Shadow Puppet Storyteller

Yes, yes late on most people's schedules

Ominous. I've been e-mailed that I haven't updated my blog in 1 day, 17 hours and some odd minutes. Didn't know Big Brother had my number on that one. Well, I had a feeling....

I had the urge at least twice today to log on, which was quickly counteracted by the guilt of being "a no-face mother." This is my own terminology, and damned if it doesn't sound like a nasty cuss phrase if you say it right. You see, my children will find me at my computer and demand attention. The little one generally shouts, "Look at this mommy!" I've come to expect the aftermath of cartwheeling into a chair, or a fishing contest result for the largest booger, or her brother's newest favorite stack of whatchamathinks being quietly and deliberately bent or demolished. If I don't look, "I know nothing." Most of the time that's how I'd like it to be. But I really do not want my children to get used to mommy having no-face.

First of all, I have a work schedule that's flip-flopped from most people. Graveyard every weekday - including Friday into Saturday morning. Depending on the brightness outside and my direction in bed, I may opt for covers over the head completely. I also have a heavy-duty sleeping mask which gets onto the level of sensory-deprivation. Sometimes this schedule works to my advantage. I do try to be on the computer at a time before either of the kids are awake. Oh, except my almost teen son thinks it's great fun to sneak up on me; say his first "Hello, Mama" of the day, and if I haven't heard his approach, see how violently I jump outta my skin!

I actually think my worst level of ignore the problem and "it" will go away happens when we are all in the family room together. My computer faces my husband's - so I haven't become a "no-face wife." Yet. The TV and PS2 doubling as DVD player creates the T-intersection to our work stations. But my guilt surfaces more easily when I realize no one is paying attention to any one else.

Saturday, I was making the extra effort to share time with my daughter. We worked together on a doll entry for the County Fair. I told her today was a good day to get her doll started. It's an all-rag doll we learned to make from a saavy RenFaire merchant. My daughter was very proud of the hand-held sized one she made the opening weekend of the RenFaire. That, however, was in April, so that doll has probably reverted back to a pile of rags in my daughter's closet much like Frosty the Snowman becomes a puddle when the temp is no longer hanging out below 32 degrees.

She's a darn good designer for her age. She can't tie her own shoes yet, but she's a consultant in-training to fashion divas everywhere. The first modification she wanted to make was to have the doll be "her size." We're talkin' rags here, so I had no problem with that.
She also wanted her to have shoes. Never mind that the idea we were basing her new doll on did not have legs. The rags are draped and tied to form layer upon layer of skirt only. I suggested that some of the rag ends could be stuffed into an old knit pair of baby booties we found while digging through the linen closet. She wanted to use a pair of tennis shoes that had been hers, which we also came across in our foraging. She relented easily when I found the knit socks. She reasoned that I might need the shoes for another baby!

I reminded her of the steps to construct the doll and she did the work. We only had one time out for each of us. A small issue over knot-tying capability. But she was basically done fairly quickly after that. Then my daughter had a hard time putting her maid away - who wouldn't want to play with the friend you just made. And how often do you get to hand-pick a friend's outfit from your "old rags?"