Drops of Awesome

Personal Blog of Author Kathryn Thompson

Little Bookstore on the Prairie

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I went to the bookstore this weekend. My parents are in town and we thusly sped through the rest of Little House on the Prairie at lightning speed, Laylee curled up on my Dad’s lap, face squinched in concentration.

She loves that book, the first real chapter book we’ve read together. Honestly, I’m surprised that she enjoys it so much. There are a lot of words she doesn’t understand and several portions read like a transcript of Norm Abrahm’s New Yankee Workshop… chopped down 3 large trees and hauled them up from the creek bed… raised the ax in the air… lowered the ax… drove the wedge into the log… drove the wedge further into the log… the log split… made pegs… saw Indians.

Laylee: Why are they scared of the Indians, mama?

Me: Well, many of the white people were very mean to the Indians. They hurt them and even killed them so sometimes the Indians would fight back against the white people. They thought that all white people were bad and they wanted to protect themselves. So then some of the white people got scared of the Indians because they were fighting back.

Laylee: What are “white people”?

Me: Oh. They’re people with lighter skin. We’re white people.

Laylee: Hmm… What would we say to an Indian if one came to our house?

Me: Probably “Hi.”

Laylee: I think we should say, “Please don’t hurt us because we’re nice, even though our skin is light.”

Me: Sounds like a plan.

Now really, I’m not sure how to have that discussion with a 4-year-old but thanks to Little House on the Prairie, I get to. Maybe my dad can help. He’s the one who finished the book with her. So we headed to the used bookstore to get the next book in the series, or any book in the series, or any book about woodworking, corn cakes or race relations on the American frontier, whatever they had in stock.

I told my family about the sign on the front door and that I still hadn’t decided what to say so I was just going to ignore it for the weekend. We entered the store and had a nice talk with the man behind the counter. I found Little House in the Big Woods for $2 while my mom read stories to the kids at the small table in the children’s section and my dad discussed gardening with the owner. We touched the books and breathed the musty smells.

Behind the counter was a box full of the Reproductive Responsibility signs with a note that said, “Free Bumperstickers.”

I smiled at the man and the man smiled at my kids. I turned down his offer to return the book for a dollar credit when we were done reading it because I had a feeling we would never be done reading it over and over and over again.

I plan to continue shopping there and unless he starts treating me differently when I have 3 or 4 or 8 kids, I likely won’t say anything about the stickers.

What’ll we do if the Indians come to our house? We’ll probably just say “Hi” and try to show them that we’re nice and responsible, even though we have light skin and 37 kids. Maybe we’ll all get along okay, despite our differences.

Two Handed

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The cookie cutter package of childlike goodies goes to ~velia. Congratulations! Anyone else who wants to buy the cookies or other fun items from Kim and Jason can order with free shipping on their site through November 2nd with the coupon code DARINGYOUNGMOM.

I’m still dying, not yet dead. I think my brain has turned to liquid because I can hear it sloshing around inside my head whenever my ears clear enough to hear anything.

So I’m wondering if I’m the only person in the world who CAN. NOT. blow my nose with one hand. I was driving today and couldn’t blow my nose and drive because I need both hands to do it. One hand for each nostril or else trou-ble. So yeah. A lot of excitement in my life these days.

At Least My Sweatshirt has Features

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As Worn in the MotherlandI’m sick and sickly, yo. My throat hurts in a way that makes my ears itch WAY down on the inside, WAY down where my ear canal connects to my gland canal connects to my hipbone. So I drank some tea and cleaned my house today, because if I’m gonna die, I want all Widower Dan’s casserole-bringing visitors to know what a good homemaker I was.

Tonight I coughed so hard that I sent myself into a spasm of “musculoskeletal discomfort” on the left side of my chest. I refrained from running to the ER… this time.

sweatshirt-features-002I sneeze, shiver and pull the drawstrings tighter on my hoodie. Ahhhh, the hoodie. How I love this hoodie. This hoodie has more special features than the Matrix DVD.

1. It’s extra-long to cover 2/3 of my personal person with snug ribbing at the bottom to prevent drafts but no bunching at the band to give me an upside down muffin top. It doesn’t give me any streusel topping either.

2. It’s fitted to show off my girlish figger.

3. The hood has an uber-plush rim to cushion my eyebrows comfortably.

4. It comes equipped with a fuzzy woodland creature to subtly suggest my Canadian heritage without knocking people over with my blatant patriotism.

sweatshirt-features-003

5. It has holes in the cuffs.

sweatshirt-features-005

They’re on purpose. They’re for thumbs to live in.

sweatshirt-features-006

sweatshirt-features-0086. It has an electronics grommet in the pocket. If I ever go back to Junior High, I’ll be all set to studiously avoid my parents, teachers and fellow classmates inexplicably with this super awesome iPod portal. My tiny ear buds will work their way secretly up the inside of my hoodie. With no visible cord and my hood pulled tightly around my face, I’ll be able to listen to my favorite K-Fed tunes on high volume, simultaneously damaging my hearing, zapping my brain of vital nerve endings, and alienating everyone around me because they have no idea why I won’t respond to anything they say.

For now I’m not responding to anything anyone says because I’m sick, yo. And not in a good way. Peace out and pass the Kleenex. I just need to leave a hood opening big enough for my nose to fit out and a bendy straw to fit in.

Package of Joy

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abc_cookie_cuttersI went to the mailbox today and found a super fun package from Kim and Jason’s lemonade stand, a gift in honor of my fabulous award. The box was full of fun prizes, my favorite being these super cute ABC (already been chewed) cookie cutters from Kim and Jason’s online shop. Dan and I couldn’t stop laughing at the idea of making cookies that look like they’ve already had a bite taken out of them.

The very best thing about the package is that they’ve offered to send an identical gift to one of my readers. If you could use a little adultitis antidote in your life, leave a comment on this post listing one suggestion to help us all return to a more childlike state.

I’ll randomly pick someone 24 hours from now. Eeny. Meeny. Miney. Moe.

Higher

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The answer to the question — “Where do you keep the scissors?” — should always be — “Higher.”

mangeToday Laylee gave Stephanie’s 3-year-old a serious mullet. She shaved groovy designs in Magoo’s tender scalp, and was just taking her turn in the butcher’s chair when I walked in to see what the kids were up to. Half of her pony tail was on the floor. Luckily it was the top half.

I’m just glad she’s not old enough to notice how uneven it is after I “fixed” it for about half an hour, around and around in circles with the scissors, shorter and shorter and always the little crazy feathers and tails hung down mocking me.

bobish

So it’s sort of bobish and Magoo’s is baldish. I had to shave it shorter than his eyebrows in order to get to the point that he didn’t look like he was losing his hair in chunks due to some hideous mange. I hope his friends can still tell that he’s a mammal. I wouldn’t want him to be mocked on the playground.

baldy

Poo-H

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I got an email from Wendy the other day with a subject line that said “Poo.” She wasn’t going to be able to make it to our Seattle Mom Blogs party and she was expressing her disappointment excrementally. As is often the case with Wendy, she made me laugh. Her email reminded me of a conversation I’d had with Laylee a couple of days earlier.

Me: OH POO!

Laylee: Did you just say “poo”?

Me: Umm… Yes I did.

Laylee: Did you mean “poo” like “Pooh” the bear?

Me: Umm… Yes I did. Oh POOH-bear I’m annoyed right now!

Laylee: Cause that’s what I thought.

Me: Yep.

I know he’s a bear of very little brain, but is that really any reason for so many people to take his name in vain so callously?

My House Smells Better than a Dead Whale

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Do you have your very own marine biologist to change your Betta fish’s water? I do. I pay her with leftover enchiladas and stories about all the crazy people I’ve known in my life. She likes the stories and I like that when she leaves my house, it’s always cleaner than when she came and I always feel better about my life.

She does a good job hiding the fact that she may be judging me because I don’t eat organic biodegradable recycled soy milk or use free-range toilet paper. When I feed her and tell her not to ask what’s in the Mexican food, she doesn’t ask what’s in the Mexican food.

Tonight I invited her over to share some reheated culinary loveliness if she promised to close her eyes to the abundant evidence that I’d had several friends and their precious spawn in and out of my house all day, and hosted and cooked for a birthday luncheon. The main floor of my house was covered in a thick blanket of playdate sputum and I was seriously contemplating waiting 24 hours to remember what I wrote earlier this week and get my act together.

So while I rattled around in the kitchen, popping the pan of enchiladas back in the oven and nuking the other leftovers, she asked what she could do to help. Like any embarrassed woman would do, I told her not to worry about it and for heck’s sake to keep her shoes on when walking on my crusty kitchen floor.

She went into the family room and started picking up toys with unnatural speed. She picked up books, cars, blocks and spit-soaked Spiderman-flavored cheese crackers. She put away toys the kids thought they were still using and said, “Out of sight, out of mind.” In 20 minutes she managed to tidy up my entire main floor, the main floor that had looked like a tornado-ravaged Value Village. Then she joined me in the kitchen where I was ineffectually shuffling the dishes who were waiting for their turn in the magical automatic dish washing shower stall. In my house, dishes who are capable of washing themselves are never subjected to hand washing. It just wouldn’t be right.

She stepped to the sink and started rinsing the waiting dishes. She separated them according to shape, size and possibly color. As she went to dump some plastic silverware in an opaque pitcher of water to soak, she noticed something moving in the water and jumped, “AH! I almost dumped these dirty dishes in with your fish!”

I apologized for keeping JackAgain in a dish so near the drain board. He’d been there for 4 days because I was “cleaning his fishbowl.” In a miraculously non-judgmental tone, that somehow communicated “I want to save the dolphins but I still like you,” she insisted that he be moved back to his bowl immediately before he had a heart attack from the stress of his current living arrangements.

So she cleared out one side of the sink and brought his nasty stinky bowl of old ishy water over to wash. What happened next is a blur but there was a loud crash, Laylee had appeared out of nowhere, was now smiling up at me too innocently to really be innocent and the floor was covered in blech.

I muttered something about how much it stunk as I ran upstairs to get some towels. “It’s okay,” my neighbor called from the kitchen. “At least it doesn’t smell as bad as a dead whale.” She’s a marine biologist. She’s seen and smelled things I hope never to experience in my lifetime. She cleaned my house and saved the whales living in it. She ate my not-from-Whole-Foods food and asked for my recipes. She kept me company on another long lonely night and she told me I was a good mom.

I want to be that kind of friend. I know I’m grateful to have a few.

Your Opinion Matters to Us

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Okay y’all. I need your help. Well “need” is a funny word. I would like your help greatly.

1. I’m likely starting a new feature on Parenting.com each week where I will highlight great posts from blogs written by parents. I know I’m not aware of all the great blogs by moms and dads out there on the internet so I’d love some suggestions. Which blogs big and small should I be reading to find the most entertaining, insightful writing in the blogosphere? (It could even be yours.) Just leave a comment with the URL.

2. What are your favorite get-to-know you party mixer games? I’m hosting this party with a bunch of women who’ve never met before and I’d like to break the ice in some way other than yammering on and on about my kids’ dental health. I mean, a good kiddie toothpaste anecdote is always a big hit but I’d like to step outside my box for one night. Hit me with your best ideas.