The weight of little problems weighing me down...the endless solving and re-solving of what seem to be the exact same concerns - exhausting.
The garden is planted...and the tomatoes don't grow...and so I buy already fruited large plants...and they won't grow in their containers but instead look sad and depressed...and so I find them a new home (with the elderly couple next door)...solution - buy tomatoes from the Mennonites.
The baby seems contented...and then suddenly decides to nurse and cling quite literally 20 hours a day...and so I try all of the usual things, which don't work...solution - hold her all the time.
But surely there is beauty and grace here, too?
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
I clean
I mentioned the other day that sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and do chores, and when I thought I had nothing to write about today it occurred to me that I might discuss what I do with my time, both in the dark hours and during the day.
At night, the chores I do are mindless by necessity. I'm too awake to sleep, but too asleep to wake, and so by mindless I mean decision-free and on autopilot. I will put in a load of laundry, wash a few pots, empty a container of leftovers from the fridge. I will not cook, or do anything requiring the movement of furniture (sweeping, etc.). I putter, rather than single mindedly accomplish something. I am always acutely aware of returning to bed.
During the day I try and do one large task. For me this would encompass, for example, the cleaning of a child's room, weeding the garden, taking a steel wool pad to the appliances, or something of that magnitude. I also run a load of laundry a day, and keep up with the dishes. Our meals are very simple, and require little in the way of prep work, and I follow the adage of my mentor who feeds her family of eleven with the concept of a protein and something fresh for every meal. I have the children help me as much as they are able to - usually by tidying.
When I am tired, I do hand work. I crochet or knit or work on cross stitch. I return phone calls, I make lists, I tidy.
I try to have the children leave the house every day. On Tuesdays I make myself go to a stitching group in town. I visit people, sometimes parishioners and sometimes not, as part of my role.
I have a chore list that I will become better at following but for now offers me a chance to get ideas of things to do. Under daily chores I have listed sweep floors, make beds, do dishes, and clean one bedroom.
Weekly chores on the chart:
Monday clean the kitchen
Tuesday floors
Wednesday windows and dusting
Thursday vacuum upholstery, clean table and chairs
Friday mending, decluttering
Saturday laundry
Sunday bathroom, front
The majority of what I do probably falls under child care. I have two children in diapers, one in cloth. I spend a lot of time changing them and rinsing diapers. I feed them and tell them to go play, find things they can do around the house, go to soccer games and doctor's appointments and play groups. I dress them, bathe them, comfort them and nurse them. Two of them nap.
Approximately once a week we travel into the city to buy groceries. On those days I do nothing else. On Sundays we work and I am generally in the kitchen helping to keep things running at church or else keeping the children at home until the service and then wrangling them during.
Our meals:
Roast chicken with vegetables cut up and roasted with it.
A simple curry in the slow cooker
pizza made on pitas or naan with a bean salad
Chili
Pasta with tomatoes and sausage in a cream sauce, or cheese tortellini
soup and bread
beef stroganoff
For lunches:
Kraft dinner
fruit salad or smoothies
cheese and crackers
bread with home made jam, or toast and peanut butter
leftovers
eggs
At night, the chores I do are mindless by necessity. I'm too awake to sleep, but too asleep to wake, and so by mindless I mean decision-free and on autopilot. I will put in a load of laundry, wash a few pots, empty a container of leftovers from the fridge. I will not cook, or do anything requiring the movement of furniture (sweeping, etc.). I putter, rather than single mindedly accomplish something. I am always acutely aware of returning to bed.
During the day I try and do one large task. For me this would encompass, for example, the cleaning of a child's room, weeding the garden, taking a steel wool pad to the appliances, or something of that magnitude. I also run a load of laundry a day, and keep up with the dishes. Our meals are very simple, and require little in the way of prep work, and I follow the adage of my mentor who feeds her family of eleven with the concept of a protein and something fresh for every meal. I have the children help me as much as they are able to - usually by tidying.
When I am tired, I do hand work. I crochet or knit or work on cross stitch. I return phone calls, I make lists, I tidy.
I try to have the children leave the house every day. On Tuesdays I make myself go to a stitching group in town. I visit people, sometimes parishioners and sometimes not, as part of my role.
I have a chore list that I will become better at following but for now offers me a chance to get ideas of things to do. Under daily chores I have listed sweep floors, make beds, do dishes, and clean one bedroom.
Weekly chores on the chart:
Monday clean the kitchen
Tuesday floors
Wednesday windows and dusting
Thursday vacuum upholstery, clean table and chairs
Friday mending, decluttering
Saturday laundry
Sunday bathroom, front
The majority of what I do probably falls under child care. I have two children in diapers, one in cloth. I spend a lot of time changing them and rinsing diapers. I feed them and tell them to go play, find things they can do around the house, go to soccer games and doctor's appointments and play groups. I dress them, bathe them, comfort them and nurse them. Two of them nap.
Approximately once a week we travel into the city to buy groceries. On those days I do nothing else. On Sundays we work and I am generally in the kitchen helping to keep things running at church or else keeping the children at home until the service and then wrangling them during.
Our meals:
Roast chicken with vegetables cut up and roasted with it.
A simple curry in the slow cooker
pizza made on pitas or naan with a bean salad
Chili
Pasta with tomatoes and sausage in a cream sauce, or cheese tortellini
soup and bread
beef stroganoff
For lunches:
Kraft dinner
fruit salad or smoothies
cheese and crackers
bread with home made jam, or toast and peanut butter
leftovers
eggs
Friday, July 11, 2014
The two older children are running around barefoot outside with their friend from church, exerting massive amounts of energy with any luck. They have both gone without naps today so it is my sincere hope that we are looking at quick and easy bedtime. I need that today - Lillian is going through some sort of hellish nurse-all-the-time type thing, which is accompanied by only-wanting-mama. It's probably some kind of survival mechanism.
I'm sitting here watching them go back and forth around the house. Clara just showed up with a shriveled balloon. Samuel goes by with a dump truck. Someone is yelling 'hello'.
My cat got out today - the brown one, not the orange one. The brown cat is annoying the living daylights out of me right now. He's scratched up a wall, cries incessantly, pees on the floor, and is escaping outside. Today I said 'enough' and left him out there.
To comfort myself I vacuumed everything and washed the sofa cushion covers. I feel better just knowing that if someone came into the house they would not hold their breath and step delicately. Beef stroganoff for supper.
I'm sitting here watching them go back and forth around the house. Clara just showed up with a shriveled balloon. Samuel goes by with a dump truck. Someone is yelling 'hello'.
My cat got out today - the brown one, not the orange one. The brown cat is annoying the living daylights out of me right now. He's scratched up a wall, cries incessantly, pees on the floor, and is escaping outside. Today I said 'enough' and left him out there.
To comfort myself I vacuumed everything and washed the sofa cushion covers. I feel better just knowing that if someone came into the house they would not hold their breath and step delicately. Beef stroganoff for supper.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Random Things
Whenever life changes even slightly for me I immediately seem to fall into this abyss of panic - utterly unable to function beyond a basic level. By which I mean that I had a baby, and she is nine (nine!) days old and this is the first time I have been able to blog. It's just past four a.m., and I've given myself exactly 21 minutes to say what I can before forcing myself back to bed.
I can't even begin to tell a birth story or anything that would be remotely interesting to readers, and so I'll tell you the things that have been floating around my head.
1) Writing at night reminds me of a scene in this show that David and I watched recently called If These Walls Could Talk. See, there's a British historian, (who is a marvelous dresser) and she discusses the evolution of different rooms in a house, one being a bedroom. Apparently in Tudor times there is some evidence that they slept in two parts, waking halfway through the night and doing productive things that they didn't have time to do during the day - talking, reading, etc. I don't know if this is true, but it seems as though it could be true because I also do this. I'm very tired in the evening, and so I go to bed, sleep several hours, and then wake up refreshed at some ridiculous time in the morning and spent an hour switching laundry around, etc. before having to go back to bed.
2) It also reminds me of a passage from Douglas Coupland's Microserfs where the main character talks about writing by the light of his laptop.
3) The house is spared from totally falling apart because David's parents are here with us until tomorrow, when they leave to go visit other family and head home. They revel in doing my dishes; I haven't got a dishwasher and their help is invaluable. I have no idea what I'll do when they leave - likely curl up and die.
4) Because I'm an idiot but the alternative was too awful to imagine, I signed my son up for soccer this year. So tonight, instead of eating a lot of Tylenol and lying around on the sofa watching Time Team and moaning about my life, I get to get dressed and pack three children into the car and go watch my four year old clump around a field. I hope it doesn't rain. Otherwise I'll be watching from inside the car, and being stuck with the disagreeable two year old and a nursing baby inside a car for an hour sounds like hell.
5) Baby and David and I have plans to drive into the city today minus the big kids, who will stay with their grandparents. We're going to go shopping, so that I can avoid having to do that with three again for a little while. For some reason I thought grocery shopping was a Totally Possible Activity on Saturday, with a 6 day old, and two tired small people, and me sore and grouchy and without any real list of foods. It was NOT. Also, I'm used to being stared at but strap another baby to me and it's a whole 'nother level. Although one very fine lady smiled at me in the produce aisle.
6) I only have six minutes left on the self-imposed time. I think I need advice. Post partum clothes? What on earth am I supposed to be wearing at this point?
7) Yesterday I came across a whole bunch of little wild strawberries. I love strawberries. I picked them all and brought them home and would like to do it all again today but I know my limits. I cannot possibly go shopping AND pick strawberries and not develop a twitch. Really, that's the sum total of my parenting advice - know the limit you can reach before experiencing facial tics.
8) Speaking of strawberries my inlaws brought me 14 litres of them from a u-pick because, well, let's face it I'm not likely to be going to a strawberry u-pick anytime soon. I made some freezer jam and froze the rest in bags. I am still somehow hopeful that I can go before the season is up...maybe next week?
I can't even begin to tell a birth story or anything that would be remotely interesting to readers, and so I'll tell you the things that have been floating around my head.
1) Writing at night reminds me of a scene in this show that David and I watched recently called If These Walls Could Talk. See, there's a British historian, (who is a marvelous dresser) and she discusses the evolution of different rooms in a house, one being a bedroom. Apparently in Tudor times there is some evidence that they slept in two parts, waking halfway through the night and doing productive things that they didn't have time to do during the day - talking, reading, etc. I don't know if this is true, but it seems as though it could be true because I also do this. I'm very tired in the evening, and so I go to bed, sleep several hours, and then wake up refreshed at some ridiculous time in the morning and spent an hour switching laundry around, etc. before having to go back to bed.
2) It also reminds me of a passage from Douglas Coupland's Microserfs where the main character talks about writing by the light of his laptop.
3) The house is spared from totally falling apart because David's parents are here with us until tomorrow, when they leave to go visit other family and head home. They revel in doing my dishes; I haven't got a dishwasher and their help is invaluable. I have no idea what I'll do when they leave - likely curl up and die.
4) Because I'm an idiot but the alternative was too awful to imagine, I signed my son up for soccer this year. So tonight, instead of eating a lot of Tylenol and lying around on the sofa watching Time Team and moaning about my life, I get to get dressed and pack three children into the car and go watch my four year old clump around a field. I hope it doesn't rain. Otherwise I'll be watching from inside the car, and being stuck with the disagreeable two year old and a nursing baby inside a car for an hour sounds like hell.
5) Baby and David and I have plans to drive into the city today minus the big kids, who will stay with their grandparents. We're going to go shopping, so that I can avoid having to do that with three again for a little while. For some reason I thought grocery shopping was a Totally Possible Activity on Saturday, with a 6 day old, and two tired small people, and me sore and grouchy and without any real list of foods. It was NOT. Also, I'm used to being stared at but strap another baby to me and it's a whole 'nother level. Although one very fine lady smiled at me in the produce aisle.
6) I only have six minutes left on the self-imposed time. I think I need advice. Post partum clothes? What on earth am I supposed to be wearing at this point?
7) Yesterday I came across a whole bunch of little wild strawberries. I love strawberries. I picked them all and brought them home and would like to do it all again today but I know my limits. I cannot possibly go shopping AND pick strawberries and not develop a twitch. Really, that's the sum total of my parenting advice - know the limit you can reach before experiencing facial tics.
8) Speaking of strawberries my inlaws brought me 14 litres of them from a u-pick because, well, let's face it I'm not likely to be going to a strawberry u-pick anytime soon. I made some freezer jam and froze the rest in bags. I am still somehow hopeful that I can go before the season is up...maybe next week?
Saturday, June 21, 2014
No, I'm not in labour. And I consoled myself about that fact by telling every nosey rosie who asked "Wow, when are you duuuuuuuue?" that I was due now. Right now. As in, right on this lovely plush carpeting in your store and oh, also I'd like to use a changeroom please.
Ridiculous people. Stop looking at me.
Mostly I cry, and try not to yell at people, but in an effort to be productive I've been checking off The List.
We've got the garden in, have I mentioned that? I think I have. Anyway, if I haven't, we have the garden in. And Samuel has already 'christened' it by falling dramatically on one of the nails and giving himself an impressive cut. The crying, oh the weeping and wailing that resulted from that cut. All I did was wash it and put a bit of aloe on it, and you would have though I was amputating.
I spent yesterday dealing with Samuel's bedroom. I think it just needs to be said that my children need to have nothing at all that is even rather sort of nice. I wish they could, oh I do. I picture them with lovely furniture and beautiful books and toys, but the reality is that I found a chicken drumstick on the floor, and dirty clothes at the bottom of the toy box, and, oh, general slovenliness. And I was terribly upset right up until I discovered the broken dresser drawer and then I was just angry. Mad. The drawer, despite both David and I working at it, will not allow itself to be glued back together with wood glue.
So I started throwing things away. Despite the tears (tears, my children, do not move me) the tiny plastic dinosaurs left, and the army men, and the duplicated trucks and the broken bits of things. All the very special papers, and the very special wonderful treasures that were SO amazing and necessary that they could not be parted with have been disposed of. And the pants. Surely *they* will continue to make pants in the future if I suddenly need more. And the ripped stuff. Ugh. And the colouring books. Worse invention ever.
Samuel's room now has a bag with some Lego, and a small plastic tub slightly smaller than my dish draining tray in area for wooden trains. And he has action figures lined on the window sill and a few other reasonable toys that I will debate in the coming week but that is all. His room is very spartan.
Clara's room is getting it's own sort of overhaul. A second rod installed in the closet and a lot of clothes purged and packed and what have you. If only there was a basement. Or the children could wear one outfit and play with sticks.
And in the meantime I think I have accomplished most of what I've intended to do before the baby arrives. Other things, things that fall into the amorphous category of 'Wouldn't It Be Nice' have mostly been pushed to the side.
We've got the garden in, have I mentioned that? I think I have. Anyway, if I haven't, we have the garden in. And Samuel has already 'christened' it by falling dramatically on one of the nails and giving himself an impressive cut. The crying, oh the weeping and wailing that resulted from that cut. All I did was wash it and put a bit of aloe on it, and you would have though I was amputating.
I spent yesterday dealing with Samuel's bedroom. I think it just needs to be said that my children need to have nothing at all that is even rather sort of nice. I wish they could, oh I do. I picture them with lovely furniture and beautiful books and toys, but the reality is that I found a chicken drumstick on the floor, and dirty clothes at the bottom of the toy box, and, oh, general slovenliness. And I was terribly upset right up until I discovered the broken dresser drawer and then I was just angry. Mad. The drawer, despite both David and I working at it, will not allow itself to be glued back together with wood glue.
So I started throwing things away. Despite the tears (tears, my children, do not move me) the tiny plastic dinosaurs left, and the army men, and the duplicated trucks and the broken bits of things. All the very special papers, and the very special wonderful treasures that were SO amazing and necessary that they could not be parted with have been disposed of. And the pants. Surely *they* will continue to make pants in the future if I suddenly need more. And the ripped stuff. Ugh. And the colouring books. Worse invention ever.
Samuel's room now has a bag with some Lego, and a small plastic tub slightly smaller than my dish draining tray in area for wooden trains. And he has action figures lined on the window sill and a few other reasonable toys that I will debate in the coming week but that is all. His room is very spartan.
Clara's room is getting it's own sort of overhaul. A second rod installed in the closet and a lot of clothes purged and packed and what have you. If only there was a basement. Or the children could wear one outfit and play with sticks.
And in the meantime I think I have accomplished most of what I've intended to do before the baby arrives. Other things, things that fall into the amorphous category of 'Wouldn't It Be Nice' have mostly been pushed to the side.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
The tunnel of Parenting
My friend Kyra mentioned to me that large families start to enter an 'easier period' when the eldest child turns about 10, and that before that you see incremental improvement in life, and also that the period of parenting that I currently am in has a name - The Tunnel of Parenting.
I totally and completely agree. It is a giant plastic garden hose like opaque tunnel of parenting. Yes.
On the other hand, I do see flashes of what it WILL be like, one day. Far from now. For example, here's one of my first posts from my original blog; and I wrote it when Samuel was about 3 months old. I'm incredulous when I read it. Could I seriously not get my act together enough to take one infant outside long enough to buy some groceries? That same infant can now fetch and carry for me, make his own bed, bathe himself, feed himself, help in the kitchen, play with his sister and put on his own shoes. There have been changes, in both of us. He's a helpful and useful member of the family and not a screaming time bomb and I am a calmer mother, one who isn't frightened of the idea of an infant crying periodically. And when Clara was born, I went through it all again - a toddler and an infant = the worst combination ever made.
Actually, when people talk to me about being nervous to add a third, especially with the fairly short age difference I have already between children (25 months between each child) I don't always understand what they're getting at. Hard? Not really in the ways they mean to say. Samuel is four, he can do so many things alone, and I encourage that independence. Clara is two, and wants to simply be a shadow - she'll play with Sam as long as he lets her, or follow me around doing 'jobs'. The baby? The baby will nurse and sleep and use up diapers, and that's about it. No, I'm not worried.
But what I am is excited about the future I hear about when my eldest is six and can brush his teeth without needing me to check them after. I'm excited about when he's eight and is totally able to express himself verbally and doesn't need me to stand in as a constant interpreter. I'm excited about when the children can sit still. I'm excited for the day they show up out of their bedrooms wearing clothing that is ACTUALLY seasonally appropriate. That one might never happen.
Oh, sure, three children will be harder in a lot of ways. Our car is squeezed as tight as it can go - we're going to need to buy a van very soon. We don't have a big enough table to fit everyone. We're into 'people sharing bedrooms' stage and the choices are all awful as to whom has to sleep with whom. I've run out of space. And then I've run out of the extra space I found by getting rid of tonnes of stuff. And now I just pile things. Our grocery bill is getting ridiculous and it isn't going to look better for a long time. I'm really tired of wiping bottoms. I still haven't totally figured out how we're going to leave the house.
Yes, harder, but in the meantime the older ones are growing. They don't stay babies. The tunnel of parenting ends. And at the end is the fantastic world of getting to sit down after lunch and have a cup of tea.
I totally and completely agree. It is a giant plastic garden hose like opaque tunnel of parenting. Yes.
On the other hand, I do see flashes of what it WILL be like, one day. Far from now. For example, here's one of my first posts from my original blog; and I wrote it when Samuel was about 3 months old. I'm incredulous when I read it. Could I seriously not get my act together enough to take one infant outside long enough to buy some groceries? That same infant can now fetch and carry for me, make his own bed, bathe himself, feed himself, help in the kitchen, play with his sister and put on his own shoes. There have been changes, in both of us. He's a helpful and useful member of the family and not a screaming time bomb and I am a calmer mother, one who isn't frightened of the idea of an infant crying periodically. And when Clara was born, I went through it all again - a toddler and an infant = the worst combination ever made.
Actually, when people talk to me about being nervous to add a third, especially with the fairly short age difference I have already between children (25 months between each child) I don't always understand what they're getting at. Hard? Not really in the ways they mean to say. Samuel is four, he can do so many things alone, and I encourage that independence. Clara is two, and wants to simply be a shadow - she'll play with Sam as long as he lets her, or follow me around doing 'jobs'. The baby? The baby will nurse and sleep and use up diapers, and that's about it. No, I'm not worried.
But what I am is excited about the future I hear about when my eldest is six and can brush his teeth without needing me to check them after. I'm excited about when he's eight and is totally able to express himself verbally and doesn't need me to stand in as a constant interpreter. I'm excited about when the children can sit still. I'm excited for the day they show up out of their bedrooms wearing clothing that is ACTUALLY seasonally appropriate. That one might never happen.
Oh, sure, three children will be harder in a lot of ways. Our car is squeezed as tight as it can go - we're going to need to buy a van very soon. We don't have a big enough table to fit everyone. We're into 'people sharing bedrooms' stage and the choices are all awful as to whom has to sleep with whom. I've run out of space. And then I've run out of the extra space I found by getting rid of tonnes of stuff. And now I just pile things. Our grocery bill is getting ridiculous and it isn't going to look better for a long time. I'm really tired of wiping bottoms. I still haven't totally figured out how we're going to leave the house.
Yes, harder, but in the meantime the older ones are growing. They don't stay babies. The tunnel of parenting ends. And at the end is the fantastic world of getting to sit down after lunch and have a cup of tea.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Batman, etc.
It's raining outside, and I'm uncomfortable and depressing to be around, and so I'm mostly spending the day doing things that require a minimum of movement. I'm going to throw out old magazines, and go through more boxes of little boy clothes and give them away. David, I think, would like to simply empty the totes of clothes in garbage bags and give them away. But I am sentimental. I can't.
Clara, bless her heart, has acquired two incredibly annoying traits in the past few weeks that have rendered me almost entirely unable to speak to her. The first is to lift her voice at the end of every sentence as though she is living entirely in a huge question. And the second is to ask, at least a dozen times a day, "what is that thing called?" Not in itself an awful question, but essentially replacing 'why' in her speech.
"Mama, mama mama? What is DAT ting called?"
"Cheese."
"Cheeeeeese?"
"Yes, cheese."
"Dat ting called cheese?"
"Yes."
"Mamamamama? What DAT ting called?"
"It's cheese."
"Dat ting cheese?"
GOOD HEAVENS YES IT'S CHEESE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY.
Bah. It's a phase, it's a phase. That particular phrase has never provided me with much comfort but I'll take what I can get.
And it is Tuesday again, so stitching group meets. And a call has been put out at church to provide a member of the community with food, and so I feel as though I should go buy some, despite the rain, since the stitching group is right next to our grocery store. Usually, I would tell myself to go to the less expensive store in the city but weariness is winning over logic and I'll spend twice as much here, but gain the satisfaction of actually having purchased food rather than simply telling myself I will for the next week and never remembering.
Speaking of logic or a lack thereof, David and I, despite everything that tells us otherwise, are probably going to spend about $60 on a toy for Samuel. No, wait, it gets worse. The toy is an almost two foot tall Batman cave play set thingy. Lord Jesus, come anytime you like, no really.
It's just that he loves it so, so much. On this dusty shelf at one of those old family run type department stores that exist practically nowhere. The kind of place where the same three jars of Ponds cream have sat for a decade. We go there to let the children ride the arthritic old mechanical pony for a quarter after I buy up all the discounted bananas from the local store. And we HAD thought that maybe, maybe, the baby could bring gifts with her. I know.
Ah well, he's only four once. Would that a two foot tall bat cave could make him happy forever.
Clara, bless her heart, has acquired two incredibly annoying traits in the past few weeks that have rendered me almost entirely unable to speak to her. The first is to lift her voice at the end of every sentence as though she is living entirely in a huge question. And the second is to ask, at least a dozen times a day, "what is that thing called?" Not in itself an awful question, but essentially replacing 'why' in her speech.
"Mama, mama mama? What is DAT ting called?"
"Cheese."
"Cheeeeeese?"
"Yes, cheese."
"Dat ting called cheese?"
"Yes."
"Mamamamama? What DAT ting called?"
"It's cheese."
"Dat ting cheese?"
GOOD HEAVENS YES IT'S CHEESE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY.
Bah. It's a phase, it's a phase. That particular phrase has never provided me with much comfort but I'll take what I can get.
And it is Tuesday again, so stitching group meets. And a call has been put out at church to provide a member of the community with food, and so I feel as though I should go buy some, despite the rain, since the stitching group is right next to our grocery store. Usually, I would tell myself to go to the less expensive store in the city but weariness is winning over logic and I'll spend twice as much here, but gain the satisfaction of actually having purchased food rather than simply telling myself I will for the next week and never remembering.
Speaking of logic or a lack thereof, David and I, despite everything that tells us otherwise, are probably going to spend about $60 on a toy for Samuel. No, wait, it gets worse. The toy is an almost two foot tall Batman cave play set thingy. Lord Jesus, come anytime you like, no really.
It's just that he loves it so, so much. On this dusty shelf at one of those old family run type department stores that exist practically nowhere. The kind of place where the same three jars of Ponds cream have sat for a decade. We go there to let the children ride the arthritic old mechanical pony for a quarter after I buy up all the discounted bananas from the local store. And we HAD thought that maybe, maybe, the baby could bring gifts with her. I know.
Ah well, he's only four once. Would that a two foot tall bat cave could make him happy forever.
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