Those Big ol' Eyes

Reflecting my image (click, you'll see). Quite fitting seeing how Sira, as my mom put it, keeps me in close sight these days. He wants to ride on my back all times (mama back, mama back . . . ), but the problem is identical Bereket has to copy everything Sira does, so he sees this and starts begging too. No back!

Don't let those sad eyes fool you. I was trying to take pictures of Bereket and Sira stole the spotlight quite cunningly.

I like the little freckles in the whites of Sira's and Bereket's eyes. And who doesn't love long lashes and a good brow?

Come and meet . . .

. . . my dancing feet. Care to guess which set of gams belongs to me?

Is 39 too old for chorus girl? Hell, I guess not since I'm just getting started. And when you got my legs and move them like I do, I should be playing a bigger role in our community theater production of 42nd Street (uh-hum, snap to those who decided). Actually I feel a little more like this when I'm all prettied up for the stage:

OK so maybe there is an upper age limit on what is right. I'm tired, cranky, I miss getting fat on the couch with my kids, I missed most of American Idol and I'll miss So You Think You Can Dance, my ego hurts, my feet hurt, my brain hurts (I've killed a heck of a lot more brain cells than these 20-somethings, so give me a break). But as silly as it sounds, and it is silly, I'm indulging a dream I've had since I was little: to sing and dance in a musical production. And this is a good one. It'll all be over at the close of June. All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up. After this I may just cram all my dreams down the throats of my boys. Come on boys, pick up those feet and lay 'em down.

Tsega Babe

Tsega is one cool dude. Pictures don't do justice because they don't express his skateboard-kid strut. Seriously, he's got IT. And FYI, his heart is full on sweet love (lucky mate who ever lands him 50 years from now).

He likes sticks, spray bottles, bear hugs, singing, swinging, outside, nature, eating, long walks across the field, big kids, especially girls, and van rides to anywhere. His favorite sayings: Annie and no, no, no.

Annie's one of our nine cats and to Tsega, every cat is Annie. Any boo boo is caused by Annie. Indeed, he blames Annie for just about everything that hurts or goes wrong. Annie, Annie, ow, no, no, no. Poor innocent Annie.

But like his two brothers, he mans up when he goes wrong. I'm sure when they are much older and I ask, who did that? I won't be seeing little fingers pointing to their own chests. Gawd, they crack me up.

Spring/Summer Facials

This look seems awfully familiar. (I so dig on Sira's head profile.)

Last summer it was ash (for that blog post,click HERE).

This summer it is Gold Bond powder (men and their Gold Bond, oh brother).



Apply liberally and copy brother, of course.

My boys, in particular Sira and Bereket, love smothering dirt (excuse me, I mean soil) and pebbles in their hair, not to mention powders on their faces. To which we respond with a good upside down shaking (they love) or if really bad, a head dunking under running water (they hate). Really though, if you just send them to bed with a head full of rubble, it magically dissapears overnight. But feces in the hair, oh yes, I said feces, that takes a little more scrub. I could not figure out why child X kept coming in the house repeating poo (or boo?) and pointing up with a bit of worry in his eyes. Now I know, but I still don't know who pooped and who smeared.

Just Spring

When I see the first turkey vultures in March, this means the bald eagles have moved on and winter is in its final stage. The seasons in Kansas enter like a hard theatrical curtain crashing down. And before I feel it coming on, the vegetation has already begun its response. Spring: the air is wet, the grass doesn't hurt my bare feet anymore, the wind drives me crazy and thunderheads promise excitement. Spring baby, at last. Bring on the bugs, colors, fat landscape and long days outside. Yes, even the bugs because a night sky full of lightening bugs is worth all the chigger, tick, and mosquito bites I will suffer from (and my blood is the sweetest around). Nature, warm and accessible makes three happier boys.

Mmm, Art

5 minutes preparation
5 minutes creative expression
4 minutes eating art supplies and face painting (I am sure this is for my benefit)
2 minutes tearing & crumpling finished products
10 minutes clean up

Result: At least one artist in the group. Sweet, Bereket.

A Good Look

Hmmm, who am I embarrassing more in this picture? My scanties and the pantless bra wonder. You gotta love it when your little boy erupts from the house sporting not just one, but a drawer full of lacy lovelies.

Sad Farewell: End of Binky

Oh, but I was so happy to kick out these clunker highchairs.


Binkies, pacifiers, suckies, nukes. Those powerful and magical baby soothers. Symbol of peace, love and baby. The time arrived and we sadly laid the last binkies to rest. After Tsega chewed up his 100th binky--approaching a rate of one per day--Jerry had to say it, let's get rid of the damn things, and my heart thumped a hard beat.

God, the day we had pictures of our boys and I strolled the baby aisle with motherhood at last in my soul . . . and bought purple, pink, and blue binkies. Staring at those binkies, this was real. Jerry's the one who, while in Ethiopia, kept sticking those suckers in. Tsega was hooked first and hooked hard and by the time we reached home, all three were sucking.

In my motherly wisdom, I can tell you babies and toddlers are adaptable and resilient. I pay no attention to advice that warns against forming bad habits during the baby years. No rocking baby to sleep, no co-sleeping, no pacifiers, no this or that because they are addictive battle-waging creatures that can't give anything up. Bah. Not true, except for maybe the thumb and breast. And food. If you have an allergy-free and strong bellied baby, get adventuresome early with food (wish we had). I have been dreading the end of binky but it took about one day for all three boys--all of whom loved binky--to stop whimpering over their loss. They are old enough to cope without it. The worst part is now I have no reason any longer to shop the baby aisle. Except, oh yeah, diapers, still clinging to those (don't ask how PT is going!).

In honor of Binky, I made a little video. (Oh God, another video? Who has time to watch these?) Disclaimer: I made this and added the song before it was sung by Adam on American Idol last week. Really. I already knew this sad song was something special because, well, I am just that cool. What a mad world indeed . . .

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

A day in the park

I love this one little dumpy park tucked away from view, edged by walking paths, hardly ever a child playing, just a few cars come to spend their lunch hours protected by the solitude of trees and the occasional Frisbee golfers. Too poor for wood chips, too spare for regular clean ups. Easiest park to get my boys in and out of with the van a few steps away and little fear from traffic. Our lonely park where I never feel like a freak among other moms because none come to invade our intimate setting. Gone are the tight-lipped moms who look miserable, strong moms who know how to discipline properly, active moms who weigh 30 pounds less than me, moms who weigh much much more, smoking moms who bark on their cell phones, all kinds of moms and some sad weekend dads too. And I never have to guilt over displays of tantrums or sand throwing in our solitude.

I am on a video high, so bear with me . . . the opening scene features our own park-like yard and Bereket's adorable swing style. Wouldn't you love to play?

Make an on-line slideshow at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Crazy Young American

Episodic break from triplet musings and onto Haiti. . .

Located on my side bar maybe you have noticed SOIL: Empowering Haiti through soil. (Maybe "empowering" was a poor word choice?) Did anybody donate to this cause (or even regard the link?)? No. Well, don't feel bad, but do it! Or take a trip down there and help build a composting toilet with my hilarious and brainy friend Sasha Kramer. Sasha, I need to get down there! At least read about her cause. . .

The scoop on poop (and pee): S.O.I.L builds toilets where toilets and sanitation lack and fecal-born disease prevails, in a country (Haiti) where soils are nutrient depleted.
The twist: separate pee from poo thus making it cleaner, and compost the human waste into nutrient-rich fertilizer for food production. Snappy.

And she's not just young and crazy, she is also a Stanford-educated PhD.

Sasha is who I want to be in my next life. Click HERE and check out the New York Times article and watch the video embedded. The only flaw is they left out her infamous laugh (California style).

Next blog post, triplets only.