flat tire … then he chased us. All around the neighborhood. For a long time.
AND WE WON.
We waited under the bush for about 10 more days. Well, not really, but even if it were only 10 minutes it felt like FOREVER. My skinny legs and knobby knees were shaking and felt like a bowl of JELL-O. Agh. The walk back to Gram’s was horrible. But we had won.
Just as we got to her back porch, running again because we knew the dude could possibly see us since he only lived a few houses away, we stopped dead in our tracks.
There he was.
Talking to Gram.
“There they are! Little brats …”
(Again, I don’t remember. But I’m sure he called us something. Hoodlums. Jerks. Neighborhood terrors.)
And then we heard Gram’s response.
“Get out of here you sick man. Chasing little girls around and scaring them. You leave them alone or I’LL CALL THE POLICE.”
Whoa. We still won. We WERE those neighborhood terrors. And to this day, I wonder if Gram KNEW we did it and still stood up for us to this sick “old” man who chased us around the neighborhood.
Every time I pass his house on the way to visit Gram, I look up at the roof to see if he’s up there, waving his fist at me as I pass by.
And I still chuckle to think I was only about 8 years old, and I OUTRAN HIM.
I just love to look at pretty pictures. So I’m going to stick a few more up here.
Most of these I’ve posted before. But with spring break upon us, and my entire family heading to North Carolina without me, I thought I’d go there at least in my mind.
And anyway, they make me smile. And since this is my blog, I can do what I want.
Whaaa. Whaaa.
