Photo Every Hour (ish)- May 11, 2011.

 5:30. Steven says goodbye and heads for the door. Meazi wakes and I say, "Hurry and catch daddy before he goes." I go back to bed, and then find Meazi here. 6:00.

Himself trundles out of the bedroom, having already removed his silky sleep cap.

We have breakfast, cheesy eggs and chocolate croissants. I eat mine and Melese's, down three cups of coffee and three advil. Cramps.

7:00. We leave for school, Melese surveys the damage from what will now be referred to as, "The Great Chair Debacle of 2011". Don't ask. He is insisting on wearing his "Beeswax" which are light up antennae from the dollar depot. It's P.E. day so Meazi gets to wear sweats.

 I only get exasperated with Meazi once, as we frantically go back in the house to search for a book she needs to return to her school library. It was in her bag the whole time. We get into the car and hear the incredible voice of this woman. Steven got me this cd for my birthday. Meazi says, "Mom, why do you want those kids in the new school to learn English?" And so it begins, the big questions right away. And why do I want them to learn English anyway? I say, "Well Meazi, I want them to learn Amharic too. The more languages they know, the more opportunities they will have." She says, "So they will know Kembatissa, Amharic, and English?" I say, "I hope so." She says, "Mom, I think we should have another fundraiser to build another school in another village and the kids can learn Kembatissa, Amharic, English, and Spanish, and maybe French too!" I tell her that I think it is a fine idea. Then we have a long conversation about coat tail riding and that guy that always sings on AK's albums and how he is really lucky that AK gives him work. We agree that we don't like his voice and we skip right over his tracks. Melese yells, "Make it YOUDER mamma!" I turn it up and we pull into the school parking lot.

We wait with her until the last possible second. I walk Melese to the Kindergarten door so he can, take a yittle peek. We drive home. He says he'd like a yittle walk.


We are having a lovely time visiting the neighborhood dogs, picking flowers, etc until Melese becomes startled by a neighbor and falls apart, making me think again about this powerful post that Julie wrote yesterday, and some suspicions I have about my beautiful son. We go in and I make us some decaf, chai tea with lots of milk and sugar.

He feels better. We sing a few songs on the rocker and watch the fish.

He asks for some dried cherries, and his playdoh.

  He makes me an ice cream cone, while I answer a couple of e-mails, and attempt to finally finish my thank you notes for the fundraiser.

10. 11. More of the same. More dried fruit. Lots of dried fruit. Some singing, some trucks, and some more playdoh. I search online for airline tickets for what will now be referred to as our upcoming, Summer of Love tour. Two weddings. Four trips. Trains, planes, and boats. Papa's boat.

12:00. He tells me he is ready for his nap. I'd love to say that we now just kiss each other 'Good nap!' and off he goes, but, well, I still lie down with him until he falls asleep. I know two years. He also still has a sippy cup of milk (rotting his teeth and impeding his speech I am sure). I turn on the space heater, and put his three favorite lullabies in a loop on my I-Phone. I lie next to him. He grabs my hand. We both fall asleep.

12:15. The mailman wakes me up. I receive the Rosemary oil I ordered for their hair but can't remember what exactly I am supposed to do with it. I eat some salty items, some chocolatey items, and have a mini ugly cry. Ah hormones.

1: something. He wakes up. I change his sweaty clothes. He gives me a look that seems familiar, but I think Nah, I haven't changed a poopy diaper in months. I will spare you the rest of this hour but just remember these two words: dried fruit.

I make him some pasta. He eats a little and then goes back in for more playdoh fun. He hasn't played with it for months, so I am surprised that he continues.

2:20. At long last. His favorite part of the whole day...

We drive off to get Meazi, our konji.

I bring our library books. Meazi has a star chart and every seven stars she gets a treat of her choice. Melese had been talking about Pinkberry all day, and I knew Meazi wouldn't need much persuading for a Pinkberry, park, library trifecta, celebrating her good behavior. (I am not thrilled with this reward system that we have going, besides the fact that I am getting fat, I don't want to keep this much longer. Does anyone else do reward chart sorts of things? Any better ideas? Oh, I know, I know, she should just listen and do whatever I want her to do. That doesn't really work in our house).


Melese keeps getting youder and youder so we have to leave.


6-ish. I defrost some processed foodstuffs for dinner, and have a chat with my good friend, Fess Parker.

 They eat. Melese only gets up three times, which is pretty good, and I only have to utter this mothering gem once, "Melese, this is it. After dinner the kitchen is closed and you will get NO MORE FOOD." He replies, "The kitchen doesn't have a door mamma," and walks off.

Ted wants to know where his dinner is.

7:ish. Homework.


Imaginative play. Melese wearing Meazi's school shoes and mumbling about kindergarten.

7:ish. Miraculously, Meazi spends a great deal of time helping me tidy up the house. She tells me a long involved story about the Holy Family, and how Mary is everyone's mother. I scan the calendar to see just how many days of Catholic instruction she has left. Then she says, "I'd like to get some flowers for Mary's statue momma. Can we do that?" If you had seen her sweet little face, you would have said yes too, atheist or not.

The wee Gobez is now ready for slumber.


8:30 ish. Steven arrives home, takes our photo.

Bonne nuit.

10:52 pm. I am up again. Steven is out back pouring our honey harvest into bear jars, I just uploaded all the photos and ate 75 Easter jelly beans. Ahhh, hormones.

Here is last year's post.

Here's the year before that (when I forgot to take my medicine).
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