Earth Out

After participating, in our own small way, in Earth Out on Saturday night, Esther enjoyed it so much we had to do it again last night. A new tradition of bedtime by candlelight and wind-up flashlight is not such a bad idea. It definitely brings some drama and authenticity to reading Little House on the Prairie.

Isla is sitting next to me, flipping through the New York Times Style Magazine, singing "Baby Beluga," in the most innocent of voices. Her voice this morning was not so innocent when it was yelling, "Stop doin' the Yoga!" at me and tugging on my sleeve as I tried, desperately, to hold the half moon pose.

How things change from day to day. I document a much more successful, almost relaxing, yoga session here.

I need to paint

Why bother? Because.

You might wonder, why I bother to update this blog at all, since I only do so about twice a year. I wonder that myself. The thing is, I have this sense of obligation. This is where it all started, my obsession with documenting my rather pathetic life as a mother, and I feel somewhat loyal to this space. It's taken on the same importance as, say, for instance, the place I first kissed my husband, or where I was when I first realized I was pregnant. So, come back I do, again and again, just not regularly.

Despite the fact that the weather is colossally dreary, relentlessly raw and gray, sometimes raining sometimes snowing, but with no noticeable accumulation, I feel quite content here in my little house out in the cow field. Children are at Martha's, house is so quiet I can hear the ticking of the clock and the slurping of car tires passing by on our mud bog of a dirt road.

This morning, as Esther and Isla stood at the easel collborating on an acrylic paint masterpiece, I said to Isla, "Isla, you need to eat breakfast" and, without a moment's hesitation Isla said, "No. I need to paint." And that pretty much sums it up.

For more detailed information, look here and here.