The holidays are here and showing up in all their glory. We are already starting to do the schedule shuffle; the shuffle, the bend, the twist and the squeeze.
I’m already a little sad about Christmas. My heart wants to reconnect with the true meaning of Christmas and drag everyone I love with me. I would love love, love, to do an “old fashion Christmas”. Where the emphasis was on friends, family, and the love of Jesus Christ instead of shopping and gifts.
Our extended family takes a vacation every year and rents a large house and we all spend about a week together. One of these years I’m going to be able to talk them into going someplace in the winter where there is snow. We could celebrate Christmas by taking sleigh rides, having snowball wars, baking cookies, singing carolls, decorating a tree with handmade ornaments, having the children perform skits and maybe even having the kids exchange handmade gifts.
But until then I have to find ways to keep the spirit alive in my own home. We have done that successfully thus far, and the joy and peace that we experience I desperately want to share. Especially, when my friends and family complain about the schedules, and the pressure. We of course have some of that because of accommodating others, but if we could all be on the same page……
It’s idealistic I know…..I just can’t help it.
Everyone complains about it, but no one wants to change it.
You either buy everyone that you know or may possible see a gift and you spend a lot of your time and money in the crowded stores shopping, or you simplify your list and spend the rest of the time avoiding those people that didn’t make the finial cut.
That is no way to spend the holidays. You should be enjoying your friends and family and making memories, not debt.
I know some of you have been able to avoid this. A lot of you shop throughout the year. Some of you spend your days in the kitchen baking instead of in the stores. And others draw names or play some sort of gift exchange game to cut your shopping list in half. I have done all of these things myself, but it’s not just about shopping and money…..it’s about joy and warmth, and love, family, friends, and yes…..giving.
But what is the definition of value to you? Do you give gifts that meet your own definition, or do you give gifts that meet what you think the receiver’s definition is?
How do you feel after you have given that gift?
Monday, November 12, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
I need some home health care.
I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but my house is sick. So very sick. It came on suddenly and has been a mysterious and stubborn illness.
One moment I will walk through a room and peace and wellness reign. The very next time I enter the same room I discover that my house has gotten sick and thrown up all over the place. It’s one thing to clean vomit up after a child, but when your house is sick, it’s like cleaning up after Clifford the Big Red Dog. The aftermath is just too massive.
Is there a Doctor in the house? How would I know? I can’t even find my shoe.
One moment I will walk through a room and peace and wellness reign. The very next time I enter the same room I discover that my house has gotten sick and thrown up all over the place. It’s one thing to clean vomit up after a child, but when your house is sick, it’s like cleaning up after Clifford the Big Red Dog. The aftermath is just too massive.
Is there a Doctor in the house? How would I know? I can’t even find my shoe.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
How to enable a three year old:
I’m going to rename the children in this blog. I knew at the time that calling them by their ages would be confusing over time, but I thought that I would always go back and think of the perfect names for them. Well, I still haven’t but I will settle for the oldest girl being called Queenie; the youngest girl being called Grape and the baby boy being called Cub.
Okay, so things are easier now. As of a few months ago, and sill to this day, things are getting easier. Queenie is now out of her terrible three phase and I have my angel back. That was a short sentence for something that has made such a major impact on my life and the lives of those around her. Unfortunately, Grape is now going through her difficult three stage. It’s still easier all around than Queenie’s, but I can not wait to get my normal kids back. Grape has most of her monster tendencies after the sun sets. She has very “awake” dreams. She sits up in bed and yells at me to stop brushing her hair, or to tell her sister to share; at the top of her lungs, mind you.
In the beginning I tried to comfort her by explaining that she was dreaming and to assure her that I was not trying to take her yogurt away. I have now resigned to going along with the fantasy.
2 a.m. Grape sits up in bed and screams repeatedly that Queenie took her dinosaur and that it’s NOT FAIR!
I fervently reprimand the villain and…. it works. She’s quietly sleeping for about 20 more minutes. Then I get the opportunity to referee another injustice of my daughter’s imagination.
The catch to my new found method is that my other daughter has to be in the mood to participate in this ummm…game.
After a rousing game of musical beds I found myself in the girl’s room with Grape, while Queenie was resting in my room with hubby. I was in and out of consciousness frequently to reassure Grape that everything was going to be fine. It’s not as much about her not being able to sooth herself, as it is me not wanting to have the entire house woken up every half hour to her screaming. Not screaming with terror, but with anger mostly. Infact, you take your hands in your own life if you even try to adjust her covers after she has fallen asleep. I know this is just a phase, so please don’t try to psycho analyze her, or me for that matter.
Anyway, I was sleeping in the girl’s room and this evening there must have been a scene involving Queenie stealing all of Grapes toys playing out in Grape’s dreams because she would regularly wake up enough to fuss and tell on her. Out of shear exhaustion I would resign to the fact that this is our life right now, and how dare her sister be so inconsiderate. “Queenie, give that back to Grape right now! And don’t do it again, “would fly out of my mouth without even opening my eyes.
But at some point during all of this fun, Queenie came back into the room and was quietly sleeping, until the next time I reprimanded her for taking her sister’s imaginary toys. “Mom, I didn’t do it!!”
“I know hunny. Grape is dreaming again.” I responded. All the while Grape is still screaming because I didn’t sound convincing enough.
So now on top of all the other hats I get to wear, I’m now required to be an A-list actress.
But things are getting better. I promise they are.
Okay, so things are easier now. As of a few months ago, and sill to this day, things are getting easier. Queenie is now out of her terrible three phase and I have my angel back. That was a short sentence for something that has made such a major impact on my life and the lives of those around her. Unfortunately, Grape is now going through her difficult three stage. It’s still easier all around than Queenie’s, but I can not wait to get my normal kids back. Grape has most of her monster tendencies after the sun sets. She has very “awake” dreams. She sits up in bed and yells at me to stop brushing her hair, or to tell her sister to share; at the top of her lungs, mind you.
In the beginning I tried to comfort her by explaining that she was dreaming and to assure her that I was not trying to take her yogurt away. I have now resigned to going along with the fantasy.
2 a.m. Grape sits up in bed and screams repeatedly that Queenie took her dinosaur and that it’s NOT FAIR!
I fervently reprimand the villain and…. it works. She’s quietly sleeping for about 20 more minutes. Then I get the opportunity to referee another injustice of my daughter’s imagination.
The catch to my new found method is that my other daughter has to be in the mood to participate in this ummm…game.
After a rousing game of musical beds I found myself in the girl’s room with Grape, while Queenie was resting in my room with hubby. I was in and out of consciousness frequently to reassure Grape that everything was going to be fine. It’s not as much about her not being able to sooth herself, as it is me not wanting to have the entire house woken up every half hour to her screaming. Not screaming with terror, but with anger mostly. Infact, you take your hands in your own life if you even try to adjust her covers after she has fallen asleep. I know this is just a phase, so please don’t try to psycho analyze her, or me for that matter.
Anyway, I was sleeping in the girl’s room and this evening there must have been a scene involving Queenie stealing all of Grapes toys playing out in Grape’s dreams because she would regularly wake up enough to fuss and tell on her. Out of shear exhaustion I would resign to the fact that this is our life right now, and how dare her sister be so inconsiderate. “Queenie, give that back to Grape right now! And don’t do it again, “would fly out of my mouth without even opening my eyes.
But at some point during all of this fun, Queenie came back into the room and was quietly sleeping, until the next time I reprimanded her for taking her sister’s imaginary toys. “Mom, I didn’t do it!!”
“I know hunny. Grape is dreaming again.” I responded. All the while Grape is still screaming because I didn’t sound convincing enough.
So now on top of all the other hats I get to wear, I’m now required to be an A-list actress.
But things are getting better. I promise they are.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Amen Sista' !
Scene: 4 yr. old and 3 yr. old sitting at opposite ends of the kitchen table eating a soy butter and strawberry sandwich for lunch.
4 yr. old: “3 yr. old, before we were in mom’s tummy we were in Heaven. Isn’t that right mom? We were in Heaven before we were in your tummy?”
Mom: “Yes, 4 yr. old you were.”
4 yr. old: “Yeah, those were the good days.”
4 yr. old: “3 yr. old, before we were in mom’s tummy we were in Heaven. Isn’t that right mom? We were in Heaven before we were in your tummy?”
Mom: “Yes, 4 yr. old you were.”
4 yr. old: “Yeah, those were the good days.”
Friday, August 24, 2007
Nahnah Nahnanah Boots Boots!
The air gets crisp and even the trees themselves seem to shiver with unbridled energy. The clothes that flatter my body more than any other season come out and I get to wear boots! Black, brown, short, long, sleek, chunky and all fun, fun, fun. I get to cook warm comfort food and bake things with apple and cinnamon, and have warm drinks, and wear cute jackets, Oh! How I LOVE the Fall!
The anticipation of change hangs in the very air you breathe and fills you up from the inside out. Long walks are a must and the frisky animals make me laugh. Oh! How I LOVE the Fall!
But it’s not here.
I can’t find it.
I have looked everywhere, but there is no sign of it’s presence or it’s coming arrival.
I’m sad.
So I start thinking. What is it they say? If you will it, it will come?
So I set my plan into motion.
While the house still slept, I gingerly set the thermostat to 62 degrees. I put on a large pot of stew and get dressed in my blue jeans and boots, of course. I light a candle that has Fall written all over it and wait.
Others laughed, but I believe.
I will continue to spend my Saturday’s in a Fall like state. Until one day….one day it will arrive in all it’s splendor.
You may be laughing now, but soon it will be my turn. I can hear you now, “Help, I’m cold! Let me have your cute jacket and your adorable boots!” And you will hear me howl with laughter in return as I call back, “You can have them, if you can catch me!“
The anticipation of change hangs in the very air you breathe and fills you up from the inside out. Long walks are a must and the frisky animals make me laugh. Oh! How I LOVE the Fall!
But it’s not here.
I can’t find it.
I have looked everywhere, but there is no sign of it’s presence or it’s coming arrival.
I’m sad.
So I start thinking. What is it they say? If you will it, it will come?
So I set my plan into motion.
While the house still slept, I gingerly set the thermostat to 62 degrees. I put on a large pot of stew and get dressed in my blue jeans and boots, of course. I light a candle that has Fall written all over it and wait.
Others laughed, but I believe.
I will continue to spend my Saturday’s in a Fall like state. Until one day….one day it will arrive in all it’s splendor.
You may be laughing now, but soon it will be my turn. I can hear you now, “Help, I’m cold! Let me have your cute jacket and your adorable boots!” And you will hear me howl with laughter in return as I call back, “You can have them, if you can catch me!“
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Snakes, snails and puppy dog tails
My baby boy just turned a year old. At this point my husband and I are not planning on having any more children, but we have not done anything permanent to ensure that. Frankly, we like children way too much to ensure anything.
I was daydreaming the other day about having another boy so that my son would have a brother close in age. I see the girls enjoying each other so very much, and I want that for my boy. But there are sooooo many reasons why it was only a brief daydream.
For starters, I get sick when pregnant. Really sick. All nine months sick.
It’s better when I’m pregnant with boys than with girls, but it’s still, lay in the bathroom floor all day, sick.
I couldn’t effectively raise the three other children from the bathroom floor. Plus, there is no guarantee that we would get a boy.
And another issue is that well, I feel luck that my children were all born as healthy as they were. Yes, my boy needed open heart surgery, but it was treatable and we are now doing just fine. I hate to say that I fear having a child that is in a more permanent unhealthy state, but I do. Maybe not enough to Not have another child, but definitely enough to make me hesitant. All in all I would say this was fruitless conversation that worked it’s way out of my head and onto this screen.
Well now that’s better…..I guess since I’ve cleared some room up there, I should fill it with another daydream.
I was daydreaming the other day about having another boy so that my son would have a brother close in age. I see the girls enjoying each other so very much, and I want that for my boy. But there are sooooo many reasons why it was only a brief daydream.
For starters, I get sick when pregnant. Really sick. All nine months sick.
It’s better when I’m pregnant with boys than with girls, but it’s still, lay in the bathroom floor all day, sick.
I couldn’t effectively raise the three other children from the bathroom floor. Plus, there is no guarantee that we would get a boy.
And another issue is that well, I feel luck that my children were all born as healthy as they were. Yes, my boy needed open heart surgery, but it was treatable and we are now doing just fine. I hate to say that I fear having a child that is in a more permanent unhealthy state, but I do. Maybe not enough to Not have another child, but definitely enough to make me hesitant. All in all I would say this was fruitless conversation that worked it’s way out of my head and onto this screen.
Well now that’s better…..I guess since I’ve cleared some room up there, I should fill it with another daydream.
The one that got away.
I met up with a very old friend recently. This girl was my bff in elementary! I moved away in 6th grade and we reunited recently and planned to meet the next time I was in town. She is married now with a beautiful daughter and knows the where bouts of most of my other friends from that era.
I don’t know, but I think that there is something special about friendships that are forged at such a young age. The way I see it, if they liked you back then, when you were learning how to be likable then that is a genuine friendship. For some reason it just seems more honest and real then some of the ones we develop later. She like me before I was anything or anyone. Not that I’m particularly impressive now, but we do get judged by a different standard when we are older.
She will always have a place in my heart. And it feels good to be around something so old and familiar.
Do you still have childhood friends, and are they all they are cracked up to be?
I don’t know, but I think that there is something special about friendships that are forged at such a young age. The way I see it, if they liked you back then, when you were learning how to be likable then that is a genuine friendship. For some reason it just seems more honest and real then some of the ones we develop later. She like me before I was anything or anyone. Not that I’m particularly impressive now, but we do get judged by a different standard when we are older.
She will always have a place in my heart. And it feels good to be around something so old and familiar.
Do you still have childhood friends, and are they all they are cracked up to be?
Monday, August 6, 2007
Love is in the Air.
I am having an unusual evening….
As I sit and answer some emails and write this post I can smell something…
It’s not just something…it’s my past.
I can smell the perfume that I wore sixteen years ago. Literally.
It’s the oddest, most wonderful thing.
I wore a perfume several years ago called Unforgettable.
They no longer make it, and haven’t for many years. I loved it so much that I saved the little that was left in the bottle to wear on my wedding day. It was not expensive, but it brings back such warm lovely feelings. I am enjoying every breath I take.
I can not figure out were it is coming from. It seems like it’s coming from me. I am wearing something right now, and although it is nice and I enjoy it, it’s not what I am smelling.
I was in Dillard’s today and picked up some cologne for my husband….maybe I brought a little phantom perfume home with me…..
All I know is that I am filled with memories and feelings that belong to a young lady in love. I think I’ll sit here a little longer….
As I sit and answer some emails and write this post I can smell something…
It’s not just something…it’s my past.
I can smell the perfume that I wore sixteen years ago. Literally.
It’s the oddest, most wonderful thing.
I wore a perfume several years ago called Unforgettable.
They no longer make it, and haven’t for many years. I loved it so much that I saved the little that was left in the bottle to wear on my wedding day. It was not expensive, but it brings back such warm lovely feelings. I am enjoying every breath I take.
I can not figure out were it is coming from. It seems like it’s coming from me. I am wearing something right now, and although it is nice and I enjoy it, it’s not what I am smelling.
I was in Dillard’s today and picked up some cologne for my husband….maybe I brought a little phantom perfume home with me…..
All I know is that I am filled with memories and feelings that belong to a young lady in love. I think I’ll sit here a little longer….
Monday, July 9, 2007
Cowboy hats, and wooden rafts, like Huckleberry Fin
We just got home from a family vacation. Not your typical family vacation which might include beaches, theme parks and large variety of animals. Ours included boats, food, water balloons, and animals of the homosapian variety; namely cousins…lots and lots of cousins. We centered our vacation time this year on the children and the making of memories and relationships with their cousins.
I think one of the best things about cousins is that they are family, AND you can chose them. You know what I mean. Your sisters and brother are a required relationship. Your cousins have that similar connection; that familiarity and camaraderie, but you can foster a relationship with some more than others, and that’s perfectly normal.
I remember spending large amounts of time as a child with my cousins. We filled our long summer days with adventure and imagination. Watermelon seed fights, bike races, slip n slides, tree climbing, books, songs, football, water hoes, and late night tag games which we always invited the lightning bugs to.
My cousins were like brothers and sisters to me.
I still hold on to those relationships; maybe harder than they do.
I was the only one of them that did not have a sibling close to my age.
They are such a part of me that I can not imaging letting those relationship go completely. I will admit that there are times when it seems to take more energy than I have to wrangle everyone together, and I feel like throwing up my hands and letting them drift out to sea.
But I know. I know that they will regret it, as will I.
They may not even notice that they are now less connected, but one day they will. One day the sun will be warming them up and they will get a craving for a good old water melon, and maybe a seed or two, and they will miss me… us. But it will be hard to turn the boat around. It will be heavier than before; for now it is loaded down with other people, families. They will be headed in a different direction altogether, you can’t turn around now. If we are lucky our paths may cross long enough to shout a word or two, or maybe wave….but no more tag. No more adventures.
The best that I can do now is to encourage my children to reach out to their cousins as I reach out to my own. And maybe you should reach out to yours.
I think one of the best things about cousins is that they are family, AND you can chose them. You know what I mean. Your sisters and brother are a required relationship. Your cousins have that similar connection; that familiarity and camaraderie, but you can foster a relationship with some more than others, and that’s perfectly normal.
I remember spending large amounts of time as a child with my cousins. We filled our long summer days with adventure and imagination. Watermelon seed fights, bike races, slip n slides, tree climbing, books, songs, football, water hoes, and late night tag games which we always invited the lightning bugs to.
My cousins were like brothers and sisters to me.
I still hold on to those relationships; maybe harder than they do.
I was the only one of them that did not have a sibling close to my age.
They are such a part of me that I can not imaging letting those relationship go completely. I will admit that there are times when it seems to take more energy than I have to wrangle everyone together, and I feel like throwing up my hands and letting them drift out to sea.
But I know. I know that they will regret it, as will I.
They may not even notice that they are now less connected, but one day they will. One day the sun will be warming them up and they will get a craving for a good old water melon, and maybe a seed or two, and they will miss me… us. But it will be hard to turn the boat around. It will be heavier than before; for now it is loaded down with other people, families. They will be headed in a different direction altogether, you can’t turn around now. If we are lucky our paths may cross long enough to shout a word or two, or maybe wave….but no more tag. No more adventures.
The best that I can do now is to encourage my children to reach out to their cousins as I reach out to my own. And maybe you should reach out to yours.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
This is an A B conversation....
Me: “Dear Jesus, Please help me be patient and PLLLEEEAAAASSSSEEE help these children mind their Mother!!!”
Child: “Mom, I think he’s too busy with other things.”
Child: “Mom, I think he’s too busy with other things.”
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Life's short.
I’m not morbid, but I do think about mine, and . . . . ahhhumm. . . your mortality.
Not in a gross way, but in an ‘ I may not see you again Grandma ‘ kind of way.
I’ve been that way most of my life if I recall correctly. So when my grandmother had her stroke, there was nothing left unsaid.
I even took a video camera with me to Michigan when we visited my Hubby’s grandmother. I got her to record a 50th Anniversary message for my in-laws that will not be played for about another 15 years.
No, it’s not weird! It’s called foresight people!
And no, I don’t think she was freaked out by it all. In fact, she sort of got into it.
Maybe it’s been on my mind more than normal lately. After the situation with my son and then my grandmother and a few people dieing way too young within my circle, it gets a girl thinking.
That’s all I’m sayin’….
Plus before we flew to MI we made a will, you know, so if something went wrong the state wouldn’t get the kids and stuff. Just being responsible.
And now…..now I have an appointment with a breast specialist to evaluate a few lumps.
I’m not overly concerned, I even think it’s good to have things thrown into prospective. It gives life flavor and a certain sweetness, that must be good for you.
My children have never been more beautiful.
My faith never so simple.
And my heart never so full.
Not in a gross way, but in an ‘ I may not see you again Grandma ‘ kind of way.
I’ve been that way most of my life if I recall correctly. So when my grandmother had her stroke, there was nothing left unsaid.
I even took a video camera with me to Michigan when we visited my Hubby’s grandmother. I got her to record a 50th Anniversary message for my in-laws that will not be played for about another 15 years.
No, it’s not weird! It’s called foresight people!
And no, I don’t think she was freaked out by it all. In fact, she sort of got into it.
Maybe it’s been on my mind more than normal lately. After the situation with my son and then my grandmother and a few people dieing way too young within my circle, it gets a girl thinking.
That’s all I’m sayin’….
Plus before we flew to MI we made a will, you know, so if something went wrong the state wouldn’t get the kids and stuff. Just being responsible.
And now…..now I have an appointment with a breast specialist to evaluate a few lumps.
I’m not overly concerned, I even think it’s good to have things thrown into prospective. It gives life flavor and a certain sweetness, that must be good for you.
My children have never been more beautiful.
My faith never so simple.
And my heart never so full.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Come back to me....
It’s times like these when I miss my old late night lover.
It’s been so long…so very long since we last spent any quality time together.
We use to meet regularly; long late night dates that would last into the wee hours of the morning.
After a good night with him you could find me singing in the morning. Everything was going to be alright.
A night with him was like magic. We could go anywhere and see anything.
Such sweet memories….
But now….now I’m too busy for my old lover.
There are just not enough hours in the day. There are children to put in bed, dishes to wash, children to put in bed, clothes to fold, children to put in bed….
If I see my lover at all, it’s stolen moments here and there. It’s nothing consistent; nothing regular; nothing substantial.
Oh, how I miss my lover…..my sweet sweet …..Sand Man.
It’s been so long…so very long since we last spent any quality time together.
We use to meet regularly; long late night dates that would last into the wee hours of the morning.
After a good night with him you could find me singing in the morning. Everything was going to be alright.
A night with him was like magic. We could go anywhere and see anything.
Such sweet memories….
But now….now I’m too busy for my old lover.
There are just not enough hours in the day. There are children to put in bed, dishes to wash, children to put in bed, clothes to fold, children to put in bed….
If I see my lover at all, it’s stolen moments here and there. It’s nothing consistent; nothing regular; nothing substantial.
Oh, how I miss my lover…..my sweet sweet …..Sand Man.
I think it's time to wash the dog.
I guess my nose has been permanently damaged from all the dirty diapers it has had to endure over the last
few years, because some things I just don’t smell.
I have learned to check the produce in my house once I see a fruit fly and have gotten in the habit of taking
out the trash a couple of times a day, but I have yet to get a routine down for bathing the dog and it’s starting
to show….or smell.
I bathe her when it occurs to me, but I must admit it is not on the top of my “to do” list.
Until today. . .
My oldest daughter is extremely creative and resourceful.
After our dog came in from outside smelling like a hot dog my daughter sprung into action to save her
good friend, Pinto’s, nose.
What you are looking at is a chenille winter cap and a child’s elastic headband.
I can’t decide if she’s going to be an engineer or a fashion designer.
few years, because some things I just don’t smell.
I have learned to check the produce in my house once I see a fruit fly and have gotten in the habit of taking
out the trash a couple of times a day, but I have yet to get a routine down for bathing the dog and it’s starting
to show….or smell.
I bathe her when it occurs to me, but I must admit it is not on the top of my “to do” list.
Until today. . .
My oldest daughter is extremely creative and resourceful.
After our dog came in from outside smelling like a hot dog my daughter sprung into action to save her
good friend, Pinto’s, nose.
What you are looking at is a chenille winter cap and a child’s elastic headband.
I can’t decide if she’s going to be an engineer or a fashion designer.
Maybe I have too much time on my hands...
Oh, if I were only a clock.
A clock ; a good one anyway; has three hands.
It never finds itself out of time; in fact it is always right on time; a good one anyway.
It is always “in the moment” and does not get hung up in the past or overly concerned with the future.
It’s serving the exact and perfect purpose that it was designed to do.
It delivers its message precisely and accurately every time.
Others seem to not only listen to it, but plan their day around it.
I’ve never seen a clock with cheerios stuck to it, or people walking all over it.
I have never known one to feel inadequate or confused.
It never stutters or stammers when asked the time.
It never second guesses its purpose, or its effectiveness.
It just goes on ticking for all the world to see, and even when no one is watching.
Oh, to be a clock. . . .
Thursday, May 3, 2007
I'll raise my glass to that.
1) When I die, I want to die like my grandfather--who died peacefully in his sleep. Not screaming like all the passengers in his car." --AuthorUnknown
2) Advice for the day: If you have a lot of tension and you get aheadache, do what it says on the aspirin bottle: "Take two aspirin" and "Keep away from children." --Author Unknown
3) "Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar." --DrewCarey
4) "The problem with the designated driver program, it's not a desirable job, but if you ever get sucked into doing it, have fun with it. At the end of the night, drop them off at the wrong house."--Jeff Foxworthy
5) "If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant's life, she will choose to save the infant's life without even considering if there is a man on base." --Dave Barry
6) "Relationships are hard. It's like a full time job, and we should treat it like one. If your boyfriend or girlfriend wants to leave you, they should give you two weeks' notice. There should be severance pay,the day before they leave you, they should have to find you a temp."--Bob Ettinger
7) "My Mom said she learned how to swim when someone took her out in the lake and threw her off the boat. I said, 'Mom, they weren't trying to teach you how to swim.'" --Paula Poundstone
8) "A study in the Washington Post says that women have better verbal skills than men. I just want to say to the authors of that study: "Duh." --Conan O'Brien
9) "Why does Sea World have a seafood restaurant?? I'm halfway through my fish burger and I realize, Oh my God.... I could be eating a slow learner."--Lynda Montgomery
10) "I think that's how Chicago got started. Bunch of people in New York said, 'Gee, I'm enjoying the crime and the poverty, but it just isn't cold enough. Let's go west.'" --Richard Jeni
11) "If life were fair, Elvis would be alive and all the impersonators would be dead." --Johnny Carson
12) "Sometimes I think war is God's way of teaching us geography."--Paul Rodriguez
13) "My parents didn't want to move to Florida, but they turned sixty and that's the law." --Jerry Seinfeld
14) "Remember in elementary school, you were told that in case of fire you have to line up quietly in a single file line from smallest to tallest. What is the logic in that? What, do tall people burn slower?" --Warren Hutcherson
15) "Bigamy is having one wife/husband too many. Monogamy is the same."--Oscar Wilde
16) "Suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress.. But I repeat myself." --Mark Twain
17) "Our bombs are smarter than the average highschool student. At least they can find Afghanistan." --A. Whitney Brown
18) "You can say any foolish thing to a dog, and the dog will give you a look that says, 'My God, you're right! I never would've thought of that!'" --Dave Barry
19) Do you know why they call it "PMS"? Because "MadCow Disease" was taken. --Unknown, presumed deceased
20) "Everybody's got to believe in something. I believe I'll have another beer." -- W. C. Fields
2) Advice for the day: If you have a lot of tension and you get aheadache, do what it says on the aspirin bottle: "Take two aspirin" and "Keep away from children." --Author Unknown
3) "Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar." --DrewCarey
4) "The problem with the designated driver program, it's not a desirable job, but if you ever get sucked into doing it, have fun with it. At the end of the night, drop them off at the wrong house."--Jeff Foxworthy
5) "If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant's life, she will choose to save the infant's life without even considering if there is a man on base." --Dave Barry
6) "Relationships are hard. It's like a full time job, and we should treat it like one. If your boyfriend or girlfriend wants to leave you, they should give you two weeks' notice. There should be severance pay,the day before they leave you, they should have to find you a temp."--Bob Ettinger
7) "My Mom said she learned how to swim when someone took her out in the lake and threw her off the boat. I said, 'Mom, they weren't trying to teach you how to swim.'" --Paula Poundstone
8) "A study in the Washington Post says that women have better verbal skills than men. I just want to say to the authors of that study: "Duh." --Conan O'Brien
9) "Why does Sea World have a seafood restaurant?? I'm halfway through my fish burger and I realize, Oh my God.... I could be eating a slow learner."--Lynda Montgomery
10) "I think that's how Chicago got started. Bunch of people in New York said, 'Gee, I'm enjoying the crime and the poverty, but it just isn't cold enough. Let's go west.'" --Richard Jeni
11) "If life were fair, Elvis would be alive and all the impersonators would be dead." --Johnny Carson
12) "Sometimes I think war is God's way of teaching us geography."--Paul Rodriguez
13) "My parents didn't want to move to Florida, but they turned sixty and that's the law." --Jerry Seinfeld
14) "Remember in elementary school, you were told that in case of fire you have to line up quietly in a single file line from smallest to tallest. What is the logic in that? What, do tall people burn slower?" --Warren Hutcherson
15) "Bigamy is having one wife/husband too many. Monogamy is the same."--Oscar Wilde
16) "Suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress.. But I repeat myself." --Mark Twain
17) "Our bombs are smarter than the average highschool student. At least they can find Afghanistan." --A. Whitney Brown
18) "You can say any foolish thing to a dog, and the dog will give you a look that says, 'My God, you're right! I never would've thought of that!'" --Dave Barry
19) Do you know why they call it "PMS"? Because "MadCow Disease" was taken. --Unknown, presumed deceased
20) "Everybody's got to believe in something. I believe I'll have another beer." -- W. C. Fields
Monday, April 16, 2007
To be or not to be . . . .
This is my two year old being sugar.
This is my two year old being spice.
Any questions?
Thursday, April 12, 2007
My babysitter is fired.
So I get this call from my neighbor. “Still Standing, it’s Stacie, I just wanted to let you know *giggle* that you are about to have a couple of escaped convicts on your hands. . . I wish I had my video camera!” “Really?” I reply. “Yeah, your girls have managed to pry their bedroom window open and pop out the screen, and now they are eyeing a couple of toys that they toss out for good measure and I think they maybe about to go after them. Oh! And one of them is naked.” More chuckling ensues.
I was not home at the time of this attempted escape, so I called my attentive husband and told him that he may want to check on the kids.
I pulled up to the house shortly after and found a mostly naked child hanging halfway out the window about two feet off the ground. When I asked them what the heck they thought they were doing, I was informed that the toys needed rescuing and that they were going to save them! Not to worry.
Thanks Dora and Diego.
I was not home at the time of this attempted escape, so I called my attentive husband and told him that he may want to check on the kids.
I pulled up to the house shortly after and found a mostly naked child hanging halfway out the window about two feet off the ground. When I asked them what the heck they thought they were doing, I was informed that the toys needed rescuing and that they were going to save them! Not to worry.
Thanks Dora and Diego.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
After reviewing my last post, I realized that maybe I have a negative self image. . . .so off to the gym I went. That is where I am spending most of my free time lately. I will resume posting after I get a handle on this thing.
Wish me luck.
Wish me luck.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Random Stupids:
I had to conduct some casual business over the phone today. Apparently Jonathan, the genius, and highly intuitive guy on the other end of the phone, found me to be charming and possibly even witty for he asked me if I was married before the call was ended. I was completely flattered and had the goofiest grin stuck to my foolish face before I realized that the poor man has never laid eyes on me. So much for that.
I put the kids in bed repeatedly tonight. By 10:30 all I wanted to do was disappear. So after a minute or two of silence, I slipped outside to hide. Took a deep breath of fresh air; looked up at the sky and embraced the silence. The silence was interrupted by the sound of my two year old sneaking outside herself, apparently to hide from me. Boy was she surprised. She must think I’m everywhere. That’ll come in handy when she’s 16.
I put the kids in bed repeatedly tonight. By 10:30 all I wanted to do was disappear. So after a minute or two of silence, I slipped outside to hide. Took a deep breath of fresh air; looked up at the sky and embraced the silence. The silence was interrupted by the sound of my two year old sneaking outside herself, apparently to hide from me. Boy was she surprised. She must think I’m everywhere. That’ll come in handy when she’s 16.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
You've got to be blanket-in' me?
I took my dog for a much needed walk last night. Crisp fresh air, stars twinkling and the moon raising. . .it was quiet and refreshing. We were only gone a little over half an hour, and in that time my two year old broke a favorite toy and was put into bed.
I was met at the door by my three year old who had tears running down her face and was threatening through sobs to throw up if we put her back to bed.
I am confident that the previously mentioned fresh air helped me find this mildly amusing, well maybe amusing is a strong word, but I was able to avoid a desperate screaming rage.
Fast forward an hour or two and the house is quite. My husband is on the computer doing school work, two children are in bed and the other is quietly watching a cartoon on my bed and chatting with her father. I am in heaven on the couch; loving dog at my feet with a remote in my hand. No place to go, and nothing to clean. Quite and wonderful. . .
Then my two year old is up and sweetly asking for her “blankie”.
“Hmmmm…..Let’s find it.” I say. We look in her room. We look in her closet. We look under her bed. We look in her dresser. We look in her covers and in her pillowcase. We then venture to the next room. Same routine. Then the playroom. We check all the toy ovens, microwaves, baskets ect. . . . nada.
I ask my husband if he’s seen it. He generously mumbles a reply that resembles “No.”
My three year old gets excited and joins in. “Werd it go?....Werd blankie go mommy?”
I was met at the door by my three year old who had tears running down her face and was threatening through sobs to throw up if we put her back to bed.
I am confident that the previously mentioned fresh air helped me find this mildly amusing, well maybe amusing is a strong word, but I was able to avoid a desperate screaming rage.
Fast forward an hour or two and the house is quite. My husband is on the computer doing school work, two children are in bed and the other is quietly watching a cartoon on my bed and chatting with her father. I am in heaven on the couch; loving dog at my feet with a remote in my hand. No place to go, and nothing to clean. Quite and wonderful. . .
Then my two year old is up and sweetly asking for her “blankie”.
“Hmmmm…..Let’s find it.” I say. We look in her room. We look in her closet. We look under her bed. We look in her dresser. We look in her covers and in her pillowcase. We then venture to the next room. Same routine. Then the playroom. We check all the toy ovens, microwaves, baskets ect. . . . nada.
I ask my husband if he’s seen it. He generously mumbles a reply that resembles “No.”
My three year old gets excited and joins in. “Werd it go?....Werd blankie go mommy?”
I sneak into the nursery, not there, I check under and behind the couches, nope.
Ask my husband again. “Did you put her down with her blanket?”
“Yes.”
So I check our bedroom and bathroom. Then her bathroom. . . . Nothing.
I check the laundry room and the pantry…Nothing.
“Hunny, I may need your help.”
“Hummmhhh.”
He then charges into her room like it’s the most obvious thing. He looks under the bed, in the closet and behind the dresser. . . Nothing.
“Hummm…..she had it….”
Then he searches the playroom, a little less confidently…. And on through the house it goes.
“Yes.”
So I check our bedroom and bathroom. Then her bathroom. . . . Nothing.
I check the laundry room and the pantry…Nothing.
“Hunny, I may need your help.”
“Hummmhhh.”
He then charges into her room like it’s the most obvious thing. He looks under the bed, in the closet and behind the dresser. . . Nothing.
“Hummm…..she had it….”
Then he searches the playroom, a little less confidently…. And on through the house it goes.
By now I am somewhat bewildered. . . So I backtrack. Kitchen, Master, Laundry room, Bathroom, Nursery, and so on.
The only place I could think that I hadn’t looked was outside and . . . . .
The only place I could think that I hadn’t looked was outside and . . . . .
. . . . . . with more than a little hesitation. . . . . . . .
BINGO!
Monday, March 5, 2007
Apparently I've let myself go...far far away.
My husband had an office party/awards night. We RSVP’d and planned to attend. Then everything went to hell, and I completely forgot about the party. Plus the fact that it was on a THURSDAY night. The whole thing left my mind and did not return until my husband reminded me on MONDAY.
Now if I was any normal red blooded American woman this would not have thrown me into a makeover frenzy. I would have had a recent pedicure. I would have a little black dress that looked amazing on me just waiting for a chance to be admired. I would have had my hair in a less than embarrassing state. And for Gosh sakes there would be jewelry, jewelry, and more jewelry all at my finger tips.
But no, not me. Not this stay at home mom of three lovely children the adorable ages of 3 ½, 2 ½, and 6 months.
I almost fainted at the idea of meeting all of his co-workers, bosses and the owners of his company with so very little time to prepare. The list of things that required overhauling in order for me to become presentable was staggering.
Clothes had to be bought. Shoe had to be hunted down like dogs. My entire body needed to be plucked, stuffed, cut, shaved, painted, exfoliated, dyed, waxed, lifted and squished.
So much to do in such little time.
I will admit to you that the idea of falling suddenly and violently ill, did occurred to me.
But vanity and a love for good food won out.
In the end it was a good evening. Hubby won several awards. I met the owners, his bosses, and co-workers, and their wives. . . . another post entirely.
And all the while I felt beautiful. Well, as beautiful as this particular body can feel given the present situation.
My babysitter/brother-in-law, whistled a sweet little ditty and complimented me appropriately. He was the only one besides my husband that had seen the before and knew just what a battle I’d won.
Yes, I felt victorious.
God Bless America.
Now if I was any normal red blooded American woman this would not have thrown me into a makeover frenzy. I would have had a recent pedicure. I would have a little black dress that looked amazing on me just waiting for a chance to be admired. I would have had my hair in a less than embarrassing state. And for Gosh sakes there would be jewelry, jewelry, and more jewelry all at my finger tips.
But no, not me. Not this stay at home mom of three lovely children the adorable ages of 3 ½, 2 ½, and 6 months.
I almost fainted at the idea of meeting all of his co-workers, bosses and the owners of his company with so very little time to prepare. The list of things that required overhauling in order for me to become presentable was staggering.
Clothes had to be bought. Shoe had to be hunted down like dogs. My entire body needed to be plucked, stuffed, cut, shaved, painted, exfoliated, dyed, waxed, lifted and squished.
So much to do in such little time.
I will admit to you that the idea of falling suddenly and violently ill, did occurred to me.
But vanity and a love for good food won out.
In the end it was a good evening. Hubby won several awards. I met the owners, his bosses, and co-workers, and their wives. . . . another post entirely.
And all the while I felt beautiful. Well, as beautiful as this particular body can feel given the present situation.
My babysitter/brother-in-law, whistled a sweet little ditty and complimented me appropriately. He was the only one besides my husband that had seen the before and knew just what a battle I’d won.
Yes, I felt victorious.
God Bless America.
Friday, February 23, 2007
This is deep, so step wide.
Why am I so angry? I don’t walk around in a state of anger, but lately I’ve been camped out on the border. I think of those cheesy children cartoons where one minute the bull is happily grazing and smelling the flower, and the next his eyes are bulging and he’s seeing red.
That is how I feel.
The children are picking up on the undercurrent of my emotions and tend to be overly needed, whinny and hard to please. And I can not tell you enough, just how much I NEED them to be good, pleasant and happy.
I am a believer in Jesus Christ, and I do have a “personal” relationship with him, but I’m suspecting that there are some emotions that I have yet to address. Possibly even concerning that “personal relationship”. It’s hard to tell.
My son just had open heart surgery. One of my favorite people in the world is laying in a hospital bed in a comma after having a sever stroke. And apparently I’m mad.
I couldn’t say about what exactly. I could tell you of an instance or two that have pissed me off over the last couple of months, but to say that one thing in particular has made me dwell in a dark place or in the vicinity of one, I could not say.
I chose not to give these “bad situations” much thought. I feel that there is nothing to be done, therefore I try to move on. Try to deal with the “now”.
But I guess that is not working.
I feel as though I have no time to grieve.
No time to grieve over the idea that my child would be born healthy.
No time to grieve over the dead hope that my Lord would heal him. (without surgery).
No time to grieve over my grandmother’s painful and fragile existence.
I can’t even have a moment alone in a day.
I can’t even take a shower without someone banging on the door and yelling at me.
I picked up the phone to call my grandmother today and realized that I may never hear her sweet voice again and I shed a tear or two before my daughter come into the room demanding something and wanting it NOW. Then saw me crying and got even more agitated.
Maybe I don’t take the time to grieve for my own sanity.
My children are on High Alert already.
If I break - even for a moment - the world as I know it could be destroyed and Lord help me if I don’t have the strength to put it back together again.
*I apologize for the intensity of this post, and promise that it will not be a regular occurrence.
That is how I feel.
The children are picking up on the undercurrent of my emotions and tend to be overly needed, whinny and hard to please. And I can not tell you enough, just how much I NEED them to be good, pleasant and happy.
I am a believer in Jesus Christ, and I do have a “personal” relationship with him, but I’m suspecting that there are some emotions that I have yet to address. Possibly even concerning that “personal relationship”. It’s hard to tell.
My son just had open heart surgery. One of my favorite people in the world is laying in a hospital bed in a comma after having a sever stroke. And apparently I’m mad.
I couldn’t say about what exactly. I could tell you of an instance or two that have pissed me off over the last couple of months, but to say that one thing in particular has made me dwell in a dark place or in the vicinity of one, I could not say.
I chose not to give these “bad situations” much thought. I feel that there is nothing to be done, therefore I try to move on. Try to deal with the “now”.
But I guess that is not working.
I feel as though I have no time to grieve.
No time to grieve over the idea that my child would be born healthy.
No time to grieve over the dead hope that my Lord would heal him. (without surgery).
No time to grieve over my grandmother’s painful and fragile existence.
I can’t even have a moment alone in a day.
I can’t even take a shower without someone banging on the door and yelling at me.
I picked up the phone to call my grandmother today and realized that I may never hear her sweet voice again and I shed a tear or two before my daughter come into the room demanding something and wanting it NOW. Then saw me crying and got even more agitated.
Maybe I don’t take the time to grieve for my own sanity.
My children are on High Alert already.
If I break - even for a moment - the world as I know it could be destroyed and Lord help me if I don’t have the strength to put it back together again.
*I apologize for the intensity of this post, and promise that it will not be a regular occurrence.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Mutiny
I not only have a three year old, but she’s a Red Headed Three Year Old. Not only is she a “handful” as people like to playfully call her. ( At this I always try to contain the urge to sit them down and explain why she is Not a “playful handful” but more of a monster that is out to get me. A vision flashes through my head as they kindly smile and nod. A vision of me telling them this story wide eyed and frightend.)
My daughter is what some would call a choleric, others a brat. Now I want to make myself perfectly clear that she is not always difficult, sometimes she down right impossible. But really, a lot of the time she a doll baby, and not the Chucky kind. . . the angelic kind. Infact, I think that is why I get so raddled whenever she turns Mr. Hyde on my arse. Everything’s sugar and spice for a few months, and then one day out of the bed rises a monster. A short one.
At times like today, I truly feel like I am being mentally abused by a three year old. Nothing I do is right, or fast enough. I myself am not a choleric, but I am not the lapdog type either. I see myself as a healthy medium, but it does take a little extra something to exert the power necessary to remain on the throne. I refuse to have a home that is ruled by little people, but apparently them be fightin’ words.
I felt like I was in Mommy boot camp last night. After a Full day of whinnying, crying, fighting, and general unhappiness we finally get to sleep. I had not had my head on the pillow for more than an hour and a half before I am awakened to the three year old standing in the dark, next to my bed. . . .yelling. And yelling. When I asked her what was wrong, she would yell. When I asked her what she wanted she would yell, “NOTHING”. And then yell some more.
What the -------!!!!!
I felt like those poor guys in the military that get woken up in the middle of the night with cold water dumped on their heads, only to be drug outside and tortured. That fool was me. I felt just as helpless, just as out of control as they have to. Yes, we could punisher her, and we do. But when she gets like that, when she gets all mad monster on us, any kind of punishment just makes it worse. I usually ignore her, and she will come around rather quickly, but in a case like last night, when she’s on full steam ahead there is no getting through to her. She’s on a mission to conquer and destroy.
I’m so damn tired.
My daughter is what some would call a choleric, others a brat. Now I want to make myself perfectly clear that she is not always difficult, sometimes she down right impossible. But really, a lot of the time she a doll baby, and not the Chucky kind. . . the angelic kind. Infact, I think that is why I get so raddled whenever she turns Mr. Hyde on my arse. Everything’s sugar and spice for a few months, and then one day out of the bed rises a monster. A short one.
At times like today, I truly feel like I am being mentally abused by a three year old. Nothing I do is right, or fast enough. I myself am not a choleric, but I am not the lapdog type either. I see myself as a healthy medium, but it does take a little extra something to exert the power necessary to remain on the throne. I refuse to have a home that is ruled by little people, but apparently them be fightin’ words.
I felt like I was in Mommy boot camp last night. After a Full day of whinnying, crying, fighting, and general unhappiness we finally get to sleep. I had not had my head on the pillow for more than an hour and a half before I am awakened to the three year old standing in the dark, next to my bed. . . .yelling. And yelling. When I asked her what was wrong, she would yell. When I asked her what she wanted she would yell, “NOTHING”. And then yell some more.
What the -------!!!!!
I felt like those poor guys in the military that get woken up in the middle of the night with cold water dumped on their heads, only to be drug outside and tortured. That fool was me. I felt just as helpless, just as out of control as they have to. Yes, we could punisher her, and we do. But when she gets like that, when she gets all mad monster on us, any kind of punishment just makes it worse. I usually ignore her, and she will come around rather quickly, but in a case like last night, when she’s on full steam ahead there is no getting through to her. She’s on a mission to conquer and destroy.
I’m so damn tired.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
The Six Weird Things About Me. . .meme.
1. I am a nut about washing my hands, I swear I can smell germs.
2. I can NOT sleep in jeans or socks.
3. I can not bite down on anything made out of wood or fabric. It makes my teeth hurt.
4. If you grab my @$$ when I’m not expecting it, you WILL get hit, even if you are my darling hubby. It’s a reflex and I can’t help it.
5. My own body hurts whenever I see anyone missing any part of theirs.
6. I can’t fall asleep to the T.V. Ever.
Okay, now let me hear yours.
2. I can NOT sleep in jeans or socks.
3. I can not bite down on anything made out of wood or fabric. It makes my teeth hurt.
4. If you grab my @$$ when I’m not expecting it, you WILL get hit, even if you are my darling hubby. It’s a reflex and I can’t help it.
5. My own body hurts whenever I see anyone missing any part of theirs.
6. I can’t fall asleep to the T.V. Ever.
Okay, now let me hear yours.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Rough, Rough
I’ve heard of these wives that spend a little extra time on themselves right before their husbands get home every day. They apply a little makeup, brush their hair, put on a clean shirt and maybe a little perfume. . .nice.
I however am not known to do that. I rarely look at myself in the mirror at all in a day and when I do, I scare myself so bad that I think I purposely avoid it next time.
Yep, my sweet husband does not come home to a well groomed, sweet smelling lovely wife. He’s more likely to meet a messy lady that is still wearing puppy ears from when the kids and I were playing dress up. I do my best to be convincing during these games, so smelling like a dog is just part of the fun. *strained grin. . .right?
It’s not that I don’t love my husband and want him to always find me irresistibly attractive, it’s just that life happens, and I’m always right in the middle of it.
I just thank God for his patience, and that he’s a man of vision.
But most of all. . . .
I thank God that he’s a dog lover.
I however am not known to do that. I rarely look at myself in the mirror at all in a day and when I do, I scare myself so bad that I think I purposely avoid it next time.
Yep, my sweet husband does not come home to a well groomed, sweet smelling lovely wife. He’s more likely to meet a messy lady that is still wearing puppy ears from when the kids and I were playing dress up. I do my best to be convincing during these games, so smelling like a dog is just part of the fun. *strained grin. . .right?
It’s not that I don’t love my husband and want him to always find me irresistibly attractive, it’s just that life happens, and I’m always right in the middle of it.
I just thank God for his patience, and that he’s a man of vision.
But most of all. . . .
I thank God that he’s a dog lover.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Surprise your Heart Day
Valentine’s Day
Does it make your heart beat faster and a smile spread across your face. Or do your eyes roll back into your head as it repeatedly pounds against the wall. Do you get butterflies in your stomach or you lose your lunch?
For me. . . well, I’m a glutton for punishment, but I see magic. The same kind of magic that creeps in under the door and around the windows on Christmas Eve. The same magic that hangs in the night air and dares you to believe.
I see the magic of love.
That element of surprise that may pop out of someone’s heart when the stars align just so. . .
The idea that someone may do something, or say something that would be out of character for them, but that would let you see what you have longed to see in them. . .love.
Love for you.
We all want to be loved. We all know that we are loved, by someone, somewhere. But to get to see it, or feel it is such a treat.
I like Valentine’s Day.
Even when I was single it was somehow a magical day. And if no one surprised me with a declaration of love that year, I didn’t seem to notice. I was too busy watching, and thinking, and planning my own surprises.
Valentine’s Day is beautiful, if for no other reason than it fills the day with hope and love.
Happy Valentine’s Day people.
Let your own heart surprise you, and maybe someone you love.
Does it make your heart beat faster and a smile spread across your face. Or do your eyes roll back into your head as it repeatedly pounds against the wall. Do you get butterflies in your stomach or you lose your lunch?
For me. . . well, I’m a glutton for punishment, but I see magic. The same kind of magic that creeps in under the door and around the windows on Christmas Eve. The same magic that hangs in the night air and dares you to believe.
I see the magic of love.
That element of surprise that may pop out of someone’s heart when the stars align just so. . .
The idea that someone may do something, or say something that would be out of character for them, but that would let you see what you have longed to see in them. . .love.
Love for you.
We all want to be loved. We all know that we are loved, by someone, somewhere. But to get to see it, or feel it is such a treat.
I like Valentine’s Day.
Even when I was single it was somehow a magical day. And if no one surprised me with a declaration of love that year, I didn’t seem to notice. I was too busy watching, and thinking, and planning my own surprises.
Valentine’s Day is beautiful, if for no other reason than it fills the day with hope and love.
Happy Valentine’s Day people.
Let your own heart surprise you, and maybe someone you love.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
We are sick. sick. sick.
We sound like a bunch of cartoon characters, with our ‘nobs all stuffy and stuff. There are bits of tissue everywhere. My 3 year old gets frantic when she can’t find one, so I leave them where she can. Everywhere. I took a hot bath last night and completely melted. It took all that I had in me to crawl out of the bath and into my bed. I was ready to pass out around 7:30 p.m. but didn’t get that privilege until 9:00 p.m. Hubby got up with Babyboy so all in all I slept about 12 hours! Un-freakin-believable! I swear that must be a record around here.
Sleep is such a rare commodity in this house. Hubby and I are to the point where we are not above begging, cheating, and stealing for it. We’ve bartered. “I’ll get up with the kids tonight, if you will let me sleep in in the morning.” We cry and we beg. It’s just the way it is around here.
Unfortunately I see no end in sight. With the three kids being as young as they are, it’s always a toss up as to who will get up next. Even if Babyboy decides to sleep through the night, his sisters don’t.
Yes, coffee helps, but there has to be a better way. I’ve even fantasized about ropin’ in a babysitter and saying goodbye and leaving out the front door, only to crawl back into my bedroom window for a undisturbed nap. Maybe one day. . .
Until then I am the zombie woman with unbrushed hair that can’t make complete senten….zzzzzzz.
Sleep is such a rare commodity in this house. Hubby and I are to the point where we are not above begging, cheating, and stealing for it. We’ve bartered. “I’ll get up with the kids tonight, if you will let me sleep in in the morning.” We cry and we beg. It’s just the way it is around here.
Unfortunately I see no end in sight. With the three kids being as young as they are, it’s always a toss up as to who will get up next. Even if Babyboy decides to sleep through the night, his sisters don’t.
Yes, coffee helps, but there has to be a better way. I’ve even fantasized about ropin’ in a babysitter and saying goodbye and leaving out the front door, only to crawl back into my bedroom window for a undisturbed nap. Maybe one day. . .
Until then I am the zombie woman with unbrushed hair that can’t make complete senten….zzzzzzz.
Monday, February 5, 2007
Raise and Shine (part 1)
1:23 a.m. Babyboy wants a bottle.
2:33 a.m. 3 year old wants another sippy cup of milk. Not just milk, but Warm Chocolate Milk. And as she demands this she is standing on my side of the bed yelling at me. I threaten her life if she wakes up her baby brother and move faster than I would have thought possible at that time of morning. All the while telling myself that I HAVE to do something about her attitude. Then I look at the clock and think that maybe I shouldn't expect a lot out of a 3 year old at 3 a.m.
4:45 a.m. 3 year old wet the bed. This is extremely upsetting for her and I wonder why I forgot to put her in an overnight diaper. I didn't forget, it leaked. I strip the bed all the while "shhhh"ing her and begging her not to wake up her other siblings. She is warm, dry and armed with yet another warm chocolate milk sippy. I vaguely wonder what kind of mess I will awake to find and hope that this diaper holds up. I return to my bedroom and am greeted by the beautiful sleeping sounds of my gently snoring husband. I just happen to elbow him as I re-straightened my covers.
6:15 a.m. Hubby's alarm goes off. I hit him. He hits snooze.
6:24 a.m. Hubby's alarm goes off again. I nudge him. He hits snooze.
6:30 a.m. Babyboy starts to wiggle and whimper. I start praying, "Dear God, one more hour. One more hour will make all the difference."
6:45 a.m.* I ask Hubby to get baby, Hubby jumps out of bed saying something about being late. He is followed into the bathroom by a flying pillow. And so it begins.
*Hubby is not always this. . . unavailable. He is usually pretty "hands on"...but not today. I think he'll be bringing home dinner tonight.
To Be Continued...
Sunday, February 4, 2007
How sexy is this!?
So my husband’s not THAT bad.
Things I’ve overheard him say to the kids recently:
“If you want it, you have to give me a kiss.”
“Seatbelts are our friends.”
“Wait! Wait! Wait! Let me look at that before you eat it!”
“Don’t touch that it’s hot! Here let me do it.”
“I’m gona’ get you!!! (heehee)”
“Jesus love you this much.” Stretches his arms out wide.
“Do you have a bow bow, come here and Daddy will make it better.”
“Do you want chocolate in your milk? Don’t tell mom.”
“I love you.”
It doesn’t get any better than that!
Things I’ve overheard him say to the kids recently:
“If you want it, you have to give me a kiss.”
“Seatbelts are our friends.”
“Wait! Wait! Wait! Let me look at that before you eat it!”
“Don’t touch that it’s hot! Here let me do it.”
“I’m gona’ get you!!! (heehee)”
“Jesus love you this much.” Stretches his arms out wide.
“Do you have a bow bow, come here and Daddy will make it better.”
“Do you want chocolate in your milk? Don’t tell mom.”
“I love you.”
It doesn’t get any better than that!
Hello again...
Wow, I ran into a lady that I hadn’t seen in a very long time. Too long if you ask me.
It was so refreshing to listen to her again. She speaks with a compassionate, sympathetic voice that I hadn’t heard in a while. She seems wiser than I remember her, but I am grateful for her insight. She doesn’t seem to judge others harshly, and has a way of overlooking their shortcomings.
I hope that she pops in on a more regular basis.
It was so refreshing to listen to her again. She speaks with a compassionate, sympathetic voice that I hadn’t heard in a while. She seems wiser than I remember her, but I am grateful for her insight. She doesn’t seem to judge others harshly, and has a way of overlooking their shortcomings.
I hope that she pops in on a more regular basis.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Sorry, this must have been meant for your other wife.
I think I’m insulted.
My husband; talented; smart; sexy, but apparently there is something wrong with his ears and maybe his eyes.. We have been married now for over 6 years. And throughout that entire time, I have never like mustard. I have not been overly fond of turkey and just a day or two ago had an entire conversation with this man about how much we don’t like Swiss cheese.
I ask him to bring home lunch today and I get a Swiss cheese, turkey sandwich with mustard. What the heck?! Was is really meant for his other wife???? The one that enjoys everything I don’t??
It’s not the sandwich guys, I mean, I get that it’s just a sandwich and what’s the big deal really. But I was more than a little surprised that this roommate of mine knows so little about me. Now I sound dramatic, I know. I will say in my defense that this is just the latest example, lame as it is, of how much I am going unnoticed around here… Hello!!!
I mean, I know my man.
I know . . . .hmmm. . . . I know HE doesn’t like Swiss cheese! And. . . . tomatoes, lettuce or onions. I know he loves extra pickles. Hates liver.
He prefers my hair down and likes to talk Big but runs like a girl if I call his bluff.
He says he doesn’t like cats, but he does, and he likes to steal my pillows, which he’s doing now.
I know that pillow thieven’ man of mine.
Why doesn’t he know me?
Why doesn’t he know how I like my sandwiches?
What kind of deodorant I use, what size clothes I wear, that I don’t have time to change the pictures on the digital picture frame that he gave me for my birthday.
Why doesn’t he know that I don’t like marshmallows in my ice cream, or steak sauce on my steak? It’s not like I ever keep quite about these things. . . .I’m not a doormat or anything.
And for the record, I know, my husband wouldn’t like it if I were. . . .
Maybe I’m too observant. Maybe I have too good of a memory. Maybe . . . . . .
I’ll just have to make liver for dinner tonight. . . .
My husband; talented; smart; sexy, but apparently there is something wrong with his ears and maybe his eyes.. We have been married now for over 6 years. And throughout that entire time, I have never like mustard. I have not been overly fond of turkey and just a day or two ago had an entire conversation with this man about how much we don’t like Swiss cheese.
I ask him to bring home lunch today and I get a Swiss cheese, turkey sandwich with mustard. What the heck?! Was is really meant for his other wife???? The one that enjoys everything I don’t??
It’s not the sandwich guys, I mean, I get that it’s just a sandwich and what’s the big deal really. But I was more than a little surprised that this roommate of mine knows so little about me. Now I sound dramatic, I know. I will say in my defense that this is just the latest example, lame as it is, of how much I am going unnoticed around here… Hello!!!
I mean, I know my man.
I know . . . .hmmm. . . . I know HE doesn’t like Swiss cheese! And. . . . tomatoes, lettuce or onions. I know he loves extra pickles. Hates liver.
He prefers my hair down and likes to talk Big but runs like a girl if I call his bluff.
He says he doesn’t like cats, but he does, and he likes to steal my pillows, which he’s doing now.
I know that pillow thieven’ man of mine.
Why doesn’t he know me?
Why doesn’t he know how I like my sandwiches?
What kind of deodorant I use, what size clothes I wear, that I don’t have time to change the pictures on the digital picture frame that he gave me for my birthday.
Why doesn’t he know that I don’t like marshmallows in my ice cream, or steak sauce on my steak? It’s not like I ever keep quite about these things. . . .I’m not a doormat or anything.
And for the record, I know, my husband wouldn’t like it if I were. . . .
Maybe I’m too observant. Maybe I have too good of a memory. Maybe . . . . . .
I’ll just have to make liver for dinner tonight. . . .
Monday, January 29, 2007
Silly. . .I know. (forgive me)
Okay, I’m starting to feel a little better. I’m starting to feel the tension in my shoulders dissolve a little. I can start planning outings for the family again, and we are able to have guests over to the house now. . . (now that my son’s surgery is over)
So I am slowly starting to feel more…normal, I guess.
It helped to hear a similar story from Tara. She has a very nice blog of her own going that I find myself going to more often than not.
There is something extremely comforting to hear stories from others that have walked a similar path. I never really felt like that until now.
I was never really a “support group” kind of person. But maybe things are changing. Maybe I’m changing. . .
Now onto something lighter.
When was the last time you laughed. I mean really let it out?
Were you with your friends? Your spouse? Was it your children that cause you to feel childlike and silly again? Do you “allow” yourself to find humor in a multitude of everyday things?
I personally have a somewhat drier sense of humor than my husband. And you are more likely to get a grin out of me than a belly laugh, but it’s not impossible. My sweet husband has an easy laugh. One that makes you “shhh” him in the theatre. His laugh usually makes me laugh more than the movie itself.
But there is this one joke that gets me EVERY time.
I will warn you that you may not find the humor in it yourself, but I personally can not say the entire joke straight through. After a word or two I start giggling, then chuckling and before I know it, I’m on the ground crying. I do have a suspicion that this joke is elementary to say the least, but the people that I share it with end up laughing as well. I’m just not sure what at. . . the joke, or the adult lady rolling around on the ground gasping for air. . . you decide.
A three (hee hee) legged dog walks into (hhhheeee heee) *a small tear
Into (HAAA HAAAAA Ah….) ( HEEE HEEEEE) * multiple tears
A bar ( trying to compose myself by this point)
And says (HAAA HAAAaaa children coming in now to check on me)
“ I’m lookin for the man (heee heeeeeeeeeee) who shot (HAAAA HAAAAA) my (HAAA AHAAHHAAAA ect. ) Paw.”
*Wiping tears away
Ewww! That felt good.
So I am slowly starting to feel more…normal, I guess.
It helped to hear a similar story from Tara. She has a very nice blog of her own going that I find myself going to more often than not.
There is something extremely comforting to hear stories from others that have walked a similar path. I never really felt like that until now.
I was never really a “support group” kind of person. But maybe things are changing. Maybe I’m changing. . .
Now onto something lighter.
When was the last time you laughed. I mean really let it out?
Were you with your friends? Your spouse? Was it your children that cause you to feel childlike and silly again? Do you “allow” yourself to find humor in a multitude of everyday things?
I personally have a somewhat drier sense of humor than my husband. And you are more likely to get a grin out of me than a belly laugh, but it’s not impossible. My sweet husband has an easy laugh. One that makes you “shhh” him in the theatre. His laugh usually makes me laugh more than the movie itself.
But there is this one joke that gets me EVERY time.
I will warn you that you may not find the humor in it yourself, but I personally can not say the entire joke straight through. After a word or two I start giggling, then chuckling and before I know it, I’m on the ground crying. I do have a suspicion that this joke is elementary to say the least, but the people that I share it with end up laughing as well. I’m just not sure what at. . . the joke, or the adult lady rolling around on the ground gasping for air. . . you decide.
A three (hee hee) legged dog walks into (hhhheeee heee) *a small tear
Into (HAAA HAAAAA Ah….) ( HEEE HEEEEE) * multiple tears
A bar ( trying to compose myself by this point)
And says (HAAA HAAAaaa children coming in now to check on me)
“ I’m lookin for the man (heee heeeeeeeeeee) who shot (HAAAA HAAAAA) my (HAAA AHAAHHAAAA ect. ) Paw.”
*Wiping tears away
Ewww! That felt good.
Friday, January 26, 2007
It's over, but it's not. . .
I have not blogged recently because. . .
My son had open heart surgery and I was busy with that.
It was a surreal experience to say the least and I am still dealing with a few different emotions that come straggling in on occasion.
Apparently I was in some sort of denial because I never really dealt with the whole thing until after we were home from the week long hospital stay. He is well now, and that is what is most important.
I am amazed though, at the lack of sensitivity from those closest to us. Not all really, just a couple, but it’s like a terrible thorn in my side. I don’t know why I care so much. I can only assume that my anger has more to do with the big picture and I am somehow choosing to direct it all to this one area. . . hmmm. I wonder if I’ll sleep tonight.
To quote my offenders, “yes it’s over and yes he’s “healed” “ But I feel as though my own heart has a gaping wound. Almost like something died. Maybe it was my hope. My hope that we would somehow be “saved” this experience. . . . I wonder why I even care about that, now that it’s over. It’s like dreading the pain of child labor after you have already had the baby. What is wrong with me?
My son had open heart surgery and I was busy with that.
It was a surreal experience to say the least and I am still dealing with a few different emotions that come straggling in on occasion.
Apparently I was in some sort of denial because I never really dealt with the whole thing until after we were home from the week long hospital stay. He is well now, and that is what is most important.
I am amazed though, at the lack of sensitivity from those closest to us. Not all really, just a couple, but it’s like a terrible thorn in my side. I don’t know why I care so much. I can only assume that my anger has more to do with the big picture and I am somehow choosing to direct it all to this one area. . . hmmm. I wonder if I’ll sleep tonight.
To quote my offenders, “yes it’s over and yes he’s “healed” “ But I feel as though my own heart has a gaping wound. Almost like something died. Maybe it was my hope. My hope that we would somehow be “saved” this experience. . . . I wonder why I even care about that, now that it’s over. It’s like dreading the pain of child labor after you have already had the baby. What is wrong with me?
Saturday, January 6, 2007
Knock, Knock...I KNOW you're in there!
Tell me what you think. . .
I’m tend to be overly concerned with people and their feelings. I try not to make others uncomfortable if it’s not necessary.
With that said, I am faced with a dilemma. I am trying to make friends with my neighbors as I have mentioned before and I am trying to find that balance between being respectful and being friendly and inviting. I want to encourage a friendship with one neighbor in particular but I don’t want to be the neighbor that others run away from. I don’t fag them down every time I see them in the front yard. I politely wave and go about my own business, but if they want to talk, I do that too.
I’m just not sure . . .Should I try once more before backing off? Or should I assume that if they wanted a closer relationship then they would be reaching out as well? Now, don’t get me wrong, they don’t slam the door in my face or anything. Infact they warmly invite me in and we (the lady of the house) sit and chat for a good amount of time and I would venture to say that it is an enjoyable event for both involved, but can I be sure?? I had invited her to join me at the last minute to a Christmas party and she sounded sincere when she regrettably declined (her child was having a Christmas performance that night). But have not heard from her since. I offered to loan her some baby gear when she had relatives in over the holidays, and she accepted, but I have not heard from her since. (Yes, she returned the borrowed items.) So do I leave the ball in her court or do I assume that with the holidays and all, that she’s just been busy? I don’t want to be pushy, but I know that she’s the type to need a little pushing- just a little.
And now I have two new neighbors. They just built their homes next door. I would like to take them a pie, like I have done the others, but now I’m starting to wonder what the hell I’m doing. . .
It’s starting to sound “freakish” to me. Am I a freak? Has being neighborly in this day and age become something frowned upon? If I was your neighbor, would you run?
People, please give me a little perspective here. . . and hurry up, cause the pie's in the oven.
I’m tend to be overly concerned with people and their feelings. I try not to make others uncomfortable if it’s not necessary.
With that said, I am faced with a dilemma. I am trying to make friends with my neighbors as I have mentioned before and I am trying to find that balance between being respectful and being friendly and inviting. I want to encourage a friendship with one neighbor in particular but I don’t want to be the neighbor that others run away from. I don’t fag them down every time I see them in the front yard. I politely wave and go about my own business, but if they want to talk, I do that too.
I’m just not sure . . .Should I try once more before backing off? Or should I assume that if they wanted a closer relationship then they would be reaching out as well? Now, don’t get me wrong, they don’t slam the door in my face or anything. Infact they warmly invite me in and we (the lady of the house) sit and chat for a good amount of time and I would venture to say that it is an enjoyable event for both involved, but can I be sure?? I had invited her to join me at the last minute to a Christmas party and she sounded sincere when she regrettably declined (her child was having a Christmas performance that night). But have not heard from her since. I offered to loan her some baby gear when she had relatives in over the holidays, and she accepted, but I have not heard from her since. (Yes, she returned the borrowed items.) So do I leave the ball in her court or do I assume that with the holidays and all, that she’s just been busy? I don’t want to be pushy, but I know that she’s the type to need a little pushing- just a little.
And now I have two new neighbors. They just built their homes next door. I would like to take them a pie, like I have done the others, but now I’m starting to wonder what the hell I’m doing. . .
It’s starting to sound “freakish” to me. Am I a freak? Has being neighborly in this day and age become something frowned upon? If I was your neighbor, would you run?
People, please give me a little perspective here. . . and hurry up, cause the pie's in the oven.
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