Updates

A little catching up from the holiday week:

Update #1: Seed Fever

My seeds finally arrived from Grow Organic (Peaceful Valley), coming in at just under a month from when I ordered. Everything was there except for my onions, which I had already been informed would be another month's. Boo. However, after my last post, a very nice rep from Grow Organic emailed me to let me know she was looking into what had happened to delay my order for so long. Still haven't gotten a follow up on that, but I'll give it a little more time I suppose.

On the plus side, yeah seeds!

So lovely

I'm really hoping the chicken foraging mix is worth it, because at this point, it may be the product that brings me back. We'll see.

In the mean time, I've placed another seed order, this time with Botanical Interests. This is the company my idol Mavis uses, so I'm hoping they come through. I ordered a whole bunch of seeds, including some overlap of what I ordered from Grow Organic. I'm going to do a kind of Pepsi challenge with this year's crops to see what grows best, and what I'll go back to next year. Results, and general frustration to follow as things progress.

Update #2 : Projects

Not a lot of movement on my planned projects. However, I have found a potential local source of 55-gallon food-grade barrels for $30 a piece. Score. Work has said I can scavenge a few of their wooden pallets. My reclaimed windows continue to sit in my garage, waiting for the day they will be transformed into my greenhouse.


Update #3 : Chickens

There is a coop in my backyard. There is fencing in my garage. Still no chickens yet, but we're moving closer.......

Update #4 : Neighbors

I made retaliation cookies just in time for Christmas and delivered them to the neighbors via my own adorable minions. Then, yesterday, I met neighbor mom face to face. She's very cute, very young, and apparently, far better then me. Just as I feared. When I casually mentioned I have a horse (always my cool card) she responded by telling me about her high-school career riding Dressage on Stephen King's horses in Bangor. I nearly choked to death. Sorry neighbor wife, you're apparently far too cool for me - this is now abundantly clear.

Update #5 : The Girl

After several people we knew shared with K that they too had suffered taunts and torments throughout school, I think she felt validated. She also got a mountain of new clothes for Christmas. Hopefully she feels a little better equipped to face her first day back at school today after the holiday break.

Pin-spiration!

Hi, my name is Sarcasta-Mom, and I'm a Pin-aholic.

It began innocently enough - a pin here and there, a recipe or two on a heavy day. Really, at first I wasn't even that into, I swear. But all the cool kids were doing it, and before I knew it, I was hooked.

A little Grumpy Cat just to get me going in the morning:

 

 

Then maybe a recipe or two - a little bonus if it involves crescent roll dough:

 Perhaps a little fashion for the size 2 me?

Damn Size 2 Me - you'd look great in this!

And then I'd be good. I swear, I could stop anytime.

But now I've gotten into the hard stuff - self-sufficiency projects. Now I'm awash in re-purposed wood pallets and 55-gallon food grade barrels. Now I now what a 55-gallon food grade barrel is. And chickens - beautiful, egg producing, walking garden gold. I must have them all!!!!! Mwa-ha-ha!

Not a day goes by when I'm not pinning about rain barrels, or garden layouts. There is a stash of old old windows in my garage, just awaiting the day when they are transformed into this:

Oh Pinterest, you are a cruel and creative mistress indeed!

Heartache

Lately K, our darling girl, has been less than darling. She's been rude, abrasive, and just plain mean. We've been pulling our hair out loosing our minds, and frankly, wondering how the hell we're ever going to make it through the teen years if this is her at 10.

Finally last night, I pushed the issue - I told K she needed to talk to me, to tell me what's going on, that I missed my sweet little girl. She pushed back - she didn't want to talk to me. I told her I just wanted to help her. I asked her if someone was hurting her. She yelled. I held my ground.

Finally the dam burst. In between heart-wrenching sobs, K told me how sad she was. She told me how all the girls at school were making fun of her, mocking her clothes, telling her she's fat, shunning her because she doesn't do gymnastics. She told me she wanted to be thin, to be athletic, to have the right clothes. She said the girls ask her where she got her clothes, and when she said Goodwill, they reacted with disgust and more torment. When she wears the pants her grandma made her, pants she loves, they make fun of her. When she wore her red cowboy boots that her grandpa got her, they asked her where they were from, and when she said Garnet Hill, they told her it was a hillbilly store (for those of you who aren't familiar with Garnet Hill, it's a very high end store, not a hillbilly in sight. Clearly these terrible little girls have NO idea what they're talking about). It went on and on, every cruel word pouring out on a flood of tears.

I held her tight, and my heart bled a little more with every word. I had wondered why the beloved cowboy boots had only been worn a handful of times, why the cute clothes that she had once loved so much remained in drawers, forgotten.

One of the things we always laugh about is K's crazy sense. She has always picked out her own clothes with garish gusto. She has always told us she's an individual and proud of it - and I've always been proud of her because of it. While she doesn't do gymnastics, she is a natural horse woman, and has competed in shows with confidence and grace. It takes a lot of athleticism and skill to do that.

We do not have money. My husband has been out of work for almost a year now, and making ends meet sometimes takes a small miracle, and a lot of juggling. I have always taken a certain amount of pride in the fact that I've managed to give the kids everything they need, even if sometimes it's second-hand. And now, that pride has turned to anger and shame. I'm angry that I can't give my daughter the "right" clothes. I'm ashamed because these girls have chosen to embarrass my daughter because I'm to poor to keep her in style.

I also knew just how K felt. I was never popular growing up. I was always a little on the heavier side, and I never had quite the right pants, or accessories. I'll never forget the day in 7th grade when I went to sit down at the lunch table with my friends - and they all picked up their trays and moved to another table. It still hurts. My freshman year of high-school was spent at a boarding school because the teasing and torment was bad it was driving me to a nervous break down at 14.

Things got better in high-school. I embraced the fact that I was different and found friends who celebrated that. I even managed to have a "popular" friend or two. Things got better as I got older and learned what what really important. I think a lot of people have had similar journeys.

And so I do my best to impart this wisdom. I tell K that she is beautiful, and smart and talented. I tell her that these thin, fashionable girls pull other people down because that's the only way they know how to feel good about themselves. I tell her she doesn't have to answer to these girls when they ask her where he clothes come from. I tell her she needs to stick with the friends who love her for her, not for her brand name clothes. I tell her I love her and she's one of the most amazing people I know.

What I don't tell her is that I want to hurt these girls and their shallow parents who give them these standards of worth. That I want to shake them, and hurt them, and make pay for ever making her cry. What I don't tell her is that I want to buy her clothes from Justice, and a phone, and gymnastics lessons, and all the things she thinks will make it better, make it stop. Because as much as I value individuality and strength of character, I just want to fix it, make it all go away.

But I don't tell her these things. Instead I pour words of love and strength into her wounded heart and hope that it's enough to help her heal. She stops crying and tells me she feels better. I hold in my own tears until she's asleep.

I hope I have the strength to protect her heart and keep her smiling. I hope that I can give her the humor and support it takes to navigate the sharks.

The Neighbors

One of the inevitable pitfalls of moving to a new neighborhood is new neighbors. As a rule, I tend to be pretty hesitant to meet new people, while GH is total social butterfly. This often causes a bit of friction as GH badgers me into trying to make new friends, while I insist a semi-hermit existence suits me just fine, thank you.

The neighbors that live just on the other side of our fence have become GH's most recent pet project. Just after we moved in, GH went to a local concert and happened to meet this "really cool" guy - only to find out days later this "really cool guy" was our new neighbor. GH wasted no time becoming friends, even going to another concert with him a few weeks later.

I have yet to meet "cool guy" or his wife. Or their six kids. Yes, six kids - that terrifies me. GH keeps insisting that we should get together with them, hang out, etc. I keep insisting my friend quota is full up, and I don't want to get involved in any new potential neighbor drama. Stalemate.

Then, a move I wasn't prepared for. While I was at work yesterday, one of their child-shaped minions dropped this off with GH:

He texted me and let me know there was a box from the neighbors. He suspected it contained baked goods, but insisted on waiting for me to get home to open it.

It was indeed full of baked goods:

Cute little homemade cookies of every shape and size. Damn.Well played neighbors. Well played.

Deep Breath

So many things. Too many things. That is the story of this life.

So many things have changed since I last checked in with this blog. There's a new house. There's a new outlook, new life plans. Change and progress and all of that happy nonsense.

In light of all that, I've decided to give this blog a face lift and a new perspective. I've changed the layout, and I'm sure it will continue to morph as I pick up some tech savvy skills. Most importantly, I'm changing the focus here.

Over this past year, due to many factors, I've given a lot of thought to life in general - what's important, what makes me happy, how to live the best life I can for me and my family, etc. In the end, it's all come down to one concept - simplicity.

One thing that a lot of people don't know about me - I'm a farm girl at heart. I love growing veggies and my roses. I love farm animals and the smell of fresh hay and manure. Luckily my best friends own the farm where I board my horse, and I can go there whenever I'm in need of a farm fix.

What would really make me happy, is a farm of my own. Unfortunately, life has decided right now I need to live in a small city. Bugger.

Recently however, I've discovered there's a large movement of people who are doing small scale farming and various self-sufficiency projects right in their backyards, in cities all over the country. The concept has me excited and inspired. I've obsessively researched plans, methods, concepts and techniques. I am ready to begin forging ahead.

I'm hoping that maybe my ventures will help inspire other people to give some of these concepts a try. If not, maybe then just a good laugh as I try to make it work? Either way, I'm hoping to have fun and maybe learn a little something. Always worth a shot, right? And of course, there will be plenty of "life stuff" to fill in the blanks......

 

 

 

The brilliant tomato planter we created from an old round bale feeder up at The Farm this past Spring. Can't wait for Spring...

Bad, Bad, Bad....

So, I've been bad. Bad, bad- the world's worse blogger.

Sometimes life just moves to fast to distill it on a blog page. Sometimes it's just so slow that there don't seem to be any gems to share. And sometimes....well..... I'm just plain tired......

Since I last touched base with the blogging world, I've gotten a new job. After almost two months of searching, I'm working in a warehouse running auto parts. It's hard. It's dirty. I have bruises, scratches, and pain everyday. I've also lost almost 20lbs now. There aren't many things that are too great about it, except for the fact that I get to work with one of my best friends, and I have a steady paycheck again.

On the kids front, well, G has decided that school is boring, but is doing well in all of his classes. He got shot over the eye by a neighbor's pellet gun. He's loving Diary of a Wimpy Kid, and working on writing his own book with a friend. The same one who shot him in the face.

K is not doing do hot in school this year. According to her teacher, she's been having a much better time socializing with her friends than doing any actual work. We're having a parent teacher conference on Tuesday, and I'm not looking forward to it. She's far to smart to be acting like a dumb ass......

GH is working a new job as well and is enjoying it. Good for him.

The dogs are fabulous. You can always visit them at www.chihuahuapages.blogspot.com

I promise to be here more often......

And Now For The Down Swing...

It's been a long time since G has had a real, full blown fit. The summer has been smooth. Day camp has kept him stimulated, and left him pleasantly exhausted at the end of the day. He had a 9 day hiatus to Vermont to visit his grandparents and a gaggle of cousins.

Even though deep down I knew it couldn't last, I chose not to think about it. One of the most unpleasant aspects of his Asperger's was in a kind of remission, and I was enjoying the ride.

And then there was Tuesday.

Tuesday morning, I was frustrated to discover that not only had G forgotten to bring his bathing suit home for the billionth day in row, but he had also forgotten his water bottle and lunch bag. In a fever of pure desperation, I told G that if he forgot to bring home the forgotten items, as well as the alternate bathing suit I was packing for him, then he wouldn't be able to play his Game Boy after camp.

The Game Boy, a 13-year-old antique he inherited from my brother, has been G's most recent, and most enduring obsession. I knew it was the one item I could use to my advantage.

When I went to pick him up that afternoon, I checked his backpack, and, low-and-behold, only the lunch bag had made it into the bag. With a deep sigh, I told him no Game Boy for the night. And that was that.

G's face screwed up and turned red in an expression I was all to familiar with. The tears began to leak, and the angry grunts and growls issued from his throat. I tried to get him into the car as quickly as possible, but he refused. I told him if I had to carry him to the car, he wasn't going to enjoy it. Finally, with many whispered prompts, he stormed to car. As I began to drive off, he kicked the seat, and punched the window. I stomped on the brakes (I was only going about 5 miles an hour in the parking lot) and hollered for him to cut the crap.

I swallowed down my boiling anger and embarrassment, and tried not to squirm from the guilt of my own outburst. Apparently the patience that I had worked so hard to build had been made weak from lack of exercise.

The rest of the night was a wash, and there have been touchy moments ever since. I'm working on rebuilding my fragile patience, and trying not to let the other life stresses eat at it. G is who is, and there's no changing it, only making the best of the bad moments, and enjoying the good. Bearing it with bravery when he screams that he doesn't want to go home in front of all kinds of people I don't know. Basking in the amazement of people who can't believe how smart he is. Smiling at the bewildered cashier when G begins firing random math equations at her. Holding on to the tender, heart trembling moments when he asks me to chase away his bad dreams at night, or hugs me, without me having to force my affections on him. Loving him with all my heart.