allergic to my living room

Just a little while ago I tucked Wesley into his bed and gave him a goodnight kiss. I walked into the kitchen where my sweet husband was cleaning up while talking to our 10-year old nephew who spent hours at our house this weekend on approximately 8 separate trips (he made the short journey by bike to talk about fishing, or fly tying, or fish, or how cool he is, or fishing, or how he gave himself bruises while trying to perfect a triple gainer with a twist off my swingset, or to eat a dozen of my Snickerdoodles...).

Anyway.

I love this part of the night -- when the kids have just gone to bed and the rest of the evening is ahead of us. This part of the night is much better than say, the part of the night where you finish playing Mah Jongg and look at the clock, only to realize it's 10:47 and you just wasted your entire evening and didn't even win a single game. Oops.

I took a deep breath to relax, and walked into the living room to tidy the pillows and sit down for a bit. The setting sun poured through our front window, making everything glow. Then I noticed...

Ahhhh!!! I'm totally freaking out right now. My skin is crawling. My insides are spasming. I'm throwing up a little bit in my mouth. Pollen completely covering my adorable coffee table/ottoman/bench. Whatever the heck it is -- it's not really vital to this story.

Apparently, if you're wondering, pollen is much smaller than the holes in screen doors -- which is not very good news if you live in a hotbed of plant reproduction. A tree lovefest. Fruit trees, and crazy aspen or birches that have dangly pods and fluffity bits of cotton that sail through the air a la mid-May snowstorm.

Also, in case you're wondering, pollen doesn't adhere to rags. Even if you spray it with furniture spray first. The towel just pushes it around, and it all just falls onto the floor to be kicked up again the next time someone walks through. I was disgusted, I was angry, I was sneezing.

I stood up and looked around, trying to brainstorm a better way to take care of this mess. And I saw pollen coating the mantle, the end tables, the rocking chair...

I blacked out at that point. Anyone have ideas to help me clean up this mess?

photo confessions & love connections

I'm no photographer; it's definitely not one of my countless talents, teehee. I've thought about taking a class or reading a book or engaging a talented loved one in discussion and attempting to learn by osmosis -- like my sister Buffy who struggles with the whole "updating" concept but takes very cool pictures nonetheless. Buffy's husband is a fancy trained photojournalist who is very talented as well, and both my parents know their way around a camera. I don't know what happened with me -- apparently this is a recessive gene and I got the genetic shaft.

One of my favorite blogs, The Pioneer Woman, has a photography section with plenty of seemingly user-friendly tutorials for people like me who struggle. I don't know though, everytime I go to that area of her site I just look at the pretty pictures. When my eyes happen upon a word like "aperture" they glaze over and I start to hyperventilate. So maybe I'm not ready to take the big leap.

The whole point I'm driving at is that I always want to post photos, and I know people want to see photos, but most of my photos.... are bad photos! Oh well. I did take a couple while my boys were doing their favorite thing (or maybe it's just MY favorite thing for them to do)... playing outside!

This is what most playtime looks like -- except most of the time one of them is on the ground complaining about how the other pushed them, or hit their elbow, or took their hat off, or stole their spot on the slide. (In Wesley's case, it mostly just sounds like whines... but I'm sure he's thinking the same things)

This? Has never happened before. Will probably never happen again. It was sheer dumb luck that I was holding the camera at this brief moment in time where my two boys walked hand-in-hand, with nary a whine or a cry. It was beautiful. I shed a tear.

You've probably gathered this already, but this is not one of my boys. It's our backyard squirrel, who was recently widowed and who has looked so lonely lately. I can't help but feel bad for him and his lost squirrel love -- so I thought I'd work on making a love connection on his behalf.

WMS (widowed male squirrel) looking 4 love. Do u like birdseed thievery, running thru trees, & burying shiny things? This could be your lucky day! No kids.

pretty flowers

Aidan just ran into the kitchen, decked out in sunglasses (mine) and shoes without socks (socks can be hard for a 3 year old, okay?)

He said: "I am ready to go outside and pick you a pretty flower!"

lesson learned

Okay. I totally jinxed myself, spoke to soon, forgot to knock on wood, whatever. This week was great until this morning. Today has been a little bit hairy, but we are hanging in there (barely) and neither of the kids have been given to the circus so that's something, right? And Mike comes home tonight. Phew. We're in the homestretch!

I would be so bad at being a real single parent. I'm too much of a wuss. Next time Mike goes out of town (June) I will be posting a sign-up sheet for volunteer parenting shifts / lucky visitors to our home. I expect all of you to do your part for the greater good -- so please, go ahead and mark that 4th week of June off your calendar right now. I'll wait.

...seriously. Have you done it?