Speaking of my friends group, what the fuck is up with people who join an organization for no other reason than to have something to do once a month? Why go to the meetings if you don’t want to actually help? One guy introduced himself to our new secretary, “Hi, I’m Eric. I don’t actually do anything. I just come to the meetings so they feel like more of a meeting.” Sigh. I’ve been the treasurer for four years now and people don’t want to do anything. Frustrating.

I’ve also been knitting. A failed hat that i’m going to have to rip out because the border I keep knitting and ripping out, knitting and ripping out, has stretched the brim out so much that I hate it. I’m making a sweater that is bound to fit no one, and a little family of gnomes that are ridiculously cute. I will post pictures. Maybe I’ll use the hat yarn to make another gnome.

I’ve been watching Parenthood. Lorelei Gilmore is very much Lorelei Gilmore, only her name is something different on that show. The guy from Six Feet Under is more likeable on this show.

I am considering going all out with holiday decor, if I can find the time to actually do it. I made a few cheesy dollar store purchases and I’m going to have to make a few more. F will be thrilled. He is very concerned about our lack of decor.

Our first Christmas card arrived the same day as my first seed catalog. Baker Creek has the most beautiful seed catalog. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. I love planning the garden.

And that’s about it. What are you up to?

Exhibit A
Dear N:
This is a very good book and you will love it! Love you

Exhibit B
Dear T: Have fun with your Angry Birds and Pigs! I love you.

Exhibit C
For my F– I love you and miss you. Enjoy your legos!

On the flip side you have F. F did not wish to take the class so I didn’t sign him up. He is intimidated by it, for reasons he can’t explain. But he wants to do it. So he stands behind the half wall punching and kicking and running back and forth like a maniac. If he was smaller it would be cute. But he’s five and a half and should be out on the mat instead of running too close to the other kids’ parents and nearly knocking over the coffee. It’s not cute. It’s embarrassing. And then it’s sad when we tell T how proud we are of him he interjects, “And me, you’re proud of me punching and kicking,” and it breaks my heart to say no, I’m not proud of that. I’m proud that you learned how to play a song on the piano in an hour, I’m proud that you read every thing that crosses your path, I can list a dozen things I’m proud of without thinking twice, but no, I’m not proud that he isn’t willing to step out onto that red mat with his little brother and listen to the sensei.

But N? She is dying to be out on that red mat. Her little baby voice says hi-ya along with the kids as they kick and punch and jump their way across the mat. She punches and kicks along with them and practices on a small mat they have leaning up against the wall. She is a participant. In gym class, run by the same woman who taught little baby F and little baby T, she is right there, ready. She tumbles and swings on the bar, she jumps on the trampoline and runs across the tumble track. She sings songs and rings around the rosie like it’s what she was meant to do. She has fun. She is part of the class. She is active and interested and learning.

I’ve done it a few different ways through the years. The first year I split a full share with a friend and bought a fruit share. A meat buying club,, then called Meadow Run Farm delivered with the veggies once a month. The vegetable share was great, the meat delivery was fantastic, but the fruit share was mediocre. There wasn’t enough and it came only every other week. It seemed like a lot of money for not a lot of fruit.

The second year I got a partial share and did not get a fruit share figuring I could get fruit through the buying club. Unfortunately, they stopped selling fruit through the buying club so I had to buy fruit every week at the farmer’s market. I was annoyed that I didn’t get the fruit even though I was annoyed getting the fruit the previous year. The meat buying club stopped delivery at the CSA site, which was also a downer.

The third year we got the partial share and a fruit share which was still mediocre, but better than not having a fruit share at all.

Last year I split a full share with my sister-in-law, got the slightly better fruit share and an egg share. Without fail, I ran out of eggs before the two weeks were up and had to go out to buy eggs right before the next egg share was delivered and the eggs weren’t even as good as the eggs from the farm where I buy my meat, but at least we had eggs.

This year it was another partial share, only with 3 kids I figured I’d try some of the extras like the cheese share. Rather than drive 10 minutes away to get the meat from the other farm I figured I’d try the chicken share and the meat share through the CSA. I also decided to get double fruit and double egg shares, attempting to eliminate unnecessary grocery store trips. Bad move. The chicken share was delivered in a giant block which meant I had to partially defrost it to get it into my freezer. The meat share was canceled weeks into the season. I still have close to a dozen cartons of eggs in the fridge because somehow this is the year that no one wants to eat eggs. And the fruit? Way too many apricots and peaches. The end of the season with apples was wonderful, but my children were not fond of the two months of stone fruits. The cheese share, from Hillacres Pride, was amazing. I am all about the cheese share.

So for next year I’m sticking with Sweet Stem Farm for the meat, convenience be damned, getting a partial share of veggies, a cheese share, a single egg share, and I’m undecided about the fruit. It was a lot of apricots and a lot of peaches. But the apples are so worth it. Tough call.

Speaking of neglectful, F is off from school today. I currently have him and T on two different computers in two different rooms so they won’t fight while N sleeps and I can get a break. I feel kind of icky about it, but I am exhausted. I don’t know if N is teething, or if she was just having a rough, post daylight savings time day, but she didn’t nap at all yesterday and woke up half a dozen times last night. I’m doing a remarkable job of functioning, all things considered.

Anyway, the wreath. I want to make another because since I finished one I’m confident I can finish another. I have more flowers and a shit load of yarn, but I’m out of glue sticks. Well, at least I think we’re out of glue sticks because I didn’t see any down in the basement when I found the glue gun and I have no desire to go down there and root around right now. It is dirty and dark in the basement and there are man things everywhere: fishing lures and tools and hardware and random bits and pieces that I’m always tempted to throw out. I could start another project instead but nothing else seems particularly appealing. Or the things that are appealing I don’t have the supplies for. It’s tough being addicted to Pinterest with very few projects to show for it.

Two hours have elapsed since I started writing this. I brought a giant box of irritating plastic toys down to the basement, toys I gathered earlier in the day since no small boys were here to notice me packing up and throwing out, and found the glue sticks. I also found two more bags of girl clothes in N’s current size, as if she doesn’t have enough in her closet. After I wash the spider webs and dust bunnies out of my hair I think I’m going to watch TV and fold laundry after all. My Saturday night home alone is ever so glamorous.

So I got the welcome email and info, the same basic stuff as I got when I joined 4 years ago, only this time I actually read it. And I kind of hate them now. Exhibit A

Also, remember that although some husbands can care for the children by themselves after a long day at work, not all are willing or able to do so. If their wives are going to have to choose between going to moms group meetings, or letting their husbands relax, which do you think they would choose? No mother should be put in the position by a group that wants to support the at-home mother and family life.

Exhibit B. Okay, there is no exhibit B, I was just so annoyed by exhibit A that I assumed there was more. Do they really expect their members to be subservient wives? Should my husband be unwilling to care for our children at the end of the day? Does my day not count? Honestly, I would choose hanging out with my friends and kicking back with a cocktail over letting my husband relax. Mama needs some down time too.

I went to a playgroup today and managed to neither offend or alienate anyone that I’m aware of. I wore jeans without a hole in the knee, washed and dried my hair, and wore makeup. It does help the self-esteem to put in a little bit of effort.

I need something to be enthusiastic about. Something to keep me interested. My kids are fabulous, and I’m so proud that F taught himself how to ride a bike and that he likes to read the same Beverly Cleary books that I read as a kid. I love that T can fly down hills on his balance bike (he is so ready for pedals) and loves to build elaborate structures before knocking them down. Miss N is so much fun- she talks and nods and responds and sings and follows directions and is so wonderfully pleasant and happy that I don’t even resent her for the nights she wakes up at 1 and won’t go back to sleep until 5.30. But the kids aren’t enough. The tantrums and fights and neediness and clinginess tend to offset the good. I’m in a slump.

I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t wear my sweats all day and that I’d try to wear makeup every day. I’m about 50% with the makeup, but I’m doing pretty well with at least changing into jeans. Maybe putting in an effort will help?

So here it is. Day one.

Miss N is asleep, T is watching Diego, F is at school, and the cats are asleep in my bed most likely laughing about a pile of vomit they left for me to step in. My house has been attacked by dust and clutter and I don’t feel like getting off my ass to counterattack the mess. There are piles of laundry I have no interest in folding and urine soaked sheets to be washed. I haven’t even fed the boy lunch yet. But I’m writing something and it’s a start.