All good things must ......

Lydia and I spent our last week in RI helping my grandma.
Very bittersweet.
We made it 10 months if you can believe it. Leaving most Mondays before the sun and coming home Thursday afternoon. Throughout this whole process Lydia has been pretty amazing and Steven has been really supportive.

Overall, it was a great experience for me. I feel really lucky that I got to spend all that time with my grandmother. This whole process enabled me to not only get close to my grandmother again, but it also helped me to understand the struggles and benefits of living in a multi-generational situation. The travelling was the worst part, but it had it's positives too. While VT had 6 feet of snow RI was pretty much snow free. We got to spend our weekends in the mountains and our weekdays near the ocean. Not bad. A really hard thing about this was that we made so many friends in RI. And having to say goodbye. Having moved (sprinted really) away from RI at 18, I never dreamed of spending so much time back there or meeting so many great people. This is Lydia's class singing at the end of the year family night/ graduation. So cute.
This is the gang that basically adopted Lydia from the first moment they met. Lydia fell right into place and the threesome became a foursome.
For all the stress, anxiety and mishaps, we all survived. I have gotten the opportunity to give back on some level to the person who meant so much to me as a child. I also have come to terms with the RI in me, ( anyone from RI who actually has escaped will understand this). We've made a lot of new friends and we are ready for our next big adventure. SUMMER!

We "still" love our town

I wonder all the time how we ended up here. There are thousands of places that we could have chosen. But we picked little ol' Brattleboro,VT. And most days I'm pretty happy that we made it here. The strolling of the heifers is a great time to love Bratt.



You pretty much see everyone you know. And you feel for a little while at least that you are amongst people who get you. It's really nice to be someplace where it's normal on some level for people to do yoga alone on the street and your child's male pre-school teacher to wear a feather boa and a dress to work.

So once a year our town parades some cows through town and half the town is in the parade while the other half cheers them on. The kids love it because they throw out a lot of candy.
The parents love it because it's one more day to do something free that the whole family can look forward to.
Even the monsters in this parade are offering friendly messages.

So the rest of the world thinks we are crazy. So we want to impeach the prez. So our town has a history of letting people hang out naked. I always said I wanted to live in a place were we weren't the "weird" family. We are still a little weird, but our freak flag doesn't seem to get noticed in our town.

The Devil Inside

Sometimes it's a little easier to see the devil peaking out. Lately Lydia and I have been having some serious power struggles. All of you people out there who have children under to age of five or haven't been a parent to a five year old child in a while may scoff, but I'm telling you it can get rough.
Yesterday, I got up at 7:30 in the morning, (how dare I sleep "in" to 7:30 I know). And my little cherub of a child had scalped all of her dolls and a third of her hair was also cut off.
This has been an issue for a while. The girl loves a make-over. Usually I just deal and cut bangs or use a lot of clips and barrettes to make it look normal. This time I was obviously a little grouchy and well totally exasperated. So I just handed her the scissors and said "Cut as much off as you want now. Get it over with and I'll make an appointment at the salon for whatever is left." (Bad Mommy moment)
Well four hours and $35.00 later:

My child has short hair. A cut which is very sweet and cute and totally hers. It's something I never imagined for her and yet she is so beautiful.

Lesson learned: She is becoming her own person. It's not about hair and it's not about control. It's about a five year old wanting to cut her hair. Yes I wanted to cry as I watched those golden locks fall to the floor but it helped me to realize that of course she will always be an extension of me. But she isn't a reflection of me. And that's a good thing to start to realize, because it's hard enough to be yourself, it's damn near impossible to try be what your mom wants you to be.

Now if only I can remember this moment for the future when she decides to join the Young Republicans.

I love NY

Last weekend I brought Lydia to New York City. We both had so much fun. Corinne was the hostess with the mostess as always, and showed us a great time.

I really miss NY, and feel sometimes that I live on the other side of the universe. I miss living in a city. I miss that anonymous feeling everywhere you go. I miss seeing different types of people. I miss seeing the random celeb. Hello we stood next to Matt Dillon while waiting for the light to change near Central Park. (I know Dally from The Outsiders!!!) And I really miss being able to get anything delivered.

But I really miss Corinne.

It was so nice just to hang out and spend time with her. And Lydia pretty much adores her. She entertained Lydia to no end.

Even when Lydia tried to wrestle Corinne in the Village or lick her hand on the subway, Corinne totally played along.

At one point Corinne wondered about running into someone from college,and if they would think that we were partners with our love child, "No doubt about it", I replied.

We spent a lot of time in Central Park, and on the fastest Carousel ever. Only in NY does the carousel revolve at 50 M.P.H.
Lydia would love to live with Corinne, there is no doubt. She associates her with great playgrounds all over the place. And a hot dog stand on every corner.
Is it any surprise that my child ended up looking exactly like the closest friend I've ever had? I think not.

We had a great time.

Lydia was very well behaved (there must be something in the water).

Now I just need to get some sleep.

Money Pit #2?

I will preface this with I Love Steven!
I love his sense of humor, his sarcasm and his support.
I love that he is such a great Dad and that he has his own interests.
Yes, some of these interests are easy to brag about: his paintings and his music.
Others a little harder to explain: horse racing and beer swilling.
But I now realize that there is one hobby/ interest where I need to draw the line.
This is his love of the "handy mans special".

Do you have a home that the foundation is crumbling?
Are there hundreds of birds living in your attic?
Is there glass all over the yard because almost every window has been smashed?
Has your home been inhabited by angry squatters within the last year?
Well then we would love to check it out?

"Run child run. Before the wind pushes it over."


I too love the idea of buying a run down home (with good bones of course), and fixing it up. The problem is, we already own a home that needs fixing up. We have painting projects to finish, a porch floor that needs replacing, roof work to pay for and new windows to install. All those things that seemed so easy to remedy before we closed on our house are still undone. We've owned this house for almost two years, mind you.
Do we need another house to deal with? Do we need a home that was vandalized with what looks like lots of paint and a sledgehammer? I would say no. But then I hear Steven,"look at that wrap around porch. And the garden, it's gorgeous. Have you noticed the hand crafted staircase?" I just fall in love with his optimism.
Blind, unrealistic optimism yes.
But optimism none the less.

The Blame Game

It's comforting and satisfying.
It takes the edge off.
It kills time.
It's liberating.
Am I talking about an icy cold margarita or a plate of hot brownies?
No, I'm talking about the Blame Game. Mine and most peoples favorite pastime. There is nothing I love more than sitting around and talking about my woes while blaming a list of people and institutions:

1) The President- (while I can't blame him for the fact that I was watching American Idol, I can blame him for giving a shout out on the program) I blame him for most of my problems related to money, insecurity about my world, the future, etc.

2)My Mother- I blame her for everything. I know typical. But seriously, I blame her for instilling a complete sense of insecurity in me, weight, men, intelligence, mothering, the whole lot. She's the easiest person I know personally to blame so she gets most of it.

3) Bad drivers- totally stress me out, "passing on the right, shame on you"

4) Little House on the Prairie- How dare you Ingall's be so darn positive when your life was such a nightmare? You gave a whole generation false hope. Mainly my generation.



Now I will show you the blame game played by others.



My Grandma blames everything on my mother (ya see people). It's actually pretty funny because most of it is unprovoked, I just can't help but finding humor in it. My Mother took my grandmothers hairdryer away from her because she was using it for things like warming the bed before she got into it by laying it under the covers and leaving the room for an hour. She also used it to dry clothing and heat cold coffee. But ever since then if anything in the house is lost keys, pocketbook, the newspaper, her toothbrush she blames my mom. It's brilliant. Even though she has lost almost all of her memory, she remembers enough to play the Blame Game.



Lydia places the blame for her unhappiness on many things. She blames the cat for not being "a real pet". She blames Lion for giving her the hiccups . She blames "a mouse" whenever I find an unexplained mess. And of course she blames me for many things: no siblings, being mean to Daddy, not letting her wear short skirts without undies and the list is growing.

So this is where the blame game gets complicated. I don't mind playing when other people are at fault, but when I have to take on the weight it's a whole other issue.

There has got to be a way of pinning this on my mom.

Hooters for Hair

When is a haircut for you child just a haircut? And when is a haircut for your child a lesson in the exploitation of woman? "Yes Lydia, even you one day may wear a tight white tank and five inch heals and earn an honest living." It's the American way and that is why I attempted to bring my child to Trim's in RI for a "trim" if you can believe it.

I know what you are thinking. How can you be so naive? Are you that oblivious? Well, I wasn't thinking and obviously it shows because I almost let my child get a bob at the "Hooters for Hair". There are huge posters of "pretty ladies" in the window but don't most places have pictures of attractive people in their windows when they are trying to lure in costumers. It's on the way to Providence so I wasn't thrown that you couldn't see inside, it just sort of had a city feel. It is located relatively close to her preschool (about two miles, that's like next door in RI), and it was on my way. I had noticed that it was there a few months back and stored it's location in my memory Haircut = place across from CVS. This is what people do, right, "I don't need a "trim" now brain but store this info so, I know where to go when I do". Plus it said barbershop which I associate with cheap. When I was little I got my hair cut at a barbershop with my granddad. It's an easy cut what's the big deal. She just need a quick trim for god sakes and in RI that might cost me more than my shoes. Well now I know what the big deal is.

So I open the door and immediately realize my mistake. I will say all the woman had a disturbing Bratz Doll appeal (which Lydia loved) . She was pretty upset that we left in such a tizzy.

I might have changed my mind if I knew that you get a free, cold can of Bud with each cut. Now that's my type of marketing.