Try Handmade: Gifts For Summer Drivers
My second column is up over at Try Handmade. This one is dedicated to those of us that know a good song is worth circling the block for a second around time to listen to.
Puke, Popsicles & Pamphlets
Recently, daughter and son both got through a nasty bout of stomach flu. Having the two of them experience the same symptoms (puking) consecutively made me aware that kids throw up in a way that is entirely unique to them. Like a snowflake, only you don't want to catch it on your tongue.
Son is a 360 degree puker. When he feels the upheaval coming he likes to make sure that everyone in the room gets to experience it. It's as if he feels you might be disappointed should you not get a chance to examine the full contents of his stomach. And he will turn away from the bowl, toilet, consolidated spot on the floor to share it with you.
Whereas daughter is more of a secret, surprise, secreter. She just stares at you and then with absolutely no warning, vomit dribbles out. But once it begins to come she is entirely focused on getting it into a receptacle of some kind. So much so that I have not been able to get the giant metal bowl we use for sick kids out of her arms. It's been days since she got over the flu but she is so afraid that vomit might sneak up on her that she refuses to go anywhere without the bowl.
So far the bowl, daughter and I have visited Target, a preschool picnic, the dentist office and the grocery store. Try walking down the aisles of your local food supplier whilst your child holds a giant vomit bowl and not eliciting comments. So I'm explaining that no she doesn't have to puke really. She's fine, she just "thinks" she has to puke over and over again to suspect shoppers. When I got home I realized that I had totally missed an opportunity to cut ahead in line. "Yeah I know I'm number 98 but if I don't get my cold cuts soon my little girl might vomit all over the organic produce in your basket...but we can wait. It's fine." Head of the line.
Another byproduct of having two kids consecutively sick with the pukes is that you are housebound for a considerable amount of time and frankly nobody is all that interested in visiting you. So you get a little stir crazy. I realized I had hit a low when I went onto Twitter to post this status, "Leaving family room. Moving to kitchen. Might do dishes." Wow, that's the kind of blow by blow that says "I'm really lonely and might start making friends with the Latter Day Saints that come to the door bearing pamphlets if I don't get out soon."
But we made it through! The kids lips are permanently etched in a purply red from having ingested so many popsicles. And their blood sugar is so high from a nonstop flow of Ginger Ale that they hover inches from the floor as they vibrate from room to room. This weekend I'm busting out of the house to hit the flea market with a friend and I can't wait for the grown up company. I hope she doesn't try to hand her pamphlets out while we're there...
Son is a 360 degree puker. When he feels the upheaval coming he likes to make sure that everyone in the room gets to experience it. It's as if he feels you might be disappointed should you not get a chance to examine the full contents of his stomach. And he will turn away from the bowl, toilet, consolidated spot on the floor to share it with you.
Whereas daughter is more of a secret, surprise, secreter. She just stares at you and then with absolutely no warning, vomit dribbles out. But once it begins to come she is entirely focused on getting it into a receptacle of some kind. So much so that I have not been able to get the giant metal bowl we use for sick kids out of her arms. It's been days since she got over the flu but she is so afraid that vomit might sneak up on her that she refuses to go anywhere without the bowl.
So far the bowl, daughter and I have visited Target, a preschool picnic, the dentist office and the grocery store. Try walking down the aisles of your local food supplier whilst your child holds a giant vomit bowl and not eliciting comments. So I'm explaining that no she doesn't have to puke really. She's fine, she just "thinks" she has to puke over and over again to suspect shoppers. When I got home I realized that I had totally missed an opportunity to cut ahead in line. "Yeah I know I'm number 98 but if I don't get my cold cuts soon my little girl might vomit all over the organic produce in your basket...but we can wait. It's fine." Head of the line.
Another byproduct of having two kids consecutively sick with the pukes is that you are housebound for a considerable amount of time and frankly nobody is all that interested in visiting you. So you get a little stir crazy. I realized I had hit a low when I went onto Twitter to post this status, "Leaving family room. Moving to kitchen. Might do dishes." Wow, that's the kind of blow by blow that says "I'm really lonely and might start making friends with the Latter Day Saints that come to the door bearing pamphlets if I don't get out soon."
But we made it through! The kids lips are permanently etched in a purply red from having ingested so many popsicles. And their blood sugar is so high from a nonstop flow of Ginger Ale that they hover inches from the floor as they vibrate from room to room. This weekend I'm busting out of the house to hit the flea market with a friend and I can't wait for the grown up company. I hope she doesn't try to hand her pamphlets out while we're there...
Cuddling With Elbows
Since he first learned to repel down his crib son has been trying to sneak into our beds. We often heard the padding of tiny feet hitting the hardwood floors around 2 or 3 AM. Followed by a tentative tap on our arms, or he might even just sneak in from the foot. When he got a bit older it became his habit to slide in next to me the second husband got into the shower in the morning.
All of which sounds so incredibly sweet, and is. I love the feeling of his warm little body. Love that he still wants to cuddle with me at age 7 and want to grab every chance I can to soak it up. The thing is son can not stop moving his body. He is in perpetual motion. Spinning, kicking, flexing, stretching - since he was in my belly the boy has performed high karate in his sleep. I remember spooning husband so he could feel son kick him in the back when I was 8 months along. Or swaddling son up as tightly as we could and watching him do the worm across his crib inside the snug blanket.
And son has also inherited husband's lean, angular frame. So he's all sharp angles and points and snuggling has become this exercise in love and pain avoidance. Trying to find a way to lovingly pin him down so I don't find my arms and legs spotted with bruises later in the day. Or when he was younger keeping him from spinning like a top all night and ending up with a face full of foot. Cuddling with son is sort of a cross between the sweetest feeling on earth and conducting a WWF wrestling match on our queen size Serta.
It's only now as he is in school all day do I find myself daring to stretch out into a fully relaxing sprawl. Though husband has often seen me pull into a fetal position when I hear a loud noise, an instinct leftover from the days of the toddler boy tackle. Many a time I was bleary eyed on the couch watching morning TV when I would see son out of the corner of my eye, squatting like a monkey on the arm rest of the sofa. He would grin and then launch himself through the air towards whatever body part was an open field. Oof! And then laughter.
I hope he always wants to hug his mom and that I remember to appreciate that he still wants to climb into the warm space I made for us in our bed. (Though I admit I look forward to some muscle and fat padding the blows.) But right now...I'm going to go lie on the sofa and streeetch out my unprotected belly. Ah. Let's hope he didn't show daughter his tackle moves.
All of which sounds so incredibly sweet, and is. I love the feeling of his warm little body. Love that he still wants to cuddle with me at age 7 and want to grab every chance I can to soak it up. The thing is son can not stop moving his body. He is in perpetual motion. Spinning, kicking, flexing, stretching - since he was in my belly the boy has performed high karate in his sleep. I remember spooning husband so he could feel son kick him in the back when I was 8 months along. Or swaddling son up as tightly as we could and watching him do the worm across his crib inside the snug blanket.
And son has also inherited husband's lean, angular frame. So he's all sharp angles and points and snuggling has become this exercise in love and pain avoidance. Trying to find a way to lovingly pin him down so I don't find my arms and legs spotted with bruises later in the day. Or when he was younger keeping him from spinning like a top all night and ending up with a face full of foot. Cuddling with son is sort of a cross between the sweetest feeling on earth and conducting a WWF wrestling match on our queen size Serta.
It's only now as he is in school all day do I find myself daring to stretch out into a fully relaxing sprawl. Though husband has often seen me pull into a fetal position when I hear a loud noise, an instinct leftover from the days of the toddler boy tackle. Many a time I was bleary eyed on the couch watching morning TV when I would see son out of the corner of my eye, squatting like a monkey on the arm rest of the sofa. He would grin and then launch himself through the air towards whatever body part was an open field. Oof! And then laughter.I hope he always wants to hug his mom and that I remember to appreciate that he still wants to climb into the warm space I made for us in our bed. (Though I admit I look forward to some muscle and fat padding the blows.) But right now...I'm going to go lie on the sofa and streeetch out my unprotected belly. Ah. Let's hope he didn't show daughter his tackle moves.
New Try Handmade Column: Garden Gifts For Boozehounds
I'm so excited to be back writing for Tryhandmade.com! A wonderful site that connects artists and consumers. I used to do craft tutorials but frankly I ran out of ways to humorously glue Popsicle sticks together. So when the site owner Erica asked me if I would be up for doing Gift Guides it was an easy conversation to have...
Erica: Would you like to do a Gift Guide Column?
Me: Totally! Could it be weird? Could I write about gifts to buy for people who collect waterproof shower art? Or the best presents to give people who enjoy taxidermied animals in strange poses? Housewarming gifts for people who hate their neighbors?
Erica: Or you could just do Gift Guides?
Me: (Silence)
Erica: Fine, but they have to be mostly handmade.
Me: Yes!
Erica: Would you like to do a Gift Guide Column?
Me: Totally! Could it be weird? Could I write about gifts to buy for people who collect waterproof shower art? Or the best presents to give people who enjoy taxidermied animals in strange poses? Housewarming gifts for people who hate their neighbors?
Erica: Or you could just do Gift Guides?
Me: (Silence)
Erica: Fine, but they have to be mostly handmade.
Me: Yes!
Gift Guide #1: Garden Gifts For Boozehounds.
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