Everyday · Random · Thursdays

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!

I don’t really dream. When I sleep, I sleep. Rarely do I dream. I am also not superstitious. That said I have had a few “mystical” experiences in my life. Nothing that can be explained really, just things that happen.  I do not appreciate these things and  I have had  a rush of them lately.

A girl I met, I little girl, who I am certain even now needed, needs help. But what can I do? What? I am a stranger and I know nothing of her, her family , her life. I know nothing except that she was in pain. And here, a week later I still think of her, I worry and hope that someone braver then I has noticed her pain, is giving her the sanctuary she needs.

And then a dream, a dream that comes three, four times a night. A vision? A premonition? An admonition? In my dream I am told in a matter of fact way something (something I don’t care to share) and my whole soul rebels against the very idea, I am awake and tired, exhausted. Two nights of sleeplessness. It is as if I am to be told until I except it, embrace it.

My wakened mind cries out “Bosh!”.

It frightens me none the less.

And then in life, in life, the real daytime moments, I am struggling to make sense of my new home, unpack, leave things the way they are until we get shelves up, wade through a bin of clothes until the dressers are moved. Departing from our traditional school for something basic and off track, but school nonetheless.  Feeling frustrated and impatient.

And muddled.

Halloween and not a costume is complete , I haven’t even begun. I mean to shuffle through the aisles of local shops everytime  I am out, but when I am out I just want to be home, so I look at my list and hurry through, bent on finding what I need.

Apparently routine, structure is more important to me then I knew.

I am tired.

I am washed ashore, on an island of beauty and promise, and I am frightened, clinging to the wreckage of my ship.

Today is a Thursday sort of day.



Goodbye old blue trailer.

We have one computer open for use right now. One. And it has been miserable and wonderful all at the same time.

We moved you see.

All of one foot over to the left.

We built a house right next to the mobile home my large family has been living in since 2003. So many years of squishiness and learning to love one another in the dark and cramped days of winter, and winter is coming. So we made the move. The house is not quite finished. It needs a few things, but it has the necessities, heat, electricity and plumbing. The holy trinity.

So we packed up and moved a foot to the left and all of everything is sitting in my living room and making life cluttery and chaotic. And often, as we tear through boxes looking for things, messy.

The desktop computers have not been set up yet. And we don’t have a tv. And all of the books are packed away, except for a few small piles littering the upstairs playroom.

My children have become fans of homemade paper dolls and board games. This is awesome, truly it is, but sometimes, when I am trying to organize things or clean up yet another mess I want a cartoon for the children, or me. Or all of us.  Wild Kratts or Martha. I miss sitting snuggled up on a rainy day watching something animated and munching on popcorn.

No. I miss the old, the predictable, the familiar.

I hate change, even wildly, amazing change. Right now I am completely alone. The children are all upstairs in their rooms and it is strange and different. I am so happy to be here of course. So excited for the many possibilities of my home, the plans I have to make it homey and comfy for my precious family.

I, in my crazy, anxious way, am sitting here sort of mourning the loss of my wretched and falling apart mobile home! I wouldn’t move back in if you paid me, but those walls held a lot of our life and now they are gone.

Pictures 1 494
My two eldest chicklets, now 12 and 11. One of the last pictures I took of them in our home in Nevada before the big move to Maine.

Have I mentioned how I abhor change?



Dear Diary….



This post contains nothing of merit or interest.

I awoke this morning, feeling my usual mix of anxious and…..anxious.

So freaking much can go wrong in a day,

My day starts with dirty diapers and ends with dirty diapers.

Somewhere in the middle is school, food, cleaning,

appointments, more food, dirty diapers, and finding a new hiding place for “Mr. Brown can Moo”.

When bedtime arrives (deep breathe in!) and everyone is full, clean and breathing and then at last….asleep,

I crawl into bed wondering how it all happened.

Taking care of eight children is exhausting.

Throw in a puppy and a husband who’s work hours are all over the place,

and the house. Oh. My. Gosh.

I live for the day when the think is DONE.

 It is a wonder I haven’t gone mad.

Oh wait.


Stress. And yet.

There are adorable chickadees and good music

and chocolate.


I am feeling mad hatter-ish and life is one whacked out, tea party.

Fortunately I happen to like tea parties.