Lent - Day 37

For sun-kissed cheeks:

For these brown eyes:

And for all of the Trucktown books:

Lent - Day 36

Good day. Sunshine.

My Pants, My Pants

It's official. My other "good" (this is a relative term) pair of pants has a hole in them. They are the only two pairs of pants that I wear, and now they both have holes in them and I don't even care.. I actually think I have another pair of pants lying around here somewhere, but I'm not sure where they are and I haven't found the time to initiate a search for them yet. That's right... I haven't found the time to open a drawer to see if I have a pair of pants in there. Shut up. It has taken me over five days to make a phone call during office hours. It is just hard to get little things done sometimes (like phone calls and looking for jeans).

I don't plan on shopping for a new pair of jeans either, because shopping is not my bag. I think Vernon would like me to dress better and look better than I do (because, believe it or not, I can actually pull off looking somewhat presentable if I put the effort into it), but most of the time I don't give a flying frick and just put on whatever my closet decides to throw up at me any given day. And I guess it is kind of sad that I dress up more for Mom's Night Outs than for anything that I do with Vernon right now. Poor guy. If only I looked more like this more of the time.
 
And my closet really is pathetic, people. I'm not kidding. I'll take a picture of it sometime and tell you all about the history behind every lame piece of clothing that I own. I really do want to throw everything away and just start all over... if I ever had the motivation to shop for new things in the first place, which I don't. Going into stores, looking at stuff, making decisions about what to get, spending money on it... really. I'd rather be sleeping (or pooping, or cooking, or daydreaming, or sweeping, or diving).

I do like to go to the mall on occasion and look at people, and loiter, and go to random stores with my kids. For instance, yesterday, I went to the mall with my kids and, literally, spent 15 minutes trying to get this ring on a hook.

That's what I do at a mall, people. That's how I choose to spend my time.

Also, closing point: Is it weird that I want to go to stores and try on Prom dresses?

Lent - Day 35

Vern's back.

Lent - Day 34

I love blessingways. This is from my wonderful friend Alyssa's. The web of sisterhood:

And the beads:

Lent - Day 33

Vernon is out of town, and before he went he left us with these:

The first time Vernon went out of town, he cried when he got back because we were supposed to be like Paul and Linda McCartney and never spend a night apart from each other (and because he especially missed the kids). It was very emotional stuff, people. Now, he goes out of town (to these chiropractic seminars and camps) about four or five times a year and it is totally not a big deal anymore. It is actually weird to think about how it was so emotional for us the first time.

I actually enjoy that he does all these things apart from me because when he comes back, he tells me all about it and it's really quite interesting hearing about what's going on within his chiropractic life and in the lives of all of his chiropractic friends. These are friends who I hardly even know in real life but feel like I know quite well in this story-telling life. I guess it is kind of akin to following somebody's blog, right?

Sometimes I feel left out, like when he comes home with goofy movies that he made with Dave's cell phone at the airport. It makes me think back to the times when WE used to make goofy movies at the airport. Or when he comes home with a video of him singing Under the Bridge in the van with a bunch of other people, and I am not there because I am here with the kids, and we are not singing Under the Bridge (although I should really teach it to them).

Lent - Day 32

For Simpsons chess:

Lent - Day 31

Nursing:

Lent - Day 30

For babywearing:

And the new (borrowed) Mei Tei, which I adore.

Lent - Day 29

Here are some things people have been typing (verbatim) into search engines and coming up with my blog (I did this once before):

The most popular thing is people just typing in GOOFY MAMA (or GOOFY MOMMA or GOOFY MOM BLOG, et al).

The second most popular thing is about putting something into a vagina (HOW TO GET HUSBAND TO PUT THINGS IN PU**Y, THINGS PUT IN A PU**Y, THINGS TO PUT IN VAGINA, I LOVE PUTTING THINGS IN MY VAGINA, et al).

The third most popular thing is SOUR CREAM LASAGNA.

And the fourth most popular thing is CAN I PUT COCONUT OIL INTO MY VAGINA?

Somebody typed in ALISON PAPA MURPHY once. 

Now, onto my picture of thankfulness for today... for the silly tricks Ezra does to make Peace laugh.

The People Who Read My Blog

I think I find it a bit disconcerting to hear about when people are reading my blog. I mean, I know you all are out there (I can see my site stats), but when people start talking about it to me it takes it out of the realm of a personal online journal into public one. I think I forget about this a lot of the time. This is probably a good thing because otherwise I would post about much less interesting stuff: Ezra rode a scooter today. Ocean drew a picture. Peace babbled. Boring.

Anywho, so I was reminded of this this past weekend when my brother-in-law (the one who tries to hug me and I run away) was talking about some stuff on my blog. And, I'm thinking, Hmm, I didn't really expect you to be reading my blog. I mean, there's nothing wrong with him reading my blog, I just didn't think it seemed like his type of thing. So, I know that there are others of you out there who are silently lurking on my blog, not posting comments back to me (which I love and encourage!), and I guess that's okay. I mean, yes, of course it's okay. After all, my ultimate goal is to have everybody in the world reading Goofy Mama, so it is certainly okay. I think it might be less weird when I imagine people I don't know reading my stuff instead of people that I do.

One person I know I don't want reading this blog under any circumstances is my father. Now, that just seems particularly awkward. So, if any of you out there who know me also happen to know my father, please don't give him this blog address. It's just better that way. He doesn't need to read about stuff Vernon has put into my vagina.

I don't mind that my mom reads it. I talk about stuff like this with her all the time (while she covers her ears and begs for me to stop.) I wouldn't mind if my beloved deceased Grandma Bucky read it (she loved my sense of humor). I don't mind that my sister reads it. I'm kind of weirded out by the fact that my mother-in-law might read this blog (I don't know if she does for sure, and I'm not going to ask), but it's the idea of my father reading it that really weirds me out and would probably stifle my creative process if I knew that he was reading it.

Lent - Day 28

This is the second day in a row where I have been super busy and haven't taken my camera with for any of it. Last night, I quickly took a picture of that glass of kombucha. Tonight, I went and took a picture of my husband reading books to the kids (because that is what I am thankful for today) but my camera battery went dead. So, I guess I have let myself (and all of my readers, who, I like to think, check my blog daily to read what wonderful thoughts and insights I have come up with for that day) down with my little Lenten experience.

But, instead of leaving you with no picture for today, I will leave you with this... which was the photo we used for our Christmas cards in 2003.

Lent - Day 27

For homemade kombucha...

Lent - Day 26

Today, I am thankful for our deck so that Peace can play outside without crawling away or putting grass / woodchips / sand in her mouth.

I am thankful for our trip to the park.

I am thankful for my kids who like to talk about things like airplane pilots, astronauts, fairies and farts instead of Super Mario Brothers, Kung Fu Panda and Dora the Explorer. I am thankful that my kids like to play in places like this:





















And do stuff like this:

I am thankful for this:

 And, lastly, for this:

Lent - Day 25

For the leprechaun who peed in our toilet:

Lent - Day 24

This picture...

I showered today and this is what my hair looks like after I shower and before it gets all greasy (or before I straighten it):

How Eating Out Is Like Having Sex

For Ocean's birthday, we ate out at the Rainforest Cafe. For my birthday, we ate out at Chili's. For the Oscars, we ate Papa Murphy's Pizza (as per tradition). That's three times in the past two weeks and it feels like overkill.

As most of you know, we eat an extremely healthy, whole-food type of diet here in our household (a Nourishing Traditions / Weston A. Price kind of thing). As I've said before, I don't eat healthy when I'm out of the house or over holidays and stuff like that. This amounts to maybe 5% of the time, during which, when I'm eating that way, I'll shout, "5 percent! It's 5 percent!" That way everybody will know how awesome I eat in my normal life and will thus allot me that 5 percent to indulge without judging me a hypocrite.

But eating out so much this month has made eating out feel less special. It's kind of that way with sex and showering too... the less you do it, the more special it feels when you finally do. I had posted about that sex poll in facebook the other week, and I swear, the only people who responded to it were those who were actually having sex on a regular basis. The average was probably around ten (which made my average of none-of-your-business-no-just-kidding-i'll-say-it-"three" seem kind of lame-o).

Lent - Day 23

A sleeping baby...

My Goofy Blog Title

I need to talk about the name of this blog.

Goofy Mama.

It's not the best name in the world, and anybody who knows me knows that I'm more of a Quirky Mama than a Goofy Mama.

The name quirkymama.blogspot.com had already been taken, so I couldn't use it. So then, I tried a couple of other names, like Crunchy Mama, Weird Mama, Quirky Mom... All taken.

Then I thought of (and this is the one I liked the best): Quirk (www.quirk.blogspot.com). But that was taken too! And THIS is what it looks like. It's horrible. This "Candice" lady has a single posting and she hasn't updated the site in 8 years. But, because of her, I wasn't able to use my most favorite blog name in the universe. Bah.

So, 3-1/2 months ago when I started this blog and I was trying to come with a name and everything I entered kept coming up as taken, I tried Goofy Mama, and it worked. I got super-excited that I finally found something that worked, so I jumped on it right away. So, now I'm stuck with Goofy Mama.

Two blogs that I visit frequently have the best names I've ever heard: I Just Like You and Alabaster Cow. I like saying the names of these blogs. I Just Like You describes the way the blogger feels about her husband and little daughter, and it's one of the most well-written, charmingly honest blogs I have ever read. The blog Alabaster Cow is hilarious and I just love the way the words Alabaster Cow roll off my tongue. It's a beautiful phrase. It reminds me of how I name my kids so that their middle names sound beautiful with their first names: Ocean Miranda Rose, Ezra Isaiah Jude, Peace Olivia Anne.

Back to my blog. Now let's talk about the avatar I picked out... the one with a good-looking animated replica of me holding a laundry basket. Again, if you know me (or, if you've been reading this blog regularly), you will understand how inane this is given the fact that I HARDLY EVER DO THE LAUNDRY. As I've said before, I let my kids (and myself) wear the same clothes for a looooooooooooooong time. This equates to me washing one overfilled load of laundry every two weeks or so. I am not kidding about this. (And don't even ask me about our sheets. You don't need to know how long they go without being washed.)

Vern doesn't like me to wash his clothes because when I throw them in the dryer, I always forget to take his shirts out and then they get all wrinkly. One time I did the laundry, and I actually REMEMBERED to take his shirts out and I said to him, "I did the laundry and I even took your shirts out of the dryer... like a good wife." And then we both laughed and laughed at the idea of me being a good wife. (Note: In the above illustration, the term "good wife" alludes to the idea of a woman who does all of the superficial womanly work in a household... like laundry, vacuuming, cooking, et al. It does not refer to anything that actually matters in the ways of a good wife, like whether or not I'm a good listener or that I'm good in the sack.)

So, as you can see, dear readers, my avatar is utterly senseless. And it doesn't express my goofiness (which, ideally, it should, so as to go with my unwelcomed Goofy Mama title). I will give this blog a complete overhaul one of these days. Or maybe I'll start something up in WordPress, if I can figure out how to navigate my way through WordPress. Maybe WordPress will have a Quirky domain name not in use...

We Went Swimming

We went swimming today where Vern goes to school. It was Peace's second time swimming. (She went last week for the YMCA's Open House, but they wouldn't allow us to take pictures there.)

And then we played in the gym for a bit:

Over Halfway Through Lent

So, I'm a little over halfway through Lent, where I'm doing this love/appreciation/thankful blog in photos thing, right? Well, I got to thinking about what MORE I could do for Lent. I actually think about what MORE I can do in terms of self-improvement a good deal of the time (and not just during Lent). I've read a bit about Alcoholics Anonymous (don't ask me why), and I think it is a remarkable program not only for dealing with alcohol problems, but in trying to be a better person as well. I think that sober people need an Alcoholics Anonymous to learn how to be better people. Just think about it... believing in a power greater than ourselves, asking forgiveness, taking responsibility for our lives, taking everything one day at a time and living in the present moment. We should all have support meetings to keep ourselves accountable for this type of behavior. Maybe I should start something... I could just call it Anonymous.

Anywho, so I am just using Lent as a catalyst for my self-improvement, and here were some other things I was thinking:

1) I could try to physically touch people more. I always said that I would be a midwife or doula if I liked to touch people more (AND look at vaginas). It just hasn't been my thing. I mean, I touch my hubby and kids enough (especially baby). But maybe I could make a concerted effort to try to touch other people more often (and by "touch", you all know what I mean, so don't go getting all weird about it and making jokes to yourself while you're reading this, okay). We are all connected, as wonderful, harmonious beings of this world, right? I should try to foster that connection and reach out to people more with a hug or a pat on the arm or something.

OR, now maybe this is a better idea, I could EMBRACE the side of me that doesn't like to touch people and just keep on living like I have been living. Yeah, I think I like that better. There is nothing WRONG with not being a toucher. There is nothing wrong with running into the other room every time my brother-in-law tries to hug me, so much so that it has become a running joke amongst us. I like this part of me.

Okay, so strike that, and let's move on to...

2) I could try to be less sarcastic. I still want to be FUNNY sarcastic, like when somebody posts a status update on Facebook that says, "...is busy studying tonight." and I respond with, "Is studying code for looking at dudes while choking yourself with a belt?"

But maybe I could do less of the MEAN funny. I don't always know where the line between FUNNY and MEAN sarcasm meet, so my husband is often reminding me.

One example I can think of (probably because it ended in such a monstrous argument between Vern and myself) was this:

I was 30 weeks pregnant with Peace (so let that serve as a reminder to you as to why I was extremely hormonal and moody when you read about that part later in this story). Vern's friend, Jake, has just run the Fargo 1/2 Marathon (an event I had run in the past) and it turns out that I ran it about 3 minutes faster than him. So, on his Facebook wall, I write, "I'm faster than you. Suck it."

Vernon happens to be reading this over my shoulder and tells me that he thinks what I wrote is mean. I tell him that I think it is hilarious and that it is just some good-natured ribbing. And he's, like, "But don't you think it's just a little bit mean?" And I'm, like, "No." And he's, like, "Really?" And then I'm, like, "No, it's funny! Why don't you think I'm funny anymore? You always used to think I was funny."

(Remember when Kathy Griffin won an Emmy for her reality show and in her acceptance speech she holds up the statue and says, "Suck it, Jesus. This is my God now!" Well, I say something to Vern about how he thought it was super-funny when Kathy Griffin said that, but if it had been me, he would have been offended and embarrassed by me. And he's, like, "Yeah, probably.")

So, I am completely annoyed by him and the fact that he doesn't think that I'm funny, and I storm out of the house. I drive to the movie theater in hopes of maybe seeing a movie (so then he can really know how upset I am and wonder where I've been for so long!), but I don't really find anything I want to see except for maybe the new STAR TREK, but then I don't feel like seeing that either, so I just drive back home and cry myself to sleep.

See... all of this because of my sarcasm, people.

Oh, and here are some more examples of my mean sense of humor:

At a high school basketball game, I told a friend of mine that "Bon Appetit" meant "Good Luck" in French. She believed me and went around yelling "Bon Appetit" the whole game.

At a friend's house in high school, my other friend asked where the bathroom was. I told her that it was the first door on the right, even though I knew full well that it was the second door on the left. So, my friend ended up walking into the master bedroom where my other friend's mom was taking off her shirt and getting into her pajamas. (In my defense, I had no idea that her mom was in there.)

Okay, I'm still kind of laughing about those, so I guess I'm not fully cured yet.

Maybe this Lent will help with that.

Lent - Day 22

I had ordered new checks awhile ago, and I just ran out of the old ones today so I forgot all about what I ordered the new ones to look like. I usually like to do something cheeky with ordering checks, because I think it's funny. For instance, one time I ordered us Harley Davidson checks just because it was the most ironic check design I could find. Ha ha. Hilarious, right?

Well, after seeing the checks this time, I remembered what I had done and it made me smile. See, there was a spot on the checks where you could add another line of text for free. I couldn't think of anything witty or sarcastic to write at the time (unbelievable, I KNOW!), so I asked my kids what I should write.

Here is what they came up with:

My daughter said, "Hi, this is a check." And my son said, "Pizza healthy."

Am I the only one who does weird things like this or do others as well? Please answer. I'm genuinely curious.

Speaking of weird things that I do, my kids are invited to a birthday party next week so they are going to miss Sunday (Saturday) School. I told my kids that they could mention to their teacher that they are going to be gone. "And then," I said, "Say to her: 'It's because we love birthday parties more than we love Jesus.'"

Lent - Day 21

I love my homemade pizza. Here is the recipe:

Mix 2-3/4 cup freshly ground hard red winter wheat with 2 T vinegar and 1-1/4 cup water. Soak overnight.
Grease 13x18 in cookie sheet with coconut oil and spread the wheat dough onto it.

Then, I used to mix up my own pizza sauce using a 14 oz can of tomato sauce (2 tsp oregano, 1 tsp garlic, 1/2 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp pepper), but since we shouldn't be eating canned tomatoes anymore, the only solution I can find for tomatoes in a glass jar is in the form of spaghetti sauce. I guess I could use fresh tomatoes, but I haven't done that yet. So, for now, I'm just using some organic spaghetti sauce. Spread that over the crust.

Add some spinach leaves.

Then, grate 8 oz. of raw cheese, and add that.

Lastly, dice a red pepper and slice a red onion and top the pizza with that. Bake at 425 degrees for 15 minutes. It's yummy.

Lent - Day 20

Wow. Halfway through Lent, and I'm still at it. Good for me.

It is Ocean's birthday today, so it is obvious what I am thankful for. Here is what we did:

And here is my husband, just because he is gorgeous:

Lent - Day 19

There is this park where we live that has a bunch of woods beside it. About two years ago, we went into the woods and built a fairy house. It is still there today. 

The Sex Blog

I posted another one of my polls on facebook: How many times do you have sex a month? (I just want to see if I'm normal.)

Sexual talk aside, I would be hard-pressed to find anyone who considers me "normal". After all, I think about all sorts of weird things, right? Things like the frequency of one's sexual encounters, Japanese clown porn, coconut oil lubricants, what kind of lover my high school shop teacher was, and magician sex.

These are the things that get the most attention (and what inevitably make people ask What the heck is up with her anyway? Is she on meds?), but I think about non-sexual related weird things as well. Things like whether or not people buy new underwear when they're pregnant, what doorknobs smell like, and why people would chose to have their gallbladder removed.

But... back to the sex talk. I guess I don't see it as a big deal to talk about any of this. It is the disconnection, secrecy and non-communication that goes on in this world that keeps all of us as humans isolated from one another. Why would I want to encourage that? Let's all join together and talk about everything! Let's talk about Japanese clown porn! Let's talk about what goes behind closed doors!

Maybe if somebody had told me about sexual lubricants 11 years ago, the honeymoon of Allison and Vernon would have been a lot less awkward. I'm just saying.

And let's talk about other things too... like the birth industry, how children learn, and the healthcare paradigm. 

So, dear internet, I am doing all of you a favor by writing about all of this. And I don't care what you think of me, because you are all just a part of my Matrix anyway.

Lent - Day 18

I am thankful for this monthly meal calendar that I write up so I don't have to think about what to make for supper the day of.

The Matrix

Sometimes when I'm nervous about doing something, I will pretend my life is The Matrix... that there is nothing to be nervous about because none of what I'm doing here really matters and that my actual life is really just me looking down on it all.

Which, I suppose, it kind of is, right?

Lent - Day 17

Leftovers

Lent - Day 16

Board games

Something My Son Said

Interesting story about something my son said the other day...

See, we were (note the past tense) reading this children's book called Strawberry Hill by Mary Ann Hoberman. It was a book written for ages 8 and up, probably. It was set in the era of the Great Depression, and was a about a young girl who moved into a new neighborhood in Connecticut. Well, there was this incident in this book where this young girl was called a "dirty Jew" by a neighbor. I knew I shouldn't have read that part out loud the minute it left my lips. Believe me, I am the type of person who believes in the power of words and in editing what I read to my children. For instance, when I read books that have the word "stupid" in them, I change it to "silly" because I don't like my kids to hear the word "stupid" (or "hate" or "fat" or "dumb" or "idiot").

So, anyway, I read the part about "dirty Jew" and pretended like it wasn't a big deal, even though it was obviously a big deal because they then went on to deal with it in the story.

Well, cut to yesterday, and you all know where I am going with this.

Ezra starts calling his baby sister a dirty Jew. And cut to me freaking out at him and talking about the power of words and how he should never, ever say anything like that because it is one of the worst things anybody could ever say to anybody else (next up, ladies and gents, how 'bout he learns the N word?). And cut to Ezra being amused by my antics and continuing to call baby Peace a dirty Jew because of it.

Ugh.

So, we're not reading that book anymore and it's been a day and Ezra seems to have forgotten about it, so I think we're out of the woods. Hopefully he won't ever remember it and say it in public. That would be mortifying.

Lent - Day 15

I think Peace has my sister's tongue. Peace:

My sister:

I just love all of Peace's little tongue antics:

Vernon