World Food Crisis

If you haven't read the stories under the dire headlines, you should. Here's one from Time magazine online, regarding the World Food Programme (a U.N. agency) and its recent inability to distribute enough food to the poorest populations. Astronomical oil prices and the use of grain crops for biofuels worldwide have exacerbated shortages in money and food. What can we do about it? Any ideas?

'Cause That's Just How His Mind Works

My son (turning five this July) will rarely relinquish control of, well, anything. I find myself wresting items from his hands many times per day when requests to "put that down" fall on deaf ears. Interested in trying ANYTHING to stem the tidal wave of contrariness, we (re)instituted a token/reward system the other day to motivate two specific behaviors: exiting the car in the driveway and coming into the house in a timely fashion, and pottying when Daddy or I ask. I just used potty as a verb. To potty. The word has obviously lost all of its original--and hideous--meaning and taken on a wacked life of its own. I'm doomed.

Anyhoo. Back to the intransigent one. See? I made up for the potty thing before you could bat an eyelash. He earned two tokens right away and traded them in for a balsa glider. Today he has a grand total of four tokens. He can get a better toy/activity/experience than an old glider by trading in FIVE tokens. So this afternoon, as he danced and hopped and leaped and held in that waste, I said, "Go to the potty, boy!"

He replied, as he has for YEARS, "No. I don't need to." Leap. Leap. Hop. Hop. Clutch.

Veeeeery enticingly, I said, "You can earn one more token! That's all you need to get a BETTER toy!!!"

"No thanks." Hop. Clutch. Sprint.

Hehe. I should write a book on child rearing. Really I should. It will be called, "Everything you told me I should try and I did didn't work so please why don't you take my child for two weeks and when you yourself find that your methods are shite then I promise not to say I told you so when you return him to me." Would you buy that? Maybe Oprah could have me on. I suppose those child-rearing methods work for the kids in the middle. But my child isn't typical. Not average by any stretch.

This is a little song he wrote about a month ago.

(He's obviously into really short phrasings.) The lyrics, in case you couldn't tell from his atrocious spelling, are "Die die die die die die die." I'm sure you did divine that the title of this ditty is Poopy. Or perhaps I should let his spelling stand. More poetic. And he is definitely all that, AND a bag of chips.

edited to add: Please don't be the person who thinks I'm serious when I call his spelling atrocious.

It Isn't Supposed to Be This Way

It is difficult for me to admit, and even more difficult to reason why, that on the two days per week when both of my children attend morning preschool, I have a much more difficult time dealing with them later in the day.

No, it's not them, it's ME. You would think that a rest from both dervishes, a moment to myself to think, some quality caffeine, and maybe a pastry, would allow my brain cells time to hang out, refuel, then regroup when it's time to become Mommy again. But NO. My best guess is that my brain cells GET USED to being their own bosses for several hours, and loudly REBEL when any one shows up to prove otherwise. Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are my WORST MOMMY TIMES EVER. I snap, growl, yell, and when the kids are in another room, curse like the sailor I never was. I madly telegraph an SOS to my husband at work--send pizza, send a nanny, send a man with a butterfly net. ANYTHING, but just get me away from these kids. Oh, and these dogs too.

It's Thursday night. He brought home pizza an hour and a half earlier than he usually gets home. The husband is bathing the troops. And yet, my FUCKING DOG KEEPS BARKING AT ME AND SCRATCHING UP THE FUCKING UPHOLSTERY. AND YES THERE IS A DRIED PUDDLE OF PEE HERE IN MY STUDY THAT HASN'T BEEN CLEANED UP FROM WHEN HUSBAND FOUND IT THIS MORNING BECAUSE THE SPRAY BOTTLE OF ENZYME CLEANSER FELL BEHIND THE CHEST FREEZER IN THE GARAGE THE OTHER DAY AND I DON'T HAVE STRETCH ARMSTRONG ARMS TO GET BACK THERE AND RETRIEVE IT. OH AND THEN IT NEEDS TO BE REFILLED ANYWAY FROM THE 2 GALLON CONTAINER WITH THE FUNNEL.

Okay. I think I'll go figure out the spray bottle situation right now. I feel a little better having gotten that off my chest. And I'm going to put the goddamn dog in his crate. Which is IN MY STUDY. AAAAARGHH!!!

Let's See

We have our Radiohead tickets for August 12. Lawn/general admission, but at least we got some. The Wire Season 5 comes out on DVD the same day. What more could a girl want?

D mowed the lawn today for the first time in 2008. I raked and cleaned the back patio a couple days ago. We're almost ready for spring.

I washed and hung up/put away all the winter coats, mittens, and hats for next year. My car's trunk is full of outgrown clothing, most of which will go to Goodwill. A select few pieces for spring and summer I will try to consign tomorrow.

About two weeks from now, it will be time to clean and put up the winter clothes. Then I can get a glimpse at how measly my summer wardrobe is. It's probably good that I have no shorts, since my legs are the color of wallpaper paste.

Waiting, waiting, waiting to hear back from the school district about N's placement in a gifted class this fall. Turns out our district is facing budget cuts for the same time. So the question of N's test score may be moot if the gifted program is axed.

Still collecting ingredients and ideas for Elimination Diet '08. I lack guar gum. I know I can order it direct from Bob's Red Mill, but I'm still on the lookout for it locally, to save on shipping. Does cream of tartar go bad? I'll need that to make my own baking powder, but I'm worried that my little container container of cream of tartar must be about ten years old.

Keep on, folks.