Even adults can cave to peer pressure

A week or so ago the neighbors and I were outside. Just sitting in the yard enjoying each others company and the sweltering heat. As we watched the children melt into the blistering hot asphalt someone mentioned that they haven't had a really good peanut butter chocolate chip cookie in a really long time. So I told them that I make one hell of a peanut butter chocolate chip cookie (well, I do) and would bake some up as soon as I got enough peanut butter.

Well, I finally made it to the hundred dollar store and stocked up on some peanut butter worthy of my tasty creation this last week. And then raided the local Sprouts for chocolate chips since Sunflower is no longer open on my side of town. Sad really. I did this all during the week knowing that I can look forward to a big bake off come this Saturday morning. Weekends are my baking days since I started on that SRP saving energy program. Although I have been diligent with not using the utilities I do not see much of a savings as of yet.

I must mention here that I do have a rather nasty sinus infection at the moment. Add to that one son climbing into bed with us late last night. On top of two daughters that, upon sharing a bed at one point in the middle of the night, thought subconsciously it would be a good idea to pee the bed together while sleeping. So I woke early this morning, just as the sun began to rise, to the two discussing which sheets they should replace the wet ones with. Needless to say I had very little restless sleep last night and decided to put them all in front of the TV while I slept in a bit.

At least that is what I thought I did with them. You see, when I decided to go ahead, in my sicky state of being, and make the cookies something was missing. I gathered all the ingredients out of the cupboards and fridge. Being sure that all was here before cracking one egg or pouring any peanut butter. And thank the heavens I did. For I could not find the chocolate chips any where. I knew I had put them up in the top cupboard. So sneaky hands would not pillage the land of yummy chocolate. Obviously I need to find another hiding spot. I called all three of my children into the kitchen to drill the truth out of them. To my surprise Thing Two chimed in rather quickly and asked me to follow him because he knew where they were. The gourmet cook inside of me just screamed and cried and threw the butcher knife across the room when my feet led me to the backyard. The hot and melty backyard. And there on the kids picnic bench lay my chocolate chipless glob of a bag.

My plans for the day ruined, I went about moping and being sick and complaining that, "there will never be another cookie made in this house again!" Or at least until the Lord of the House got home so I can go to the store to buy more chocolate chips. So the day turned into the evening and I sweetly tucked my terrible three into their beds and waited for the Lord of the House to arrive home. I popped some popcorn and uncapped a bottle of coke (the kind from Mexico that has real sugar in it instead if HFC) and settled down to the great musical Chicago. I only get to the fourth musical set, you know, the one where the seven death row inmates tell their stories of how they did it, when he gets home. Earlier than I expected. But that is what DVD's and pause are for, right? So I kiss him goodbye and take my list to the local market.

It had choc chips, vanilla, flour and a roast, because the Lord of the House is wanting pot roast for dinner. But of course I bought a few other things that were not on it. Who doesn't? They were tortillas, strawberries, bananas, cake flour, straws and the new Harry Potter book. Dammit! I couldn't help myself! It was there! Right there! Right where you walk into the store! Just staring at me! Begging me to buy it! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh the peer pressure of it all!

Surprise! It's a New Moon

The New Moon was on the 14th. I mulled over rituals in my head. Thinking how nice it would be to feel that energy that comes from high Magick. Knowing that practice makes perfect. And on the 14th New Moon came. And the New Moon went. And not much of a ritual was performed. No circle drawn. No candles were lit. No incense burned. No Quarters called. No Goddess and God called upon. No cakes and ale served. No Blessed Be muttered. Nothing.

Nothing but the mundane. Nothing but the normal routine happenings of life as we know it. At least they seemed normal at the time. But now that I decided to sit and write of one particular incident over this last weekend, as I peered at my calender, I realized that amazing, out of the norm, Magickal happenings occurred right before my eyes. And I did not even realize it. But isn't that what life is all about? The small changes that guide us gently into the directions that we must go?

Isn't that what the New Moon is all about? To make changes. Small or large. About life, love, family, friends, work, personal awareness. It is a great time to take on new endeavors. To begin a new career. To work on personal changes. To start new projects. And as the Moon grows to its full and robust self with strength and power so shall these new changes in life grow and become a part of us.

My friend of old, Superman, had a few things happen to him over this New Moon cycle. He at last found a connection with his Mother. He flew up to see her this last week to strengthen the bond between them. Right before moving to Albacookie (as Cat in the Hat calls it), NM to be closer to his son. A new life awaits him in NM. Hopefully a life that will fulfill his hopes and dreams. Even those hopes and dreams that he is not yet aware of.

My husband, where from here on out will be knighted Lord of the Manor, received his Lairdship from Scotland for his birthday. It was something small and whimsical but I swear his shoulders are a little more straighter as he wears his new title with pride.

Cat in th Hat has yet lost another tooth. Right in front. On the top. There lays a gaping hole where the shiny pearl once resided. A hole that she proudly shows off to any person that is not as squeamish as I am to look at it. Although she has been losing teeth for a few years now, every shining pearl lost is one step closer to being older. As far as she is concerned any ways.

And last but not least Thing two. What can I say about my son and his great personal change?

"Mommy. Mommy. Come look!" Thing Two screamed happily across the house.
"What is it?" I cautiously asked.
"Look! I can see my penis!" Exclaimed my son in great pride.

As he pulls the skin ALL the way back and the shiny pink head pokes out.

He now has a whole new way of playing with his toy of choice.

BLESSED BE.

I relinquish all control

OK maybe not ALL control.

I have always been a neat and organizational freak. But after three kids, a few calming drugs and a more than a hectic lifestyle I have learned to ease back on it a bit. Although I do still tend to have my more than manic moments. :/ But the lax of my need for this control over the household really just hit me over the past couple of weeks. See. Cat in the Hat has her fathers gene handed down from ancestors long ago mating with the pack rat out sheer horniness and nothing else to lay at the moment. Add to that their lack of organizational skills and you get one big huge dump for a bedroom. Picture, if you can, the old bag lady in the Labyrinth starring the handsomely famous singer/actor David Bowie? Yeah that scary. I often wonder if she will be a poor bag lady or a rich eclectic collector of rare and odd artifacts. But I digress.

I have always in the past took way too much time, energy and sighs nit picking through her piles of drawings, magazine clippings, books, toys (broken and not), jewelry, clothes, shoes, bobbles, stones, trinkets and whatever you may imagine to find at the bottom of a pile that has not been gone through in ages. And, yes, including a few dead somethings that you can no longer recognize. I have tried to instill in her my innate ability to know when to keep the treasure that was just found at the local department stores purse section or to toss the trash that stuck to the sidewalk and took twenty minutes to pick off. I have tried all in vain to offer up boxes, baskets, bags and drawers in hopes that she would use them for something other than another spot to overload with more junk, um, treasures.

Well, we talked, once again, about cleaning out her room, going through and picking out a few (actually more of enough to fill a huge ass box) items to trash or give away and then organizing the rest. Once again. And once again she took, really, way too long of a time to get her room actually to a semi clean state of being. MONTHS. WEEKS. DAYS. OK just days. But still. When she finally got to the point of it being my turn to come in and get her back to organizational bliss I just had a moment of deep anguish, deep despair, the unbridled deep desire to run and run as fast as I could in the other direction. WHAT? ME? Run away from my most deepest and darkest addiction? What has gotten into me?

The only conclusion I have been able to come up with is that I no longer want that kind of control over my daughters life. I have given her a cave of her very own. Separate from the rest of the mountain. She has reached the age of her own definability and she should be allowed to create her space in whatever way makes her feel safe and comfortable and happy in there (Really, whatever it takes to keep her in there, right?). At the grand old age of eight she is coming into her own decorating style and as much as it's going to kill me I will relinquish my control over it all.

All except when it becomes a complete disaster and the floor has disappeared below a mountain of crap, um, treasures.