baby cakes…

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I spent the morning with my little grandson. He was fine, until I took his picture and shared it with family.

Then he screamed inconsolably.

So I took him for a ride in the wagon as I collected trash from the midden. The glass and wire were scattered throughout the acreage where they’d chucked them.

But header baby thought the sun and ride were awesome!

I, however, suffering from a sinus infection, was not so sure, so I had to eventual head indoors.

He screamed.

Baby cakes.


Babies do not create calmness to anyone. I don’t care how many woman out there claim otherwise.

Something about incessant screaming when they have neither vocabulary to express their needs, nor desire to NOT reach decibel levels that exceed 33.

Calmness occurs when they are asleep. That occasional, blissful time of rest between bouts of screaming.

So I chucked him back inside, after giving mom an hour reprieve, and spent the rest of the morning outside.

With the breeze and the chickens.

Volume control…

Perhaps I wasn’t meant for motherhood.

But I was meant for preservation of hearth and home.

When I hear the clatter of dog bowls being tossed around the laundry room, see laundry being strangely moved from one person’s carefully sorted laundry basket to another, and school books scattered across the floor, I can take a guess what happened.

Especially when the dog seeks refuge outside with me in the heat of the sun instead of the air conditioned environ of the house.

Baby cakes.

Chubby little thighs…

There are mothers out there who coo over their baby’s chubby little legs and double chins. They see their innocence as such a blessing.

I, however, see them, in the words of St. Lucia of Fatima, “spawns of the devil until the age of 6!”

Not purposefully so, mind you. But definitely programmed to be focused on their immediate pleasures, disregarding any consequences.

Unless trained, they become adults with the same self-centered attitude. And adult babies don’t even have the excuse of cute, chubby thighs!

While babies have cute little chubby thighs, their cut chubby little hands are into mischief.

That is what I see.

Chaos at the hands of the world’s tiny enemy.


But nightfall comes soon enough. After a tirade of screaming during prayers as Daddy rocks the youngster to sleep, the tyrant becomes Baby Cakes again.

Cute, Cuddly, Squishy. Adorable.

With just a brief outburst after realizing he’s been put to bed, silence envelopes the house.


So I review the day.

What was I planning on doing? What did I accomplish of my own tasks?

The older ones do try to help out with the baby, but they have their own work to do.

After schooling, any cooperativeness quickly devolves into, “IT’S MY COMPUTER TIME! SOMEONE ELSE WATCH THE BABY!” as they disappear.

Or the ever favorite, “I WATCHED HIM ALL MORNING (consisting of about an hour)!”


Followed by arguments, while the baby picks up on the chaos and joins in with loud shrieks, screaming, and random acts of destruction.

But trying to be the comfort and letting him play next to me results in louder shrieks for “MOMMY!”

Earplugs don’t help. And nothing gets done.



There is always tomorrow, people say.

But we aren’t always promised a tomorrow. And my goal is to eliminate the remaining clutter of my life into bite-sized chunks.

Kind of a Swedish Death Cleaning.

Something my Mom never did. And, three years later, my sister is still trying to sort through.

That’s not fair to those who come after us.


My office is the last place to work on.

Before we moved, most of what we had collected was discarded already. Very little of it is left.

But the books we’ve accumulated over the years just need to be reviewed one more time. Sort by category, discard irreparable ones, restore damaged ones, donate ones that will never been read or will never be read again.

But that means, per the KonMari method, chucking all the books on the floor from anywhere in the house, sorting by category, then discarding unused books FIRST.

THEN organizing them on the shelves where the remaining library of referenced books can be enjoyed by all.

Only, I have gotten that far…yet.

Not even just the chucking them all in a pile on the ground.

I have, however, gotten a head start before we moved. Most of the old business and programming type books, discarded, and even burned, all my papers and all but one book (on Advanced Excel, which I rarely use to build anything anymore) from my last job.

I don’t ever want to see that kind of work again.


Speaking of computers, my Linux system is a pain in the backside. It’s safe and secure – only because no sane person but a programmer can use the thing!

If these developers want to promote a very viable, security driven operating system, then they need far better UI.

Right now, it’s like teaching a toddler (me, average schmo) to drive a car (operate the Linux) while watching out for oncoming traffic and obeying all road signs (figuring out how to turn the stupid thing on).

Next to impossible for those not prone to programming.

Make it more like BEOS. It worked just like a Mac on PC platforms with smaller operating requirements with the flexibility potential enough to work between IOS and Windows…

But I digress.

Future goals…

As Fall comes in, the weather is getting cooler, and winter is around the corner, that office will be conquered. Completely.

Most of the work already was done at our previous residence.

Now It’s the nitty gritty stuff that will take the focus.

Things like a new chicken house, sheds, walks, finding new hiking trails… game nights.

Maybe the baby can help out organizing the office. He should be old enough by then.


I’ll let you know that works out.

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