Naked house

Our neighbors cut down the big old pine tree in our front yard. We now have shockingly unobstructed views down the street and it is like high noon in our bedroom all day long.

They claimed that the tree was dying. It didn't look like a dying tree to me.

Al tried to argue that it was on our property too, but apparently that was not a tenable argument. Al says they probably don'thave a good homehowners policy. I guess I wouldn't trade dappled shade and a habitat for birds for the structural integrity of my home either, but our house sure feels naked without it.

I'm trying not to be too angry--they are a nice elderly couple, and the lady (whose name I am incapable of remembering) did drop off presents after Penelope was born for "the new baby and D'Angelo." I guess I'm not the only one with a name problem...

So tomorrow Diego and Penelope and I will be picking up a half bushel of apples from the farmers market. We have preordered them. Do you know that half a bushel is really quite a lot of apples. So we will be making applesauce and attempting to can it. Neither Diego, Penelope, Al, nor I have any experience with canning. I also have a deep fear of botulism (who doesn't really), but we're going to give it a try.

Behold, the naked house...

I've kept Diego home from school two days this week and therefore am mother of the year. He can be pretty good company if he is well rested, hence our ongoing battle about the naps. Honestly, if I could either 1) be guaranteed that he would nap or 2) be given permission to drug him without guilt or repercussions, I wouldn't have any need for preschool at all. Today I read him a bunch of stories (including one pop up book, God help me), nursed him, offered him songs (all while bouncing a fussing, overtired P) kissed him and told him to stay in his room while I had a rest. Of course he didn't stay in. A few rounds later, I locked myself in my bedroom while he cried in the hallway. In these moments I feel guilty and sad for him, but mostly was I feel is anger. I wanted to burst out of my room and snatch him up and hiss "GO TO SLEEP" then toss him on his bed and slam the door. And I actually feel a sense of entitlement about it--like "if he doesn't nap then he'll be so tired that our whole afternoon will be ruined as well as dinner which I probably won't even be able to make etc etc." Thankfully I didn't do that. There was a really amazing discussion on mothering.com about mothering and rage. It was a revelation to me to see how many other women struggle with this. In real life, I feel like I have the worst temper of anyone I know (except maybe my wonderful friend Wendy who had to go to anger management counseling for work and can make that a funny thing). I've really been trying to embrace the idea of setting boundaries around things that really make me nuts so that I don't become scary hissing mom. A tired kid who won't sleep really pushed my buttons. Hence locking myself in my room for timeout. Eventually I came out (probably all of 5 minutes later) and lay with him in his room. I left him alone again when I could hear P fussing in the other room, and when I went back he was asleep. And our afternoon was quite pleasant...cause I got my way, ya know?

Here is a picture of P in the Miss Dashwood hat from www.knitty.com. I think she likes it. It's not a very good picture and it still needs to be blocked (I only finished it in June, after all).

She's also wearing the Easy peasy cardigan from www.littleturtleknits.com (one of my favorite knitting websites) in a lovely hand-dyed blue-faced leicester that I picked up at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival last spring. My feeling about ridiculous handknits is as follows: I will love my kids unconditionally. They will always have food to eat. Their educations will be paid for. If they want to be lesbian--gay-bisexual or transgendered, that will be okay with me. But they're going to have to wear the goods...To wit:

They'll thank me some day. I just know they will...