Talking smack about the new neighbors and hoping they don't find this blog!

From the snap judgments based on scanty evidence desk here at the cave, this just in. We have new neighbors across the street from us as of yesterday evening. The family consists of a very short papa, a very short and pinched looking mama, and the most luminously pallid 11-year old boy I have ever laid eyes on. They are about the honkiest family I've ever met. Have you ever seen Dave Chappelle's parodies of white people? I swear, they talk just like that!

And bless their hearts, they're home-schoolers, which explains the poor kid's extreme lack of color and muscle tone, plus the general air of smugness that wafts from the parents. We know a family just like them one street over, pallor, smugness, pinched wife, short daddy and all. We should probably take introductions in hand because God knows they'll probably never find each other, seeing as how the other neighbors at least never freaking leave their house. They could sit around and feel superior that their brilliant children are just too clever to attend the elementary school just around the corner.

This is bound to piss someone off out there, but hey! I warned you that it was superficial! I used to want to homeschool, but imagined my kids sun-burned, loud, robust, sassy, and self-confident as a result of their more free-form pursuits. Where's the excitement, neighbor honkies?

(Then why are you not homeschooling, bitch? you ask? Two words: too impatient. I know that about myself now.)

A little bitchy

I just got an email from a neighbor of ours who's got 2 kids, one of whom was a classmate of Sister's last year. His email was short. He basically wanted to know when was a convenient time for his daughter to come to our house this week and play so he could take his son on an outing.

Sigh.

There was no "please," no "Would it be okay if...." Just, his daughter would like to come play at our house this week and when could she do that. I like this family fine, but his email just rubs me the wrong way.

Reminds me of trying to be one of the co-leaders of Sister's Girl Scout troop last year and getting almost zero help from the girls' parents. Is it just the fact that I slept so poorly last night and am feeling particularly cranky, or are there lots of people out there who think that stay-at-home moms have nothing better to do than to run a free, drop-in babysitting service for their kids?

Cozy suburban vision meets bitchy mama reality

Do any of you suburban, SAHM types have this sweet little vision of having the neighborhood go-to house like I do? You all know what I'm talking about, right? The house in the neighborhood where the rooms all have interesting stuff to play with or look at, the backyard has swings and toys and other good stuff, there are pets to chase, crafts to do, the homemade cookies flow like wine, etc? Some part of me wants our new house to be that house. Some part of me very much likes the idea of having a house full of kids that I can play mama hen to and that Bean and Sister can play with until it's time to send everyone home to their grateful parents. I want the neighborhood kids to be comfortable here, to think of me as a nice mom, to have this house be a lovely, cozy backdrop to my kids' childhood that they'll remember fondly when they're adults. Nice image, huh?

So when a neighbor lady called up a little while ago to ask if her 2 bored, out-of-school kids could come over to play for a few hours because she wasn't feeling well, I should've been all sweetness and light and getting out the plate of cookies 'cause here was a chance to live my nice neighborhood mama vision! I wasn't. To the mom I said yes, of course they could come over and I was sorry she didn't feel well and if she wanted they could have lunch here while she napped and Sister would love to see them and yada yada yada. But when I hung up I fumed quietly to myself, even as I recognized that Sister would probably snap out of her own out-of-school funk if she had someone besides Bean to play with. All I could think, though, was, "They better fuckin' all like grilled cheese and baby carrots for lunch. I better not hear any babies screaming because they're feeling left out, dammit. No one better fight..." and so on.

Just call me the neighborhood bitch.

Changing of the garden

I've got an unexpected boon of free time this morning. Bean slept miserably last night and woke up with a cold, so she's taking a morning nap. We're skipping her little Friday morning music class, too, since I think she'd be too grumpy. No parent there would appreciate her extremely runny nose and sneezing either.

So here I sit in the kitchen at my computer, sipping tea and enjoying this little gift of time. I didn't get much sleep last night either, but I'm not feeling it yet. I feel great, in fact, which just goes to prove how very much I am starved for alone time these days. It trumps napping, which is saying a lot for me!

Earlier this morning I walked the dog past our old house and dropped off lists of plants that I had planted there in 2004 and 2005 plus a fat stack of plastic plant tags that I'd never gotten around to cataloging. The new owners requested them when I mentioned that I had kept records of everything because they're eager to learn about what's there and what kind of care the plants require. This thrills me, of course, since it was so hard to leave them all. But it occurred to me after I walked away that it really isn't my garden anymore. I've still felt possessive when I've walked by the house these last couple of months. I've been mad at them when they didn't water during a whole month of no rain. I've been sad to see things die that I really loved. But when I gave them those plant records I gave them the last of my work there. That's it! For real this time.

Tomorrow, though, Husband and the girls and I are going to a local nursery to choose a good-sized tree to plant in our mostly barren new front yard. I'm thinking about a willow oak or possibly another maple to pair with the one tall maple already out front. It will be the first thing we plant here and I'm so pleased and excited about it.