Happy Earth Day

Or as my children say,  

"Happy Erf Day!" 

Yesterday, Scarlet picked up 

a piece of paper off the ground, 

handed it to me, and explained:

"We have to take care of our erf." 

Yes we do, honey :)

Went to the downtown Main Square today for some Earth Day education. 

Was anticipating a bigger crowd, 

but it will grow, as awareness grows.

Speaking of, I am hosting an event (see below) via 

the Healthy Child Healthy World organization, 

a non profit based out of California.  

This is their story: 

(please check out their tragedy turned triumph)

 ...................

Colette was a completely healthy little girl until the age of four when her doctor discovered a cantaloupe-sized tumor growing in her abdomen. This was the beginning of what her parents later learned to be a preventable, non-hereditary form of cancer that was caused by environmental factors.

After a yearlong struggle to save her, Jim and Nancy Chuda lost the love and light of their lives. Colette was only five years old.

Colette's story is only one of millions. Sadly, alarming statistics reveal increasing numbers of children diagnosed with cancer, autism, asthma, learning disabilities and more - all linked to toxic chemicals that can be reduced or eliminated in our homes, schools and communities.

Recognizing this alarming trend, Jim and Nancy turned their grief into action to found Healthy Child Healthy World in 1992 - setting in motion one of the most important health and environmental movements of the 21st century.

Their movement is motivated by one simple question:

What's more important than the health of your child?

Let that simmer... Then ask yourself another question:

Why are our kids getting sick?

In the past 50 years, our use of synthetic chemicals has exploded. From our personal care products and cleaners to home furnishings and food packaging, we are constantly breathing, absorbing and even eating chemicals. Today, babies are born with more than 200 industrial chemicals in their blood. The effect of these chemicals on our kids' health is becoming increasingly clear. 

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Healthy Child Healthy World

Monday, May 21st, 5-7pm

Elks Theatre, Downtown Rapid City

*PURELY EDUCATIONAL*

spokespeople on topics ranging from 

recycling, water, nutrition, fitness & more

The Shocker

I've decided I'm going to start utilizing my second hole more. It's been ignored far too long, like since college. Which was also the time I sought out a third hole. Went for it. One drunken Freshman night. Thought I was cool. Edgy. Didn't last long though ~ a mere memory now. Surprisingly, the second hole remained ready, open and willing. The steel rod inserted like it hadn't played hookie for all these years.
Now the question is, which earring do I put in the top hole vs the bottom hole?

Is this what stay-at-home (SAH) mom's think about? Which earrings am I going to wear with today's casual outfit, that okay yes, I've worn for the second time this week. But I did swap the tops and jeans.

It's what this SAH mom thinks about, while I seriously sort my feelings about recent national news, online stories, and personal accounts I've heard, read, and experienced towards SAH mamas.

First, however, I must clarify that the naughty thought stemmed from, "which earrings am I going to wear tomorrow for Mom Prom?"

It's Friday, and prom is tomorrow. What did I do all week? Where did it go? I rarely asked myself this question when I worked in an office. More like, it's only Wednesday? It's only 3 o'clock? Now I cuss when the day ends. Wish I had more time. Why is that?

Back to the upcoming festivities... All women deserve an evening of sequins, boas, masks, heels, make-up, Baby Got Back, chocolate fondue, paparazzi, and each other. And for a good cause. Last year's Mom Prom rocked, and I expect the same tomorrow night. Hotel room pajama party included. 

We're a mix of working mothers. 

Home, lab, office, clinic, classroom, car. 

We all are who we are.

As a SAH, W(ork)AH mom, I take great notice of people's reactions to my "job" and the choices I make.

So when Ann Romney was slandered for not understanding the working world because she's never worked a day of her life, I get a little defensive, on a personal not political level. She raised five boys in her home, while overcoming breast cancer and living with MS. As a former recruiter in competitive NYC, I admit those attributes on a professional resume wouldn't have swayed most hires. But as a SAHM of only two, I couldn't begin to imagine the strength this woman had to muster, no matter how big her inheritance account.

I found this article definitely share-worthy and insightful. And seriously, what are Bon Bons? 

I could reply with a schedule, but truth is, each day is different. A basic yet busy schedule, but

always flexing, always reacting, always spiraling.

A new online confidant shares: "My work is never done and there is always something more I can do." Ditto. Btw, fellow prairie dwellers, you might especially like this inspiring blog. And you, too, former fellow Forrest recruiter, Miss Esquire W. I have a Laura Ingalls Wilder t-shirt I bought for you two years ago. Where are you? My NY native who dreamed of the Ingalls, and horses, and simplicity.

As I attempt to write what's been on the brain lately, I face the challenge of an audacious, rambunctious, three-year-old boy who grabs my hat and throws it, who pounces on my leg and skateboards it, who plugs the toilet with a roll of toilet paper, who squirts too much soap in the sink then plays in it, who wants something to drink, then something to eat, then more to drink, who sticks his tushy in my face, wiggling and giggling. While I am typing. Some serious thoughts, too, dude. 

My mobile office at this particular time and day is the stair landing with the morning sun shining in. Sometimes I conform to the bean bags in the kids' rooms. Often times, the couch or chair make a comfy reprieve. I like the dining room table too, while the kids color and play. My actual office provides a double patio door view to the kids' play set, plus a background of the Hills. I certainly can't complain. But I certainly can't commit to a set schedule nor income neither, because my "co-workers" require lots of attention and supervision. My most important daily task is to micro manage most discreetly.

And although they certainly keep me entertained, active, and inspired, they don't exactly converse as adults do. I admit I miss that a little. The atmosphere. The stories. The connections. I get a 90-minute taste in my weekly networking meeting, however, so I consider myself lucky. My job is exhausting, yes, but I do get to spend my days with my kids. Plus meet people. Plus make a little money. Plus challenge ME. And for all that, I feel blessed and happy.

Now I must punch out for lunch to pick up Scarlet from preschool, pick up a BNI application from a new member, deliver it to the appropriate person, feed kids and hubby a healthy lunch, pack kids' clothes to spend night with auntie and cousin, drive two-hour round-trip to do so, possibly change quickly into appropriate gear if weather permits to learn my beloved's beloved game of golf, spend an enjoyable evening sans kids, wake up to a basement room at maximum capacity to ready for rummage, exercise hopefully, take kids cub-petting at beautiful Bear Country, then shower and primp for Mom Prom!

We all play our own balancing act.

In between, I collect my thoughts, ponder my words, 

and squeeze in some typing when I can.

My shocker: How much I love my tough job.

I know my purpose will soon surface.

 What SHOCKS you? 

"That's Cuz You Don't Wipe Your Butt"

So the kids have been saying some really funny shit lately. 

And although I have a notebook of quotes, 

and an unorganized collection of random notes, 

I just can't record it all. 

Cuz then I wouldn't be paying attention. 

Laughing, having fun with them. 

I'd be documenting, which I enjoy, but I also enjoy the moments. 

So I get what I get, and today I feel like sharing. 

Most recently, I told friends and family how Lucas informed me that 

"mommies have big boobies and shaky butts."

An addition to that quote is slightly embarrassing, but "what the heck" (his favorite saying). 

 While I was dressing after a shower, Lucas, behind me, asked so very seriously:

"Mommy, why dooz yo butt move like watuh?" 

I swear, age defeats ass, no matter how many squats and lunges I "dooz."

Scarlet fell asleep in the car after preschool and errands yesterday. Naps are few lately, 

and honestly, mommy kinda likes those uninterrupted afternoons of two sleeping babes. 

So I closed the curtains in my bedroom, pulled back the covers, turned on the fan, 

then carefully carried my sweet daughter to her peaceful retreat, hence mine too, hopefully. 

The somber moment turned spastic as she awoke and resisted, 

afraid to "miss out" on an afternoon, while I would trade her places willingly. 

To my response that she'll awake well before dark, she shouts: 

"You're not mother nature. You can't control the world." 

Well, I guess I just meant I'd come back in the room and wake you up in about an hour.

But, whatever.

"Speaking of" (her favorite saying lately) controlling the world, 

I will try my hardest if it means a couple hours to myself, 

or doing everything in my power to prevent unnecessary predicaments. 

Hence, my soap box war against sensationalism, commercialism, desensitization-alism. 

The same scrap paper with "speaking of" also included:

"No, I'm serious."     

"Esssactly."     

"We have to do our learning skills!" 

I found this sticky note from last fall: 

"And you can see all the animals in the world. 

In your imagination. In the movies. And even in your dreams." 

Well, that should cover everything.

A couple months ago, walking into Target on a windy day: 

"Mom, Lucas, stop talking. 

I want you to be quiet so I can listen to the sounds of outside, 

with things blowing all around." 

Totally fascinated by a plastic bag tornado. 

Then as we walked in the door and she spotted the dollar section: 

"Mom, can we pleeez buy something we don't need?"

When she was three, still learning to wipe her behind, 

she responded fittingly to my generic statement about going to the gym:

Me: "Wow, I'm sore."

Scarlet: "That's cuz you don't wipe your butt."

Touche.

Lately, Lucas's favorite word is "probably" or rather "pwahbwee." 

Wishy washy like his mommy.  

"Speaking of," he loves his mommy. And he loves his daddy. And he loves his sister. 

"Daddy, you da best. And mommy da best. 

And Starlet da best, too. 

We're all da best." 

All-inclusive. All-the-time. 

He also loves his penis. 

Shortly after he was potty-trained, I recorded this conversation:

Me: "Buddy, you've worn undies all day. Thank you!" (en route to bathroom)

LD: "Me have nuffing on my penis. It feel good." (while peeing) 

        LD: "Now penis have a home. Pants is penis home." (proudly pulling up dry pants)

More Lucas Lingo:

"Mommy, you my pwincess."

"Oh dawhnet."

"Hey, I have a good idea..."

"My tuwrn to tawk!"

"Woo Hoo! Best day EVA!"

So many more. 

AMMO for another TIME.

Yesterday, kids were practicing spin jumps off the couch. 

I wanted to partake, but opted to document.

 

"Scawy monsta"

 

Solid landing.

 

TEN