Hot fun in the Autumn time...

Fall.

I love it.  My dad passed in 1994 and my parents had divorced before then, so I don't have a large supply of memories that I can actually, well, remember.  I do, however, remember Fall with him in New England, traipsing all over New Haven together.  He was long-legged, like I am, and always wore a cap.  I'd walk behind him, my lungs burning as I tried to keep up, and whenever he'd call over his shoulder, "'M'I walking too fast?" I'd quickly answer back, "No, Daddy!"  I wanted to keep up.  I wanted my daddy to know that I was a big, strong girl, and that even though I was so small I could walk almost as fast as he could.  To this day, everyone I know abhors walking alongside me, because they can't handle my pace.  :)

I try to make Fall as memorable for my girls, by just being outside enjoying the changes the earth is going through.  It's so fun to experience it all again through their eyes, and to remember what it is I've always loved about this season.  The way the air smells, the "crunch" the leaves make underfoot, the trees in various shades of fire.  It's gorgeous.  It's very different now that we live in the South - the temperature hardly takes note of the shift in season: as I'm typing this (at 1am), I can assure you it's at lest 70 degrees outside.  Probably closer to 80.  I miss cool nights and mornings, sweaters during the day and having a perfect cup of coffee whenever I wanted.  Drinking coffee here gives me a headache.

What do you and your family like to do to ring in the season?  I need some ideas for homeshcooling projects!  Whatever you do, enjoy each other.  Happy Fall, Randoms.

Flo

Dear Mademoiselle B******...

Hello Randoms!  I'm very excited...this post is coming to you live from my Introductions to Computers class!  My professor's name is the one in the heading (she wouldn't sign the waiver, hence the asterisks).  Our assignment today was to create a Google acctount (done), start a blog (done), and post to it about a Web 2.0 tool!  Neat, huh?  I get to update you all and I get credit for it.  The icing on the cake: I've actually found a tool that will be helpful to me for homeschooling DR.  So here goes, I'm about to get scholarly on y'all:

I've found this awsome website called Voki.com.  Kids will love it because they can log in and create/personalize an avatar, and then decide whether they want to be a dog, cat, rocker, or just a regular Joe.  Then they can call and add their voice to their Voki.  I tried to do that from class but my prepaid phone doesn't generally get reliable service unless I'm sitting directly on a cell phone tower.  What's cool about this for teachers (and homeschooling moms) is the Voki Classroom feature.  Here you can create student accounts that your child(ren) can log into and view/follow lesson plans and classes that you've set up.  I've also found lesson plans posted by other teachers that anyone can print and follow.  This is a great way to keep homeshcooling fun for DR, she can update her avatar, change its clothes, change it's species, and she's learning while having fun!  I'm thinking of using this for a foreign language study, I can pronounce words for her and post them and she can listen, even while I'm at school.  Okay class is ending so I'll have to post more later.  For now check out Voki.com and tell me what you think! 

I'm not spellchecking right now so I apologize for any typos.  :)

Educated Flo

Only I Could Have Shingles

What up Randoms?  Before I start I want to take a moment to acknowledge all those affected by Hurricane Irene, which is really all of us, if it was any of us.  Love you.

Okay.  I've been crazy busy.  And when I get crazy busy it's hard for me to think of anything interesting to write about.  But I really want this blogging thing to work out so here I am.  

"Why Flo, what have you been so busy with?"

Why Reader, how nice of you to ask.  A friend, indeed.  So here's the lowdown:

For reasons I'm sure I won't realize till I'm walking down the stage receiving my shiny degree paper (which had BETTER be shiny), I've voluntarily enrolled myself at a college of the community.  Twelve hours, four classes.  I knew I'd made a mistake the moment I went to the bookstore and found that all the texts are the size of a 1992 phone book.  I've had 2 children.  First one gifted me a hernia.  Second one damaged my spine.  I can't be haulin' no books on my back.  And yet there I am wearing my Timbuk2 backpack, hunched over like Quasimodo (which is fitting because I'm usually about to cry and my crying face is similar to Quasimodo's regular face), dragging my left leg along (for added effect) to Building D.  

A picture I took of myself between classes.

That's another problem:  I've been in school for about 3 weeks now and I still can't remember where ANY of my classes are, or who ANY of the teachers/people are.  I swear earlier today I walked into my computers class and stood at the door for about 10 seconds, looking around and attempting to orient myself.  Isn't that kinda weird?!  Shouldn't my brain recognize the room/students/desks/SOMETHING?  I don't know why it's not registering.  I don't really talk to any of my classmates but still, I'd expect more.

My classmates are a whole other thing - I figured since this was college of the community there'd be a whole bunch of us who aren't exactly just out of high school.  Then in one of my classes Teacher asks about chicken pox and all the cute little Millenials are all "Chicka- posa- chaka- who?"  LIKE THEY COULDN'T EVEN PRONOUNCE 'CHICKEN POX'.  Because they're all too cool for school and got "vaccinated"!  When I was their age we had to walk seven miles in the snow, barefoot with our grandmothers on our backs, just to get calamine lotion!  They all thought it was cute that there were about 4 of us who are more susceptible to shingles when we're older.  And, not to sound ageist or anything, but these kids say some really crazy, pointless things.  Things that they think are eloquent and make them sound educated.  Because like, OMG, any time you like, use full words and compound words and like, two-syllable words that aren't like, abbreviations it means you're like totally as smart as Kim Kardashian and stuff.  That's not to say they aren't smart.  They just aren't as smart as they think they are.  Oy, gevalt.

Lastly, there's the homework.  Holy time consumption, Batman.  We have these online portals whereby our teachers can post assignments that they are apparently mandated to make at least 72 pages in length.  I LOVE reading.  But not this kind.  I never did.  This kind of reading is why I had to wear extra makeup and less brassiere to one of my high school exams - I knew I wasn't going to pass on my knowledge of the material alone.  All I can tell you about what we've been assigned to read so far is that it's printed in Times New Roman size negative 2 font, so as to fit as much rambling torture onto one page as is humanly possible.  Of course I'm going to read.  And I've been taking extensive notes and doing lots of power-skimming so I'm sure I'll be okay.  But HO-LEEE.  I wish I'd done this when I was 17 and full of energy and Pepsi and ready to take on the world.  Now I'm 27 and full of gas and breastmilk and pretty much ready to fall asleep on the sidewalk.  

There's more.  THIS IS MY FIRST YEAR HOMESCHOOLING MY DAUGHTERS.  It's AWESOME.  

Oh, and I asked the Dean of Something Forgettable at my school about accommodations for nursing mothers who need to pump and she told me to use a bathroom.  So she'll be hearing from me again, and so will her boss, and possibly her mom, and definitely all of you.  All of this coming in the next post.  Stay tuned.

Peace

Crazy Tired Flo

Hush Little Greedy, Eat Your Chips

2:30 am and like the good little insomniac I am I just finished half a bag of Doritos. In bed. In the dark. While nursing. DL randomly broke her latch and popped her big head up (hilarious silhouette) and said, "Mom more chips." I answered, "No. Nurse," which, through my tortilla-stuffed mouth came out, "Mo. Mur." I suppose it wasn't all that random considering she'd been listening to me chomping and digging around in that loud red bag for at least 3 minutes. I'm usually much better than this at falling asleep. I think maybe I shouldn't have gulped down that bottle of citrus green tea directly before bed. Caffeine is normally rather ineffective to my system though. So after I ate and DL was done I brushed my teeth. The running water made me have to pee. Washed my hands, which left them dry, which meant I needed lotion. Can't sleep with sandpaper hands, I guess just in case I meet a sexy cowboy or a well-dressed stockbroker on my way back to bed. Lotion-seeking lead me to my closet. Closet made me think of what I'm going to wear tomorrow. Stood there wondering why nary an ensemble materialized. Realized it was dark as...a room, with all the lights out (I'm tired). Stumbled back to bed. Stepped on DL's demon baby, which started crying. Made a mental note to operate on doll's voicebox on the morrow (I get English when I'm tired). Fixed blanket and pillows. Situated myself. DL attacked my boob region. Fended her off with open palm. Checked Facebook. Still unpopular. CNN. Still living in a mad, mad, mad, mad world. Remembered text from Blogger. Opened mobile Yahoo! Commenced thumb abuse. Neck hurts. Have to pee again. After two pregnancies with two over-8-lb babies, bottlecaps hold more than my bladder. Still not tired. 3:02 am. Peace Early Morning Flo

I Want To Be An Adventure Cyclist

Hi.  I am going to be your partner soon.

The title of this post basically says it all.  I've been riding my crappy lil Wal-Mart Schwinn (which is not an actual factual Schwinn, by the by) all over the place, even pulling my DL along in a trailer that I bought on sale at K-Mart.  Both need to be replaced, I know.  I've been stopping into bike shops, perusing the merchandise, letting the cycle enthusiasts confuse me with their talk of C's and shimanos and tubes, and the more ignorant I realize I am, the more darn excited I get.  I want to learn the lingo.  I want to wear one of those skinny shiny cycling suits and some Lance Armstrong-y gloves and a pair of glasses that reflect the mountainous terrain before me.  I want to look over to my left and see a shouting, fit white lady showing me how it's done.  I want to be an adventure cyclist.  What's more, I want to take my girls along with me.  DR has a bike but it's a cruiser and she can't go very far on it (though to her credit she's done 10 miles or more with me in a day).  We'd been having a blast until she left to spend the remainder of her summer with her father in Massachusetts.    

We'd get up early in the morning to avoid North Carolina's (I believe) unconstitutional heat, pack our lunches, pick up lots of Gatorade and water, and head off.  We don't yet have the outfits or the gear or the correct bicycles, but we sure had FUN.  A couple weeks ago I biked a trail that my girls and I had been over many times and as I got to a certain incline I thought to myself, "Omigosh this used to be SO HARD for me!"  It no longer was.  I have junior muscles in my arms and Mr. and Mrs. Abs AND THEIR 4 CHILDREN have moved back to the old neighborhood, my belly.  I'm already pretty skinny so I wasn't even thinking of the fitness aspect of cycling but hey, I'll take it where I can get it.

My biddy babies all ready for an adventure.

And speaking of fitness, I'd heard that exercise makes you feel good but WHOA.  There were countless days when we'd get home from 5 hours of riding and sightseeing, and as soon as we'd cool off I'd ask, "Okay, who's ready to hit the road again?"  Lots of time the neighborhood kids would join us.  We rode all over Greenville, to get ice cream, to the public pool, to the library, downtown.  I was tired at the end of every night but this was a different tired.  I'd lay on my pillow with DL's knee on my neck and DR's skinny arm on my ankles, and I'd smile.  I'd feel exhausted.  I'd feel my muscles moaning.  I'd feel...accomplished.  I was proud to think back on all the hills I'd wanted to get off and walk my bike to the top of, when instead I'd stood up on those pedals and made my ugly face and licked sweat from my upper lip and PUSHED.  My heart was full of memories of DR calling, "Mom, I'm NOT EVEN TIRED!" as she sped ahead of me, or DL in the trailer shouting, "WHEEEEEE" as we raced down a hill, our eyes closed slightly so that we could fully immerse ourselves in the brief respite the breeze offered.

My girls and their our friends (DL is in the back, in the trailer).

Growing up, we always had bikes.  Many of the kids who tagged along with us had also, but they'd never really used them to explore their town.  Being with them was maybe the best part of our trips.  I'm sure they never noticed how much exercise we were all getting.  All we did was laugh. I am GOING to be an adventure cyclist.  I already get the magazine, and I'm shopping for a bike.  Speaking of which, DID YOU KNOW THEY MAKE BIKES THAT COST ALMOST $3,000?  Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha I almost peed on myself when I saw that.  I'm more in the under-$600 range at this particular juncture in my life, as I am Western Poor.  In the meantime my girls and I will be out on our crappy bikes, training our lungs and our legs and building our endurance.  I'll be crashing cycling events and pretending I have a sore throat so that I don't have to talk.  I don't think anyone wants to hear me say, "Yeah man, I think about 245c's fell off my shimano the other day, bummer."  So I'll just be listening.  And admiring.  And then when I'm a hoity-toity pro I'll know to look out for whomever I meet who may be just beginning, because I'll so remember that crappy Schwinn and my K-Mart trailer.  2012.

Peace
Flo

So she can show her butt...

BUT I CAN'T BREASTFEED IN PUBLIC??!!  This ad assaulted me as I was writing reviews for Yelp.

Peace
Flo

Thankful

Yes, it's almost 1 o'clock in the morning.  DL just woke up to nurse and have a cup of water (she's been doing that lately, I'm thinking maybe she's not getting enough milk?).  Afterward I laid my head next to hers and kissed her cheek and got to thinking: I love being a mother.

My children are tiny versions of me, in a way a chance for a "do-over"; I can equip them with the tools to not repeat the mistakes I've made and unlock the potential I see in them every second of every minute of every hour.  They are also individuals, persons new and interesting to me whom I have the privilege of watching grow and guiding.  They are 2 of the brightest, kindest people I've ever met.  I can't even find the words to describe my feelings for them, I've deleted sentences about 20 times already.

All I can say is I'm THANKFUL.

So I want to say "Thank you" to my girls, DL and DR.  Thank you both for coming to me.  Thank you for teaching me what it means to be Mommy.  Thank you for making silly jokes when I'm in the middle of punishing you and reminding me to "chill out" as DR would say.  Thank you for asking me if you should call my mom when I cry.  Thank you for eating my try-it-out dinners slowly, painfully, because you don't want to hurt my feelings.  Thank you for your smiles and your sweet laughter and your kisses and your hugs and your hand holding at the most random times.  Thank you for the nights we sit up eating snacks and watching reruns of iCarly from the seasons when there was a lot less kissing.  Thank you DR for not complaining that you are no longer allowed to watch iCarly.  Thank you DR for standing with me in the cold all those times years back, when I was 20 and working full time and had no car and no money and no nothing, just myself.  Thank you for showing me that myself was enough.  Thank you for not crying when it snowed on us as we waited for the bus in the dark, I know you wanted to because at times I actually was crying, silently.  Thank you for telling me about your day.  Thank you for telling me what frightens you.  Thank you for telling me when I've done something wrong.  Thank you for reteaching me what love is, because I'd almost sort of given up on it.  Thank you for being on this journey with me.  I remember the mistakes I've made, I never stop thinking about them or how not to repeat them.  I promise you both I will never take being your mother for granted, never grow complacent, and always strive to be the mother you both deserve.  I chose to bring you to this world and it is my duty to be whomever you need me to be.  I will.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Peace
Flo

True Life: I'm a VERY NEW Blogger!

Hello all, I'm so not sure if I'm doing this right!  Thank you to Fabulous but Evil and Mrs. Monologues for the link-up.

I started this blog because I love writing but I got pregnant my first year of college and left to work full time and have yet to return so I have a lot of pent up energy.  

As for a bit about me, please read.

I blog about all types of sweet (and bitter) randomness.  Much of it pertains to being a mother, of the single sort. Also to breastfeeding because I think it's just not talked about enough.  Really anything that's on my mind.

I'm just returning from a brief hiatus, I'd stopped posting because I was intimidated by bloggery and unsure of the rules.  Then I remembered I haven't actually followed a rule since like '97, and I dusted off the ole' board.  So hi.  Thanks for stopping by!  Looking forward to visiting your blogs.  Stay fresh, Randoms.

Flo

Marbles Kids Museum, Raleigh, North Carolina

I love a good playdate.  Earlier this week a friend and I journeyed downtown Raleigh (where I've moved since January, forgot that), to play with our toddlers at Marbles Kids Museum.  Reminds me of what I've seen of the Please Touch Museum in Philadelphia, maybe on a smaller scale.  We walked in and I was excited to see the entire front half (maybe third) of an actual city bus in front of us.  DL is 27 months old and is fascinated by large, loud vehicles.  Not so much when they aren't outside.  She seemed a bit freaked out by it, not sure if it was because of the missing back end or because it was inside a building.

My DL (the large one) and her friend, FL

The other exhibits are a kitchen where kids can grocery shop, check out at the register, prepare meals on the stove, store food in the (actually cold) refrigerator and then serve each other at the diner.  There's a shipwreck, it's pretty open but the only way to the top is by ladder...not very toddler- or tall-friendly.  DL insisted on checking it out and I was regularly stepped on by 7-year-old boys screaming that a friend had just been killed in action.  There's an entire section dedicated to sports and staying fit and active, with another kitchen for older kids that's more focused on preparing healthy meals.  Also a really cool hockey rink that's a pretty good size.

In the submarine

There's a water exhibit which, of course, all the kids loved.  DL's favorite thing to do was block one of the hoses so that it sprayed her and everyone around her.  Wet mischief is her specialty.  The submarine was another fave.  Our todds were too young to enjoy all of the buttons and the periscope and to really understand they were supposed to be "under water", but they thought the colors were cool, and they loved being around the big kids who were shouting and generally going nuts.

Captain DL

Knows her way around a kitchen

I can't wait to bring DL back, maybe when she's closer to 3.  Or when Sissy gets home from Daddy's house...DL enjoys ANYTHING as long as she's following Sissy around.  All in all, a great day trip aaaaaaaaand with a toddler's attention span, you can get through it in about and hour!  There's a cafe if your kids get hungry and you deem that hunger worthy of blowing $40, but I'd say pack a snack or eat later.  There's also a nursing room at the back of the first floor.  It's small but pretty, and quiet.  The museum has things that boys and girls can enjoy and I'd say is best for kids 1-10.  If you visit let me know what you think!

Flo

Talk to the BOOB!

Hey Randoms!!


I know, I know...it's been awhile.  Flo is a busy lady...too busy to figure out how to get you kids to read my blog.  Seriously, I'm not so great at this marketing or networking or whatever you call it that attracts readers.  Buuuut I love writing and sharing and I've been reading some great blogs lately and it's totally inspiring.  So it's back to the blog I go.  Went.  Came.  As for what's happened over the past five months:


1. Nothing
2. Interesting
3. Or
4. Important


Whew!  My life is like a crazy whirlwind, right??  I'm like a SOCIALITE or something, geesh!  My daughter who was 22 months old is now 27 months old.  I haven't been shaving my chin whiskers regularly.  It's summer in North Carolina (where I reside), so it's hotter than Africa on fire in hell at the equator.  Seriously, whenever I walk outside I feel myself transform into a hateful, tired crank.  I look at people and just want to slap their faces.  Aaaaanyway-


IT'S WORLD BREASTFEEDING WEEK.


It's sort of bittersweet for me.  On the one boob, I'm happy that there's a time set aside for us to acknowledge the benefits and beauty of nursing mothers and their babes.  On the other, mo bigga boob, I'm saddened that even during a week that is supposed to celebrate breastfeeding I have to travel to another town to participate in any activities.  I'm disappointed that, according to the calendar on it's website, the North Carolina Breastfeeding Coalition has no events planned to support this week.  And I'm downright angry that in 2011, when a man can stand on the steps of city hall in New York City and marry another man, women are still being harassed for nursing their babies in public.  We live in a backward world, Randoms.  I've been commenting and status-ing all over Facebook about this, and I'm not done.  My sister and I even have an inside joke...we see something crazy happening, like when there was an old drunk Chinese hobo (I'm sorry but in New Haven there are no homeless Asian people - they all work at Yale), sleeping and drinking on the bus, and we say, "But I can't breastfeed in public?!!!"  Yes, you may use that.  


Really though, are people more offended by my saggy little boob than they are by Beyonce, Gaga, Quentin Tarantino and rap music?  I at least wear pants while I nurse.  I at least don't call my kid (or really, anyone) a b*tch when I nurse.  I have NEVER shot either one of my kids while I was nursing.  And yet these things go on in all forms of entertainment and people just eat it up.  Albums shoot to number 1.  Movies rake in billions.  And I'm at the park getting dirty looks because my daughter just fell and wants a little mammary milk.  It like actually KILLS some people to see a potty-trained child who can feed herself, ask to nurse.  To those of you who are bothered I proudly say SEND MY CHILD SUPPORT!!  Wait no that's what I say to my ex.  


To those of you who are bothered I say TALK TO THE BOOB!!  Happy World Breastfeeding Week everyone.  There hasn't always been formula so really NONE of us would be here if it weren't for nursing mothers.  Support those in your life who breastfeed and educate yourselves.  Maybe even encourage young women you know (of the pregnant sort) to give it a try.  Peace.


Flo      

"I am going to live through this even if it kills me."

First, I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge the victims and the families of the victims of the horrible Arizona tragedy.  I'd also like to acknowledge the alleged shooter's family; he is obviously very mentally disturbed and he lives in a country where it's tough to get the help you need if your problem isn't physical.  You are all in my family’s prayers.

Now.  I have a problem.  I am returning to school soon, after 10 years and 2 children and no major improvement in my poor study habits.  I am starting to get pretty worried.  I HATE school.  I LOVE learning but I’m not so good with the whole structured day idea.  I need breaks every 15 minutes because I have a food problem (where I eat a lot of food).  When someone is talking to me I tend to hear buzzing sounds and picture random scenes like the finale episode of “M.A.S.H.” or that weird YouTube kid who lip syncs popular songs.  Writing assignments are the worst; when everyone gets silent and we’re supposed to be concentrating on our work I’m thinking things like, “I wonder how this paper is made.  I wonder if the guy who made this paper is single.  I wonder if he’s not and he has a wife, if she’s diabetic.  I hope she takes it seriously because I heard you could lose your foot or something.  Which would be better: to be one-footed or one-handed?  Neither!!! I take that back, God please don’t take my limbs!!!!”

So you can see my problem.

I don’t have a choice of whether or not I go; since I left that job I told you about I need a degree or I’ll have to start over at the bottom of the food chain and it smells like tuna and feet down there and the only other people down there are like 19-22 and they smack gum while they talk to you and wear their nails super long and think anyone over 25 is super old.  At least that’s how I was when I was there.  Either way I can’t do it.  I have a 5-year plan and obtaining a degree is like, Numero Uno on the list.  I was going to buy a Bachelor's from Yuri, this guy I met on a train to Boston but he was arrested for unrelated reasons and I have been unable to contact him.  I think he may have been deported, his brother speaks very broken English.  Anyway now I have to go to school.  I can't even decide on a major.  Or an outfit for the first day.  Bah.  

I'm sure I'm not the only mom or non-college age person returning to school...what have your experiences been like?  I'm going to attempt to keep an open mind about this and remain focused and DEDICATE myself.  I have no time to play around.  And though I do have distractions now I am at an age where I should be able to discipline myself to buckle down.  Any advice you have to offer is greatly appreciated.  Check ya later Randoms!

Flo

The Mom Scale

So we woke up at 7:13a.m. today.  And the Oldest of Florida's school bus comes at approximately 7:11a.m.  So we were rushed and a bit cranky and walked to school, which is only 5 minutes away.  And on said walk I discussed with the Oldest of Florida the importance of taking initiative and not making up excuses, none of which I feel she heard.  And it hit me: (I am physically assaulted by thoughts on a fairly regular basis):

I have been doing the whole 'Call me Mom" thing for almost 10 years and I'm only about 7.2 percent better at it now than when I started.  7.2 out of ONE AMERICAN HUNDRED.  If this was work I'd have been CANNED.  Like sweet friggin' peas.  I'd have canned myself.  My resignation letter would have read "Thanks for this opportunity but I BLOW CHUNKS AT THIS HERE JOB SO CONSIDER THIS MY GRACEFUL BOW".  

When does one get like, really good at being a Mom?  I was on this lady's blog last night and she has a lot of overachieving kids and a wonderful husband and a shiny white Bachelor's degree and an awesome career and her kids are perfect and she's perfect and her husband is perfect and everything they do, they do perfectly I almost blew up her blog!  I don't know that I want to be THAT but I do want to be a bit more...polished.  Don't need my kids to find cures for anything but I don't wanna raise this either:

Or, say, this:

 I need a plan.  I'm afraid of Lady Gaga and Nikki Minaj and I don't want to be afraid of my girls.  I had a plan but I couldn't figure out the exact technology for that face switching machine from the movie "Face/Off" so I need a new plan.  In the mean time I'll just keep trying my best.

The Baby of Florida is sitting next to me completely naked smearing milk on her chest so I'm gonna have to check you Randoms later.  Have a great day!