Some shots from a school trip to Europe when my husband was obviously extremely, extremely young. And cute. And AWOL from the cast of 21 Jump Street. See more babyDaddy here.

See the rest on my Flickr stream.

I’m having one of those days where I want to chuck it all and escape.

I’d take the kids and husband with me - leave the house, the dogs and most of our things. Escape to a tropical isle where we’d RENT a bungalow on the beach. I’d never vacuum again.

I had the carpets cleaned on Tuesday. I found a pee puddle about ten minutes ago. So that was, what, 2 days? It makes me want to tear my hair out.

Since I refuse to spend real money on anything other than major home renovations or car repairs, shopping for summer shoes has been a bit trickier than normal. But! I prevailed and found two good pairs. 35$ and 23$.

I watched “The Never Ending Story” with Toot this past weekend. Initially, she was disinterested - what with the main character being a boy and all. I told her there was an EMPRESS and ADVENTURE and A DRAGON - this won her interest, provisionally at least, so she settled on my lap. We got to the Ivory Tower and Atreyu’s first appearance and she was suddenly riveted.

Who was that girl? Why did she have that pretty necklace? Why are those snakes eating each other?

I explained the ouborous and left the gender identifiers alone.

We happily watched the rest of the movie, pausing occasionally to talk about why that girl’s horse got stuck in the mud, why that girl was sad and would that wolf eat the girl? Today she asked if we could watch “that movie about the girl with the white horse” again. I’m pretty comfortable with this interpretation of the narrative. Maybe it’s time to bust out Zena: Season 1. (Toot is already a Buffy fan.)

a post from N.D. Wilson, children’s author:

“I have children, I love children, and imaginations need food. The world is big. The world is wonderful. But it is also terrifying. It is an ocean full of paper boats. For many children, the only nobility, the only joy, the only strength and sacrifice that they see firsthand comes in fiction. Even when children have plenty of joy in their lives, good stories reinforce it. As long as I’m dealing in honesty, I may as well admit that I have been more influenced (as a person) by my childhood readings of Tolkien and Lewis and and than I have been by any philosophers I read in college and grad school. The events and characters in Narnia and Middle Earth shaped my ideals, my dreams, my goals. Kant just annoyed me.”

I always enjoyed Kant but I get what he’s saying. Well told stories are always more powerful than dry scholarship.

My friend Nancy sent me a link this morning to Detour Magazine. I see the cover story and begin a round of kicking-my-own-ass. See, last year at about this time, I had an idea for a story. Indie Parenting. I had just read Neal Pollack’s “Alternadad”. I was thinking about kiddie indie rock bands like Smoosh and Tiny Masters of Today. I decided my piece would start with a profile of the folks at Sweet Juniper. They’re super authentically indie. Too cool for school. (Deny it, Jim. I dare you.) I’d follow it with a general take on the “phenomena” of indie parenting. Does “indie” mean anything? If it does, does it inform parenting in any way? Why does “indie parenting” seem to work in a way “gothic parenting” just doesn’t?

I pitched the story to an editor and got the go ahead. I talked to Jim. I did some research. Aaaand then the mental bullshit started. Long story short, I basically thought myself out of writing the story. I was paralyzed. Did I have any business writing a piece on a parenting “style” I am definitely not a part of? Did I have enough material? How should it start? I came up with every stupid objection and concern my trembling subconscious could manufacture and I utterly flaked.

Detour Mag’s short piece on indie parents and music has got me thinking again. About the topic, sure - but also about self-sabotage. Going forward, how do I make sure that I take my opportunities when they arise and avoid shooting myself in the foot? What do you think?

The first picture is how the kitchen looked when we moved in almost four years ago. The second picture is how it looks today. My Christmas present from my parents was All The Time It Takes For Grandpa to Fix the Kitchen Wall. This is how far he’s gotten with 2 full days of work. My dad rules.

This set shows our progress. We took down the cabinets (ewww, it was nasty back there), knocked down the wall and then my dad came and did all the hard stuff like moving electrical and plumbing. During his second visit, he finished the electrical, put up new drywall and mudded. He also made the wood topper for the half wall. A few more coats of drywall mud, some sanding and we’ll be ready for paint. We need to save a few grand so we can get new countertops, backsplash and cabinet doors. I think I’m going to go for cabinet doors like this (they cover the entire cabinet) and we’ll have all the cabinets refinished to some uniform color.

Friends and relatives of mine go to see Watchmen on opening night. In an audience composed of adults and young adults, the lone 6 year old sticks out like a sore thumb. He is attending with his mother.

So who watches the Watchmen? Apparently, kindergardeners.

Despite my best efforts, I still curse in front of my kids. We watch too much t.v. Toot is obsessed with ‘Once More With Feeling’ and The Boy is often encouraged to beat on his father for entertainment. Do I have any business judging the mother who brings her kid to an R-rated movie? I freely admit that I think I do. Make of that thought (and the grammar of that last sentence) what you will.