Browsing Archives for Uncategorized

My eldest son had a basketball game tonight. Evidently, four boys playing baseball is not enough so we had to throw in one more sport. I had to take him to his basketball game, which was very hard on me as I am still weak and shaky from his birth thirteen years ago, but somehow… someway… I gathered all my inner strength and hobbled off to his game.

I struggle mightily with how large of a place sports seem to occupy in my family’s life. I really, really, really wish my boys could content themselves with pogo sticks, and tricycles and little bits of sidewalk chalk out on the driveway, but those days seem to be over.
I’m sorry to tell you this, but even in my most heroic moments of motherhood I find it difficult to muster more than a dry raspy hoorah when my kids win an athletic event.
hoorah – I whisper weakly two minutes after one of my kids scores a basket…
woohoo I say thirty seconds after one of my boys cracks a line drive…
I find that I often clap for the wrong team, because I am clapping when others clap and not when my son’s team actually does something good.
I think the other team parents think I have a learning disability.
There goes Calder’s mom clapping for the other team again! Do you think she even knows which team her kid is on??? Do you think she even knows which kid out there is hers?
I do have a hard time following the games. Mostly because I am too busy watching the unicorns play in the shadows, but also because the sparkly elfin nymph druids have just asked me to dance in the magic circle of pines.
Over the years, as sports have progressed like an aggressive scabby disease all over the face of my family, I have perfected a few ways to GET OUT OF GOING to all these games. With four sons playing ball and one son playing even more ball this has become increasingly difficult to do. Still, I manage it occasionally and will now share with you a few of my well worn tactics.
The optimal word for you to remember is wedge.
CD – Rechelle, can you take Ethan to his game tonight? I have to coach Drew’s team up north in Onaga.
Me – Gosh honey – gee.. that is too bad… unfortunately I seemed to have wedged myself underneath the sofa and I can’t get out, so you will just have to take care of it…
CD – Um Rechelle – There is no way I am going to be able to get all four boys to all their games tonight as they all start at 7 PM and they are all in different towns.
Me – Oh wow that is really awful – but gosh – I don’t know how it happened but I seem to have wedged myself in between the window screen and the glass and I can’t get out…
CD – Dear! Really! I’m not kidding! Tonight there is no way you are going to be able to sit at home wedged inside of anything because we have nineteen games in a row starting at 6:30 and ending when Hell freezes over. You are going to have to show up.
Me – What… huh… I can’t seem to hear you as I am wedged inside of the microwave and also the dishwasher and my legs are stuck inside the bathtub drain and my fingers are wedged up in the ceiling fan…and I…. I…. I am really stuck good this time. You might have to call the fire department.
But tonight – it didn’t work. I couldn’t seem to wedge myself in or behind or underneath anything and was thus forced to attend a basketball game.
Which brings me to a super fun survey!
Tell me gentle readers… where does you and yourn fall along the spectrum of youth sports obsession???

Dear Martha,

Hello. Wow! Thanks so much for personally picking me to be in your contest! That really means the world to me. I have been a big fan of yours for a long time. Well… okay… I used to be a big fan of yours. Back when I was younger and had a LOT more energy. Back when I had crazy ideas about making curtains for the laundry room with four hundred pleats per square inch and hem stitching my own handmade leather crafted photo albums with silk thread imported from the barrier reef and decorating my homemade sugar cookies with exact replications of all the oil paintings in the Louvre using only your very own very special royal icing recipe. Then suddenly… out of nowhere… things changed.

I had a baby… and another baby… and then I had two more… and then I woke up one day on a sheet drenched with leaking milk from one breast while the other breast felt like it was about to explode. I stumbled to the baby’s crib and clamped that squalling infant on to my engorged boob so that he could guzzle away my misery and then I slopped some cereal into a chipped bowl and ate it with a plastic spoon while pouring a pile of cheerios and raisins onto a paper towel on the floor for my diaper clad toddler to eat …
And that’s when I decided to cancel my subscription to Martha Stewart Living.

But I did buy a LOT of your paint. And I used to buy a bunch of your stuff at K-Mart until well… I am not sure what is going on with K-Mart anymore, but somehow, it just got too depressing to go there. How long can a store have 200% off everything and still keep the doors open?
I do still buy the garden issue of your magazine. Not for myself… I buy it for the Country Doctor. He loves to look at pictures of trees and he does not mind occasionally being sidetracked by pictures of shrubs, flowers, retaining walls, hoity toity patios, Grecian urns, pebbled pathways, and stunning vistas overlooking a pool which overlooks a mountain, which overlooks a dessert, which overlooks the ocean, which overlooks the other ocean.
So yeah, I think it is safe to say that you and I, Martha (can I call you Martha?) that we have a lot in common. Did you know that my mom’s name is Martha? If I had ever had a little girl, I might have named her Martha. I love girl’s names that are kind of stern and frumpy and old fashioned like… Martha. Not that you are stern and old fashioned and… frumpy. It is just that you are kind of… well… okay maybe a little stern. Or at least you are perceived as stern. I am sure that in real life you are as sweet as a baby kitty cat.
Moving on!
This is supposed to be about my dreams. Ah yes, my dreams. My first dream was to be a princess… followed rapidly by ballerina… then by a figure skater… then by an Olympic gymnast… back to princess… to ballerina… to figure skater… to Olympic gymnast…
Then I wanted to be the next Carolyn Keene – you know the lady who writes the Nancy Drew books? I wanted to write Nancy Drew books. Then I decided that I wanted to be Nancy Drew. Then as I grew older and wiser I decided that I just wanted to live in Nancy Drew’s fabulous colonial mansion in Riverside, with her cook Hannah, her rich accommodating lawyer-dad Carson and her cute college boyfriend Ned.
Then I decided to be a folk rock star.
Ah yes, the Folk Rock Star era of my life. That was an interesting time… But I think it would probably be better if we just glazed over it briefly.
Okay… done.
Then I decided to build a house.
The Country Doctor was not very excited about building a house. Not very excited at all. He basically became catatonic whenever I brought up the idea of building a house. I found that the only way to get him out of this catatonic state, was to cry, lament, cover my body in sackcloth and ashes, pull the suitcase out of the closet and start throwing clothes in it, slam doors, rant, rave, refuse to speak to him repeat… repeat… repeat…. After about six consecutive days of this emotional storming around he might slowly blink one eyelid in acknowledgement of my pain.
It was a slow process.
Eventually we did build a house. And that is one dream that really came true. And as much as I love our home, I have discovered that it does not make me a complete, total, full, satisfied, human being. In fact, it makes me feel kind of empty sometimes because I miss having the dream of building a house. I miss the planning and the deciding, and the sketching out of the rooms on paper, and the ability to erase the location of the rooms and move them around with only a bit of india rubber and some pencil lead. It is much harder to move the rooms around now.
So I need a new dream. I have been mulling a few over, but all in all, I think that life is not really about fulfilling your dreams, it is about having dreams. People really need them. You know, it is what keeps us going. Facing one more day. Getting out of bed one more time. Schlepping through the day again. Opening one more box of macaroni and cheese. We do all this because of our dreams.
Lately my dreams are much simpler. I have a dream of keeping my entire house clean for more than thirty seconds at a time. I have a dream of my children actually putting away their own laundry. I have a dream of wallpapering the hall. I have a dream of planting an oak leaf hydrangea. I have a dream of soaking up every last second of my boys’ childhoods as they seem to be skyrocketing through them. I have a dream of someday actually hanging up all the pictures that are leaning against the walls. And I have a dream of finding a truly magical family vacation spot.
So those are my dreams Martha. At least a few of them. I also wanted to let you know that the whole “prison thing” for lying about cheating about stealing is well… I don’t want to say okay with me… but I don’t hold it against you either. We all make mistakes sometimes. Once when I was six, I stole a pack of Chiclets from the grocery store. My sister told on me. My mom drug my petrified carcass back into the store and made me apologize to the store manager. It was very embarrassing. Then a few weeks later I stole a butterscotch disc from the Brach’s display at the grocery store. Once again, my sister told on me and my mom again drug my petrified carcass to the manager to make me apologize. He was not so smiley and kind the second time. That was the end of my career as a thief. We all have to learn that it is wrong to steal. It just took you a little longer that is all.
Thanks again for asking me to enter your contest. I hope I win!
“The Country Doctor’s Wife”

Dreamers into Doers is an annual program honoring women who have turned their favorite hobby into a business or nonprofit organization.

“I was so touched and inspired by the women we honored with last year’s Dreamers into Doers Awards program,” says Martha Stewart. “I’m thrilled to once again be celebrating the accomplishments of women who have worked hard to realize a dream, and I look forward to learning about all the wonderful ways in which this year’s entrants have turned their passion into a reality.”

Hanging the Oracle

May 15th, 2009

Oh Dear! That doesn’t sound right does it?!?

I don’t really mean “HANG the oracle

Oh no! I would never even think of HANGING the Oracle.

He is far to valuable to me! Why, if I were to HANG the Oracle, who would the Country Doctor consult when he has a problem to which his wife CLEARLY KNOWS THE ANSWER???

But he has been sitting there… on the floor… staring at the opposite wall for about six months now and it really is time to put him in his proper place.

It’s just that I’m not really sure where his proper place is? I tried placing the Oracle both above and below darling pictures of my boys as toddlers. But that seemed a bit out of whack.

You can just tell by looking at him that he is none too pleased with this idea.

So I laid the Oracle down so we could both have a rest and think things over.

And as I stepped away – something about this particular spot spoke to me… It was as if the Oracle himself was whispering in my ear saying…



This is my home….

This is my spot…

So I said a prayer…

And I lit a candle…

And I tried to clear my mind of all distractions…

And I hammered a nail into the wall…

Then I had a snack.

(Don’t tell the Oracle about that snack part.)


He seems to be at peace here don’t you think???

And I find that I am at peace too.

A deep abiding peace that will comfort me every time I step in here to… to… well…to “pay my respects to the Oracle.”

Which is a actually a euphemism for… for…

Okay then…