SPD

Hungry at Midnight

That's the trouble with shift work, even the minimalist version that I participate in.
I'm hungry when I get home. And I'm energized, and exhausted, and usually sweaty with frozen nose and frozen toes, and all the while, I am looking at the clock, realizing just how soon these kidlets are going to get up and be their calm selves, until Papa goes to work, at which precise instant they magically turn into clingmuffins and warwagers.

And I'd write more, but my fingers are all cracked (already!) and I need to focus on being sullen as the snow outside the window turns in to bleak rain.

The In-Between

Rainy November is ick. Snowy November is lovely and cozy and makes me want to work on Christmas presents.

This November? It rains after it snows, every time. That's just nasty. But the few hours of snow we have are lovely.

That said, until the snow came (and went, and came again, and then resigned itself to huddling in a sodden heap), we had a nice November, with lots of outside play. See?

No, those aren't my boys up there - we lured the neighbour's girls out on a windy, brisk day, which meant we ended up at the maddening toy hell that the bookstore has become, but we still got to see this:

Sometimes I wonder what a blog entry would look like if I didn't write them all in these minute snatches of inattention and mess-making. At present, one is in the bathroom, and the other is making playdough destruction on the table. I forgot to add the salt to one batch, so they're eating it, despite shunning their breakfast.

How can someone so cute be so wild?

A Tiny Moment

A tiny moment is really all it takes to start a blog post...yet lately, they seem so few that I tend to indulge in other things. Like tea. No day is complete without tea. Lots of it.

Those of us with kidlets, who have any sort of a blog, or Facebook, must make at least an oblique reference to Hallowe'en, or any of the other celebrations that conveniently fall at the end of October. Really. It's a law somewhere, I'm sure of it.

It's a funny celebration, Hallowe'en. It brings out the differences in parenting philosophy out there - though really, what doesn't? Some people make their own costumes, relentlessly, with homespun fibers from organic happy sheep and spiders and the like...some buy something cute and Disney at WalMart. (And I don't try to spell it like that out of some respect for the shop-ocracy that it is, I just try to spell things correctly. It's a tic.) And there's the candy side of it too. Home made agave syrup sweetened pumpkin cookies? Or a pillowcase full of candy to do with what you will? Hide the candy that night? Trade it for something more wholesome? Dole it out one piece at a time?

Thank god for instinct, or we'd all go crazy. As in, my instinct is to wing it.

(though none of the costumes in our house had wings, even though one of us was a crow).

In other news: I'm still thinking about going to one of those blog-hosty places, like typepad or the like, so I too, can have comments on my blog. Or lack of comments. Long story this is not possible here. There is so much on my list ahead of that...send off the beloved Elph for repairs (argh). Finish blanket out of quilt squares I made TEN years ago. Make Sebastien's requested witch hat. Figure out how to sew annoyingly stretchy velvet into the scarf I can see in my mind for a birthday that is seven days in the past, and 4000 km away. Drink tea.
and so on....