Commercials

So for some reason, this note will not publish to my friends' feeds. I wonder why? I'm trying again by posting it to my blog.

So my kids have always been happy watching Nick Jr, upon which they do not show commercials (except maybe for other Nick shows, but not for STUFF.) Lately, though, they are too grown for the channel. Dora, Yo Gabba Gabba, Max & Ruby, Olivia-- our staples for years-- just not cool enough for my big kids. Sigh.

Now, Sean wants "Cartoon Network". Maia just wants to watch things like Spy Kids (movie) and/or Alvin & the Chipmunks or Mr. Popper's Penguins. (And dear Spy Kids, thanks for teaching my aspie the phrase Butt Head. Love, Me.)
The problem with Cartoon Network is that they show a bajillion commercials for CRAP. Tub Goo that makes your bathtub into a swamp (I suspect it's some kind of gelatin...) faux Build A Bears, those stomper slippers... etc.

And on Cartoon Network they have this lovely little thing:
It's funny. I actually kind of like it. But add repetetive song to kid with Asperger's and imagine someone waking at 5 AM singing this song over and over again. Yeah. FUN!! (NOT).

And dammit, Barnes & Noble, I liked going to the bookstore because Yeah, I had to fight off a few book related toys, especially with Maia, who wants every stuffed animal on the planet. But now I have to fight an entire Freaking SECTION of toys before I get to the kids books. Toys they WANT NOW and MUST HAVE OR THEY WILL DIE!!!!!!!!!!!

Le Sigh. Le Wah. It's the battle of the modern parent, and I understand it, but I long for the innocent days of Nick Jr, and being able to blithely pretend that all those crappy toys out there did not exist.

Fall

the morning is cool

the grass is wet

summer has let go, finally.

the sunlight is somehow slanted

its intensity simpler, soft.

I dreamed of small mice hiding. 

Of water rising and covering everything.

Of my mother, and planting trees.

If there are any fairy tales in this,
they are the kind that do not end with an easy moral.

Kaw  Oct 2011

1988

I am not in this picture.

That girl is not me.

I've met her, but she never likes me, at
first. 

Sometimes, I grow on her.
Sometimes, not. 

I am probably still at home,
obligated. Eternally third place.

I still look for signs that you miss me.
Find none.   
Why did I never notice, before?

Undone

It sneaks up on you
the tiniest of moments
the smallest of acts.

and there. again. a broken heart.

the summer heat, the green shade,
the cool splash of water against your skin

but all this and nothing
else
all this is loss, again.

it's been an entire year of cruellest Aprils,
falling hard into beauty but finding you are not there.

Still.
Not there.

Contentment

That is my word of the day.  Sitting on my back porch deck under the oh so green canopy of trees that are filled with happy songbirds, my kids playing nearby, the cat flipping his tail in challenge to the boychild who just avoided an annoyed kitty cat scratch.  It's hot, but every so often there's a slight cool breeze.  I've had one coffee and plan to get another soon. 

Our yard is pretty well screened on all sides by jungle-y vegetation-- a very large clump of bamboo, some vine-draped trees, a neighbor's very tall hedge.  In spite of being in a neighborhood known for small, close-together yards, we have quite the estate back here-- trampoline, pool, kid fort, my plucky fish ponds.  At certain cooler times of the year (or, as now, in the early morning) there's just no place else short of being on a white sand beach that I'd rather be. 

It's been a wild and crazy ride the last few years.  Things seem to be settling down a little bit, and I'm hopeful that we can continue to have moments like this of being purely happy with where I am.