Alabaster Mom

Last week, I packed up my summer clothes. We were getting close to the freezing mark at night and I found myself needing a jacket for the chilly journey to work in the mornings. So, I figured it was time. My closet is too small to host winter clothes and summer clothes simultaneously, so I swap them out seasonally. So, my flip-flops, tees, and capri pants were unceremoniously shoved into plastic totes, which were then stacked precariously in our basement. What this means, of course, is that the temperature immediately skyrocketed to 76 degrees. Sunday was flat-out hot. It was in the 60s on Saturday. The kid had a friend over on Sunday and I all but begged the girls to play outside. "You won't see 76 again for at least eight months," I told them. They didn't look up from their iPads. Because Minecraft. Anyway, we did some traditional October-y stuff over the weekend. On Saturday, we joined a group from our church at a farm (about an hour south of our house). It w...

On Friday, October 2nd, I completed the #fastagainstslaughter sponsored by the Farm Animal Rights Movement. I have to confess that I felt a bit anxious beforehand. The last time I missed three meals in a row was when I had my foot surgery last spring, and in that case it was because of the painkillers. The pills told me, "You don't need food, you only need uuuuuuuusss!" The pills also told me to sleep a lot. My last meal was on Thursday. I went to the gym and then had tofu scramble for dinner. It's heavy on protein and usually keeps me full for a while. On Friday, I skipped breakfast and then headed to work as usual. At work I sometimes chew gum to keep me from eating other stuff. I couldn't decide if chewing gum would be cheating or not, so I opted to go gum-free for the day. I usually also eat a granola bar mid-morning when I'm at work. On Friday, I could hear them calling me from my desk drawer. "We have nuts and choooocolate," they said. "...

Knowing what to share (and what not to share) on my blog . . . it's a fine line sometimes. There are lots of intensely personal thoughts and events that I certainly do not share here. I'm sure I am guilty of sharing too much at times. I know my daughter wishes I'd keep more of her escapades to myself. In many ways, I consider my blog to be a chronicle of her early years. Even now, it's fun to go back to the early entries (written when she was two) and remind myself of just how fun it was to housebreak a toddler. I am capable of keeping some things to myself, though. In this case, I couldn't decide. But, here goes. A few days ago, a blood test confirmed what I have basically known (or at least strongly suspected) for a year. I'm in menopause. Not perimenopause or some other cousin to menopause. I'm in full-on menopause. Part of me was comfortable with the idea. Now I don't have to wonder. Part of me felt like it was just one more "fuck you"...

My daughter had her first clarinet lesson on Friday. On Friday evening, as she and I watched the latest episode of "Project Runway," she showed me how to put the clarinet together. I must say she assembled it very deftly. I was glad to see that she must have paid attention during the lesson she'd received at school. Then she proceeded to play "Hot Cross Buns" for me. Oh my. After a few attempts, the dogs started to pace and act anxious. "Why don't we call it a day?" I suggested. "You have all weekend to practice." She practiced on Saturday and again on Sunday. On Sunday evening, the dogs came to me and asked me if I could drop them off at the nearest kill shelter. "We'll take our chances," they said. I'm glad the kid showed so much enthusiasm for practicing the clarinet over the weekend. She did it voluntarily, and she is not a child who does anything voluntarily. Plus, I could hear that she was making progress wit...

I honestly don't know how big families do it. And by "it," I mean . . . everything. When I come home from work each day, I have to check the kid's backpack to see a) what she smuggled to school that day b) if she has any homework. Then, assuming she remembered to bring her insulated lunch bag home, I have to make her lunch for the next day. I tried letting her pack her own lunch the other day but when I looked in the bag, all she had packed were some Cheezits, chocolate almond milk, and a cookie. Nice try, kid. On a typical evening, we have to stay on top of her to do her math, do 20 minutes of reading, take a shower, and eat her dinner. Add in a couple of "pick your shoes up" and "leave the dogs alone - they're busy," too, and you've got a typical evening at our house.  I tell her that the dogs are too busy to play with her in attempt to get her to focus on her homework and whatnot.  On Tuesdays, she also has choir rehearsal.  Starting n...

My wee baby sister made me aware of an upcoming event: Word Day for Farmed Animals (#fastagainstslaughter). It's an awareness event sponsored by Farm Animal Rights Movement. The challenge is to fast for a full day on October 2nd. My sister did it last year. This year, I will join her. I have taken the pledge and if you know me . . . once I say I'm going to do something, odds are pretty good that I'll do it.  If I were you, I wouldn't call me that day because I might be a little crabby after a few hours. It'll be a challenge, for sure. The last thing I think about when I go to bed at night? What I'm going to have for breakfast the next morning. What I think about after breakfast? How soon I can have a snack. Seriously, I'm shameless. It's no wonder I have to maintain a Weight Watchers membership. I've noticed that people seldom want to chat with me about my choice to go vegan last year (or even my adherence to a vegetarian diet for the 25 years bef...

Celebrate we will Because life is short but sweet for certain (Dave Matthews) Sometimes I look at my daughter and, for just half a second, I think, "What if she . . . wasn't?" What if she simply wasn't here? My brain can't fully form the thought. I've tried, but her presence - her spirit -  is simply too big to picture a life without her. She makes me laugh so hard that my eyes water. She makes me so angry that I have to count to 10 so that I don't throw her iPad in the driveway and run over it with my car. She makes me so proud that when she's in swim class or choir rehearsal or even just playing video games at Chuck E Cheese, I secretly hope that someone will ask me "Which one is yours?" so that I can give them an incredulous look and respond, "Why, the best one. Of course." I mean, duh. Sometimes, my daughter slips and calls me, "Mama" (I'm usually just "Mom" these days) and I think my heart might exp...