Yes, that's right -- you heard it here first. *I* am QUITE the hot little potato when I'm lacking in the personal hygeine arena.
What? You need an explanation? You don't believe this? You think that this is odd blogging?
Blame my husband.
See -- yesterday the kids and I had one of our very rare never leave the house except to check the mail days. (Truth be told -- the ONLY reason we got out of our pajamas was to check the mail and I came *this* close to saying skip it -- but I was waiting for some ebay stuff to come, so my curiosity got the better of me.) Actually, poor Georgia never did make it out of her jam-jams.
Anyway -- here's me -- quite a vision:
*Leftover smudgey eye makeup from the day before
*Hair in a bun with a red visor
*One of Chris' really old and huge Structure sweatshirts
*Big (as in I lost weight - yay - so they don't fit too well anymore) red track pants
*My big, pink, fuzzy slippers
The kids were in bed, and I was in the kitchen washing dishes (for like the 3rd time that day -- I baked brownies, made baby food and made homemade chicken noodle soup so there were LOTS of them) when Chris got home from work. So, we're playing catch-up on each other's days and he's giving me "that" look while I'm telling him a story.
You know when you can tell someone's listening but they're not really *engaged* in what you're saying and they are dying to make a sexually-oriented comment as soon as you stop talking? *THAT* was the look I'm meaning.
So I'm getting "that" look and when I finish my sentence, sure enough he says "Can I just tell you how SEXY you look right now? Seriously. You look hot."
Excuse me while I pee my pants laughing.
Wait. Wait just a second. What the heck?!?
Why is it that EVERY time I skip the shower, skip the makeup, skip doing my hair, THAT'S when I get "that" look and "those" comments? Why bother? So, I decide to ask.
I say "Do you realize that every time I don't shower, *that's* when you think I'm hot?"
At this point -- Chris decides that this is probably blog-worthy discussion and asks if he'll be reading about it soon. Is that too funny? I said "Sure, I'll blog on it." He tells me (while he tries to pull some mack-daddy neck kissing at the sink) that he just thinks I look so cute and he can't help it.
So, in thinking more about it today, I have sort of figured out what the deal is. Here's my best thinking on the subject...
He loves it (and I mean LOVES it) when I get all dressed up, pantyhose, heels (no accident that I first typed "hells" for those, by the way) and the whole 9 yards. I think that's a given. When I do my hair, put on makeup, go all out with the clothes, he definitely notices and compliments me.
He thinks I'm cute in my "school marm" (his term) outfits. Cute, charming and very snuggly are words I'm guessing he'd use. That's when I usually get the "I just want to tackle you" for bear hugs comments.
I think instances like last night turn my hubby on because he has a MAJOR thing for the girl next door look. He thinks the mom (Jill) on Home Improvement is about as sexy as they come, for instance. I'm that girl. The visor was from Daytona (instant "schwing" potential), I was "fresh faced" to him -- icky faced to me, but this isn't about me. I think when he sees me in my sweats, it honestly reminds him of the "girly" part of me -- the cute little teeny-bopper he first fell in love with (before he admitted to himself and the world that he did) so many years ago. I think that for my husband, just being me, just being a carefree, comfortable woman is what *really* turns him on. Cute = sexy in this house. Actually, that's how Georgia got to be here, a simple haircut and the rest is history in that department.
Here's the thing -- I'm COMPLETELY the opposite, and am borderline mean about it sometimes. If he's been working in the yard or has had a long day and wants big ol' snuggles and kisses, I'll hug but like the stiff Aunt Martha who you REALLY don't want to be hugging you hugs. And he knows it. And I'll *tell* him..."Ugh, you need to SHOWER!"
Aren't I so rude?
You know there were a few times when we were dating that I seriously made him take a shower before coming to bed because he'd been around smoke and stuff. If I could smell it, I'd throw a huge fit until he showered.
And then there's him. In the grateful, appreciative, complimentary, lovey-dovey category, no contest. He kicks my butt - no question. Now don't get me wrong, he hears a lot about how cute he is, how I think he's hot, and there are NO lingering questions in his mind about how I feel about his butt. (Love it!!) But he is WAY sweeter than I am.
Guess I should count my blessings that showers are optional, huh? Too bad the rest of the world doesn't view me in the same light. I'd be the hottest stinky woman this side of the Mississippi!
Thanks for loving me for me, honey!!
Friday, September 22, 2006
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Grateful...
Okay, I've moved on from blue to grateful. As much as it SUCKS that all this business is going on around me, I've just decided that I've expended enough negative energy for now.
I'm doing what I can for those people that I love who are not in a good way or in the middle of drama. Beyond that, I've decided that all I can do is be grateful for all of the things in my life that are not spinning out of control, causing me hurt, my health, and that of my family. Above all, I know that I'm loved as deeply as I love my own family, and really -- what more does a girl need?
I'm still sad and upset about all of it, but letting it be all-consuming just wasn't working.
I'm doing what I can for those people that I love who are not in a good way or in the middle of drama. Beyond that, I've decided that all I can do is be grateful for all of the things in my life that are not spinning out of control, causing me hurt, my health, and that of my family. Above all, I know that I'm loved as deeply as I love my own family, and really -- what more does a girl need?
I'm still sad and upset about all of it, but letting it be all-consuming just wasn't working.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Routines...
Those are pretty important to me. I'm a person that craves structure. I think that my little people do, too.
We have a morning routine and today -- we are not in it. Usually, after M wakes up, he comes downstairs and can watch some cartoons and chill out while I put away dishes from the dishwasher, clean the kitchen, and check my email. Well, as a result of a MAJOR tantrum last night going to bed, there is no tv today. No computer today. Period. End of sentence.
You'd think that we moved and I am speaking a foreign language or something. He remembered no tv and it was like "But what do I do?" Now -- before you think I have a total tv head who just vegetates in front of it all day long, that's not the case. He gets to watch it first thing in the morning and while I make dinner. The rest of the day it's music only. I thought he'd have a complete fit about it, but it's just that tv is part of his morning routine and now I've changed it. (Sort of like no cup of coffee first thing -- feels different.) I think that for him -- it took a minute to realize that he could do what he does the rest of the day -- play with the gazillion and two toys he has around here, playdough, color, read, whatever. Currently, he's happy as a clam looking at the Cars cards I cut off of the cereal box for him and eating his cheerios and blueberries.
I just thought that was interesting. He wasn't upset about the no tv thing, he was more confused about "What now?" since I took him out of his routine. I thought how easy it is to view kids as just CHILDREN and forget about the actual PERSON part of their makeup. He really craves structure and routine as much as I do -- I like to fly by the seat of my pants now and then -- I can be flexible and spontaneous, but for the most part, I'd like to have some predictability.
Looks like I'm not alone.
We have a morning routine and today -- we are not in it. Usually, after M wakes up, he comes downstairs and can watch some cartoons and chill out while I put away dishes from the dishwasher, clean the kitchen, and check my email. Well, as a result of a MAJOR tantrum last night going to bed, there is no tv today. No computer today. Period. End of sentence.
You'd think that we moved and I am speaking a foreign language or something. He remembered no tv and it was like "But what do I do?" Now -- before you think I have a total tv head who just vegetates in front of it all day long, that's not the case. He gets to watch it first thing in the morning and while I make dinner. The rest of the day it's music only. I thought he'd have a complete fit about it, but it's just that tv is part of his morning routine and now I've changed it. (Sort of like no cup of coffee first thing -- feels different.) I think that for him -- it took a minute to realize that he could do what he does the rest of the day -- play with the gazillion and two toys he has around here, playdough, color, read, whatever. Currently, he's happy as a clam looking at the Cars cards I cut off of the cereal box for him and eating his cheerios and blueberries.
I just thought that was interesting. He wasn't upset about the no tv thing, he was more confused about "What now?" since I took him out of his routine. I thought how easy it is to view kids as just CHILDREN and forget about the actual PERSON part of their makeup. He really craves structure and routine as much as I do -- I like to fly by the seat of my pants now and then -- I can be flexible and spontaneous, but for the most part, I'd like to have some predictability.
Looks like I'm not alone.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Blue on behalf of loved ones...
Today's not the best day I can remember. You ever talk to people you really, really care about and love and just ACHE because of the struggles they are going through?
Today -- I have lots of them.
I don't want to go into detail -- for one thing, I would be here until midnight, but lots of it is stuff that I need to keep in the vault. It's just HARD. Life -- it's hard. And it's not fair. And it sucks sometimes. And it rips people's hearts open and stomps on them.
And we're all expected to keep going. And believe that not only *can* it get better, but that it *will*. And every day is supposed to be better than the last. And time heals all wounds. And one foot in front of the other. And everything happens for a reason.
And I DON'T LIKE IT.
I don't like hearing other people tear other people down. I don't like watching self-destructive behaviors unfold time and again. I don't like watching families implode. I don't like watching people try to hide themselves and their pain from everyone else because they feel some sort of shame. I don't like watching people suffer at the hands of selfish others who can't see past the tip of their own noses. I don't like watching people grieve because there's nothing left to do. I don't like watching other people's dreams get shattered by things that are completely out of their control. I detest hearing people I love demean other people that I love.
This too shall pass...it all will. I'm aware of that. The grass is always greener, someone's always worse off than you are. Blah, blah, blah. Right now, though -- it sucks, and for quite a few people that I love dearly.
This isn't a pity party -- there's nothing anyone can do, because believe me, I'd be doing it. It's a vent -- there are a lot of people I'd love to have some words with, but I can't for a variety of reasons. I have a lot locked up right now and I just needed an outlet to get some of the steam out.
Today -- I have lots of them.
I don't want to go into detail -- for one thing, I would be here until midnight, but lots of it is stuff that I need to keep in the vault. It's just HARD. Life -- it's hard. And it's not fair. And it sucks sometimes. And it rips people's hearts open and stomps on them.
And we're all expected to keep going. And believe that not only *can* it get better, but that it *will*. And every day is supposed to be better than the last. And time heals all wounds. And one foot in front of the other. And everything happens for a reason.
And I DON'T LIKE IT.
I don't like hearing other people tear other people down. I don't like watching self-destructive behaviors unfold time and again. I don't like watching families implode. I don't like watching people try to hide themselves and their pain from everyone else because they feel some sort of shame. I don't like watching people suffer at the hands of selfish others who can't see past the tip of their own noses. I don't like watching people grieve because there's nothing left to do. I don't like watching other people's dreams get shattered by things that are completely out of their control. I detest hearing people I love demean other people that I love.
This too shall pass...it all will. I'm aware of that. The grass is always greener, someone's always worse off than you are. Blah, blah, blah. Right now, though -- it sucks, and for quite a few people that I love dearly.
This isn't a pity party -- there's nothing anyone can do, because believe me, I'd be doing it. It's a vent -- there are a lot of people I'd love to have some words with, but I can't for a variety of reasons. I have a lot locked up right now and I just needed an outlet to get some of the steam out.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Ugh.
I hate having a sick kid. Know what's worse?
Two of them.
This is a new thing for me. They've never been sick at the same time. I'm sure it's a bug that M was kind enough to bring home from school. It's just a cold, but still -- you know how that goes. Poor little Georgia. I fed her at 5:30 and then she slept again until about 8:30. Went in to get her and she had snot ALL OVER her little face. :( I did the whole saline/suction thing and man -- I didn't know she had room for all of that in there!! Poor thing -- even after my extraction session, she still had to take breathers to eat. Sweet girl.
I don't feel all that lovely myself today either, so today should be interesting. I just feel so bad because there's not a TON of stuff you can do for colds. I think we'll do rest, some soup, turn on the humidifier, spray the saline, and veg out.
*cough*sniffle*hack*wheeze*snort*
Anyone wanna come over and play?
Two of them.
This is a new thing for me. They've never been sick at the same time. I'm sure it's a bug that M was kind enough to bring home from school. It's just a cold, but still -- you know how that goes. Poor little Georgia. I fed her at 5:30 and then she slept again until about 8:30. Went in to get her and she had snot ALL OVER her little face. :( I did the whole saline/suction thing and man -- I didn't know she had room for all of that in there!! Poor thing -- even after my extraction session, she still had to take breathers to eat. Sweet girl.
I don't feel all that lovely myself today either, so today should be interesting. I just feel so bad because there's not a TON of stuff you can do for colds. I think we'll do rest, some soup, turn on the humidifier, spray the saline, and veg out.
*cough*sniffle*hack*wheeze*snort*
Anyone wanna come over and play?
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Yeah, so???
Why are people so defensive all of the time? I can only speak for myself, so I think I'll do that now. (Shocker!!) I get defensive for a few reasons -- would you like me to list them? Okay.
1. When I *know* I'm right and am being attacked. (Read: know = have factual proof)
2. When I have noted a previously established pattern of being attacked by the same person.
3. When there is a "Yo Momma" involved. (just kidding)
4. When I am tired, annoyed, and otherwise not in the mood to put up with ANYONE'S crap.
5. When I am shallow and self-centered enough to not see another person's point of view.
6. When I feel personally insulted and am unable to see the facts, and instead focus on emotions.
7. When I'm hungry. (Seriously -- if I'm REALLY hungry -- do not approach.)
8. When it is obvious to me that I am being disrespected unnecessarily.
9. When it is obvious to me that my point of view is not being taken into consideration at all.
10. When my feelings are invalidated and left on the side of the road.
Can you tell I was a little snarky at home this week and am trying to process it? A little disclaimer -- my husband is not guilty of all of these things -- not what I'm trying to imply. I'm thinking of family scenarios, other social situations, but yes -- maybe a little tiff here and there with the Cabana Boy.
By the way, if you're reading this, honey...might wanna print this off and go down the list next time I launch into "that girl" mode. Try feeding me, giving me a nap, a *cough* Starbucks, perhaps? Yes -- bribe me, essentially. It's that easy. Backrubs and ice cream -- two sure fire bribes. Diamond earrings -- whoa. I might never fight with you again. Okay - -for at least a week. Maybe two. Hey -- you clean up the next pruney diaper blowout and who knows -- I might actually TOUCH your feet.
1. When I *know* I'm right and am being attacked. (Read: know = have factual proof)
2. When I have noted a previously established pattern of being attacked by the same person.
3. When there is a "Yo Momma" involved. (just kidding)
4. When I am tired, annoyed, and otherwise not in the mood to put up with ANYONE'S crap.
5. When I am shallow and self-centered enough to not see another person's point of view.
6. When I feel personally insulted and am unable to see the facts, and instead focus on emotions.
7. When I'm hungry. (Seriously -- if I'm REALLY hungry -- do not approach.)
8. When it is obvious to me that I am being disrespected unnecessarily.
9. When it is obvious to me that my point of view is not being taken into consideration at all.
10. When my feelings are invalidated and left on the side of the road.
Can you tell I was a little snarky at home this week and am trying to process it? A little disclaimer -- my husband is not guilty of all of these things -- not what I'm trying to imply. I'm thinking of family scenarios, other social situations, but yes -- maybe a little tiff here and there with the Cabana Boy.
By the way, if you're reading this, honey...might wanna print this off and go down the list next time I launch into "that girl" mode. Try feeding me, giving me a nap, a *cough* Starbucks, perhaps? Yes -- bribe me, essentially. It's that easy. Backrubs and ice cream -- two sure fire bribes. Diamond earrings -- whoa. I might never fight with you again. Okay - -for at least a week. Maybe two. Hey -- you clean up the next pruney diaper blowout and who knows -- I might actually TOUCH your feet.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Fall...
I love autumn. It's my favorite season, and I'm excited that it's almost here -- well, sort of is here already. That feeling is in the air, and it's awesome. Sweater weather is one the best phrases in our house -- it means bundled up walks, football, hot chocolate, fluffy blankies, and warm pajamas.
I'm really excited to take the kids to a pumpkin patch -- Mitchell had so much fun last year, I bet this year will be even better. I'm excited to carve pumpkins, see what Halloween brings, and drink some yummy apple cider. Mitchell and I just read a few pumpkin themed-books from the library, and I think it will be fun to start seeing the leaves change color soon. We'll definitely have to do a leaf-peeping drive through the mountains this year.
Did I mention that I'm also sick of sweating like a pig and looking forward to wearing warmer clothes again?
Oh -- one thing though -- much as I love me some fall, we have tickets to an outdoor concert the last week in September, so if it could be summery that night, that would be great.
I'm really excited to take the kids to a pumpkin patch -- Mitchell had so much fun last year, I bet this year will be even better. I'm excited to carve pumpkins, see what Halloween brings, and drink some yummy apple cider. Mitchell and I just read a few pumpkin themed-books from the library, and I think it will be fun to start seeing the leaves change color soon. We'll definitely have to do a leaf-peeping drive through the mountains this year.
Did I mention that I'm also sick of sweating like a pig and looking forward to wearing warmer clothes again?
Oh -- one thing though -- much as I love me some fall, we have tickets to an outdoor concert the last week in September, so if it could be summery that night, that would be great.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
We heard the same thing...
Okay, so a couple of nights ago, Chris and I are laying in bed watching tv before going to sleep. We see a commercial for a tv show or movie (I can't remember). This guy has decided that he's found the girl he wants to marry and he says to a friend "She's the last girl I'll kiss."
I say to hubster "Do you ever think about that?"
"What?"
"That I'm the last girl you'll kiss."
"Oh. No. I try not to."
"Why? Are you disappointed about it?"
"No, I'm glad you are, but why are you asking me this?"
"I just saw that commercial and the guy said that she was the last girl he'll kiss so I wondered if you thought about that at all."
"No, not really. Why? Are you glad about it?"
"Sure. I think it's great. I just didn't know what you thought."
"Well, I don't know why that guy is talking to his friend about something that's going to upset him."
Long, dramatic pause with me just staring at him.
"Actually, when he said it, he didn't sound upset. He was telling his friend that he had just found the woman he wanted to marry - and it was more like he didn't want to kiss anyone except her."
"Oh, really? I thought he sounded sad about it."
"You really thought he was upset about that?"
"Well, yeah."
There it is, folks. That's why there are chick flicks and that's why they drive men nuts.
I say to hubster "Do you ever think about that?"
"What?"
"That I'm the last girl you'll kiss."
"Oh. No. I try not to."
"Why? Are you disappointed about it?"
"No, I'm glad you are, but why are you asking me this?"
"I just saw that commercial and the guy said that she was the last girl he'll kiss so I wondered if you thought about that at all."
"No, not really. Why? Are you glad about it?"
"Sure. I think it's great. I just didn't know what you thought."
"Well, I don't know why that guy is talking to his friend about something that's going to upset him."
Long, dramatic pause with me just staring at him.
"Actually, when he said it, he didn't sound upset. He was telling his friend that he had just found the woman he wanted to marry - and it was more like he didn't want to kiss anyone except her."
"Oh, really? I thought he sounded sad about it."
"You really thought he was upset about that?"
"Well, yeah."
There it is, folks. That's why there are chick flicks and that's why they drive men nuts.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Little changes...
They add up, ever notice that?
We recently began putting up different blinds and I'm truly amazed at what a difference it makes in the way our home looks. To me, more homey, less housey. (Ask me if I actually CARE that it's not a word.)
Cooking -- one of my passions -- is all about little changes making a big difference. Like last night, I tried a new recipe for homemade macaroni and cheese. (No, no chicken manicotti, Renee -- too lazy.) It was supposed to have ham but all I had was turkey so I did that. My husband, sweet man that he is, indulges me in my little "woulda coulda shoulda" cooking game each time I make something. For example, last night was "I shoulda used a big pre-cooked ham and cubed it up instead of deli ham like they suggested." "I'm glad I put breadcrumbs in here instead of just parmesan because it's a yummy crust now." I'm well aware that I'm a COMPLETE nerd, and I'm just glad that my husband is nice enough to say "mmmmhmmm" with a full mouth and grateful tummy.
Little changes add up to BIG changes when it comes to kids...I just finished cleaning out both of the kids' closets and I'm amazed at the number of clothes that they've both grown out of. It happens so gradually that if you blink you might miss it. We have a growth chart behind Mitchell's door and I try to measure him every month or two and I'm always surprised how quickly he grows. Like where was I when you grew? How did I miss this? It's not until the pants start looking flood-ready that I'm like Hmmmmmm...is he taller? I think it's easier when you don't see them every day.
Okay -- that was all I had for today. Little changes -- bigger than they advertise, usually.
We recently began putting up different blinds and I'm truly amazed at what a difference it makes in the way our home looks. To me, more homey, less housey. (Ask me if I actually CARE that it's not a word.)
Cooking -- one of my passions -- is all about little changes making a big difference. Like last night, I tried a new recipe for homemade macaroni and cheese. (No, no chicken manicotti, Renee -- too lazy.) It was supposed to have ham but all I had was turkey so I did that. My husband, sweet man that he is, indulges me in my little "woulda coulda shoulda" cooking game each time I make something. For example, last night was "I shoulda used a big pre-cooked ham and cubed it up instead of deli ham like they suggested." "I'm glad I put breadcrumbs in here instead of just parmesan because it's a yummy crust now." I'm well aware that I'm a COMPLETE nerd, and I'm just glad that my husband is nice enough to say "mmmmhmmm" with a full mouth and grateful tummy.
Little changes add up to BIG changes when it comes to kids...I just finished cleaning out both of the kids' closets and I'm amazed at the number of clothes that they've both grown out of. It happens so gradually that if you blink you might miss it. We have a growth chart behind Mitchell's door and I try to measure him every month or two and I'm always surprised how quickly he grows. Like where was I when you grew? How did I miss this? It's not until the pants start looking flood-ready that I'm like Hmmmmmm...is he taller? I think it's easier when you don't see them every day.
Okay -- that was all I had for today. Little changes -- bigger than they advertise, usually.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
I love getting things done.
It always makes me wonder why I don't just go gung-ho more often with my "to-do" list.
Then I think about all of the "Just a minute..." speeches Mitchell got from both of us this weekend while we were "to-do-ing" and I remember. I think that a lot of the time, it's an either/or situation.
Either you play with your kids...
Or you get stuff done.
The days where it's both are very rare. On Saturday I cleaned out the linen closet while G took her nap in the crib. The linen closet is in the hallway just outside of M's bedroom door and my hubby was in there putting up a new blind. Well, M was quite distraught at the sight of his precious valance and train curtains being taken down and he was throwing quite the fit. He ended up laying down reading books on his bed and fell asleep. Of course, about 10 minutes after he fell asleep, she woke up. The hubster and I then spent the next half an hour taking turns from our work to entertain and resettle Miss G in the bouncy seat, placed halfway between the window and the linen closet.
When she was tiny and slept all of the time, I could get a lot more done around here, but now -- it's getting pretty difficult. Mitchell is pretty good about coming with me from room to room and playing trains, reading books, doing puzzles, etc. while I clean or whatever. Lots of times he likes to "help". If I'm dusting, I'll give him a wet paper towl and let him wipe down whatever he wants to. If I'm doing laundry, I let him shake out some wet clothes for me. Stuff like that.
We got a LOT done around here this weekend and it feels great. I just wish it would happen more often, but you know -- I'll never regret choosing a game of Thomas dominoes or singing silly songs together over mopping the kitchen floors.
Then I think about all of the "Just a minute..." speeches Mitchell got from both of us this weekend while we were "to-do-ing" and I remember. I think that a lot of the time, it's an either/or situation.
Either you play with your kids...
Or you get stuff done.
The days where it's both are very rare. On Saturday I cleaned out the linen closet while G took her nap in the crib. The linen closet is in the hallway just outside of M's bedroom door and my hubby was in there putting up a new blind. Well, M was quite distraught at the sight of his precious valance and train curtains being taken down and he was throwing quite the fit. He ended up laying down reading books on his bed and fell asleep. Of course, about 10 minutes after he fell asleep, she woke up. The hubster and I then spent the next half an hour taking turns from our work to entertain and resettle Miss G in the bouncy seat, placed halfway between the window and the linen closet.
When she was tiny and slept all of the time, I could get a lot more done around here, but now -- it's getting pretty difficult. Mitchell is pretty good about coming with me from room to room and playing trains, reading books, doing puzzles, etc. while I clean or whatever. Lots of times he likes to "help". If I'm dusting, I'll give him a wet paper towl and let him wipe down whatever he wants to. If I'm doing laundry, I let him shake out some wet clothes for me. Stuff like that.
We got a LOT done around here this weekend and it feels great. I just wish it would happen more often, but you know -- I'll never regret choosing a game of Thomas dominoes or singing silly songs together over mopping the kitchen floors.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Oh, to be 3 again...
Mitchell is behind me at the kitchen table right now playing with an airplane singing his own made up song "My space shuttle is gonna blaaaaasssstttt off. I know how to DOOOOOO it." That doesn't happen in adulthood.
Uh-oh. Guess what he switched to?
"La dee da dee da. La dee da dee da. What's the name of that sonnnnnggggg???"
Well, crap. And today was going so well.
************************************************************************************
Here's Mitchell's day yesterday:
Wake up, get some cuddles in bed with mom.
**Come downstairs, eat some Cars cereal (yes -- mom is a sucka) and watch some toons.
**Get dressed, get in the car with whatever toys he chooses and drive to haircut.
**Play with some trains, then have someone entertain him with a silly voice and the video of his choosing, all the while sitting in a play firetruck. Get a sticker, a balloon and a lollipop on the way out.
**Drive to grandma's where lunch is waiting.
**Go with grandpa to see "Cars" (again) at the dollar movies.
**Come home and play with Grandpa. He lets him play on the computer, too.
**Go get some chinese food with Grandpa.
**Eat dinner, play some more.
**Fall asleep on the way home.
**Get a backrub in bed as he nods off for the night.
Come on...is that the life, or WHAT??
************************************************************************************
When is it that we lose our imaginations? Mitchell literally just came up to me with his Blue Angel airplane under a video cover and said "Here, Mommy -- here's a lollipop for you. I made it just for you." When does that stop being a lollipop and start becoming just an airplane and a video cover? When is a fort no longer a fort -- when does it go back to just two chairs and a blanket?
I hope for my kids' sake, it's not for a long, long time...
************************************************************************************
When you're three years old, not one person doubts your sincerity when you say "I love you" or you hug someone. Trust me, when you're three -- neither of those things happen unless you WANT them to. How many adults have you gotten the cardboard cutout hug from? Too many.
************************************************************************************
Life is simple when you're three. I think I need to start living life through my child's eyes more often. (Right now he has his hands stuck in both ends of his slinky and apparently he's a robot. He just told me that when I get older he'll teach me how to do it.) Gotta go. I need to play robot.
Uh-oh. Guess what he switched to?
"La dee da dee da. La dee da dee da. What's the name of that sonnnnnggggg???"
Well, crap. And today was going so well.
************************************************************************************
Here's Mitchell's day yesterday:
Wake up, get some cuddles in bed with mom.
**Come downstairs, eat some Cars cereal (yes -- mom is a sucka) and watch some toons.
**Get dressed, get in the car with whatever toys he chooses and drive to haircut.
**Play with some trains, then have someone entertain him with a silly voice and the video of his choosing, all the while sitting in a play firetruck. Get a sticker, a balloon and a lollipop on the way out.
**Drive to grandma's where lunch is waiting.
**Go with grandpa to see "Cars" (again) at the dollar movies.
**Come home and play with Grandpa. He lets him play on the computer, too.
**Go get some chinese food with Grandpa.
**Eat dinner, play some more.
**Fall asleep on the way home.
**Get a backrub in bed as he nods off for the night.
Come on...is that the life, or WHAT??
************************************************************************************
When is it that we lose our imaginations? Mitchell literally just came up to me with his Blue Angel airplane under a video cover and said "Here, Mommy -- here's a lollipop for you. I made it just for you." When does that stop being a lollipop and start becoming just an airplane and a video cover? When is a fort no longer a fort -- when does it go back to just two chairs and a blanket?
I hope for my kids' sake, it's not for a long, long time...
************************************************************************************
When you're three years old, not one person doubts your sincerity when you say "I love you" or you hug someone. Trust me, when you're three -- neither of those things happen unless you WANT them to. How many adults have you gotten the cardboard cutout hug from? Too many.
************************************************************************************
Life is simple when you're three. I think I need to start living life through my child's eyes more often. (Right now he has his hands stuck in both ends of his slinky and apparently he's a robot. He just told me that when I get older he'll teach me how to do it.) Gotta go. I need to play robot.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
15 Years Ago Today...
Gather 'round, kids...listen to a little story.
It's August 31, 1991 and a fresh faced, wide-eyed, just turned 18-year old girl wakes up in her very own waterbed (ha ha) at home. She blinks her eyes, rubs her face, stretches big and sits up, instantly filled with nervous energy as she recalls what today is...
...the day she leaves for college.
That was me. I'm the girl. And I was fresh-faced -- I looked like I was all of 12 years old. Big ponytail with a red and white polka dotted scrunchy (that I made MYSELF) holding it back. I don't remember that -- I have pictures.
After breakfast, my boyfriend (high school sweetheart) came over to tell me goodbye. We decided that the best thing for us to do was be apart while I was away and together if we felt like it when I came back for my first fall break. (He was a year younger than I was and still in high school.) I remember that he made me a beaded necklace and wrote me a letter. Both of them made me cry.
My parents and I piled into the car with all of my stuff and drove the hour and a half north to my college. We pulled up in front of my dorm -- and I started to panic a little bit inside. A huge part of me was more excited than I thought I would be -- and another part of me was more scared that I thought I'd be.
We all hop out and as my dad puts the tailgate up on the Jeep, a *very* cute guy comes over and introduces himself. His name was Chris and he was here to help me move all of my stuff in. I go inside, open up my room, and as he brings the first load of stuff in, mentions that he happens to live in the room directly below me, so he hopes I'm quiet and don't wear loud shoes. I tell him that unfortunately, no one has ever described me as quiet and I pretty much lived in flip flops at that point, so he was probably out of luck. We just laughed right from the start and I felt like I'd already made my first friend.
As we went back and forth and back and forth (and back and forth some more -- I had a LOT of crap) from the dorm to the car, we kept talking. Turns out he is a year older than I am and went to a rival high school. Also turns out that he happens to be very good friends with a friend of mine -- she and I played club volleyball together, but she went to his high school and was also starting at the same college that day. (She lived on the other side of campus though.)
The interesting thing is -- he had a girlfriend and even though I didn't *have* a boyfriend -- I was still pretty emotionally attached at that point. There was a "hey, he's really cute" thing in my head, but as I said before -- it was more like instant friendship.
After he finished moving me into my room, he said to come visit him whenever I wanted to and to let him know if he could do anything for me. (This was his 2nd year in this dorm.) I thanked him and promised I'd come look him up if I needed help. He said goodbye to my parents and we went about the rest of the day.
**Fast forward 15 years with me**
August 31, 2006...an exhausted but very happy 30-something woman wakes up this morning to an alarm clock going off for the 3rd time. It's not her alarm clock, so she finally gently nudges the snoring man next to her in bed and politely (well, semi-politely perhaps) asks him to please turn it off. The snoring man finally awakens when a precious baby girl in the next room begins to stir and the baggy-eyed woman goes to settle her down. As he sits up to get out of bed and meet the day ahead of him, the man looks over his shoulder and says "15 years ago today..." to his wife.
The girl is me. The guy is Chris.
The sleepy Mommy is me. The snoring Daddy is Chris.
Can you believe it? 15 years ago today, I met the man of my dreams as he was carrying in my scrunchies, tampons, and slouch socks. The man I would come to one day call "Cabana Boy" walked into my life and it was pretty darn uneventful at the time.
He claims that he chose me from the line of cars because of my cute hair and "beautiful" eyes. I personally think it's because we parked pretty near the door, but again, that's just my take on it.
Amazing. Simply amazing. We met in 1991, didn't date until 1999, didn't marry until 2002, and here we are today.
Be nice to people around you, my friends. You never know how the person holding the door open for you at the bank will impact your life in the future. The person waiting next to you at the school bus stop when you're 15 might still be your friend when you are twice, and even three times as old. That waitress you work with at your meaningless Applebee's job might actually become a lifelong friend. The *very* cute boy who helps schlep your crap into your dorm room might turn out to be your very own Prince Charming. (Too bad he still WEARS those same shoes, and I'm NOT kidding.)
15 years ago today, I met my very best friend in the whole, wide world. The road to him was long, winding and full of potholes and idiots. I would do it all again in a heartbeat to end up in the same place, and I feel confident that he would, too. He's pretty much the best thing that ever happened to me because none of the other blessings in my life would be possible without his love. I'm so thankful for him and for our marriage -- CLEARLY it was built upon friendship.
One thing though...
CRAP, does this make me feel OLD. Old and loved, but still old.
I love you, Cabana Boy. You mow a darn fine lawn.
It's August 31, 1991 and a fresh faced, wide-eyed, just turned 18-year old girl wakes up in her very own waterbed (ha ha) at home. She blinks her eyes, rubs her face, stretches big and sits up, instantly filled with nervous energy as she recalls what today is...
...the day she leaves for college.
That was me. I'm the girl. And I was fresh-faced -- I looked like I was all of 12 years old. Big ponytail with a red and white polka dotted scrunchy (that I made MYSELF) holding it back. I don't remember that -- I have pictures.
After breakfast, my boyfriend (high school sweetheart) came over to tell me goodbye. We decided that the best thing for us to do was be apart while I was away and together if we felt like it when I came back for my first fall break. (He was a year younger than I was and still in high school.) I remember that he made me a beaded necklace and wrote me a letter. Both of them made me cry.
My parents and I piled into the car with all of my stuff and drove the hour and a half north to my college. We pulled up in front of my dorm -- and I started to panic a little bit inside. A huge part of me was more excited than I thought I would be -- and another part of me was more scared that I thought I'd be.
We all hop out and as my dad puts the tailgate up on the Jeep, a *very* cute guy comes over and introduces himself. His name was Chris and he was here to help me move all of my stuff in. I go inside, open up my room, and as he brings the first load of stuff in, mentions that he happens to live in the room directly below me, so he hopes I'm quiet and don't wear loud shoes. I tell him that unfortunately, no one has ever described me as quiet and I pretty much lived in flip flops at that point, so he was probably out of luck. We just laughed right from the start and I felt like I'd already made my first friend.
As we went back and forth and back and forth (and back and forth some more -- I had a LOT of crap) from the dorm to the car, we kept talking. Turns out he is a year older than I am and went to a rival high school. Also turns out that he happens to be very good friends with a friend of mine -- she and I played club volleyball together, but she went to his high school and was also starting at the same college that day. (She lived on the other side of campus though.)
The interesting thing is -- he had a girlfriend and even though I didn't *have* a boyfriend -- I was still pretty emotionally attached at that point. There was a "hey, he's really cute" thing in my head, but as I said before -- it was more like instant friendship.
After he finished moving me into my room, he said to come visit him whenever I wanted to and to let him know if he could do anything for me. (This was his 2nd year in this dorm.) I thanked him and promised I'd come look him up if I needed help. He said goodbye to my parents and we went about the rest of the day.
**Fast forward 15 years with me**
August 31, 2006...an exhausted but very happy 30-something woman wakes up this morning to an alarm clock going off for the 3rd time. It's not her alarm clock, so she finally gently nudges the snoring man next to her in bed and politely (well, semi-politely perhaps) asks him to please turn it off. The snoring man finally awakens when a precious baby girl in the next room begins to stir and the baggy-eyed woman goes to settle her down. As he sits up to get out of bed and meet the day ahead of him, the man looks over his shoulder and says "15 years ago today..." to his wife.
The girl is me. The guy is Chris.
The sleepy Mommy is me. The snoring Daddy is Chris.
Can you believe it? 15 years ago today, I met the man of my dreams as he was carrying in my scrunchies, tampons, and slouch socks. The man I would come to one day call "Cabana Boy" walked into my life and it was pretty darn uneventful at the time.
He claims that he chose me from the line of cars because of my cute hair and "beautiful" eyes. I personally think it's because we parked pretty near the door, but again, that's just my take on it.
Amazing. Simply amazing. We met in 1991, didn't date until 1999, didn't marry until 2002, and here we are today.
Be nice to people around you, my friends. You never know how the person holding the door open for you at the bank will impact your life in the future. The person waiting next to you at the school bus stop when you're 15 might still be your friend when you are twice, and even three times as old. That waitress you work with at your meaningless Applebee's job might actually become a lifelong friend. The *very* cute boy who helps schlep your crap into your dorm room might turn out to be your very own Prince Charming. (Too bad he still WEARS those same shoes, and I'm NOT kidding.)
15 years ago today, I met my very best friend in the whole, wide world. The road to him was long, winding and full of potholes and idiots. I would do it all again in a heartbeat to end up in the same place, and I feel confident that he would, too. He's pretty much the best thing that ever happened to me because none of the other blessings in my life would be possible without his love. I'm so thankful for him and for our marriage -- CLEARLY it was built upon friendship.
One thing though...
CRAP, does this make me feel OLD. Old and loved, but still old.
I love you, Cabana Boy. You mow a darn fine lawn.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Where to start?
Ever ask yourself that one?
I do. Like when I want to clean and declutter my house. (I know from talking to many of my friends that this is a theme for lots of us right now.)
I made myself a list of things I want to accomplish in September and am trying to check them off. So far I've done one -- and we're in the process of #2. The thing is -- I look around and I'm tempted to have about 25 half-done projects going at the same time.
Where to start? Where to start?
I guess I started with the list, didn't I?
*patting myself on the back*
Now I can just sit back and wait for it to take care of itself. Ha ha!!
I do. Like when I want to clean and declutter my house. (I know from talking to many of my friends that this is a theme for lots of us right now.)
I made myself a list of things I want to accomplish in September and am trying to check them off. So far I've done one -- and we're in the process of #2. The thing is -- I look around and I'm tempted to have about 25 half-done projects going at the same time.
Where to start? Where to start?
I guess I started with the list, didn't I?
*patting myself on the back*
Now I can just sit back and wait for it to take care of itself. Ha ha!!
Saturday, August 26, 2006
In a nutshell...
Anyone else have Mike Myers in their heads saying "Look, I'm in a nutshell!" LOL He's such a goof.
So, how exactly DO you put a 6 month old in a nutshell? I don't know but I'll try.
Georgia is 6 months old today and I'm feeling nostalgic about how quickly it's gone as well as more blessed than I'm ever grateful enough to realize. I know I'm her Mommy, so of course to me she is the most beautiful baby that ever was -- okay, well -- she's tied with another little boy I once knew. :) Don't read this as a brag -- read this as the liner notes to my Mommy's heart.
*Even when I was pregnant with her, I knew she was full of energy. My delivery nurse told me he'd NEVER seen a baby that active in labor. At least 4 times people came running in because she'd kicked the monitor off and they thought she was crashing. Chris and I just laughed because every staff member that came in was amazed at how enormous her movements were and how CONSTANT. We were used to it, but it really was something to see. Know what I feel sad about? We never took a video of my belly jumping around. You'll just have to take my word for it.
*She was INSTANTLY engaged with us after her birth. The funny thing is that everyone who was just commenting about what a crazy person she was in my belly were then astounded that she was SOOOO alert right away. Ummmm, hello? Doesn't the logic follow there? I knew she'd be wide awake and trying to take it all in.
*Her spirit is so much bigger than her body, and she's always been like that. She is seriously (seriously.) just happy to be alive. Happy to be in the room. Ever since her first day here, she hasn't complained much unless her belly is empty. (Actually, I'm glad that she doesn't tolerate messy diapers as well as her brother -- I'm hoping that means good things for potty training speed.) She has always been just excited for you to make eye contact with her.
*Her smile is contagious. She figured it out early and whips it out often. Combine it with those big, brown, engaging eyes and she's a tough one to ignore.
*I think her giggle is on the angel's soundtrack. I'm not kidding -- you can't not laugh yourself when you hear it, or at least smile, even if you are in an exceptionally bad mood. You can tell she's laughing from her soul, and because she's TRULY happy. The really great part of this is that at least 70% of the time, she's laughing at her big brother.
*Speaking of Mitchell, I think that their little sibling love affair started before she even got out. I remember him trying to put one of those little teeny pumpkins in my belly last Halloween. When she started getting active in there, she'd ALWAYS perk up when he talked to my tummy, even if she had been quiet for hours.
*I am glad to say that she appears to be a goofball like her Momma. Having a sense of humor has gotten me into trouble in the past, but most of the time it helps more than anything. She's got one. I assure you. The girl has a sense of timing. She knows just when to slap someone. Her ability to blow raspberries is always done with a flawless sense of exactly when and toward whom they should be directed. I hope that when she starts mocking me I'm able to remain appreciative of her humor. (Eeeee. Just thought of myself in middle school and got the bad kind of goosebumps. Uh-oh.)
*She's already challenging me in ways that I never knew she could. See, I'm used to raising an observer -- a slow to come out of his shell and explore child. She has NEVER been that way. Their births are perfect examples -- I'm convinced he was in jumping jack position in the birth canal, wedging himself in there because he needed more time to get comfortable with arriving in this world. It took me 3 hours to get that child out by pushing. Not Georgia -- 20 minutes later and there she was with everyone asking if she was a c-section because her head was unscathed. Nope -- she just wanted to get out and start the party. She wants to hold everything, open everything, eat everything, play with everything. She wants to go, go, go. Now. Yesterday, as a matter of fact. This little go-getter personality is new to me on the motherhood front. It's like raising myself, and let me tell you how scary that is. It's official -- we have a little Chris and a little Tara. I predict big love, lots and lots of laughing, and fights worth remembering when they happen.
*She couldn't POSSIBLY be any sweeter. She hasn't yet said a word (well, I think one day she was saying "ato" for Mitchell, but it hasn't happened again), but this little girl can TALK to you. She is the most expressive little girl and there is absolutely NO doubt about her love for us or trust in us. That in itself is the most precious gift she can give.
What a job, to be a Mommy. Specifically to her. I can't believe this 6 months has flown by. It seems like just yesterday I was putting together her carseat and stroller and just Wednesday I put together her BIG girl carseat and took the baby seat attachment off of the stroller. Today I have lots of little clothes to pack away. Wednesday is her doctor visit and I know he's going to tell me to start feeding her food. As much as I know she'll love it, I don't want to. That means she's taking yet another step away from being the tiny, precious little life that I knew would grow too fast. I think instead of mourning the baby that's growing too quickly, I will instead cherish the sweet, adorable, unique little girl that I am blessed to call my daughter.
(In case you're wondering, yes -- I did cry as I typed this whole thing.)
My prayer today is that she is always as blessed in her own life as we are to have her in ours.
I love you, Love Bug. Happy half birthday, baby girl. I know you will do great things.
So, how exactly DO you put a 6 month old in a nutshell? I don't know but I'll try.
Georgia is 6 months old today and I'm feeling nostalgic about how quickly it's gone as well as more blessed than I'm ever grateful enough to realize. I know I'm her Mommy, so of course to me she is the most beautiful baby that ever was -- okay, well -- she's tied with another little boy I once knew. :) Don't read this as a brag -- read this as the liner notes to my Mommy's heart.
*Even when I was pregnant with her, I knew she was full of energy. My delivery nurse told me he'd NEVER seen a baby that active in labor. At least 4 times people came running in because she'd kicked the monitor off and they thought she was crashing. Chris and I just laughed because every staff member that came in was amazed at how enormous her movements were and how CONSTANT. We were used to it, but it really was something to see. Know what I feel sad about? We never took a video of my belly jumping around. You'll just have to take my word for it.
*She was INSTANTLY engaged with us after her birth. The funny thing is that everyone who was just commenting about what a crazy person she was in my belly were then astounded that she was SOOOO alert right away. Ummmm, hello? Doesn't the logic follow there? I knew she'd be wide awake and trying to take it all in.
*Her spirit is so much bigger than her body, and she's always been like that. She is seriously (seriously.) just happy to be alive. Happy to be in the room. Ever since her first day here, she hasn't complained much unless her belly is empty. (Actually, I'm glad that she doesn't tolerate messy diapers as well as her brother -- I'm hoping that means good things for potty training speed.) She has always been just excited for you to make eye contact with her.
*Her smile is contagious. She figured it out early and whips it out often. Combine it with those big, brown, engaging eyes and she's a tough one to ignore.
*I think her giggle is on the angel's soundtrack. I'm not kidding -- you can't not laugh yourself when you hear it, or at least smile, even if you are in an exceptionally bad mood. You can tell she's laughing from her soul, and because she's TRULY happy. The really great part of this is that at least 70% of the time, she's laughing at her big brother.
*Speaking of Mitchell, I think that their little sibling love affair started before she even got out. I remember him trying to put one of those little teeny pumpkins in my belly last Halloween. When she started getting active in there, she'd ALWAYS perk up when he talked to my tummy, even if she had been quiet for hours.
*I am glad to say that she appears to be a goofball like her Momma. Having a sense of humor has gotten me into trouble in the past, but most of the time it helps more than anything. She's got one. I assure you. The girl has a sense of timing. She knows just when to slap someone. Her ability to blow raspberries is always done with a flawless sense of exactly when and toward whom they should be directed. I hope that when she starts mocking me I'm able to remain appreciative of her humor. (Eeeee. Just thought of myself in middle school and got the bad kind of goosebumps. Uh-oh.)
*She's already challenging me in ways that I never knew she could. See, I'm used to raising an observer -- a slow to come out of his shell and explore child. She has NEVER been that way. Their births are perfect examples -- I'm convinced he was in jumping jack position in the birth canal, wedging himself in there because he needed more time to get comfortable with arriving in this world. It took me 3 hours to get that child out by pushing. Not Georgia -- 20 minutes later and there she was with everyone asking if she was a c-section because her head was unscathed. Nope -- she just wanted to get out and start the party. She wants to hold everything, open everything, eat everything, play with everything. She wants to go, go, go. Now. Yesterday, as a matter of fact. This little go-getter personality is new to me on the motherhood front. It's like raising myself, and let me tell you how scary that is. It's official -- we have a little Chris and a little Tara. I predict big love, lots and lots of laughing, and fights worth remembering when they happen.
*She couldn't POSSIBLY be any sweeter. She hasn't yet said a word (well, I think one day she was saying "ato" for Mitchell, but it hasn't happened again), but this little girl can TALK to you. She is the most expressive little girl and there is absolutely NO doubt about her love for us or trust in us. That in itself is the most precious gift she can give.
What a job, to be a Mommy. Specifically to her. I can't believe this 6 months has flown by. It seems like just yesterday I was putting together her carseat and stroller and just Wednesday I put together her BIG girl carseat and took the baby seat attachment off of the stroller. Today I have lots of little clothes to pack away. Wednesday is her doctor visit and I know he's going to tell me to start feeding her food. As much as I know she'll love it, I don't want to. That means she's taking yet another step away from being the tiny, precious little life that I knew would grow too fast. I think instead of mourning the baby that's growing too quickly, I will instead cherish the sweet, adorable, unique little girl that I am blessed to call my daughter.
(In case you're wondering, yes -- I did cry as I typed this whole thing.)
My prayer today is that she is always as blessed in her own life as we are to have her in ours.
I love you, Love Bug. Happy half birthday, baby girl. I know you will do great things.
Friday, August 25, 2006
What's the name of that song?
I'll tell you -- it's a little tune that preschool/kindergarten teachers and parents everywhere call INSANITY.
Okay - - babies/children should come with a warning like cigarettes. It should read something like this:
"Warning: These children will bring stupid songs into your life and brain that you will NEVER be free of, and you may be driven insane as a result. Though completely ridiculous, you will often find yourself singing them, even when your children are nowhere to be found."
Here's an example...there is a Dr. Pepper commercial with this ridiculous "Manamanah" song in it. I had that song in my head for a good calendar year before the commercial put it there (I believe that's called an earworm) -- it's on one of Mitchell's Sesame Street cd's. Who needs to be wandering around with that soundtrack playing?
Would you like more of a sampling?
"Let's have a race, have a race, have a race! WHO can be the quickest? WHO will be the fastest?" That would be Thomas the Tank Engine.
By the way -- I found a good site for free kids' music downloads/listening in case you, too would like to take your own sanity on a vacation. (I find it hilarious that someone actually posted a message to tell others "I like this song" about Jimmy Crack Corn. Clearly I'm not on the bottom rung quite yet.)
Okay -- off to wait for Kermit the Frog to finish singing about singing (oh, the agony) so that I can sing it myself in the shower here in a few minutes.
Seriously...
(I love Grey's Anatomy...they talk like me!!)
Okay - - babies/children should come with a warning like cigarettes. It should read something like this:
"Warning: These children will bring stupid songs into your life and brain that you will NEVER be free of, and you may be driven insane as a result. Though completely ridiculous, you will often find yourself singing them, even when your children are nowhere to be found."
Here's an example...there is a Dr. Pepper commercial with this ridiculous "Manamanah" song in it. I had that song in my head for a good calendar year before the commercial put it there (I believe that's called an earworm) -- it's on one of Mitchell's Sesame Street cd's. Who needs to be wandering around with that soundtrack playing?
Would you like more of a sampling?
"Let's have a race, have a race, have a race! WHO can be the quickest? WHO will be the fastest?" That would be Thomas the Tank Engine.
By the way -- I found a good site for free kids' music downloads/listening in case you, too would like to take your own sanity on a vacation. (I find it hilarious that someone actually posted a message to tell others "I like this song" about Jimmy Crack Corn. Clearly I'm not on the bottom rung quite yet.)
Okay -- off to wait for Kermit the Frog to finish singing about singing (oh, the agony) so that I can sing it myself in the shower here in a few minutes.
Seriously...
(I love Grey's Anatomy...they talk like me!!)
Monday, August 21, 2006
Taking time to smell the flowers...
Is that a dumb saying or what?
Dumb, but I'm here to tell ya people, it's true.
Yesterday, that's exactly what we did and we had an amazingly peaceful, fun, happy day. Usually we're on the go, running errands, cleaning, doing yardwork, etc. on the weekends. Not yesterday.
I got up with the kids around 7:30 and we came downstairs and Georgia did her morning Jumperoo routine (which she's currently doing now) and Mitchell played trains and watched cartoons. We all had some cereal (yep -- all of us) and then Daddy came downstairs and had his cereal. We all got dressed and went for a walk.
Chris helped Mitchell with his tricycle and I pushed Georgia in M's old single stroller. We weren't on a schedule, so if there was a group of ants working on the side of the path, we stopped to watch them. There were lots of wildflowers growing and we LITERALLY stopped to smell them.
As Mitchell was pedaling himself down the path ahead of us, I told Chris that the picture of him doing that will be in my head forever. Burned in there. I think it's because he was the perfect example of a little boy's innocence. He had on his Dale Jarrett hat, just like Daddy and he told me on the walk "Hey, Mommy - I'm Dale Jarrett!" He was making vroooooommmm sounds as he pedaled as fast as his little legs would go and it was clear -- in his mind, he wasn't on a wildflower lined path through our neighborhood, he was IN the Daytona 500! Watching him from behind, I knew that someday that imagination and that innocence will begin to be taken from him -- the world doesn't allow us to carry those with us for too long. So, I decided to do that right then -- burn into MY brain so I'd never forget it. I told Chris I'm sure it will be in my head when it's time to get his learner's permit. I'll be in tears remembering my little DJ pedal down the path.
Anyway -- we went to the park and had a great time. We had the whole place to ourselves, which was fantastic. Sometimes it's nice if there are other kids for Mitchell to play with, but yesterday it was nice to just be the four of us. Georgia took her first ride on the big swing and loved it. She would giggle every time she came forward towards us and couldn't quite figure out what in the world Mitchell was doing next to her (he was going sky high in his). Georgia and I raced Mitchell down the side by side slides. Georgia and Mitchell played a very lovely duet on the piano. Chris showed Mitchell how to REALLY splash in a rain puddle with your hands. I laughed with Chris and said "Ahhhh, suburbia." One day I was REALLY glad to live in a happy little neighborhood.
We walked home and Mitchell pedaled away again. He did try to crash a bbq at the little picnic table shelter near the park, which amused us all -- and thankfully the bbq'ers, too. We got home and Chris made us all a yummy brunch. (He makes a very good breakfast burrito.) Ate that and then we just all chilled out in the living room. Georgia went to bed somewhere in there. The race was on, so the boys had fun watching that while I did some reading and dinking around on the web. Mitchell snuggled up with me on the sofa and fell asleep. Precious. That doesn't happen very often anymore.
After our long rest time, Chris and I were both itching to just get out of the house and "go do something" but we didn't want to spend any money. So, we decided to stop at the store, get some snacks and head to the airport. Mitchell is fascinated with airplanes right now, so we parked at the waiting area and watched the planes land. None of them took off right in front of us until about 2 minutes before we left the parking area. Kind of a bummer.
Not to be denied, Chris decided to drive back by the car rental places alongside the runways. With all the new security things, you can't just stop on the side of the road to watch anymore, which is a necessary shame. We did find a pretty good spot just next to the gas station and when we rolled down the windows, Mitchell got to HEAR those engines roar as they took off just a few hundred yards from the car. He would absolutely light up like a candle and yell "Wow, Daddy, what do you call it???" and Chris would tell him what kind of plane it is. (I guessed 737 at every one and was never right, in case you are wondering.)
Headed home and played some trains and racecars. Rattled some rattled, stacked some blocks. Chris made dinner (yes, I'm aware that he spoils me on the weekends) which was totally yummy. The kids were both wiped out from our really long but fun day, so we skipped baths and just got them into bed.
Seriously, people...that kind of day could very well be the stuff heaven throws my way.
Dumb, but I'm here to tell ya people, it's true.
Yesterday, that's exactly what we did and we had an amazingly peaceful, fun, happy day. Usually we're on the go, running errands, cleaning, doing yardwork, etc. on the weekends. Not yesterday.
I got up with the kids around 7:30 and we came downstairs and Georgia did her morning Jumperoo routine (which she's currently doing now) and Mitchell played trains and watched cartoons. We all had some cereal (yep -- all of us) and then Daddy came downstairs and had his cereal. We all got dressed and went for a walk.
Chris helped Mitchell with his tricycle and I pushed Georgia in M's old single stroller. We weren't on a schedule, so if there was a group of ants working on the side of the path, we stopped to watch them. There were lots of wildflowers growing and we LITERALLY stopped to smell them.
As Mitchell was pedaling himself down the path ahead of us, I told Chris that the picture of him doing that will be in my head forever. Burned in there. I think it's because he was the perfect example of a little boy's innocence. He had on his Dale Jarrett hat, just like Daddy and he told me on the walk "Hey, Mommy - I'm Dale Jarrett!" He was making vroooooommmm sounds as he pedaled as fast as his little legs would go and it was clear -- in his mind, he wasn't on a wildflower lined path through our neighborhood, he was IN the Daytona 500! Watching him from behind, I knew that someday that imagination and that innocence will begin to be taken from him -- the world doesn't allow us to carry those with us for too long. So, I decided to do that right then -- burn into MY brain so I'd never forget it. I told Chris I'm sure it will be in my head when it's time to get his learner's permit. I'll be in tears remembering my little DJ pedal down the path.
Anyway -- we went to the park and had a great time. We had the whole place to ourselves, which was fantastic. Sometimes it's nice if there are other kids for Mitchell to play with, but yesterday it was nice to just be the four of us. Georgia took her first ride on the big swing and loved it. She would giggle every time she came forward towards us and couldn't quite figure out what in the world Mitchell was doing next to her (he was going sky high in his). Georgia and I raced Mitchell down the side by side slides. Georgia and Mitchell played a very lovely duet on the piano. Chris showed Mitchell how to REALLY splash in a rain puddle with your hands. I laughed with Chris and said "Ahhhh, suburbia." One day I was REALLY glad to live in a happy little neighborhood.
We walked home and Mitchell pedaled away again. He did try to crash a bbq at the little picnic table shelter near the park, which amused us all -- and thankfully the bbq'ers, too. We got home and Chris made us all a yummy brunch. (He makes a very good breakfast burrito.) Ate that and then we just all chilled out in the living room. Georgia went to bed somewhere in there. The race was on, so the boys had fun watching that while I did some reading and dinking around on the web. Mitchell snuggled up with me on the sofa and fell asleep. Precious. That doesn't happen very often anymore.
After our long rest time, Chris and I were both itching to just get out of the house and "go do something" but we didn't want to spend any money. So, we decided to stop at the store, get some snacks and head to the airport. Mitchell is fascinated with airplanes right now, so we parked at the waiting area and watched the planes land. None of them took off right in front of us until about 2 minutes before we left the parking area. Kind of a bummer.
Not to be denied, Chris decided to drive back by the car rental places alongside the runways. With all the new security things, you can't just stop on the side of the road to watch anymore, which is a necessary shame. We did find a pretty good spot just next to the gas station and when we rolled down the windows, Mitchell got to HEAR those engines roar as they took off just a few hundred yards from the car. He would absolutely light up like a candle and yell "Wow, Daddy, what do you call it???" and Chris would tell him what kind of plane it is. (I guessed 737 at every one and was never right, in case you are wondering.)
Headed home and played some trains and racecars. Rattled some rattled, stacked some blocks. Chris made dinner (yes, I'm aware that he spoils me on the weekends) which was totally yummy. The kids were both wiped out from our really long but fun day, so we skipped baths and just got them into bed.
Seriously, people...that kind of day could very well be the stuff heaven throws my way.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Frustrating...
I'm kind of frustrated right now.
I'm frustrated at certain members of my family for not treating each other with more love and respect.
I'm frustrated at myself because when I'm tired and grumpy, I'm less patient with my own kids.
I'm frustrated with finances. All I want to say on that.
I'm frustrated with wanting more than I have because I really should be much more appreciative of what I already have instead of focusing on what I want and *think* we "need".
I'm frustrated with this world -- it's becoming more and more difficult to just live your own life with a smile every day. People are hateful and sick -- not all people, but enough of them to make you question many people who don't deserve it.
I'm frustrated in general. It will pass. I think this is a function of me being up since 2:30 this morning. A nap would likely help. A lot.
I'm frustrated at certain members of my family for not treating each other with more love and respect.
I'm frustrated at myself because when I'm tired and grumpy, I'm less patient with my own kids.
I'm frustrated with finances. All I want to say on that.
I'm frustrated with wanting more than I have because I really should be much more appreciative of what I already have instead of focusing on what I want and *think* we "need".
I'm frustrated with this world -- it's becoming more and more difficult to just live your own life with a smile every day. People are hateful and sick -- not all people, but enough of them to make you question many people who don't deserve it.
I'm frustrated in general. It will pass. I think this is a function of me being up since 2:30 this morning. A nap would likely help. A lot.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
A trip to Sam's...
So, this will be lacking in direction and probably a snoozefest -- there's your chance to avoid a waste of a few minutes.
I took Mitchell to Sam's Club yesterday while Chris stayed home with Georgia. Armed with a juice box, two snacks and a lollipop, I was fearless in my attempt to go to the craziest store with a 3 year old at tantrum o'clock. (This is what I call his old naptime -- he usually doesn't nap anymroe but he can still throw a doozy of a tantrum and this is usually when it happens.) I think I got so excited at the chance to take just one child as opposed to two that I jumped in with both feet and didn't stop to think about how it *could* go. If you've ever attempted Sam's on a Sunday with children of any age -- you know it has the potential to play out like a horror film, a sitcom, or a drama. Very rarely is it a documentary.
I was listening to a cd on the way there and Mitchell had his new plane that Chris bought him at the train show on Saturday (I know -- go for trains, come home with a plane -- it's a guy thing, apparently) and all was well on the drive over. I should have been suspicious when my choice of cd -- not silly time cd-- was not met with complaints, but I just let John Mayer sing to me and didn't think twice about it. That is, until I opened the back door to get Mitchell out and saw that he was ASLEEP!!!
Oh, crap.
This is like the ultimate blow to my Sam's Club shopping hopes. I gently woke him up and told him we were at the store. He perked right up (unheard of!) and got into the cart without a problem -- so far, so good. (Amazingly.) I start to question my parking spot -- next to the cart catcher spot...will a closer spot lead to a ding or dent that I'll have to explain to my husband? "But Honey...it was like I was SUPPOSED to park there -- right in front and waiting for me!" I can hear him now "Yeah, because everyone else knows better than to park right next to the cart catcher!! Why do you think it was available??" I picture my half-hearted "Oops" as my only reply as Mitchell and I steer ourselves into the store, flash my card, and BAM. Instant panic set in as I looked up.
Oh, crap.
There were more people in that store than I think live in my entire zip code -- and we're getting crowded over here. I've NEVER seen it that busy. Ever. Not good with a tired three year old who's mantra is now "I can walk, Mommy." Yeah, right. You haven't walked since you learned how to run. So, I do the "good mom" thing (ha) and whip out some raisins. "RAISINS!!! Hooray!!" Score. Bought myself a few minutes with those.
*sigh of relief*
It's sample day! Not excited for me -- well, unless there's ice cream or cheesecake today -- but that builds in the element of surprise for Mitchell in ol' snackville. (I'm convinced that's why he likes going there.) We made our way around the store -- avoided carts like a pro, Mitchell scored a few samples (my hopes were dashed -- roast beef was the highlight), and then BAM! The panic came back in a giant wave. We had to wait in line TO WAIT IN LINE.
Oh, crap.
Seriously -- the chutes (I feel like I'm part of a cattle herd, so I refer to them not as lines, but as chutes) were backed up so far that we were like 4 people back just to turn the freakin' corner to get in line. Isn't that crazy??? At this point I start questioning the sanity of my shopping choice for both day and time.
I know I'm not alone in saying that no matter which chute I choose, it will inevitably end up being the slowest. It's like my presence shifts the planets and titlts everything away from me or something. I just picked a line and stood there -- confident, almost arrogant about my chute choice. Inside of two minutes and...
Yeah, baby!! We moved. Forward. Towards the register. Amazing.
Now, I know better than to get more excited than that at this point. The man in front of me only had two items, which is always scary -- those are the ones that usually end up screwing the whole thing up. He was extra scary, he had a computer of some sort. (And a bag of potatoes??)
That has some SERIOUS screw me up potential because of the price, help delivering some sort of desk to accompany his computer, etc. The possibilities are endless. As I'm pondering whether 2 Item Guy will be the downfall of my otherwise enjoyable trip to Sam's with my very well behaved little guy, an angel appears and my hope is renewed!
The lady with the little scan gun came to MY chute and began scanning the items of everyone's carts. I was 4th in line so I thought for sure she'd do 2 Item Guy's potatoes and then go do the first 3 people in the next chute. Nope. She actually came to me -- overflowing cart and all, scanning my items and offering a huge bonus -- entertainment for Mitchell. (By this time, his popcorn was eaten, the juice box was empty, and the novelty of the giant ceiling fans had worn off.) She even had to scoot our cart up twice while scanning us in. Nice! After she finished, another bonus revealed itself to Mitchell -- the little coin roller coaster for charity. You know where you put in a coin and it does the figure skating death spin (without a partner) before dropping into the hole...it was RIGHT next to us. As a reward for his wonderful behavior in the store, I did the unthinkable -- an entire dollar worth of quarters went in. (You may be unaware that I hoard quarters in my change purse. I don't know why, but I do. Then, when I feel like it's too bulky, I put them in the kids' piggy banks.)
Oh, crap.
2 Item Guy was at the register, and sure enough -- he and the register lady were having some sort of discussion about his computer. (I'm assuming it wasn't the potatoes.) Could it be??? The manager came over about 30 seconds later, found a button on the register and he immediately zipped his credit card through!!
SCORE!!!
We got up to the register as the last quarter was falling through the hole, and sure enough, all of the items were already in the computer. I didn't have to unload and reload my cart!! (I had halfway convinced myself that everything would have disappeared or something so I wouldn't be too disappointed when that was the case.) I paid and was out of there in about 2 minutes!
SCORE AGAIN!!!
I have to say -- this is honestly my first trip to Sam's Club (not alone or just with Chris) that was truly enjoyable and more along the "documentary" lines. I know it doesn't sound like an exciting event to many of you, but to me - - this was huge.
Now I'm worried about next time.
I took Mitchell to Sam's Club yesterday while Chris stayed home with Georgia. Armed with a juice box, two snacks and a lollipop, I was fearless in my attempt to go to the craziest store with a 3 year old at tantrum o'clock. (This is what I call his old naptime -- he usually doesn't nap anymroe but he can still throw a doozy of a tantrum and this is usually when it happens.) I think I got so excited at the chance to take just one child as opposed to two that I jumped in with both feet and didn't stop to think about how it *could* go. If you've ever attempted Sam's on a Sunday with children of any age -- you know it has the potential to play out like a horror film, a sitcom, or a drama. Very rarely is it a documentary.
I was listening to a cd on the way there and Mitchell had his new plane that Chris bought him at the train show on Saturday (I know -- go for trains, come home with a plane -- it's a guy thing, apparently) and all was well on the drive over. I should have been suspicious when my choice of cd -- not silly time cd-- was not met with complaints, but I just let John Mayer sing to me and didn't think twice about it. That is, until I opened the back door to get Mitchell out and saw that he was ASLEEP!!!
Oh, crap.
This is like the ultimate blow to my Sam's Club shopping hopes. I gently woke him up and told him we were at the store. He perked right up (unheard of!) and got into the cart without a problem -- so far, so good. (Amazingly.) I start to question my parking spot -- next to the cart catcher spot...will a closer spot lead to a ding or dent that I'll have to explain to my husband? "But Honey...it was like I was SUPPOSED to park there -- right in front and waiting for me!" I can hear him now "Yeah, because everyone else knows better than to park right next to the cart catcher!! Why do you think it was available??" I picture my half-hearted "Oops" as my only reply as Mitchell and I steer ourselves into the store, flash my card, and BAM. Instant panic set in as I looked up.
Oh, crap.
There were more people in that store than I think live in my entire zip code -- and we're getting crowded over here. I've NEVER seen it that busy. Ever. Not good with a tired three year old who's mantra is now "I can walk, Mommy." Yeah, right. You haven't walked since you learned how to run. So, I do the "good mom" thing (ha) and whip out some raisins. "RAISINS!!! Hooray!!" Score. Bought myself a few minutes with those.
*sigh of relief*
It's sample day! Not excited for me -- well, unless there's ice cream or cheesecake today -- but that builds in the element of surprise for Mitchell in ol' snackville. (I'm convinced that's why he likes going there.) We made our way around the store -- avoided carts like a pro, Mitchell scored a few samples (my hopes were dashed -- roast beef was the highlight), and then BAM! The panic came back in a giant wave. We had to wait in line TO WAIT IN LINE.
Oh, crap.
Seriously -- the chutes (I feel like I'm part of a cattle herd, so I refer to them not as lines, but as chutes) were backed up so far that we were like 4 people back just to turn the freakin' corner to get in line. Isn't that crazy??? At this point I start questioning the sanity of my shopping choice for both day and time.
I know I'm not alone in saying that no matter which chute I choose, it will inevitably end up being the slowest. It's like my presence shifts the planets and titlts everything away from me or something. I just picked a line and stood there -- confident, almost arrogant about my chute choice. Inside of two minutes and...
Yeah, baby!! We moved. Forward. Towards the register. Amazing.
Now, I know better than to get more excited than that at this point. The man in front of me only had two items, which is always scary -- those are the ones that usually end up screwing the whole thing up. He was extra scary, he had a computer of some sort. (And a bag of potatoes??)
That has some SERIOUS screw me up potential because of the price, help delivering some sort of desk to accompany his computer, etc. The possibilities are endless. As I'm pondering whether 2 Item Guy will be the downfall of my otherwise enjoyable trip to Sam's with my very well behaved little guy, an angel appears and my hope is renewed!
The lady with the little scan gun came to MY chute and began scanning the items of everyone's carts. I was 4th in line so I thought for sure she'd do 2 Item Guy's potatoes and then go do the first 3 people in the next chute. Nope. She actually came to me -- overflowing cart and all, scanning my items and offering a huge bonus -- entertainment for Mitchell. (By this time, his popcorn was eaten, the juice box was empty, and the novelty of the giant ceiling fans had worn off.) She even had to scoot our cart up twice while scanning us in. Nice! After she finished, another bonus revealed itself to Mitchell -- the little coin roller coaster for charity. You know where you put in a coin and it does the figure skating death spin (without a partner) before dropping into the hole...it was RIGHT next to us. As a reward for his wonderful behavior in the store, I did the unthinkable -- an entire dollar worth of quarters went in. (You may be unaware that I hoard quarters in my change purse. I don't know why, but I do. Then, when I feel like it's too bulky, I put them in the kids' piggy banks.)
Oh, crap.
2 Item Guy was at the register, and sure enough -- he and the register lady were having some sort of discussion about his computer. (I'm assuming it wasn't the potatoes.) Could it be??? The manager came over about 30 seconds later, found a button on the register and he immediately zipped his credit card through!!
SCORE!!!
We got up to the register as the last quarter was falling through the hole, and sure enough, all of the items were already in the computer. I didn't have to unload and reload my cart!! (I had halfway convinced myself that everything would have disappeared or something so I wouldn't be too disappointed when that was the case.) I paid and was out of there in about 2 minutes!
SCORE AGAIN!!!
I have to say -- this is honestly my first trip to Sam's Club (not alone or just with Chris) that was truly enjoyable and more along the "documentary" lines. I know it doesn't sound like an exciting event to many of you, but to me - - this was huge.
Now I'm worried about next time.
Friday, August 11, 2006
People really upset me...
Okay, fair warning -- I'm about to go off on a vent so skip it if that doesn't interest you.
WHY are people so rude?? Seriously.
This morning I had just dropped the kids off at my IL's house to go see a client and some idiot who was leaving a garage sale on their block pulls out and almost (I mean -- like inches) nails me right in the middle of my passenger door. Didn't even look! Just must have been thinking about what a TERRIFIC set of dishes they got for $2 or something, I guess. The thing is...
She honked AT ME!!!!
Excuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me???? I don't think so. Now -- two things stopped me, well 3, from getting out of my car and starting some crap. 1 -- I was in the 'hood. (Seriously, they live in a pretty sketchy neighborhood.) 2 -- I was late to see a client. 3 -- My kids need me alive.
Where does SHE get off honking AT ME??? I was just driving down the road (25 mph -- not like I was racing down the stree) minding my own business. SHE was parked on the side of the street, DIDN'T use a turn signal, and DIDN'T even THINK about looking in her mirror or over her shoulder before she came out into the road, but feels that I'M in the wrong??? Ohhhhh, no, no, no, no no. Pissed me right off.
Moving right along...
WHY are people so hateful???
This whole thing with the liquid bombs. COME ON...that is just some crazy crap. I cannot for the life of me imagine what it must be like inside of those people's heads to 1 -- think that crap up and 2 -- actually want to use it to kill innocent people. I mean, it's not like you're killing soldiers and politicians. Ugh. Hate. Sucks. Bad.
What kind of environment are these people raised in and breeding? You know -- I heard this morning that one of the people is a mother of a 6 month old child. Okay -- that hit home. THAT'S ME, for crying out loud. Can you even picture me leaving my home, my children, and saying -- okay, I'm off to blow up a plane of innocent people with something I'm masquerading as Powerade???
WHAT THE HECK, PEOPLE????!!!!!!
It just makes me so angry. And you know what else? It makes me really, really sad for my kids. Times like this are times that a part of me actually feels somewhat guilty for bringing them into a world where this is a reality. Someone is using Gatorade as a weapon, for all intents and purposes. That's super.
So, you know what I did last night? Mitchell and I made a cake. And we covered it with icing. And I drew a moon on it in yellow icing (he loves "Moonah"). And he covered it with sprinkles. And we laughed. And we had a "moon party" when Daddy got home. Just for fun. To remind me of WHY I have children and why it IS a good thing that I brought them into this world. My children will not be taught to HATE anyone.
WHY are people so rude?? Seriously.
This morning I had just dropped the kids off at my IL's house to go see a client and some idiot who was leaving a garage sale on their block pulls out and almost (I mean -- like inches) nails me right in the middle of my passenger door. Didn't even look! Just must have been thinking about what a TERRIFIC set of dishes they got for $2 or something, I guess. The thing is...
She honked AT ME!!!!
Excuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me???? I don't think so. Now -- two things stopped me, well 3, from getting out of my car and starting some crap. 1 -- I was in the 'hood. (Seriously, they live in a pretty sketchy neighborhood.) 2 -- I was late to see a client. 3 -- My kids need me alive.
Where does SHE get off honking AT ME??? I was just driving down the road (25 mph -- not like I was racing down the stree) minding my own business. SHE was parked on the side of the street, DIDN'T use a turn signal, and DIDN'T even THINK about looking in her mirror or over her shoulder before she came out into the road, but feels that I'M in the wrong??? Ohhhhh, no, no, no, no no. Pissed me right off.
Moving right along...
WHY are people so hateful???
This whole thing with the liquid bombs. COME ON...that is just some crazy crap. I cannot for the life of me imagine what it must be like inside of those people's heads to 1 -- think that crap up and 2 -- actually want to use it to kill innocent people. I mean, it's not like you're killing soldiers and politicians. Ugh. Hate. Sucks. Bad.
What kind of environment are these people raised in and breeding? You know -- I heard this morning that one of the people is a mother of a 6 month old child. Okay -- that hit home. THAT'S ME, for crying out loud. Can you even picture me leaving my home, my children, and saying -- okay, I'm off to blow up a plane of innocent people with something I'm masquerading as Powerade???
WHAT THE HECK, PEOPLE????!!!!!!
It just makes me so angry. And you know what else? It makes me really, really sad for my kids. Times like this are times that a part of me actually feels somewhat guilty for bringing them into a world where this is a reality. Someone is using Gatorade as a weapon, for all intents and purposes. That's super.
So, you know what I did last night? Mitchell and I made a cake. And we covered it with icing. And I drew a moon on it in yellow icing (he loves "Moonah"). And he covered it with sprinkles. And we laughed. And we had a "moon party" when Daddy got home. Just for fun. To remind me of WHY I have children and why it IS a good thing that I brought them into this world. My children will not be taught to HATE anyone.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Caffeine...
Is NOT my friend.
I met a friend (a real one) for coffee this morning and decided to be brave and get a caffeinated drink. It sounded REALLY good -- all minty and chocolatey -- two of my favorite things ever.
So NOT the smartest move I've ever made.
After coffee I went to Qdoba (yum, and more yum) to get lunch for my dad. It's his birthday and he's working all day. He can't leave at all, so I told him Georgia and I would bring some lunch down. He loves the chicken tacos there so I stopped to get some. I had to pick Mitchell up from school at 1pm and this was at about 11am. By the time I got her out, used the bathroom, ordered our food, got it all set in the car, drove down there, parked walked in, nursed her, let him hold/cuddle her for a few minutes, it was time to get in my car and drive back to school.
I got a naked (hee hee) burrito and for a minute, I seriously considered trying to eat it while driving. Um--yeah, probably smart move not to, considering it's rice and black beans. Well -- considering it's not GASOLINE, I'd probably be safe. (Husband story there -- you can infer away.)
So -- by the time I made it back to his school (a few minutes early) I think the coffee had eaten a hole in my stomach. I was ready to gnaw my own arm off and scarfed down most of my lunch in about 3 minutes.
Caffeine + Tara = Ouchie, hungry tummy
It sure was good though. Mmmmmmm.
Still not worth it, but dang close.
I met a friend (a real one) for coffee this morning and decided to be brave and get a caffeinated drink. It sounded REALLY good -- all minty and chocolatey -- two of my favorite things ever.
So NOT the smartest move I've ever made.
After coffee I went to Qdoba (yum, and more yum) to get lunch for my dad. It's his birthday and he's working all day. He can't leave at all, so I told him Georgia and I would bring some lunch down. He loves the chicken tacos there so I stopped to get some. I had to pick Mitchell up from school at 1pm and this was at about 11am. By the time I got her out, used the bathroom, ordered our food, got it all set in the car, drove down there, parked walked in, nursed her, let him hold/cuddle her for a few minutes, it was time to get in my car and drive back to school.
I got a naked (hee hee) burrito and for a minute, I seriously considered trying to eat it while driving. Um--yeah, probably smart move not to, considering it's rice and black beans. Well -- considering it's not GASOLINE, I'd probably be safe. (Husband story there -- you can infer away.)
So -- by the time I made it back to his school (a few minutes early) I think the coffee had eaten a hole in my stomach. I was ready to gnaw my own arm off and scarfed down most of my lunch in about 3 minutes.
Caffeine + Tara = Ouchie, hungry tummy
It sure was good though. Mmmmmmm.
Still not worth it, but dang close.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Faaaarrrrrrr from perfect.
That would be me.I try so hard to set a good example for my kids, and heck -- just to do some clean livin' for myself, but it's a challenge. Here's an example...
Last Sunday I was cleaning the kitchen and listening to my favorite Christian radio station. My hubby calls it "God Rock" and teases me about it -- I don't really care. (So neener, neener to YOU, hubby!!) I love listening because the songs put me in a good mood and a good frame of mind.
Well, I am cleaning away and he comes in to eat his breakfast. He chooses a bowl of cereal and eats it leaning against the counter while he talks to me. This song comes on that I just love and I say, "Hey -- listen to this song. It always makes me cry. I love it." He says, "Why do you love a song that makes you cry?" Of COURSE, I shush him loudly and tell him to just listen. He listens. Then he says "This SERIOUSLY makes you cry??" and rolls his eyes. He puts his dish in the sink and comes behind me to do a little snuggle and ear kissing. Okay -- TOTALLY not in the mood for that as I am trying to listen to my heart-string-tugging song. He thinks he's just too funny, so I turn around and tell him to quit being such an A-hole.
Yes, that's right. In the middle of a Christian song about flying to Jesus, I cuss at my husband.He starts cracking up and says something about "Only you would do that".
Yikes.
I think he may be right. I apologize to The Big Fella immediately and am just mortified. Know the scary thing? I probably wouldn't have even put it together if he hadn't pointed it out. Luckily G was asleep and M was in train hog heaven in his room, but STILL. Sheesh.He's right -- who DOES that sort of thing? I mean, besides me.
So...clearly, there's room for a little personal growth in my life. (I'm sure that's shocking to you, isn't it?)
As long as I'm on the subject of great Christian music that I love -- here is a new song that I really, really love. It makes me think of not only myself with some different things, but so many people in my life that are struggling with so many different things -- yet it fits us all.
It's by a band called Casting Crowns.
Praise You In This Storm
I was sure by now
That You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say “Amen”,
and it’s still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear
You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
I’ll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I’ve cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry
You raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can’t find You
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear
You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth
Last Sunday I was cleaning the kitchen and listening to my favorite Christian radio station. My hubby calls it "God Rock" and teases me about it -- I don't really care. (So neener, neener to YOU, hubby!!) I love listening because the songs put me in a good mood and a good frame of mind.
Well, I am cleaning away and he comes in to eat his breakfast. He chooses a bowl of cereal and eats it leaning against the counter while he talks to me. This song comes on that I just love and I say, "Hey -- listen to this song. It always makes me cry. I love it." He says, "Why do you love a song that makes you cry?" Of COURSE, I shush him loudly and tell him to just listen. He listens. Then he says "This SERIOUSLY makes you cry??" and rolls his eyes. He puts his dish in the sink and comes behind me to do a little snuggle and ear kissing. Okay -- TOTALLY not in the mood for that as I am trying to listen to my heart-string-tugging song. He thinks he's just too funny, so I turn around and tell him to quit being such an A-hole.
Yes, that's right. In the middle of a Christian song about flying to Jesus, I cuss at my husband.He starts cracking up and says something about "Only you would do that".
Yikes.
I think he may be right. I apologize to The Big Fella immediately and am just mortified. Know the scary thing? I probably wouldn't have even put it together if he hadn't pointed it out. Luckily G was asleep and M was in train hog heaven in his room, but STILL. Sheesh.He's right -- who DOES that sort of thing? I mean, besides me.
So...clearly, there's room for a little personal growth in my life. (I'm sure that's shocking to you, isn't it?)
As long as I'm on the subject of great Christian music that I love -- here is a new song that I really, really love. It makes me think of not only myself with some different things, but so many people in my life that are struggling with so many different things -- yet it fits us all.
It's by a band called Casting Crowns.
Praise You In This Storm
I was sure by now
That You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say “Amen”,
and it’s still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear
You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
I’ll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I’ve cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry
You raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can’t find You
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear
You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Picture people...
Not the place, US.
My family -- we're picture people. We take pictures all of the time -- no joke, I keep my camera in my purse and it's a rare day that it doesn't get used. One of my fave shows is AFV, btw -- it feeds my camera/video habit.
In preparation for my little scrapbook day today, it took me over 2 hours to go through all of the pictures just from Mitchell's birth to 1st birthday and choose the ones I wanted to print out!! It was so fun to look at all of them and remember all of the things that were going on. That's why I *love* scrapbooking -- you get to put it all together and recall all the stuff going on in the background and in the hearts and minds of those in the pictures. I get happy thinking about leaving such treasures for my family to enjoy (and they BETTER, dang it!!) long after I'm gone.
I got to thinking how sad I would be if I wasn't raised in a picture-happy family. My husband, for instance, does not have very many pictures of when he grew up. They have some, but not like ours. (Okay -- we're a bit insane on that point, but still.) I just feel like it's so fun and important to document the life we live. I know that Mitchell LOVES to look at pictures with me and it would be pretty sad if we didn't have all of them to remember.
I do need to get a bunch blown up, framed, etc. I think part of it is that I'm so OVER our house. I mean, I love it, but why am I gonna pour all this money into decorating it when I can't wait to get out? I think I'll save that as a pet project when we move.
Okay -- that was a pretty random topic, huh?
My family -- we're picture people. We take pictures all of the time -- no joke, I keep my camera in my purse and it's a rare day that it doesn't get used. One of my fave shows is AFV, btw -- it feeds my camera/video habit.
In preparation for my little scrapbook day today, it took me over 2 hours to go through all of the pictures just from Mitchell's birth to 1st birthday and choose the ones I wanted to print out!! It was so fun to look at all of them and remember all of the things that were going on. That's why I *love* scrapbooking -- you get to put it all together and recall all the stuff going on in the background and in the hearts and minds of those in the pictures. I get happy thinking about leaving such treasures for my family to enjoy (and they BETTER, dang it!!) long after I'm gone.
I got to thinking how sad I would be if I wasn't raised in a picture-happy family. My husband, for instance, does not have very many pictures of when he grew up. They have some, but not like ours. (Okay -- we're a bit insane on that point, but still.) I just feel like it's so fun and important to document the life we live. I know that Mitchell LOVES to look at pictures with me and it would be pretty sad if we didn't have all of them to remember.
I do need to get a bunch blown up, framed, etc. I think part of it is that I'm so OVER our house. I mean, I love it, but why am I gonna pour all this money into decorating it when I can't wait to get out? I think I'll save that as a pet project when we move.
Okay -- that was a pretty random topic, huh?
Friday, August 04, 2006
Do Fathers Have Identity Confusion, Too?
Okay -- so this week I've been reading on the birth boards I am part of, friends' blogs, friends of friends' blogs, and have listened to others as I talk to them (live and in person, even!). There's a pattern about women having identity confusion when they become mothers -- I've even blogged about it myself. So, my question is this:
Do men struggle the same way? My short answer is not so much.
I mean, go anywhere, talk to any mom, read her blog, etc. and you will hear that repeatedly she is faced with a completely overwhelming challenge: remembering who she was/is ASIDE from being a mom. Is this the case with men? Is it a huge challenge for them to remember who they were/are ASIDE from being a dad? Not in most cases, I think.
So many women get so completely engrossed in the whole "mom" world that they lose sight of what they used to enjoy. (And I guarantee you, it wasn't apple juice, goldfish crackers, and train time.) I know I struggle with that -- I LOVE to scrapbook and haven't done ONE page in over 2 years. It's so depressing!! I really, truly love it but there are several things getting in my way. Time, space, and the fact that I have to spread my stuff out, hope that little hands don't mess with all of it, and then clean it up again. I think I've put more of my creative energy into cooking lately, but still -- why have I given it up? Because the more our family grows and changes, the further down the priority list it goes. It wasn't until last week when I went to my friend's house that I realized how much I miss it and how much enjoyment I get out of it. She said that she makes it a priority and even takes her kids to daycare one day when she's tracked off to do it. (She teaches at a year-round school.)
What? You actually take time for YOU??? How DARE you!!!
Dang, Gina...that sounds like a GREAT idea!!!
So, guess what I'm doing this weekend? Chris is out of town on a guys' golf weekend (and not looking back, I'm sure) so I'm taking M all day and G for half a day (the boobs can only take so much) to my mom's house and I'm going to scrapbook ALL day!! I'm taking my friend's advice and only stopping to pee and eat/drink. Me. Alone. With my scrapbook stuff. I can't wait!! Today during "quiet time", I'm ordering copies of the pictures I want to use from Walgreens so I can be all set. I'm so excited.
For the record being "just a mom" is better than anything in the world. Except, of course, if you happen to be: Tara the 33 year old woman who is married to her best friend, loves a great cup of coffee (decaf), ice cream, laughing, watching sports, hates to dust, has more girlfriends than she probably deserves and loves every single one of them, is trying valiantly (ha!) to shed some pounds, drives a freakin' minivan for the good of the group, has a mad crush on Tim McGraw, can't handle margaritas like she used to, would love to have enough money to buy herself some really cute purses and shoes. Oh -- and she happens to be blessed with two little people that she can't even imagine loving any more -- except for when they call her "Mommy".
So -- what's the answer? Guys??? Oh wait -- this blog is a boy's worst nightmare -- none will ever read these words. Ladies, ask your men. :)
Do men struggle the same way? My short answer is not so much.
I mean, go anywhere, talk to any mom, read her blog, etc. and you will hear that repeatedly she is faced with a completely overwhelming challenge: remembering who she was/is ASIDE from being a mom. Is this the case with men? Is it a huge challenge for them to remember who they were/are ASIDE from being a dad? Not in most cases, I think.
So many women get so completely engrossed in the whole "mom" world that they lose sight of what they used to enjoy. (And I guarantee you, it wasn't apple juice, goldfish crackers, and train time.) I know I struggle with that -- I LOVE to scrapbook and haven't done ONE page in over 2 years. It's so depressing!! I really, truly love it but there are several things getting in my way. Time, space, and the fact that I have to spread my stuff out, hope that little hands don't mess with all of it, and then clean it up again. I think I've put more of my creative energy into cooking lately, but still -- why have I given it up? Because the more our family grows and changes, the further down the priority list it goes. It wasn't until last week when I went to my friend's house that I realized how much I miss it and how much enjoyment I get out of it. She said that she makes it a priority and even takes her kids to daycare one day when she's tracked off to do it. (She teaches at a year-round school.)
What? You actually take time for YOU??? How DARE you!!!
Dang, Gina...that sounds like a GREAT idea!!!
So, guess what I'm doing this weekend? Chris is out of town on a guys' golf weekend (and not looking back, I'm sure) so I'm taking M all day and G for half a day (the boobs can only take so much) to my mom's house and I'm going to scrapbook ALL day!! I'm taking my friend's advice and only stopping to pee and eat/drink. Me. Alone. With my scrapbook stuff. I can't wait!! Today during "quiet time", I'm ordering copies of the pictures I want to use from Walgreens so I can be all set. I'm so excited.
For the record being "just a mom" is better than anything in the world. Except, of course, if you happen to be: Tara the 33 year old woman who is married to her best friend, loves a great cup of coffee (decaf), ice cream, laughing, watching sports, hates to dust, has more girlfriends than she probably deserves and loves every single one of them, is trying valiantly (ha!) to shed some pounds, drives a freakin' minivan for the good of the group, has a mad crush on Tim McGraw, can't handle margaritas like she used to, would love to have enough money to buy herself some really cute purses and shoes. Oh -- and she happens to be blessed with two little people that she can't even imagine loving any more -- except for when they call her "Mommy".
So -- what's the answer? Guys??? Oh wait -- this blog is a boy's worst nightmare -- none will ever read these words. Ladies, ask your men. :)
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Addendum to part 2...
As my fine friend, Jamie has so clearly noted,
"The trains! What about the trains?"
Am I the biggest moron or WHAT??? I think perhaps I'm still numb from what we now refer to as "The Train Incident" at the museum.
Yes, yes...the trains. Trains don't make him happy -- that would be the understatement of the world. They make him a wee bit insane, but I mean that in the best possible way. (Hopefully someone out there knows what I mean.) Trains are the Holy Grail of this three year old's life -- in fact, a different train gets the privilege of sleeping on the nightstand every night. (Tonight it's Terence the Tractor, in case you're wondering.)
In a moment of nostalgia not long ago, I reread my blog entries and wouldn't you know it, Thomas the Tank engine was driving me crazy. Driving ME crazy because it makes him INSANELY happy. Like I expressed then, I know there will be a day when I will miss the Thomas obsession because it means I have a big boy whose list of happy things will be much, much different. (And likely much, much more disturbing to me as a mother.)
Okay - - I just felt that this needed its own little space.
Dang -- seriously!!! How in the WORLD could I not have listed the trains? Jamie -- get out the bike and run my butt over, would ya????
"The trains! What about the trains?"
Am I the biggest moron or WHAT??? I think perhaps I'm still numb from what we now refer to as "The Train Incident" at the museum.
Yes, yes...the trains. Trains don't make him happy -- that would be the understatement of the world. They make him a wee bit insane, but I mean that in the best possible way. (Hopefully someone out there knows what I mean.) Trains are the Holy Grail of this three year old's life -- in fact, a different train gets the privilege of sleeping on the nightstand every night. (Tonight it's Terence the Tractor, in case you're wondering.)
In a moment of nostalgia not long ago, I reread my blog entries and wouldn't you know it, Thomas the Tank engine was driving me crazy. Driving ME crazy because it makes him INSANELY happy. Like I expressed then, I know there will be a day when I will miss the Thomas obsession because it means I have a big boy whose list of happy things will be much, much different. (And likely much, much more disturbing to me as a mother.)
Okay - - I just felt that this needed its own little space.
Dang -- seriously!!! How in the WORLD could I not have listed the trains? Jamie -- get out the bike and run my butt over, would ya????
In case you're wondering (part 2)
Here is an abbreviated list of the things that make 3 year old boys (well, again -- this one at least) really happy:
*A baby sister that you can squeak at and poke and who thinks you're funny when you do the running man in just your NASCAR underwear.
*Any sort of processed food is golden. Grandparents are total jackpots for this sort of thing.
*Chocolate milk. 'Nuff said on that one.
*Motion. Jumping, running, hopping, rolling around, wrestling, crawling, bouncing, etc. Before I had kids I was unaware how short the period of time for "walking" was. I think he walked for about 2 weeks before he ran and hasn't walked again.
*Investigating. Why did that happen? What do you call this? What are you doing? Why do your legs jiggle? (Ya like that one??)
*Making a mess. Messy kid = successful day at work.
*Cartoons.
*Singing songs and listening to silly music. Recently making up songs about ANYTHING has become a favorite past time. "My spoon is goooiinnnngggg into my yooogurt. It's gonna beeeee soooooo yummy in myyyy tuuuuummmmyyyy."
*Being outside. Given the option, they would likely live outside and never return to anywhere with four walls.
*Unless there are popsicles and/or ice cream inside of those 4 walls. 3 year olds are known to do just about anything for a cold treat on a hot day. Or a cold day -- they don't usually discriminate.
*Repetition. Doing, saying, watching and hearing things over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over.
*In direct contrast to things they don't like, 3 year old boys are quite fond of SAYING the word "no". It's frequently heard each and every day, sometimes as early as 6:30 a.m.
*Making demands: give me, let me, I want, let's go, you go, etc.
*Animals -- any kind, anywhere. Animals are definitely "in" with the 3 year old set.
*Hugs and kisses. Fortunately for a sappy mom, the 3 year old under this roof still enjoys cuddle time.
*Doing things independently. To the point of frustration. In some instances, will then turn on parents because they didn't help (even though they were clearly instructed NOT to help by the not-yet-frustrated 3 year old).
*Playing. Playing. Playing. Water is good -- anytime you can incorporate water into the play, it's a total bonus.
I could go on and on and on...in general, life with a 3 year old boy is messy, hilarious, frustrating, full of surprises, exhausting, exhilirating, and I wouldn't trade one second of the madness for all of the money in the world.
Well -- maybe the potty training ones I would. But that's a whole different Oprah.
*A baby sister that you can squeak at and poke and who thinks you're funny when you do the running man in just your NASCAR underwear.
*Any sort of processed food is golden. Grandparents are total jackpots for this sort of thing.
*Chocolate milk. 'Nuff said on that one.
*Motion. Jumping, running, hopping, rolling around, wrestling, crawling, bouncing, etc. Before I had kids I was unaware how short the period of time for "walking" was. I think he walked for about 2 weeks before he ran and hasn't walked again.
*Investigating. Why did that happen? What do you call this? What are you doing? Why do your legs jiggle? (Ya like that one??)
*Making a mess. Messy kid = successful day at work.
*Cartoons.
*Singing songs and listening to silly music. Recently making up songs about ANYTHING has become a favorite past time. "My spoon is goooiinnnngggg into my yooogurt. It's gonna beeeee soooooo yummy in myyyy tuuuuummmmyyyy."
*Being outside. Given the option, they would likely live outside and never return to anywhere with four walls.
*Unless there are popsicles and/or ice cream inside of those 4 walls. 3 year olds are known to do just about anything for a cold treat on a hot day. Or a cold day -- they don't usually discriminate.
*Repetition. Doing, saying, watching and hearing things over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over.
*In direct contrast to things they don't like, 3 year old boys are quite fond of SAYING the word "no". It's frequently heard each and every day, sometimes as early as 6:30 a.m.
*Making demands: give me, let me, I want, let's go, you go, etc.
*Animals -- any kind, anywhere. Animals are definitely "in" with the 3 year old set.
*Hugs and kisses. Fortunately for a sappy mom, the 3 year old under this roof still enjoys cuddle time.
*Doing things independently. To the point of frustration. In some instances, will then turn on parents because they didn't help (even though they were clearly instructed NOT to help by the not-yet-frustrated 3 year old).
*Playing. Playing. Playing. Water is good -- anytime you can incorporate water into the play, it's a total bonus.
I could go on and on and on...in general, life with a 3 year old boy is messy, hilarious, frustrating, full of surprises, exhausting, exhilirating, and I wouldn't trade one second of the madness for all of the money in the world.
Well -- maybe the potty training ones I would. But that's a whole different Oprah.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
In case you're wondering...
...here is a short list of things that drive three year old boys (errr---maybe just this one) crazy:
*The word "no" in any combination with "you may not", "we can't", "thank you", "he/she/they isn't/aren't".
*Finishing a meal -- any meal -- ever. UNLESS, you don't ask them to. Then they'll finish.
*Any vegetable on their plate. If it's on your plate, there's a much better chance of them asking for some.
*Naps. Laying down. Resting. Being quiet. Any of the above.
*Rules meant for safety. Like please don't jump from the 3rd stair. Please keep your hands away from the stove. Please don't put that blanket over your head and spin in circles near the sharp-cornered table. Things like that -- they are not so much fans of those.
*Lotion. Regular or sunscreen.
*Manners. (Okay, some of the time this is okay.)
*Tissues. Fingers are so much more readily available.
*Getting fingernails/toenails clipped. Don't EVEN get me started on this one.
*Coming in from outside. This is a biggie and requires lots of advanced warning.
*Taking a bath unless it's their idea.
*Turning the tv off or (God forbid) watching a show that they did not choose.
*Having their hair combed and teeth brushed -- yes, the pattern is grooming = not happening.
*Sharing -- this is hot and cold but pretty much not a fan of sharing fun stuff.
Just a sampling. Maybe tomorrow I'll do things that make 3 year old boys (or at least this one) exceptionally happy.
*The word "no" in any combination with "you may not", "we can't", "thank you", "he/she/they isn't/aren't".
*Finishing a meal -- any meal -- ever. UNLESS, you don't ask them to. Then they'll finish.
*Any vegetable on their plate. If it's on your plate, there's a much better chance of them asking for some.
*Naps. Laying down. Resting. Being quiet. Any of the above.
*Rules meant for safety. Like please don't jump from the 3rd stair. Please keep your hands away from the stove. Please don't put that blanket over your head and spin in circles near the sharp-cornered table. Things like that -- they are not so much fans of those.
*Lotion. Regular or sunscreen.
*Manners. (Okay, some of the time this is okay.)
*Tissues. Fingers are so much more readily available.
*Getting fingernails/toenails clipped. Don't EVEN get me started on this one.
*Coming in from outside. This is a biggie and requires lots of advanced warning.
*Taking a bath unless it's their idea.
*Turning the tv off or (God forbid) watching a show that they did not choose.
*Having their hair combed and teeth brushed -- yes, the pattern is grooming = not happening.
*Sharing -- this is hot and cold but pretty much not a fan of sharing fun stuff.
Just a sampling. Maybe tomorrow I'll do things that make 3 year old boys (or at least this one) exceptionally happy.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
I am my own worst enemy...
I am a procrastinator -- I make myself late.
When I am late, I am cranky.
When I am cranky, my children are cranky.
That makes us even later because it's harder to get a little cooperation going.
When we're late other people get cranky.
All because I'm a procrastinator.
***********************************************************************
I would love to lose weight.
That would mean not loving food.
--Let me clarify--
That would not mean loving:
*ice cream
*wine
*french fries
*ice cream
*chocolate
*macaroni and cheese
*ice cream
*pretty much anything you're not SUPPOSED to eat a lot of
*Annnnnddd...ice cream
It would also help if I liked to work out.
*************************************************************
I love having my house clean, yet I am a lazy housekeeper.
Huh?
I love my house to be clean but I want someone else to do it.
Yes, I'm aware it doesn't work that way. I don't have to like it.
I just have to do it.
Someday I will.
**************************************************************
I love having down time.
I schedule myself out the wazoo with everything you can think of.
I complain because I never have any time to myself and am always on the go.
It is my handwriting with a pen that I hold in my hand that makes all of those plans.
***************************************************************
Know what I've done good?
Picked me a mighty fine husband who loves all of this crap.
Well, maybe not all of this crap, but he loves me and it comes with.
And we make some mighty fine children, too.
That's all that really matters, right??
When I am late, I am cranky.
When I am cranky, my children are cranky.
That makes us even later because it's harder to get a little cooperation going.
When we're late other people get cranky.
All because I'm a procrastinator.
***********************************************************************
I would love to lose weight.
That would mean not loving food.
--Let me clarify--
That would not mean loving:
*ice cream
*wine
*french fries
*ice cream
*chocolate
*macaroni and cheese
*ice cream
*pretty much anything you're not SUPPOSED to eat a lot of
*Annnnnddd...ice cream
It would also help if I liked to work out.
*************************************************************
I love having my house clean, yet I am a lazy housekeeper.
Huh?
I love my house to be clean but I want someone else to do it.
Yes, I'm aware it doesn't work that way. I don't have to like it.
I just have to do it.
Someday I will.
**************************************************************
I love having down time.
I schedule myself out the wazoo with everything you can think of.
I complain because I never have any time to myself and am always on the go.
It is my handwriting with a pen that I hold in my hand that makes all of those plans.
***************************************************************
Know what I've done good?
Picked me a mighty fine husband who loves all of this crap.
Well, maybe not all of this crap, but he loves me and it comes with.
And we make some mighty fine children, too.
That's all that really matters, right??
Monday, July 31, 2006
Thoughts for the week...
*Husband + Gasoline + stroller = One very upset woman
*I would be okay with never doing another load of laundry again.
*Random strangers touching my baby's hands by reaching OVER the back of an adjoining booth is definitely not okay with me.
*Mitchell could live on macaroni and cheese, corndogs, fruit snacks and chocolate milk.
*I love cheesecake.
*Sad but true, I can get drunk off of one margarita these days.
*Teething sucks the big toe of life.
*Mosquitos love me.
*Even three year olds have guilt.
*My husband looks VERY cute with a clean shaven face and a fresh, shorter haircut. Le-rar-rar.
*My husband can't believe I don't nap during the week. Le-ha-ha!
*I love blackberries.
*It's freakin' hot outside.
*I'm not a fan of spiders.
*I'm capable of using swear words to tell my husband to stop teasing me DURING a Christian rock song that I love. Nice. Oh - and we skipped church. Way to go, me.
*You can FEEL as young as you want, but your body keeps on aging.
*I like my hair shorter.
*No matter how overweight I am, I will still love and crave ice cream until the day I die. I will also never fully enjoy working out.
*Fewer things in life are as cute as watching a 3 year old boy help his Daddy wash the car and mow the lawn. It's so obvious he wants to actually *be* his dad.
*My husband enjoys watching a seriously STUPID tv show. (No offense to anyone else who loves "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia".)
*Georgia is going to be quite the pistol. And she's almost crawling. Oh crap.
*I love washing underwear for Mitchell as opposed to buying and disposing of pullups. Way to go, big guy!!
*The minivan is not ugly when washed.
*The boneless buffalo chicken salad is much better at Bennigan's than at Chili's, just FYI.
*I am already in the midst of planning Mitchell's birthday party, thinking of Christmas gifts, and planning our anniversary trip in Feb.
*No one has yet stopped by to offer to clean my house for free.
*I love coffee. And coffee ice cream. (See? There's that ice cream thing again. It's an addiction, I'm afraid.)
*I would be okay with never doing another load of laundry again.
*Random strangers touching my baby's hands by reaching OVER the back of an adjoining booth is definitely not okay with me.
*Mitchell could live on macaroni and cheese, corndogs, fruit snacks and chocolate milk.
*I love cheesecake.
*Sad but true, I can get drunk off of one margarita these days.
*Teething sucks the big toe of life.
*Mosquitos love me.
*Even three year olds have guilt.
*My husband looks VERY cute with a clean shaven face and a fresh, shorter haircut. Le-rar-rar.
*My husband can't believe I don't nap during the week. Le-ha-ha!
*I love blackberries.
*It's freakin' hot outside.
*I'm not a fan of spiders.
*I'm capable of using swear words to tell my husband to stop teasing me DURING a Christian rock song that I love. Nice. Oh - and we skipped church. Way to go, me.
*You can FEEL as young as you want, but your body keeps on aging.
*I like my hair shorter.
*No matter how overweight I am, I will still love and crave ice cream until the day I die. I will also never fully enjoy working out.
*Fewer things in life are as cute as watching a 3 year old boy help his Daddy wash the car and mow the lawn. It's so obvious he wants to actually *be* his dad.
*My husband enjoys watching a seriously STUPID tv show. (No offense to anyone else who loves "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia".)
*Georgia is going to be quite the pistol. And she's almost crawling. Oh crap.
*I love washing underwear for Mitchell as opposed to buying and disposing of pullups. Way to go, big guy!!
*The minivan is not ugly when washed.
*The boneless buffalo chicken salad is much better at Bennigan's than at Chili's, just FYI.
*I am already in the midst of planning Mitchell's birthday party, thinking of Christmas gifts, and planning our anniversary trip in Feb.
*No one has yet stopped by to offer to clean my house for free.
*I love coffee. And coffee ice cream. (See? There's that ice cream thing again. It's an addiction, I'm afraid.)
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Never thought of it that way...
My husband handed me an article -- I believe it was actually an essay -- yesterday.
Here's the article.
Excuse me? My kids don't make me happy?
Okay - you're right. Not ALL of the time. I mean, they DO. But not all of the time.
Why is that so hard to admit? I think it's because we're SUPPOSED to be happy with them all of the time in order to feel like a good parent. Is that what it is? Not sure.
Anyway -- I had just never thought of things like that before. Makes perfect sense though and I thought it was a great way to think about it. I mean, what person could you spend 24/7 with for weeks and months on end and NOT get driven a little crazy by? Anyone? I drive myself crazy sometimes -- it's only natural that my kids do at times.
Did I mention how much I love and adore them? :)
Last night at dinner we were talking about Mitchell's extreme meltdown at the Children's Museum yesterday. (Long story in itself -- not pretty -- worst behavior in about a year.) My hubby said "He's a good kid, he just has moments. We all do."
DING!! (That would be light bulb above my head going off.)
I said "Maybe that would help me to think of myself in the same light. I'm a good mom, I just have my moments -- we all do." I tend to be really hard on myself about things and this might be a good way to cut myself some slack.
Here's the article.
Excuse me? My kids don't make me happy?
Okay - you're right. Not ALL of the time. I mean, they DO. But not all of the time.
Why is that so hard to admit? I think it's because we're SUPPOSED to be happy with them all of the time in order to feel like a good parent. Is that what it is? Not sure.
Anyway -- I had just never thought of things like that before. Makes perfect sense though and I thought it was a great way to think about it. I mean, what person could you spend 24/7 with for weeks and months on end and NOT get driven a little crazy by? Anyone? I drive myself crazy sometimes -- it's only natural that my kids do at times.
Did I mention how much I love and adore them? :)
Last night at dinner we were talking about Mitchell's extreme meltdown at the Children's Museum yesterday. (Long story in itself -- not pretty -- worst behavior in about a year.) My hubby said "He's a good kid, he just has moments. We all do."
DING!! (That would be light bulb above my head going off.)
I said "Maybe that would help me to think of myself in the same light. I'm a good mom, I just have my moments -- we all do." I tend to be really hard on myself about things and this might be a good way to cut myself some slack.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
*yawn*
Boring -- I'm bored and as a result, bored this morning...so lower your expectations, okay?
It's my birthday today -- I prefer to think of it as Saturday. With benefits.
Like cake -- I'm VERY excited about cake. The thing is - -I had one last night at my mom's but it was more the ice cream that got me. Goodness. My grandma's boyfriend (hee hee -- that still makes me giggle) brought the ice cream and if that's what it takes -- I'm about to have an 85 year old man do my wicked dessert shopping. If you've never had the Dove chocolate ice cream -- GET SOME. I was DYING it was so good. Ugh. (Did I mention that I'm trying to lose weight? Could it be because the only thing I'm excited about on my birthday is food? Hmmm.)
Anyway -- my mom insisted on making me a birthday dinner, which was so sweet since I know how tired she is. She took Mitchell to the grocery store with her and he was so freakin' adorable when they got back. I was downstairs working for her on the computer and he came bounding down the stairs and ran over to me. He said "Mommy, Mommy, I got you a surprise -- here it is!!" Hee hee. It was actually a giant card. I mean a card that literally folded out to be a poster-sized card. Too cute -- he was VERY excited because his grandma helped him write his name on there. He's very into spelling his name. It's quite cute -- but then again, he's my kid so I'm extremely biased.
Once we got done oohing and aaahing over the card, we moved onto the stuff upstairs. "Come see! Come see!" were my directions. So I came upstairs and he showed me the flowers that he picked out for me -- my mom said she didn't help at all. (He actually matched them color-wise.) Aand the cake -- oh my word -- the cake. I thought he was going to lose his mind!! It was one of those that was a little rectangle with like 8 servings in it. It was white frosting with little circle sprinkles and a big bouquet of plastic balloons. The PERFECT cake for Mommy if you are three years old -- and SCORE -- YOU get to keep the balloons. AND blow out the candles. AND stick your finger in the icing before it's served. AND after all that -- not finish your cake and ask for more ice cream instead. (Hee hee.) I told you -- that ice cream is KILLER.
While we're on the topic of food -- might I add that I always forget how much I LOVE this chicken my mom makes. It is by far -- my very favorite chicken dish of all time. It is AWESOME!!!! And guess what -- I've never made it. I have no idea why. I was eating it last night going "Why the heck don't I ever make this???" And I didn't have a good answer. Anyway -- we had that chicken, corn on the cob and fruit salad with grapes, cantalope, watermelon, raspberries, blueberries and my fave -- blackberries!! Talk about the perfect meal!!
Okay -- so I seriously love this chicken and I will now put the recipe here for you. Yes, I am THAT nerdy and yes, it is THAT good. Someone try it and tell me when you do -- I know you'll love it as much as I do. (FYI -- it's also really good cold for picnics.)
Yogurt Chicken
2 cups plain, fat free yogurt
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
4 teaspoons worstershire sauce
2 teaspoons celery salt
2 teaspoons paprika
1 clove garlic, pressed
2 teaspoons pepper
3 chicken breasts, split and skinned
3/4 cup seasoned bread crumbs
1/2 cup butter, melted (optional)
Combine yogurt, lemon juice, worstershire sauce, celery salt, paprika, garlic and pepper in a large, deep bowl. Add chicken pieces and coat well. Allow to marinate in the yogurt mixture overnight if possible, but for at least 30 min - 1 hour in the refrigerator, covered. When ready to cook, preheat oven to 350. Remove pieces of chicken from the sauce and roll in the crumbs. Arrange in a large baking dish that's been sprayed with cooking spray. Sprinkle with butter, if you're using it. (I've never done that but I bet it's GOOD.) Bake uncovered for 45 minutes or until done.
Now the good thing about this recipe is that it's good for you, so don't feel bad eating it. I think it was orginally made with sour cream, but my mom changed it to yogurt and it's sooo GOOD this way!!
Okay -- that's all I have for now. Off to eat some breakfast so we can get ready for a fun day at the museum while I have the chance -- Georgia is sacked out in the swing and Mitchell is watching his library video before we have to take it back. I might even read the paper!
It's my birthday today -- I prefer to think of it as Saturday. With benefits.
Like cake -- I'm VERY excited about cake. The thing is - -I had one last night at my mom's but it was more the ice cream that got me. Goodness. My grandma's boyfriend (hee hee -- that still makes me giggle) brought the ice cream and if that's what it takes -- I'm about to have an 85 year old man do my wicked dessert shopping. If you've never had the Dove chocolate ice cream -- GET SOME. I was DYING it was so good. Ugh. (Did I mention that I'm trying to lose weight? Could it be because the only thing I'm excited about on my birthday is food? Hmmm.)
Anyway -- my mom insisted on making me a birthday dinner, which was so sweet since I know how tired she is. She took Mitchell to the grocery store with her and he was so freakin' adorable when they got back. I was downstairs working for her on the computer and he came bounding down the stairs and ran over to me. He said "Mommy, Mommy, I got you a surprise -- here it is!!" Hee hee. It was actually a giant card. I mean a card that literally folded out to be a poster-sized card. Too cute -- he was VERY excited because his grandma helped him write his name on there. He's very into spelling his name. It's quite cute -- but then again, he's my kid so I'm extremely biased.
Once we got done oohing and aaahing over the card, we moved onto the stuff upstairs. "Come see! Come see!" were my directions. So I came upstairs and he showed me the flowers that he picked out for me -- my mom said she didn't help at all. (He actually matched them color-wise.) Aand the cake -- oh my word -- the cake. I thought he was going to lose his mind!! It was one of those that was a little rectangle with like 8 servings in it. It was white frosting with little circle sprinkles and a big bouquet of plastic balloons. The PERFECT cake for Mommy if you are three years old -- and SCORE -- YOU get to keep the balloons. AND blow out the candles. AND stick your finger in the icing before it's served. AND after all that -- not finish your cake and ask for more ice cream instead. (Hee hee.) I told you -- that ice cream is KILLER.
While we're on the topic of food -- might I add that I always forget how much I LOVE this chicken my mom makes. It is by far -- my very favorite chicken dish of all time. It is AWESOME!!!! And guess what -- I've never made it. I have no idea why. I was eating it last night going "Why the heck don't I ever make this???" And I didn't have a good answer. Anyway -- we had that chicken, corn on the cob and fruit salad with grapes, cantalope, watermelon, raspberries, blueberries and my fave -- blackberries!! Talk about the perfect meal!!
Okay -- so I seriously love this chicken and I will now put the recipe here for you. Yes, I am THAT nerdy and yes, it is THAT good. Someone try it and tell me when you do -- I know you'll love it as much as I do. (FYI -- it's also really good cold for picnics.)
Yogurt Chicken
2 cups plain, fat free yogurt
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
4 teaspoons worstershire sauce
2 teaspoons celery salt
2 teaspoons paprika
1 clove garlic, pressed
2 teaspoons pepper
3 chicken breasts, split and skinned
3/4 cup seasoned bread crumbs
1/2 cup butter, melted (optional)
Combine yogurt, lemon juice, worstershire sauce, celery salt, paprika, garlic and pepper in a large, deep bowl. Add chicken pieces and coat well. Allow to marinate in the yogurt mixture overnight if possible, but for at least 30 min - 1 hour in the refrigerator, covered. When ready to cook, preheat oven to 350. Remove pieces of chicken from the sauce and roll in the crumbs. Arrange in a large baking dish that's been sprayed with cooking spray. Sprinkle with butter, if you're using it. (I've never done that but I bet it's GOOD.) Bake uncovered for 45 minutes or until done.
Now the good thing about this recipe is that it's good for you, so don't feel bad eating it. I think it was orginally made with sour cream, but my mom changed it to yogurt and it's sooo GOOD this way!!
Okay -- that's all I have for now. Off to eat some breakfast so we can get ready for a fun day at the museum while I have the chance -- Georgia is sacked out in the swing and Mitchell is watching his library video before we have to take it back. I might even read the paper!
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Lifelong friends...
Lifelong friends are treasures. Everyone should have at least one. I'm talking about girlfriends, not just your spouse.
I happen to be lucky enough to have several lifelong friends. (By the way, I'm happy to report that over the years my list has grown, not shrunk. Shrank? Shrunk.)
These women know who they are and are gifts to me. I appreciate them more than I think they realize.
They cry with me when there's nothing else to do. They laugh with me when I'm dumber than previously thought possible. They lock my secrets up in their vaults and tell me I'm not the only one, though sometimes I highly suspect they are just being kind. They enjoy a good margarita and some fried food every once in awhile. They offer great advice and just shut up and listen when appropriate. They applaud my weight loss when I'm on a roll and help me eat chocolate desserts in times of crisis. They pretend my kids' poopy diapers really DON'T smell that bad. They endure shutterfly sharing of pics that seem endless at times, I think -- and even reply sometimes! In general, they keep me sane (well, that's a relative term, of course).
I have to go to the library now but I was just thinking about how much my friends mean to me and thought I'd share. The world is a nicer place because of my friends and I'm a lucky lady.
I happen to be lucky enough to have several lifelong friends. (By the way, I'm happy to report that over the years my list has grown, not shrunk. Shrank? Shrunk.)
These women know who they are and are gifts to me. I appreciate them more than I think they realize.
They cry with me when there's nothing else to do. They laugh with me when I'm dumber than previously thought possible. They lock my secrets up in their vaults and tell me I'm not the only one, though sometimes I highly suspect they are just being kind. They enjoy a good margarita and some fried food every once in awhile. They offer great advice and just shut up and listen when appropriate. They applaud my weight loss when I'm on a roll and help me eat chocolate desserts in times of crisis. They pretend my kids' poopy diapers really DON'T smell that bad. They endure shutterfly sharing of pics that seem endless at times, I think -- and even reply sometimes! In general, they keep me sane (well, that's a relative term, of course).
I have to go to the library now but I was just thinking about how much my friends mean to me and thought I'd share. The world is a nicer place because of my friends and I'm a lucky lady.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Never about what you think it is...
It happens a lot. You get into a discussion with someone, or a fight, or make an observation. Any of those -- and a lot of the time, the reasons behind them are not what you think.
Pretty much don't want to dive into detail here, but a couple of things happened on my weekend away with the family that demonstrated that exact point to me.
Speaking of our weekend away, it was wonderful. Chris, Mitchell, Georgia and I were like glue for three ENTIRE days. All day. All night. Every day was like that. I LOVED IT!!!
My mom felt very loved and appreciated, which was the whole point, so that was great. The boys all did fantastic and Georgia was a baby trooper as well. We asked an awful lot out of those little people -- flexibility mostly, and they all did great. There were some meltdowns, but they were few and far between and generally pretty mild. It was really nice to look back on the weekend and realize just what great kids we have.
Okay -- I'm tired and need to catch up on laundry and cleaning. I took most of the day today to finish up the book I was reading. Chris gave me the green light to have a lazy day and not feel guilty, but I do. I'll see if I can get a bathroom and the kitchen cleaned and the carpet vacuumed before he gets home. That would be nice -- I got a day to recover, he didn't. At all. But that's another story for another day.
Pretty much don't want to dive into detail here, but a couple of things happened on my weekend away with the family that demonstrated that exact point to me.
Speaking of our weekend away, it was wonderful. Chris, Mitchell, Georgia and I were like glue for three ENTIRE days. All day. All night. Every day was like that. I LOVED IT!!!
My mom felt very loved and appreciated, which was the whole point, so that was great. The boys all did fantastic and Georgia was a baby trooper as well. We asked an awful lot out of those little people -- flexibility mostly, and they all did great. There were some meltdowns, but they were few and far between and generally pretty mild. It was really nice to look back on the weekend and realize just what great kids we have.
Okay -- I'm tired and need to catch up on laundry and cleaning. I took most of the day today to finish up the book I was reading. Chris gave me the green light to have a lazy day and not feel guilty, but I do. I'll see if I can get a bathroom and the kitchen cleaned and the carpet vacuumed before he gets home. That would be nice -- I got a day to recover, he didn't. At all. But that's another story for another day.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Being a procrastinator sucks...
But that's what I am. Okay. Just had to say that.
I'd write more but I have about 5 loads of laundry to do and a grocery store run to make. Oh -- and it's 9 pm and we're leaving at 9:30. Whoops!!
Oh well.
I'd write more but I have about 5 loads of laundry to do and a grocery store run to make. Oh -- and it's 9 pm and we're leaving at 9:30. Whoops!!
Oh well.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Uh-oh...
It's starting. The monkey see -- monkey do business at my house.
Tonight, Mitchell was eating his dinner right next to Georgia's swing. He was chattering away to her and she was chattering right back. I was in the kitchen loading the dishwasher and making his lunch for school tomorrow, listening to him be goofy and her crack up but not really "watching".
So he says "Hey Mom (ouch - mommy is on the fade out), look! I taught her a trick." Okay -- she's not a DOG, but I am curious. So I go in there and he said "I taught her the silly shake your head trick."
Sure enough, he did.
He shakes his head and makes some goofy sound and she does the EXACT same thing back. They are both just giggling like crazy. I run to get the camera out of the car and make him do it again so I can get it on video. I get THE BEST video -- she did it exactly like he did -- the lighting was great, the sound was great -- I get back to the computer to email it to Chris at work.
Um, yeah. Picture of my feet walking to the computer and audio of me telling Mitchell how excited Daddy will be to get this video. As Mitchell would say "That's a big bummer, Mom(my)." I was so sad. I did get another video but it's only a half-hearted attempt on her part.
SO...cute! He was so excited and she just thought this was the best game she'd ever played. Actually, it might be, considering that she doesn't really play games yet. She does give high fives, but I think no one but Chris believes me because she will NEVER do it if I tell someone she does. She has that little "make Mommy look like a loon" thing down pat.
As I was watching them tonight, I thought about a lot of stuff:
*How cute are my kids??
*I love that they love each other so much.
*Mitchell is a certified GOOF.
*Georgia has one helluva mohawk happening right now.
*She is going to be his worst nightmare here pretty soon.
*Thank you, Lord, for choosing me to be their Mommy.
*I wish Chris was home.
*She is taking in sooooo much more than I realize. (I know she is but moments like that show it.)
*Mitchell is a GREAT big brother.
*He is doing the pee pee dance.
Then I made him go pee and the moment was over. My last thought on the subject remains the same...
Uh-oh!
Tonight, Mitchell was eating his dinner right next to Georgia's swing. He was chattering away to her and she was chattering right back. I was in the kitchen loading the dishwasher and making his lunch for school tomorrow, listening to him be goofy and her crack up but not really "watching".
So he says "Hey Mom (ouch - mommy is on the fade out), look! I taught her a trick." Okay -- she's not a DOG, but I am curious. So I go in there and he said "I taught her the silly shake your head trick."
Sure enough, he did.
He shakes his head and makes some goofy sound and she does the EXACT same thing back. They are both just giggling like crazy. I run to get the camera out of the car and make him do it again so I can get it on video. I get THE BEST video -- she did it exactly like he did -- the lighting was great, the sound was great -- I get back to the computer to email it to Chris at work.
Um, yeah. Picture of my feet walking to the computer and audio of me telling Mitchell how excited Daddy will be to get this video. As Mitchell would say "That's a big bummer, Mom(my)." I was so sad. I did get another video but it's only a half-hearted attempt on her part.
SO...cute! He was so excited and she just thought this was the best game she'd ever played. Actually, it might be, considering that she doesn't really play games yet. She does give high fives, but I think no one but Chris believes me because she will NEVER do it if I tell someone she does. She has that little "make Mommy look like a loon" thing down pat.
As I was watching them tonight, I thought about a lot of stuff:
*How cute are my kids??
*I love that they love each other so much.
*Mitchell is a certified GOOF.
*Georgia has one helluva mohawk happening right now.
*She is going to be his worst nightmare here pretty soon.
*Thank you, Lord, for choosing me to be their Mommy.
*I wish Chris was home.
*She is taking in sooooo much more than I realize. (I know she is but moments like that show it.)
*Mitchell is a GREAT big brother.
*He is doing the pee pee dance.
Then I made him go pee and the moment was over. My last thought on the subject remains the same...
Uh-oh!
Why is it...
That every time I feel like I've got everything under control -- two seconds later that is just a thought drifting away again??
I work my arse off to get this house clean -- two seconds later, there's nothing to show for it. The toilet's been peed on AGAIN, there is a huge pile of dirty laundry AGAIN, there is crap all over the floor AGAIN, etc. I know, I know -- that's what happens when people (namely a man and some children) actually live in a house and do things there. I get that -- it doesn't mean I have to like it.
I think what I'd like to do is that the next time I get my whole house clean, I will rope off each room, ship my family out for a few days, and sell tickets. Yes!! Come see the amazingly clean home -- it may never be this way again. I tell ya who would come -- people like ME. Women who work their butts off to get it that way WITHOUT a housekeeper or a nanny. Not that I'm bitter about those who do have those luxuries.
Okay, yes, I am. Very bitter. Extremely bitter. I want a housekeeper!! (Not a nanny though. Except maybe when I need to clean.) Are you seeing how those go together yet, by the way?
I guess maybe I'm just sick of feeling like a hamster on a wheel. Except instead of a hamster going around and around it's rubber gloves (latex free, please) and dirty socks. And Wiggles undies. And burp rags. And nasty toilet seats.
If I could make my own bumper sticker today, it would read "I'd rather be drunk in Hawaii."
**I needed to edit and add that Chris DOES help around here. He's more a part of the solution than the problem, but you know -- feeling sorry for myself and all that. Lumped him in. He'll live.
I work my arse off to get this house clean -- two seconds later, there's nothing to show for it. The toilet's been peed on AGAIN, there is a huge pile of dirty laundry AGAIN, there is crap all over the floor AGAIN, etc. I know, I know -- that's what happens when people (namely a man and some children) actually live in a house and do things there. I get that -- it doesn't mean I have to like it.
I think what I'd like to do is that the next time I get my whole house clean, I will rope off each room, ship my family out for a few days, and sell tickets. Yes!! Come see the amazingly clean home -- it may never be this way again. I tell ya who would come -- people like ME. Women who work their butts off to get it that way WITHOUT a housekeeper or a nanny. Not that I'm bitter about those who do have those luxuries.
Okay, yes, I am. Very bitter. Extremely bitter. I want a housekeeper!! (Not a nanny though. Except maybe when I need to clean.) Are you seeing how those go together yet, by the way?
I guess maybe I'm just sick of feeling like a hamster on a wheel. Except instead of a hamster going around and around it's rubber gloves (latex free, please) and dirty socks. And Wiggles undies. And burp rags. And nasty toilet seats.
If I could make my own bumper sticker today, it would read "I'd rather be drunk in Hawaii."
**I needed to edit and add that Chris DOES help around here. He's more a part of the solution than the problem, but you know -- feeling sorry for myself and all that. Lumped him in. He'll live.
Monday, July 17, 2006
In my former life...
I went to a wedding this weekend...my cousin who is 28 got married and it was beautiful. He is so happy and the wedding was great. I had to leave before the party got going at the reception, but I know it was a blast. (I had already skipped one feeding with Georgia and my gals just couldn't take missing two.)
Anyway-- while I was there, it struck me just how YOUNG my cousin and his friends all seemed. I'm really only about 5 years older, but WOW -- it felt like a lot more than that. Most of his buddies were all the same age -- hardly any of them had children. I was just watching everyone going -- that was me - -4 and a half years ago. I was 28, no kids, getting married, the world at my feet. We could go where we wanted, when we wanted, with whom we wanted. We both worked but then it was just a free for all when work was over. Happy hour? No problem. Away for the weekend? Anywhere we wanted. Spontaneous bbq with friends? Why not.
These days it takes me forever to get out the door because I have to pack the double stroller, the diaper bag, my purse, snacks and drinks, the boppy, put both kids in their carseats, make sure we go potty first, etc. I also have to time out the feedings or pack stuff for bottles. If something "spontaneous" comes up, it's all about who can watch the kids or we bring them with and then we have bedtimes and feedings to deal with.
It's so funny how things change so instantaneously -- EVERYTHING changes. From the second you wake up till the second you go to bed, parenthood changes your life. It changes your heart, the way you view the world, the things you say and do, the things you watch, the food in your pantry and refrigerator, the decor of your house, the freakin' CAR you drive...everything. And for me -- I wouldn't change a thing. At all. Ever.
It's just funny -- it all changed in the blink of an eye and I KNOW it changed -- but it's like it doesn't slap ya in the face till I see other people doing different things. I just sat in my chair and thought how interesting it would be to see that same group of people in 5 more years and see how they'd changed.
Anyway-- while I was there, it struck me just how YOUNG my cousin and his friends all seemed. I'm really only about 5 years older, but WOW -- it felt like a lot more than that. Most of his buddies were all the same age -- hardly any of them had children. I was just watching everyone going -- that was me - -4 and a half years ago. I was 28, no kids, getting married, the world at my feet. We could go where we wanted, when we wanted, with whom we wanted. We both worked but then it was just a free for all when work was over. Happy hour? No problem. Away for the weekend? Anywhere we wanted. Spontaneous bbq with friends? Why not.
These days it takes me forever to get out the door because I have to pack the double stroller, the diaper bag, my purse, snacks and drinks, the boppy, put both kids in their carseats, make sure we go potty first, etc. I also have to time out the feedings or pack stuff for bottles. If something "spontaneous" comes up, it's all about who can watch the kids or we bring them with and then we have bedtimes and feedings to deal with.
It's so funny how things change so instantaneously -- EVERYTHING changes. From the second you wake up till the second you go to bed, parenthood changes your life. It changes your heart, the way you view the world, the things you say and do, the things you watch, the food in your pantry and refrigerator, the decor of your house, the freakin' CAR you drive...everything. And for me -- I wouldn't change a thing. At all. Ever.
It's just funny -- it all changed in the blink of an eye and I KNOW it changed -- but it's like it doesn't slap ya in the face till I see other people doing different things. I just sat in my chair and thought how interesting it would be to see that same group of people in 5 more years and see how they'd changed.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Jibber jabber...
In other words -- little, piddly things. That's my topic.
By the way -- did anyone else see that "Boston Legal"? (The Jibber Jabber one -- there was this old judge who said it really funny, and oh...nevermind. If you didn't see it, trying to describe it here is a lost cause. Just know that Chris and I give each other the "jibber jabber" business quite a bit.)
So -- my ketchup bottle was almost empty in the door of my fridge and now there's ketchup schmutz (a word borrowed from my friend, Debbie) that's all sticky on the bottom of lots of bottles. Soaking them to get it off -- not high on my priority list until I go to use one and then I think again that I should get on that. I think I will this afternoon.
Tom & Jerry -- Mitchell's new fave for morning tv time. It really is quite funny, but there is a lot of swatting, hitting, bonking, chasing, etc. So far he hasn't attempted to conk anyone over the top of the head with a cast iron skillet (ala "The Jerry") so I think we're okay. :) He just giggles and giggles and LOVES when Tom growls at the beginning instead of the MGM lion.
(See -- this really IS jibber jabber.)
How in the world does a pimple turn into a sun blister?? Someone tell me. I had a pimple like right below my lip -- well, on my 3 mile walks (pat, pat, pat -- me patting myself on the back) this week -- I believe it got sunburned and now it's a big, very UGLY scab. What the heck??!!
There's a bottle of chocolate milk in the fridge and I'd like to drink the whole thing but I'm not gonna. (I did taste it though -- SOOOOOO good.)
I took my toenail polish off 3 days ago and keep forgetting to paint them again. They do not look very attractive at the moment.
I have to go now. :)
By the way -- did anyone else see that "Boston Legal"? (The Jibber Jabber one -- there was this old judge who said it really funny, and oh...nevermind. If you didn't see it, trying to describe it here is a lost cause. Just know that Chris and I give each other the "jibber jabber" business quite a bit.)
So -- my ketchup bottle was almost empty in the door of my fridge and now there's ketchup schmutz (a word borrowed from my friend, Debbie) that's all sticky on the bottom of lots of bottles. Soaking them to get it off -- not high on my priority list until I go to use one and then I think again that I should get on that. I think I will this afternoon.
Tom & Jerry -- Mitchell's new fave for morning tv time. It really is quite funny, but there is a lot of swatting, hitting, bonking, chasing, etc. So far he hasn't attempted to conk anyone over the top of the head with a cast iron skillet (ala "The Jerry") so I think we're okay. :) He just giggles and giggles and LOVES when Tom growls at the beginning instead of the MGM lion.
(See -- this really IS jibber jabber.)
How in the world does a pimple turn into a sun blister?? Someone tell me. I had a pimple like right below my lip -- well, on my 3 mile walks (pat, pat, pat -- me patting myself on the back) this week -- I believe it got sunburned and now it's a big, very UGLY scab. What the heck??!!
There's a bottle of chocolate milk in the fridge and I'd like to drink the whole thing but I'm not gonna. (I did taste it though -- SOOOOOO good.)
I took my toenail polish off 3 days ago and keep forgetting to paint them again. They do not look very attractive at the moment.
I have to go now. :)
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Figured it out...
So, I decided that the answer to why I felt the way I did about all of that (see the big minivan post below) has always been right in front of my face.
The reason I've never felt like "just a housewife" or "just a 33 year old minivan driving mom of two" is because my husband has NEVER, EVER treated me that way. When I was working full time, all he did was encourage and praise me for working so hard. When I told him my heart was broken and I was exhausted at the end of that year and that I wanted to be home again, all he did was love and support me and say that he'd do his best to make sure that's what happened since my place was clearly at home. When I had Georgia and Mitchell, he told me over and over again how proud he was of me and what an awesome job I did.
He tells me lovey, dovey, complimentary stuff all the time -- and I think he means it. :)
What I mean is -- that was really the first time I'd ever been made to feel that way. At home, I am MUCH more than just a housewife and I never have to worry about being made to feel that way here.
Why didn't I realize that sooner? Thanks, honey -- I love you.
**sorry for the BLATANT syrupy sweet, sickening level of mushy gushy love in this blog**
The reason I've never felt like "just a housewife" or "just a 33 year old minivan driving mom of two" is because my husband has NEVER, EVER treated me that way. When I was working full time, all he did was encourage and praise me for working so hard. When I told him my heart was broken and I was exhausted at the end of that year and that I wanted to be home again, all he did was love and support me and say that he'd do his best to make sure that's what happened since my place was clearly at home. When I had Georgia and Mitchell, he told me over and over again how proud he was of me and what an awesome job I did.
He tells me lovey, dovey, complimentary stuff all the time -- and I think he means it. :)
What I mean is -- that was really the first time I'd ever been made to feel that way. At home, I am MUCH more than just a housewife and I never have to worry about being made to feel that way here.
Why didn't I realize that sooner? Thanks, honey -- I love you.
**sorry for the BLATANT syrupy sweet, sickening level of mushy gushy love in this blog**
Sunday, July 09, 2006
A very strange moment in time...
So here's the scene...
Chris and I are sitting in the car dealership in the late evening on a rainy Saturday. After much contemplation and sighing, we decide to just bite the bullet and officially buy the minivan we had just test driven. It's black, it's a year old, it only has 15,000 miles on it, it has a DVD player, it's comfortable, it is a great deal, I won't have to throw out my back hoisting 35 pound three year olds over to the 3rd row of an SUV anymore...what's not to love, right?
It's a MINIVAN, people!!!
I know, I know...they're great, they're practical, kids love them, moms love them, married couples who never plan to have children love them. I get it -- they are God's gift to the vehicle world -- but I never, EVER wanted one. I never, EVER thought I'd get one. That's why we got the Trailblazer with the 3rd row. Right there. In our garage. To love and cherish forever. The ANTI-minivan.
Yet, there we were, kissing it goodbye...two sad souls making a purchase we knew we *should* make, a good one for the family. We both like to call it taking one for the team. And by the way, I do recognize it's not like we were trading in our beloved Trailblazer for a horse-drawn carriage -- we get it, it's a great vehicle. We just both think that they're ugly. And very suburbia, mom jeans, white keds, carpooling (which I'm a part of now, too), soccer practice, terrycloth-visor-wearing ugly.
And now I own one. *gulp*
Okay, but back to my strange moment...
So, we're sitting at the table after telling our sales buddy that we would indeed like to purchase the van. Mini-van. (I think the word itself gives me heartburn.) Meanwhile my husband is in what appears to be ACTUAL pain because the little table where we're signing our lives away is right next to his dream car -- a Chrysler 300. He's sighing, he's oohing, he's ahhing, he's damn near crying at this point. He's drinking REALLY bad coffee (I tried it -- it was nasty) and I'm chomping on overly processed peanut butter crackers from the vending machine. I'm trying to console Chris and at the same time feeling the need to apologize. I did that all night--not sure why. Actually, I do. I told Chris that I felt like I was taking his puppy away. He assured me that it wasn't like that but that he LOVES our Trailblazer and I need to allow him to mourn appropriately. Sounds odd, but as I later discovered, I'd be grieving, too.
So anyway, our friend Cody has now pulled together all of the documents that we need to review and sign and joins us again at the little table. Asks us if we'd both like to be on the title. We say yes because...it's OUR van, right? Well, he says "Who's first?" Chris says "It's her van...put her first." I say "Is there a difference financially with this?" He says "Whoever's credit is better should be first, I guess." ANNNND with that tidbit of info...I pass the pen. So Chris fills his part out and then it's my turn. I happily put in my name, driver's license, address, birthdate (which I put 2006, btw -- idiot) and I get down to the "Employment" section. I kind of look at it and think hmmmm...so I ask my friend Cody what to do. I work private practice but so minimally it almost doesn't count, adding that I mostly stay home with the kids.
His answer? "Just put 'Housewife' and that will be fine. That's all the information we need."
HOUSEWIFE???? Just HOUSEWIFE???? That's ALL the info you need about me???? Ouch.
Okay -- so now I can be summed up in that one word? Let me tell you who I think of when I think "Housewife". I see Archie Bunker's wife. I see Mrs. Drabble from that stupid cartoon. I do not see me. I know I'm a stay at home mom, but for some reason I never considered myself a "housewife". Ick. No way.
Yet, there it is. In blue ink on a white page in my own handwriting staring up at me. All the 10 other boxes surrounding it left blank because that one word is all the information the need about me. They don't want to know anything else. That's enough. Just "housewife". On my minivan purchase application. How did this happen to me? How did I get here? Is this for real? I have a Master's Degree!! I have a BRAIN, for pete's sake! I live in a house, I am a wife -- but trust me, that is NOT all the information you need about me!! And for the record, even though I personally think it's the dumbest thing ever and I'd rather be a "housewife"...I do now officially understand what drove some poor, sad soul to coin the phrase "Domestic Engineer". As much as I think it's just a ridiculous term -- to the person who thought that little gem up, I feel yer pain sister.
For one minute, I thought "Screw that!" and actually considered putting "Speech-Language Pathologist" on there. Helllooo--don't I look so smart? I'm an SLP, not a "housewife"! I'm SOMEBODY. I'm useful. I'm ME!!!
Then I remembered how hungry I was and that I wanted to gnaw my own arm off at that point. Putting SLP meant taking time to list details of my measly income.
Okay..."Housewife" it is! *sigh and scribble*
Cody left to go process our information and I looked at Chris and was like "Oh my Lord, I'm a freakin' 33 year old HOUSEWIFE with a freakin' MINIVAN!!" He's like "Uhhhh, YEAH...that just now hit you?" Uhhhhh....YEAH, it did, as a matter of fact.
I don't know why it was so weird, but it definitely was. Worse than my ten year reunion. Worse than finding a few grey hairs this year. Worse than digging my fat pants out after having Georgia to find that even THOSE are tight. I think for the first time in a long time I felt old and sort of like...I don't know...helpless. Like my mission in life now is to be listed on my husband's credit so that I can commandeer the family around in my little minivan, dispensing juice boxes and baggies of goldfish crackers while listening to "This Old Man" for the 700th time in a week. Seriously -- that's how I felt. Kind of crushed by reality, but a double edged sword because it's the reality I wanted, chose and would NEVER take back in a million years or for all of the money in the world. It was just really a bizarre feeling. I think that in addition to understanding the Domestic Engineers of the world, I'm also beginning to understand what drives 50 year old men to buy red convertible sports cars. (But not the cheating or divorces that start and end with affairs with 20 year old blonde bombshells -- that's not on my "I get it now" list. Nuh uh. Still icky.)
Okay -- so back to the van. I like the van. It was my idea, I wanted it for convenience, it makes sense -- but it's giving me a complex.
I'll get over it, I will love it I'm sure (as I'm told by the minivan cult). I just today -- feel kind of old and like I'm 98% mom/housewife and 2% Tara. Does that make any sense?
Anyway -- I told Chris that it was sort of a key life moment for me right there. Like when people sit around talking about things they remember from their lives and different ages/stages, that will be one I will definitely remember. I don't think I'll ever forget that feeling.
I need to get my hair done -- that always makes me feel young and energetic again. I'll make an appointment tomorrow.
And drive there...in my new minivan.
Chris and I are sitting in the car dealership in the late evening on a rainy Saturday. After much contemplation and sighing, we decide to just bite the bullet and officially buy the minivan we had just test driven. It's black, it's a year old, it only has 15,000 miles on it, it has a DVD player, it's comfortable, it is a great deal, I won't have to throw out my back hoisting 35 pound three year olds over to the 3rd row of an SUV anymore...what's not to love, right?
It's a MINIVAN, people!!!
I know, I know...they're great, they're practical, kids love them, moms love them, married couples who never plan to have children love them. I get it -- they are God's gift to the vehicle world -- but I never, EVER wanted one. I never, EVER thought I'd get one. That's why we got the Trailblazer with the 3rd row. Right there. In our garage. To love and cherish forever. The ANTI-minivan.
Yet, there we were, kissing it goodbye...two sad souls making a purchase we knew we *should* make, a good one for the family. We both like to call it taking one for the team. And by the way, I do recognize it's not like we were trading in our beloved Trailblazer for a horse-drawn carriage -- we get it, it's a great vehicle. We just both think that they're ugly. And very suburbia, mom jeans, white keds, carpooling (which I'm a part of now, too), soccer practice, terrycloth-visor-wearing ugly.
And now I own one. *gulp*
Okay, but back to my strange moment...
So, we're sitting at the table after telling our sales buddy that we would indeed like to purchase the van. Mini-van. (I think the word itself gives me heartburn.) Meanwhile my husband is in what appears to be ACTUAL pain because the little table where we're signing our lives away is right next to his dream car -- a Chrysler 300. He's sighing, he's oohing, he's ahhing, he's damn near crying at this point. He's drinking REALLY bad coffee (I tried it -- it was nasty) and I'm chomping on overly processed peanut butter crackers from the vending machine. I'm trying to console Chris and at the same time feeling the need to apologize. I did that all night--not sure why. Actually, I do. I told Chris that I felt like I was taking his puppy away. He assured me that it wasn't like that but that he LOVES our Trailblazer and I need to allow him to mourn appropriately. Sounds odd, but as I later discovered, I'd be grieving, too.
So anyway, our friend Cody has now pulled together all of the documents that we need to review and sign and joins us again at the little table. Asks us if we'd both like to be on the title. We say yes because...it's OUR van, right? Well, he says "Who's first?" Chris says "It's her van...put her first." I say "Is there a difference financially with this?" He says "Whoever's credit is better should be first, I guess." ANNNND with that tidbit of info...I pass the pen. So Chris fills his part out and then it's my turn. I happily put in my name, driver's license, address, birthdate (which I put 2006, btw -- idiot) and I get down to the "Employment" section. I kind of look at it and think hmmmm...so I ask my friend Cody what to do. I work private practice but so minimally it almost doesn't count, adding that I mostly stay home with the kids.
His answer? "Just put 'Housewife' and that will be fine. That's all the information we need."
HOUSEWIFE???? Just HOUSEWIFE???? That's ALL the info you need about me???? Ouch.
Okay -- so now I can be summed up in that one word? Let me tell you who I think of when I think "Housewife". I see Archie Bunker's wife. I see Mrs. Drabble from that stupid cartoon. I do not see me. I know I'm a stay at home mom, but for some reason I never considered myself a "housewife". Ick. No way.
Yet, there it is. In blue ink on a white page in my own handwriting staring up at me. All the 10 other boxes surrounding it left blank because that one word is all the information the need about me. They don't want to know anything else. That's enough. Just "housewife". On my minivan purchase application. How did this happen to me? How did I get here? Is this for real? I have a Master's Degree!! I have a BRAIN, for pete's sake! I live in a house, I am a wife -- but trust me, that is NOT all the information you need about me!! And for the record, even though I personally think it's the dumbest thing ever and I'd rather be a "housewife"...I do now officially understand what drove some poor, sad soul to coin the phrase "Domestic Engineer". As much as I think it's just a ridiculous term -- to the person who thought that little gem up, I feel yer pain sister.
For one minute, I thought "Screw that!" and actually considered putting "Speech-Language Pathologist" on there. Helllooo--don't I look so smart? I'm an SLP, not a "housewife"! I'm SOMEBODY. I'm useful. I'm ME!!!
Then I remembered how hungry I was and that I wanted to gnaw my own arm off at that point. Putting SLP meant taking time to list details of my measly income.
Okay..."Housewife" it is! *sigh and scribble*
Cody left to go process our information and I looked at Chris and was like "Oh my Lord, I'm a freakin' 33 year old HOUSEWIFE with a freakin' MINIVAN!!" He's like "Uhhhh, YEAH...that just now hit you?" Uhhhhh....YEAH, it did, as a matter of fact.
I don't know why it was so weird, but it definitely was. Worse than my ten year reunion. Worse than finding a few grey hairs this year. Worse than digging my fat pants out after having Georgia to find that even THOSE are tight. I think for the first time in a long time I felt old and sort of like...I don't know...helpless. Like my mission in life now is to be listed on my husband's credit so that I can commandeer the family around in my little minivan, dispensing juice boxes and baggies of goldfish crackers while listening to "This Old Man" for the 700th time in a week. Seriously -- that's how I felt. Kind of crushed by reality, but a double edged sword because it's the reality I wanted, chose and would NEVER take back in a million years or for all of the money in the world. It was just really a bizarre feeling. I think that in addition to understanding the Domestic Engineers of the world, I'm also beginning to understand what drives 50 year old men to buy red convertible sports cars. (But not the cheating or divorces that start and end with affairs with 20 year old blonde bombshells -- that's not on my "I get it now" list. Nuh uh. Still icky.)
Okay -- so back to the van. I like the van. It was my idea, I wanted it for convenience, it makes sense -- but it's giving me a complex.
I'll get over it, I will love it I'm sure (as I'm told by the minivan cult). I just today -- feel kind of old and like I'm 98% mom/housewife and 2% Tara. Does that make any sense?
Anyway -- I told Chris that it was sort of a key life moment for me right there. Like when people sit around talking about things they remember from their lives and different ages/stages, that will be one I will definitely remember. I don't think I'll ever forget that feeling.
I need to get my hair done -- that always makes me feel young and energetic again. I'll make an appointment tomorrow.
And drive there...in my new minivan.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Priorities...
Okay, so what decides the order in which you prioritize your "to-do" list? For me - -it depends on the day. Days like today - it's hard to say.
The only thing I really wanted to do was go for a walk so my fatt bootocks could get some exercise. I also am wanting to finish this book I'm reading. There's also laundry to put away, a load to fold and two more to do. Unload the dishwasher, load it again. Factor in reading, playing trains, and the rest of the yadda yaddas that come with my two kiddos and there ya are. Oh, and going to see Grandma at the hospital. Oh, and a shower.
So -- here's what I decided.
First I put away the two loads I folded last night.
Got everyone dressed and fed.
Read about 15 pages of my book while I nursed G. (See - multitasking-- I'm a woman.)
Went for a walk and to the park.
Came home and made lunch.
Read some more while I nursed Georgia.
Computer stole my attention.
Now -- I've just taken the load out of the dryer, put the one from the washer in the dryer and added another load. I'm about ready to take a shower because...
THEY'RE BOTH SLEEPING AT THE SAME TIME!!!! Y EEEEE HAAWWWWW.
I can't really explain how exciting that last tidbit of info is - -it NEVER happens. Okay, so this was the most boring blog ever. Of all times. And so is my day.
I can't wait until my husband comes home. Honey -if you're reading this today, GAME ON, BABY!! :)
The only thing I really wanted to do was go for a walk so my fatt bootocks could get some exercise. I also am wanting to finish this book I'm reading. There's also laundry to put away, a load to fold and two more to do. Unload the dishwasher, load it again. Factor in reading, playing trains, and the rest of the yadda yaddas that come with my two kiddos and there ya are. Oh, and going to see Grandma at the hospital. Oh, and a shower.
So -- here's what I decided.
First I put away the two loads I folded last night.
Got everyone dressed and fed.
Read about 15 pages of my book while I nursed G. (See - multitasking-- I'm a woman.)
Went for a walk and to the park.
Came home and made lunch.
Read some more while I nursed Georgia.
Computer stole my attention.
Now -- I've just taken the load out of the dryer, put the one from the washer in the dryer and added another load. I'm about ready to take a shower because...
THEY'RE BOTH SLEEPING AT THE SAME TIME!!!! Y EEEEE HAAWWWWW.
I can't really explain how exciting that last tidbit of info is - -it NEVER happens. Okay, so this was the most boring blog ever. Of all times. And so is my day.
I can't wait until my husband comes home. Honey -if you're reading this today, GAME ON, BABY!! :)
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Always want more...
Isn't that true? Don't we?
I think my new personal mantra needs to be APPRECIATE WHAT YOU HAVE, DUMMY.
Okay -- short blog, but do ya get where my mental state is? Ugh. Okay -- my own butt kicking is done now. I'll be back tomorrow.
I think my new personal mantra needs to be APPRECIATE WHAT YOU HAVE, DUMMY.
Okay -- short blog, but do ya get where my mental state is? Ugh. Okay -- my own butt kicking is done now. I'll be back tomorrow.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Ick.
Ick for Mitchell. Ick for me.
He threw up 2 nights ago in his sleep. The scary part is he didn't wake up. That really freaks me out because I know that is a VERY dangerous thing to do. I remember a story about the same thing happening to me when I was little.
He came downstairs to say hi to me in the morning and I noticed he smelled pretty funky so I said "Did you poop?" He said "No." Then I saw his sleeve and it had puke on it. Uh-oh. I said "Honey, did you throw up last night?" He said "Ummmm...yeah. It's in my bed. I'm sorry, Mommy! I didn't mean to." :( Poor guy -- he thought he'd be in trouble. I can just picture him waking up and looking around going "Uhhhhooohhhh." I made sure he knew I wasn't mad, he wasn't in trouble, nothing at ALL in that direction but that I needed to get those sheets washed up and clean his room real good to get rid of the germs.
I go upstairs and OH MY WORD. It was EVERYWHERE!!! He has a twin bed with a sheet and a blanket, plus bed rails, about 8 stuffed animals, 3 pillows and a folded blanket at the foot of his bed. It was over ALL of it. I think that he mainly did two little piles and then basically rolled around in it all night. Yucko. The first thing I did was put him right in the tub - - I discovered that it was in his hair once I knew what was up. The funny thing is that it's caked in his hair but he was really worried about this one spot about the size of a thumbtack on his big toe and wanted to make sure I got that off first. LOL.
It took me 4 loads to get it all done -- plus about half an hour in the bathtub rinsing it all down the drain first. I kept having to take breathers to come out for some clean air. Not good. I made sure that I opened all of the windows, turned on the fan and Lysoled every square INCH of that room. Then I did the same thing to the bathtub and bathroom. Then I ran around the entire house and Lysoled the whole place.
The bad part was that Chris was golfing. The good thing was that Georgia had JUST fallen asleep so I didn't have to try and entertain her while I was doing everything and by the time I needed to switch out laundry and stuff, Chris was home. He also was able to stop at the store to get some pedialyte freezer pops -- the only thing Mitchell will ingest when he's like this.
Anyway -- he was acting completely normal, didn't feel warm, etc. I was letting him play his Arthur game on the computer and I was talking to my mom on the phone about my grandmother, who was in the hospital and not doing well. He came over and said "Mommy, I want to have you. I need you." (This is Mitchell code for something's up and I need a hug.) He had a very weird look on his face so I said to my mom that I needed to go right then and hung up. I said "Do you need to throw up again?" He said "No" and just hugged me. About 2 seconds (literally) later he coughs and I thought, Oh crap. So I put my hand over his mouth and sure enough he starts to vomit. I ran like the wind as much as someone with a bad knee carrying a 35 pound three year old with one hand can and made it to the bathroom before it started to come out of my hand. We got 95 percent of it in the toilet, thank goodness. He was freaked out, poor guy. Throwing up is SOOO awful. What a horrible feeling it is!!!
SO -- I got him cleaned up and changed again, and parked his bootie on the couch for the rest of the day. He got to watch more tv yesterday than he usually does all week. He ate that up, too!! He put himself down for a nap in the afternoon and when he woke up -- he was burning up. That next 1 1/2 hours was not fun -- he was a bear, wouldn't drink ANYTHING and fought me really hard on taking his motrin. About half an hour after we got it down him, things started to get better.
Of course, this is the 4th of July -- Chris' favorite holiday and we were really looking forward to a fun family day. Bummer. We WERE gonna go to the park, eat lunch at Chili's, watch the Space Shuttle take off, watch the World Cup game, bbq and go to the ampitheater in our neighborhood for a picnic and fireworks over the lake. We managed to do the Space Shuttle, soccer game and bbq. We discovered that we had a clear, unobstructed view of the fireworks show from our bedroom so we watched them all together on our bed. Well, everyone but Georgia who was sound asleep in her crib.
It worked out okay -- wicked storms that I know I wouldn't have sat in for 2 hours and we watched the different fireworks shows on TV. Mitchell was psyched because Elmo was on the PBS show, so it worked out okay.
Now we just hope that it was a short lived deal just for him. I think G was a touch warm and she's pooped more today than normal, but overall she seems fine. *knock on wood*
I just hate the sickies.
He threw up 2 nights ago in his sleep. The scary part is he didn't wake up. That really freaks me out because I know that is a VERY dangerous thing to do. I remember a story about the same thing happening to me when I was little.
He came downstairs to say hi to me in the morning and I noticed he smelled pretty funky so I said "Did you poop?" He said "No." Then I saw his sleeve and it had puke on it. Uh-oh. I said "Honey, did you throw up last night?" He said "Ummmm...yeah. It's in my bed. I'm sorry, Mommy! I didn't mean to." :( Poor guy -- he thought he'd be in trouble. I can just picture him waking up and looking around going "Uhhhhooohhhh." I made sure he knew I wasn't mad, he wasn't in trouble, nothing at ALL in that direction but that I needed to get those sheets washed up and clean his room real good to get rid of the germs.
I go upstairs and OH MY WORD. It was EVERYWHERE!!! He has a twin bed with a sheet and a blanket, plus bed rails, about 8 stuffed animals, 3 pillows and a folded blanket at the foot of his bed. It was over ALL of it. I think that he mainly did two little piles and then basically rolled around in it all night. Yucko. The first thing I did was put him right in the tub - - I discovered that it was in his hair once I knew what was up. The funny thing is that it's caked in his hair but he was really worried about this one spot about the size of a thumbtack on his big toe and wanted to make sure I got that off first. LOL.
It took me 4 loads to get it all done -- plus about half an hour in the bathtub rinsing it all down the drain first. I kept having to take breathers to come out for some clean air. Not good. I made sure that I opened all of the windows, turned on the fan and Lysoled every square INCH of that room. Then I did the same thing to the bathtub and bathroom. Then I ran around the entire house and Lysoled the whole place.
The bad part was that Chris was golfing. The good thing was that Georgia had JUST fallen asleep so I didn't have to try and entertain her while I was doing everything and by the time I needed to switch out laundry and stuff, Chris was home. He also was able to stop at the store to get some pedialyte freezer pops -- the only thing Mitchell will ingest when he's like this.
Anyway -- he was acting completely normal, didn't feel warm, etc. I was letting him play his Arthur game on the computer and I was talking to my mom on the phone about my grandmother, who was in the hospital and not doing well. He came over and said "Mommy, I want to have you. I need you." (This is Mitchell code for something's up and I need a hug.) He had a very weird look on his face so I said to my mom that I needed to go right then and hung up. I said "Do you need to throw up again?" He said "No" and just hugged me. About 2 seconds (literally) later he coughs and I thought, Oh crap. So I put my hand over his mouth and sure enough he starts to vomit. I ran like the wind as much as someone with a bad knee carrying a 35 pound three year old with one hand can and made it to the bathroom before it started to come out of my hand. We got 95 percent of it in the toilet, thank goodness. He was freaked out, poor guy. Throwing up is SOOO awful. What a horrible feeling it is!!!
SO -- I got him cleaned up and changed again, and parked his bootie on the couch for the rest of the day. He got to watch more tv yesterday than he usually does all week. He ate that up, too!! He put himself down for a nap in the afternoon and when he woke up -- he was burning up. That next 1 1/2 hours was not fun -- he was a bear, wouldn't drink ANYTHING and fought me really hard on taking his motrin. About half an hour after we got it down him, things started to get better.
Of course, this is the 4th of July -- Chris' favorite holiday and we were really looking forward to a fun family day. Bummer. We WERE gonna go to the park, eat lunch at Chili's, watch the Space Shuttle take off, watch the World Cup game, bbq and go to the ampitheater in our neighborhood for a picnic and fireworks over the lake. We managed to do the Space Shuttle, soccer game and bbq. We discovered that we had a clear, unobstructed view of the fireworks show from our bedroom so we watched them all together on our bed. Well, everyone but Georgia who was sound asleep in her crib.
It worked out okay -- wicked storms that I know I wouldn't have sat in for 2 hours and we watched the different fireworks shows on TV. Mitchell was psyched because Elmo was on the PBS show, so it worked out okay.
Now we just hope that it was a short lived deal just for him. I think G was a touch warm and she's pooped more today than normal, but overall she seems fine. *knock on wood*
I just hate the sickies.
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