Twister

It's impossible to grow up in Georgia and not have at least one, if not two or three or twelve, tornado stories. I remember a few, but 1998 was the worst. The night of the 1998 tornados, I was at college huddled up in my bedroom with my roommate and listening to the raging storm outside. When our blinds got sucked out the window, we ran screaming to the downstairs hallway. A few hours later, this happened to my aunt and cousins. (Graham ended up just fine, by the way.) Anyway, all this means that pretty much no one in my family can sleep at night when there's bad weather. Last night was no exception.

We're all fine, but a lot of people were killed and injured. A lot of people lost their homes. Springtime in the South.

A friend reminded me that I'm moving to the land of tsunamis. But I figure at least with hurricanes and tropical storms and tsunamis, you usually get some warning. When a tornado hits, you're lucky if you even have time to grab your children and run to the basement.

I hate tornado season.

Heartwarming. To Me, Anyway.


You can read an excerpt over on BoingBoing.

Easter

Let it be known that no creepy giant bunny crept into our home to deposit eggs this past Sunday. Because I just can't deal with that. Oh no. In this house, at least so far, humans claim full responsibility for Eastertide goodies. So our egg hunt took place at a friend's house. Dinka was thrilled that he was going to a "pah-tee" where he would be allowed to have "tweets." Dinke was so excited that she had to open every single egg she found right away, spilling the contents (dried cranberries, bunny grahams, and a few M&Ms) all over the grass. The weather was wonderful. The food was delicious. The children were adorable. It was just perfect.

Tell Me Your Stories. No, for Real. I'm Actually Asking for Your Advice.

It's coming. The transition to Big Beds. An Ikea order--hey, just because Xander got a job doesn't mean we suddenly have loads of cash lying around--will be placed shortly, and in it will be a milestone. Holy crap. One of the weird things about adopting toddlers from a developing nation is that you go from baby to big kid really fucking fast. These guys have gone from wearing 3-6 months clothing to wearing 2T and, in Dinka's case, some 3T clothing in less than a year. He's gone from being a tiny little lump of a boy to being tall enough to, well, climb out of his crib. It's been a wild roller coaster of an experience.

I'm not super sentimental, but occasionally I have my moments. A couple of transitions have been a little bit tear-jerking. One was my kids going from diapers to underpants, which of course everyone thought was crazy because ohemgeeyoudonthavetochangediapersohemgee! The second was giving away the slings we carried them in regularly for the first several months home. And this one, the bed thing, is going to be another one. We decided to give them "big beds" for their second birthday. Along with some toys because, hey, we're not assholes. They've taken every other transition so incredibly well that I'm honestly expecting them to mostly be completely thrilled with their new furniture.

But this all merits some practical considerations. Like the fact that they are going to be able to get out of bed whenever they want. Am I going to accidentally punch one of them in the face when I suddenly sense a stranger's presence in our bedroom at 2am? Am I going to need to put a latch on their door to make sure this doesn't happen? Do I put a potty in there so they can go when they need to, knowing full well this is going to mean a few weeks of complete mess as they most certainly will miss or drip or decide to empty the thing themselves? (I know. Gross.) Do I go for bumpers or guard rails? Or should I just handle this like I handle the rest of parenting, stop thinking about it so much and just see what happens?

Tell me, people. Tell me what to do. Because we're about to wander right off the map, and I am a little bit scared.

Aloha!

I don't have a special day reserved for confessions, so I'll just pick this random Monday to let loose with a secret I've been keeping from you fine folks. Are you ready? No, you're not. It's THAT awesome.

THE PUBLIC HOUSE IS MOVING...

Wait. That's not the awesome part. Here's the awesome part:

TO HAWAII.

Yep. Forever. Er, or indefinitely anyway. It turns out if you work really hard at math you can get a tenure-track job in a pretty unbelievable location. Study hard, little dudes. Study hard.

Getting Ready for an International Street Fest

Long, Slow Decline

This blog, as you may have noticed, is on a long, slow decline. It's funny. My readership is up. I have more followers. There was that whole controversial internet famous period not that long ago. If I wanted to officially be named a "mommy blogger," now would be the time to go for it. To get some ads up and start writing witty posts that involve lots of toilet humor and references to sex. Or to pretend to be one of those ladies who can't find time to shower anymore now that I have kids, because that seems to be a popular theme. (Tip: Shower at night!) But it's just not in me. I think I'm running out of things to say. Or at least things that I want to say in public.

I'm finding that I feel really uncomfortable writing much about the twins now that they are getting older and becoming more vocal themselves. It's just so impossible to know what they or I might feel ashamed by later on. Though I occasionally write posts about things other than adoption and parenting, very often I am unable to finish them. I don't have the time to do the research needed, or I lose steam before I'm able to make a point.

What to do? While I understand the reasoning, I always hate it when people suddenly make their blogs password protected. It's like you've been going over to someone's house every day for years, and all of a sudden they refuse to open the door, and it always kind of hurts my feelings. Plus any useful tidbits of information regarding adoption are immediately locked away from people who might need them. So I don't want to do that. I don't want to use password protection as an excuse to go ranting about things that are probably not suitable for any kind of public consumption, password-protected or not. And honestly? There's not much controversy to write about over here. Things are going pretty well. Nope. I think if anything I'll just stop writing. I mean, I'll probably never really stop writing. But I may stop writing here. We'll see.

Of course, that may mean losing touch with a whole bunch of nice people that I've really come to enjoy and care about. This makes me sad.

Anyway, I'm not gone just yet. But I am contemplating the future of the Public House and trying to figure out what it looks like. I'm not sure...