A Grim Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, there was a young couple. They were newly married and eager to start their life together. They wanted to buy a house so that they would have room for the family they wanted to start.

They searched high and low throughout the villages of Milwaukee and Wauwatosa. They looked at many houses but they could not find the right one. This one was too small. That one was too big. This one was in bad shape. That one was too expensive.

No house was just right.

They were very discouraged but they kept looking, knowing that they would find the house that was just right for them.

Finally they found it. It had the right number of bedrooms and bathrooms. It had a finished basement. It was the perfect house and there was much rejoicing.

However, the house was not perfect. It was an old house. It was a cranky house. The house was under a spell that masked its imperfections.

Once the couple moved into their dream house, the spell was broken and the imperfections were revealed. First the furnace broke in the middle of winter. Then the water heater died. The roof leaked. The electrical system needed updating.

The couple was discouraged but they persisted. This was their house and they would fix the problems. And they did. All was right with the house and there was much rejoicing.

Then the upstairs shower started leaking and could not be used. The couple had expanded their family to include a little girl. They needed to have two working bathrooms so they made plans to re-do the bathroom. And it was good.

The house, on the other hand, did not care much for the couple's plans. In fact, the house had nefarious plans of its own. It allowed water to leak into the basement, right into the area where the little girl liked to play.

The couple was sad, they could no longer use their finished basement. The house laughed at their sadness. Chaos ruled their lives for a while. The repairs took forever. First, leak was repaired. Then the walls were fixed. But it was still not done.

The couple was worried. Their family was expanding. A little boy would be joining the family very soon. They knew they had much work to do to make the house ready for him.

The basement problems were tackled once again. The ceiling tiles were replaced. The floor was torn up and redone. The couple could see the light at the end of the tunnel. They could envision their children playing in the newly remodeled basement. They were happy. There would be much rejoicing . . .

Then the furnace broke again and the couple was sad.

The house laughed at their sadness. The house mocked their hope. It shook its fist at their plans and cackled "I will never be done. I will never be fixed. You will spend your entire lives trying but just when the end is near, I will break something else. I am the CrapShack and those that live within my walls are destined to be sad."

To be continued . . .

I Don't Want To Love You Right Now

It started so simply. A day at the dino museum. We saw dinos and bugs and butterflies. We bought a strawberry candy stick and her lips and face turned pink from eating it.

Maybe it was the sugar, maybe not.

The trip to the gift shop resulted in running and ears falling off. She would not stop running despite repeated requests that she stop. So she was carried out of the store without a little dino trinket.

We made it home with no further incidents. But then naptime came, and so did the tears. The tears came fast and hot. With them came screaming. Non-stop. So I made a visit to her room in an attempt to calm her, to soothe her.

As I lay in her little bed, my body contorted into an awkward position, I assured her that we loved her. "No you don't. You don't love me." Yes we do. We always love you. I showed her the heart I had made for her so she would know that I've loved her always and I would love her forever.

She clutched the heart but repeated her denials. "You don't love me." Why would you say that? "Because I don't want to love you right now."

Her words hit me like an open hand. "I don't want to love you."

I know that I am not the first mother to hear these words from her daughter. I know that this will probably not be the last time I hear these words from Bunny. I understand that her words were motivated by frustration and anger.

But those words hurt.

The day did not improve from there. Sassiness insued. Ears were not reattached. Hand actually struck face (hers to Bub's face). Toys were taken away.

Finally, slowly, the equilibrium was restored. Apologies were issued. Ears were firmly placed back on her head. I love yous were exchanged. Hugs and kisses were given. My heart was soothed.

Please Help If You Can

I feel so silly that I posted a request for votes in the Blogger's Choice Awards. That was just to stroke my ego, to make me feel appreciated. It is not important.

What is important is that my blog friends, Mike and Heather Spohr, are buring their sweet little Maddie on Tuesday. Of course our hearts go out to them and families like them who face these horrible tragedies. What can we do in times like these?

We can help them.

Last fall, Heather was laid off from her job and had been caring for Maddie full time. Mike is an independent contractor. Due to this tragedy he is not working. They have no income and now they have to pay for their daughter's funeral.

The wonderful Meghan of A Mom Two Boys has set up a paypal account to help with the funeral expenses. I know that times are tough all around. However, I am asking you to help if you can. Even a donation of $1 or $5 would help.

If you would like to donate, please click the link on the right. Thank you.


Photo courtesy of Maddie's mom, Heather

Misty Watercolored Memories

(Sorry to put that song in your head, well not really because its been in mine for a while now.)

When we become new parents we take photo after photo of our children. We document their every move. Each new stage is greeted with a production worthy of a Hollywood movie. We need to record it. We want to preserve these moments for eternity.

Why do we do this? Is it so we can show our children, when they are older, what perfect angels they were? Is it so we can embarrass our children, when they are older, by showing their friends and dates all the cute bath pictures? Is it so we can, when they are older, remember that they were small and cute and loved us unconditionally, not just when they want the car? Is it so that we can, when we are older, remember that we were once young and had no clue what to do?

Whatever the reason we cherish these photos (and videos). But the advent of the digital camera has created a problem. Sure you can take tons more pictures and you don't have to wait a week to see them. You can download them to your computer and share them with friends (and virutal friends) around the world with just a click of a button.

But what about when the unthinkable happens? What if your computer hard drive crashes before you've had a chance to back up your photos? They are gone, gone, gone. Sure you could spend a few thousand dollars to try and recover the photos but there is no guarantee that it will work.

This horrible problem happened to me. My computer crashed last spring. I waited and waited to get it fixed thinking that someone could help me recover the photos. I had a year and a half worth of photos of Bunny there. My heart broke.

Sure I'd printed out a few, but not enough. I was also lucky that my father has taken a bazillionty photos of her since she's been home. So we do have a record of most of the major events. But I don't have that many pictures of our trip to China. The trip where we became a family. That killed me.

I blogged our trip in real time and posted a few pictures of each day there. Another family had sent us a disc with pictures of her. So that was something. But was it enough? Will she be upset or angry with me if I don't have a photographic record of the trip? Will the video, the blog recollections and the few pictures be enough? I just don't know.

So here I am still waiting to get the hard drive replaced. I am leaning more and more towards replacing it. We need to have that computer back. I know that is the right thing to do. But still I wonder, should I make another attempt to recover the photos?

What would you do in my situation?

Broken Hearts and Bee Stings

Let's just get this out there, I do not like bugs. Insects, arachnids and their bretheren just creep me the hell out.

I can admire them for the engineering marvels that they are. I mean how the heck do those bumble bees fly and the spiders spin those amazing webs? But that is the extent of my good feelings towards the creepy crawling, hopping and flying little buggers goes.

But yesterday my feelings towards bugs took an interesting turn.

Bunny is in love with Miss Spider's Tea Party by David Kirk. She requests the book all the time and even "reads" it in bed. Needless to say she was over the moon when we discovered the Miss Spider show on Noggin. As far as she is concerned this show should be on a constant loop at our house.

I like the show too. Good animation and the cute little bugs teach good stories about how to treat others. As far as I am concerned these cartoon bugs are the only bugs I like.

Until yesterday. Yesterday I was cursing David Kirk and whoever green lit the cartoon. They caused me to break my daughter's heart.

Bunny was over tired at naptime. She did not want to sleep, all she wanted to do was watch Miss Spider. And I wouldn't let her until after she took a nap. But she wouldn't sleep. All I heard were repeated requests to watch Miss Spider over the monitor.

After listening to this for over almost an hour an a half, it was clear there would be no nap. So, begrudginly, I retreived her from her room. Bunny thought this meant she could watch Miss Spider. But I did not want to give in so I put my foot down and said no.

This caused a major over tired breakdown. Bunny started sobbing with tears streaming down her face. "Please momma. Please watch Miss Spider momma. I said please momma." Her heart was breaking and so was mine. She asked so politely, it was all she wanted. But I was mean and would not give in.

I know this was the best thing for her but her tired little brain could not wrap itself around this. All she knew was that her mother was denying her the only thing in the world she wanted. I felt terrible.

But her heartbreak was short lived, mine was not. She was diverted by grapes and juice and the promise of the pool. As I watched her splashing in the pool and running through the sprinkler I thought about how I'd let her down. I thought about the many times I would let her down in the future and my heart broke some more.

It was about that time when I saw a wasp buzzing around the backyard. I started freaking out. Of all the bugs, I hate the stinging kind the most. I had these terrible visions of Bunny being stung, of having to take her to the emergency room, of, well, even more horrible things than that.

I knew I couldn't let her get hurt but I didn't want to drag her away from the pool and disappoint her once again. So I kept an eye on the wasp. I even positioned myself between her and the wasp, thinking he wouldn't come near the water. Right? Wrong. Apparently he was thirsty and thought the puddles near the pool were a nifty place to hang out. Yikes.

So I, in my bug fearing brain, knew I needed to get her out of there. I knew she'd see the wasp and want to go in for a better look. I was afraid her movements would spook the wasp and . . . well not good. So I wrapped her in a towel and took her in the house.

After a few squawks of protest, she was happily watching Miss Spider in the living room. Her heart was content. And mine was healed by a icky stingy wasp who reminded me what was important.