Will it come?

What do you think: if I bake pumpkin bread and gingersnap cookies (which had all been eaten but 3 by the time I took this pic), and if I put up the Halloween and fall decorations, will fall actually come? Will the triple-digit temps go away? The kids and I thought it was worth a shot today. I hope the fall decor doesn't just end up taunting me all month . . .

I had forgotten

It's 10:29pm and I just returned from the grocery store. Late-night grocery store runs usually make me grumpy. I need, NEED an hour minimum after kids go to bed to do something totally unrelated to my role as a mother or wife. Sometimes it's reading, sometimes it's creating, sometimes it's wasting time in front of the computer. Whatever it is, it's MINE. A grocery store trip does not fit the bill.

But an earlier planned trip to the grocery was postponed in favor of a child's football game, a run, a shower, a bathroom cleaning, a floor mopping, a baptism, an alma mater's football game, etc. etc. followed by pouring rain and hail and a monsoon that flooded the back porch and pelted the windows and kept me home. By the time the kids were in bed (a very late 9:15) and I swept and cleaned the floor again thanks to H's spilt milk and cracker-eating spree, I was Grouchy and Ticked.

Then I walked out the door and felt 75 degrees. Do you know what 75 degrees feels like? I had forgotten. In the desert in September, you forget what pleasant feels like. You only know squelching hot and frigid air conditioning. You don't remember ever walking out of your house to a temperature that's actually cooler than your house. It catches you off guard.

At least it did me. I stood there, in the 75-degree breeze, and let it blow away the Grouchy and the Ticked. I thought about the time and energy I had wasted today--a lot of it--on Grouchy and Ticked. I have been prone to extra grouchiness lately and I think one reason why I haven't been able to snap out of it as well is because it's been so long since I've been able to go outside for any prolonged period of time and actually enjoy it. When I'm in my house for so long, I think I tend to forget that there's more world beyond my world. My world becomes small and my thoughts become small. I had forgotten that 75 exists. I had forgotten that there is more beyond the spilt milk and the mashed crackers on my newly mopped floor. Tonight I am grateful for the late night trip that helped me remember.

It's my day to post at Segullah

and I completely forgot until 9:30 last night, at which point I could think of nothing deep or profound or remotely beautiful to write. But if you want to read about my first job as a cherry sorter, head on over and add yours too.

August Poem of the Month

Sheesh, how long has it been since I've done a poem of the month? MAY?! Way too long ago. This month, I'm choosing "Rain," by Raymond Williams, an interesting and fantastic poet who I studied in a grad school class at BYU. Here's the poem (and the pic is of Sweetie out with her umbrella during one of our early August monsoons):

Rain

Woke up this morning with
a terrific urge to lie in bed all day
and read. Fought against it for a minute.

Then looked out the window at the rain.
And gave over. Put myself entirely
in the keep of this rainy morning.

Would I live my life over again?
Make the same unforgiveable mistakes?
Yes, given half a chance. Yes.

I remember doing this. You know, prekids, postmarriage when I had a drudgery job and called in sick just to read all day in bed. I like Williams's move from the small (big?) decision to live how he wants on this morning to a reflection of his life decisions and seemingly "unforgiveable" mistakes.

It might seem a little strange that I would choose a poem about rain when this August we've experienced record heat here in the desert. But I thought about this poem for 2 reasons: first, last weekend J and I took turns getting up in the night with the fevered H, and so I spent some quality time in his room. Also spending quality time in his room is the noise machine, which is sometimes set for "waterfall" and sometimes for "rain." When it's set for rain, I can picture in my mind and feel throughout my body how it was to sit in a rocking chair for hours with Mister when he was a baby and when we lived in Massachusetts. I remember that rain. I remember that little baby boy who is now 8. I remember that peace. And I want to hold onto it.

Second, this poem is also about reading. And I have spent a relaxing summer with a nightstand full of books. Having been in a doctoral program for 8 years, followed 6 weeks later by the birth of a challenging baby, I haven't done a lot of consecutive, just-for-fun reading. This summer I indulged myself. My summer books read include the following:

• Here If You Need Me: A True Story
• Battle Hymn of a Tiger Mother
• The Lost Hero
• The Chosen One
• Love Walked In
• Wolves, Boys, and Other Things that Might Kill Me
• A Discovery of Witches
• Back When You Were Easier To Love
• Entwined
• Hex Hall
• Demonglass
• Girl with a Pearl Earring
• A Hopeless Romantic
• Lighten Up: Love What You Have, Have What You Need, Be Happier with Less
• edited to add one that I forgot and that I really liked: The Hourglass. Darn those books that are the first of a series though . . .

and I'm sure some others that I can't remember right now. Of this list, I think my favorites were Here if You Need Me and the Hex Hall/Demonglass series, maybe because both surprised me. I don't usually read nonfiction since I read plenty of nonfiction in the form of scholarly books on composition or literacy or feminism, but I loved this book. It made me think, feel, and laugh. The Hex Hall books surprised me because the premise for the book (witches, vampires, blah blah blah) made me think, been there, done that. But I really liked the main character. The plot was thoroughly decent too, but the main character brought it home for me. (Added note: For anyone--like my sisters!--who wants to read something from my list, A Hopeless Romantic has sex and swearing in it--a little too much of both for my taste, and Love Walked In is beautifully written but also has a lot of swearing in it. Just to forewarn you . . . )

Alas, my summer of relaxing reading has come to an end. The last 2 weeks, I've buckled down and finally finished revising the article I sent off for submission last March to Computers and Composition. They sent it back in May for revisions but I let the lure of fun reading draw me off track. That and I can't stand revising. Very painful. I finished up my revisions this afternoon and sent off the article. Yay! But I have another waiting for me. If the kids are working, I need to get working too. Hopefully, I can find a better balance between the all-or-nothing approach of the past.

Sounds of the Day

The worst sounds of the day:

• The alarm clock. Usually I'm a morning person, but after a few nights of no sleep thanks to fevers following H's MMR and Hep shots, I was/am b.e.a.t.
• The Cootie game being dumped out by H. Again.
• The Barney "Fun on Wheels" DVD that H insists on watching when I shower. I believe I have made clear my opinion of Barney before.
• Sweetie's fake sobs at losing TV privileges for tomorrow after refusing to turn the TV off today.
• J's "gotcha's" and turkey gobble noises during FHE treats. Now, he does a mighty fine turkey gobble. But 50 times? There's a reason why we don't have turkeys (many reasons, actually, but that is one of them).
• The sound of H's milk cup falling and bouncing around the kitchen as it distributed its contents freely after FHE.
• The noise coming right now from H's bedroom. Last night it was 9:45 before he fell asleep. The kid can last.

The best sounds of the day:

• An old friend's voice--ran into her at the gym this morning.
• A silent monitor for 2 hrs and 45 minutes while H took a monster nap so I could almost finish making changes on my 5th draft of my article. Can't wait to finish it. Can't stand looking at it anymore.
• The phone ringing and it's not a telemarketer.
• The garage door going up--J's home from work!
• H's smacking lips when he gives goodnight kisses.
• Kids laughing together while brushing their teeth.

And the role of Fairy Godmother to the 2 princesses will now be played by . . .

3 Reasons Why I'm Glad I Got to Eat Lunch with H Today

1. He ate his cheese sandwich, strawberries, and Cheetos without a word of complaint.

2. He noticed that I did not put Cheetos on my plate (self-denial is easier for me the earlier it is in the day--by 8pm, I have lost all constraint). He did not like my lack of Cheetos and kept insisting I eat some. "Mommy have Cheetos. Mommy have Cheetos." What's a mom to do but cave to the child's demands?

3. He kept leaning over to give me kisses on my knee or my arm, both of which are acceptable places, even for cheese-covered little lips.

Speaking of lips, while I was in the shower today, H found Sweetie's play dress-up lipstick, which she had assured me was carefully hidden and out of H's reach. I should not have taken her at her word, seeing as how last week the pack of gum that she thought was carefully hidden and out of H's reach turned out not to be. Sweetie climbed the ladder to her top bunk to go to bed, only to be greeted by a small mound of chewed up gum on her sheet--all of the gum in the pack. It was mint-flavored and H is not partial to mint. But he had to be sure that ALL of the pieces were minty. Poor H. He must have been so disappointed. And poor Sweetie. She spent her allowance on that gum and wailed like it was a year's worth of allowance instead of 1/4 of a month's worth (after savings and tithing). And poor Mom, who had to clean up the mound of gum.

But anyway, today's shower trade-off made for a cute pic, and the lipstick didn't get on much else besides his lips (er, I mean his face). He also smeared a generous helping of shampoo and gel on his hair. He wasn't so happy with the gel after it dried in spikes that felt like they were cement. "Mom, hair hurt," he said to me, very puzzledly. Despite his escapades, we are loving the stage of life that H is in. He says the funniest things and is the most loving little boy. What would we do without H?