Onion Seeds, Not Sets

For those of you who commented recently, first blogspot wouldn't let me hit 'publish' and now they've totally disappeared, I'm hoping they re-show. Lee'd asked how much coffee grinds is too much? Like I'd know? Little Miss Overdo Everything? Honey, I pile it on, figuring by the time the grinds penetrate the massive mulch that I also overdid, the roots'd filter out the rest.

My admiration for The Adoption Counselor has been quite clear as I often refer to her posts, in many ways, she, like my own original caseworker retain massive credentials, both in education and in the baptism-by-fire experience that nearly does us all in.

Her post today though made me cringe out loud, in that I too sometimes feel this way, "I feel sad about this. I wish I could have done better for him. I know it’s not my fault, I know I did the best I could. But I can’t help but wish I could have sent him out into the world a bit more capable than he is. I also wish I could do that for him now, but as it is, he’s a young adult and his behaviours, while barely tolerable when he was a teen, are not at all acceptable at his age."

Heck yeah it's not your fault.

I totally comprehend her emotional anguish over this as us older folks know how hard life can be even for the most meticulously prepared amongst us.

But again, us once-naive middle class, educated mamas really thought love would be enough and we still seem shattered to learn that it is not so.

But what else could any of us have done? I don't think I've ever met, nor known about, an adoptive mother, one who adopted traumatized children, who was finally able to exhale and brag.

Honey, I wish.

So I, for the ten millionth time, retreat to my dirt.

This article reinforcing all of my original thoughts, "a theory that says one of the reasons our children have more allergies and seem to pick up viruses more easily than in the past is because they aren’t exposed to enough dirt and germs. Antibacterial hand soaps, dust-free homes, being stingy with ice cream cones, and not playing in the mud may be doing more harm than good.

Planet Green is reporting that San Diego’s School of Medicine at University of California has research to support the hygiene hypotheses. The research found that excessive cleanliness at an early age could make children more susceptible to allergies later in life.”

Yeah, boy.

I generally plant onion sets, not seeds, and that bugs me. It bugs me that I'm not planting seeds, so last night I did so, in my kitchen here in early December, in the hopes that they'll become sets soon enough. Why Jack needed rain boots to help is beyond me, but the indoor lettuce was finally done a month or so after I'd originally conceived the plan.

I've also never used, nor made soil blocks and that's oh so wrong of me. Plastic six-packs and trays have been my choice for more than three decades and again I'm wrong to do so. I blame the kids, well the amount of kids that is, or my time constraints...whatever child, get it together and do this right.

Today I have both Pathways counseling here at home plus a DJJ meeting, all at nearly the same time that I have to get to the school to pick up Miss Been Kicked Off The Bus again for two weeks, while 15 dreadfully starving children whine that they ate nothing all day, never counting either breakfast nor lunch in their drama.

JoJo had a cow because I did not stand there for an hour and a half browning the corn tortillas last night.

"Every night, JoJo, really?" I'd bellowed, "Can we deviate just one night?"

Chuy, Allen, Martin and Dubs all chiming in all alarmed, as if I'd slapped fast food on the table, "We love the tortillas, puh-leeze Mom," beseechingly pleading their case.

Nothing shows loving like something from the oven?

In our case a very big black cast iron skillet.

I need to drag out my 40-50 now dormant amarylli and get some blooms going to cheer me up as the leaves have fallen off of my beloved treesm and dismal greys, blacks and browns predominate. Yucko.

Sarah'd called to tell me that her homeschool field trip to the recycling center had informed her that dog food bags were, in fact, not recyclable. Stuff like that gets tangled up in my mind and truly I then dwelled on it for much of the evening, further proving I probably really do need some sort of a life someday.

An organization is buying some Christmas gifts for my kids and had asked me what did I want. I thought about it all day, consulted with Sarah and Grandma, and came up empty, as the stuff I really, really like such as scrounged up old bricks, coffee grinds, manure, wood chips and leaves, or used clay pots, is the stuff I always covet and find. I really, really don't give a good cahoot about Christmas presents. I really don't. I'm just incredibly grateful that they're helping me with the children's stuff as my Scrooge-like attitude is clearly not shared by the rest of my family who also agree that I need a life which always prompts me to holler, "Y'all just go find a middle-aged poot like me who's happier with her lot in life."