Wednesday, April 21, 2010

April Showers Bring May Flowers

I don't know where that is really true, but it certainly hasn't been true anywhere I've lived. Growing up near Monterey, California, I was often perplexed by seasons in children's books. We got no snow, if March came in like a lion, it was a tame, fuzzy lion, and February showers tended to bring late February flowers. Then, in Portland, I finally learned about colder winters, mostly that I wouldn't want to live anywhere truly snowy (I am far too thin-blooded), and still, February showers tended to bring March flowers--which were smitten with a frost immediately afterward, and died. So I don't know where all those descriptions came from.

I miss Portland a lot--partly the people, partly the culture, and partly just the city itself. Days like today, though, I remember why it was that I physically had to leave. I just hate the rain. It's not the rain itself, it's the gloom. I kind of like the rain, in that I like taking rain walks and such, but when the house is dark or when I'm driving on cloudy days, I just feel so tired and miserable. I think, "Did I feel this way all the time when I lived there?" It's hard, though, because I really don't love Sacramento. I do love where I grew up, my parents' house in Corral de Tierra, but that's not really a possible place for us to live right now. So here I am, in just-a-place California, but at least it hardly ever does this. And it has been so amazing getting to live right next to my nephews and niece, getting to go to their birthday parties and give them hugs more than once a year.

I guess what it comes down to is just figuring out where you have the best shot at being happy and healthy, and maybe it just won't be in a city with a pretty skyline and great concerts (that I never went to anyway, as a mom). But I do miss Portland.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Bunny Brawl

Jeremy's mom gave the kids each an Easter bunny; Selah's talks about Easter when you press a button.

I witnessed Selah playing with the two bunnies just now. I imagine normal children playing nice Easter games with such stuffed toys, hiding eggs or something. Instead:

Smaller talking bunny tells its story in an electronic voice, closing with "Happy Easter!"
Larger bunny: [Selah affects deep voice] It's not Easter! It's Christmas!
Smaller bunny: It's not!
Larger bunny shoves smaller bunny, who falls over.
Smaller bunny: I died!
He sits back up. Larger bunny hits him with a toy hammer.
Smaller bunny: Aaaaa!
Larger bunny: You have a time-out!
He picks up smaller bunny, who cries out.
Smaller bunny: Nooo!

I try to tell myself that I have a deeply imaginative child, instead of a severely disturbed one. I also try not to worry about the fact that after Larger bunny has hit Smaller bunny with a hammer, he gives him a time-out. What exactly is Selah's perception of us as parents?

Okay, I have to go feed dinner to a bunch of people who are going to hate it now. But if anyone doesn't eat, I will hit him or her with a hammer before handing out a time-out.