Keeping my streak of one post a month alive!

When I was about three I would wake up when I heard one of my parents get up and go start their shower in the bathroom.  Then, I'd proceed to get out of bed with my blanket and pillow and lay on the hallway floor right in front of the bathroom door.  In retrospect, I can't believe they never stepped on me.

I say this not because either of my children are emulating this habit  - no, no.  It's the dog.  He splays himself right.in.front. of the door.  On more then one occasion I have either almost crushed his ribcage or sent myself flying in my effort to avoid crushing his ribcage.  If he wasn't so freaking obsessed with me I'd say he was trying to kill me.  That poor dog.  All he wants is for me, specifically, to love him.  And most of the time all I want is for him to take his fish-breath and shed-tastic self elsewhere.  Sigh.  Maybe that's why he's trying to do me in.


On another note.  It's almost Christmas!  Wonderboy went to his Holiday Store at school yesterday and got us all presents.  I have to say, it's one of the cutest things.  He gets SO excited about what he has picked out for everyone.  We MUST open these things as soon as we get home.  I think if I ever suggested we wait his little head would just pop off.  This year I got a giant Christmas pen.  Seriously, it's like a foot long, and it's covered in Christmas trees.  I brought it to work.  Everyone is very jealous.

Every time I tell Pixie we are doing something Christmas related - seeing Santa, getting a tree, decorating the tree, etc. - she asks, "Is it Christmas?"  Every.Single.Time.  Someone asked her what she wanted for presents this year and she said, "Everything, of course!"  Hey, go big or go home, right?


I honestly can't believe this year is almost over.  I don't know who is messing with the space-time continuum, but I wish they'd cut it out.  I didn't accomplish everything I set out to when this year began.  But I think in the past few months (thank you, therapy) I'm starting to work some shite out.  It's a welcome feeling. 

Whenever The Mr. makes a wish - star, bday, what have you - his wish is always the same.  He wishes for Good Things.  That is my wish for all of us, and all of you - my bloggy friends, as this year comes to a close and a new one begins. 

Good Things. 

Whoot! Fall!

I love Fall.  (Although I didn't love waking up to the dusting of SNOW this morning. WTH, Mother Nature!?!)

But, Fall, yes.  Crisp days with rustling leaves.  Beautiful colors that blaze in the light of November sunsets.  The wisp of fragrance from chimney smoke drifting on the wind.  The joyful shout of childrens' voices jumping in leaf piles.

Yeah, it eventually leads to the most dreaded of times - winter in New England. But for now? I'll take it.

 

 

Lies, Lies, Lies, yeah

Wonderboy had a bit of a breakdown the other night.  It was one of those nights where everything was jammed into a small space of time so after dinner it was pretty much right into bedtime.  This inevitably leads to both kids getting out of bed several times for the usual potty, need water, potty again, etc, etc.  We had about reached out limit when WB comes downstairs and said he peed in his bed, "while he was dreaming."  (Mind you, this was about five minutes after his last foray downstairs.)  I'm so fed up at this point that I tell him to get a towel (since I'm sure it's a only a little spot.)  Well he's up there saying it's coming through the towel, yada, yada, whine, whine.

So I go upstairs to find a HUGE wet spot in the middle of his bed.  Immediately I am suspicious.  I reach out and feel his pajama shorts which are bone dry.  Then I notice his empty sippy cup on the floor.
The second I question him on this he starts crying and carrying on, swearing up and down that it was really pee.  By this time I am ripping his sheets off the bed, completely furious.  He's in the bathroom crying away.  I go in and look at him and say, "Tell me the truth.  Right now.  Did you spill that water?"  To which he answers, "Yes."

Of course, by this time, he's so emotional it's pointless to get angrier with him.  And mostly what I wanted was him to tell me the truth.  I get his bed remade and we go back in and lay down together.  I tell him how incredibly important it is for him to tell us the truth.  That we will always love him, no matter what.  I ask him why he did it.  He says he really missed us and wanted to spend more time with us.  (Ugh. Let me remove that dagger from my heart.)  We talked about this for awhile and decided we will try harder to get dinner earlier so we will have time to hang out before bed.  We decided to get a Family Calendar so that we can mark days where we will be able to do something special together - or just be together as that is sometimes challenging with our schedules.

Then he starts to talk about school.  Mostly about how he misses us and wishes he didn't have to go.  But then he mentions that his friends don't play with him at recess.  Which sounds weird because after school he always has a bunch of kids he plays with at the playground.  Next he says this other "big" kid makes fun of him.  At this point, I am of two minds: One being concern that there is some kind of bullying going on - and Two, that I'm being played.  I question him some more and it's all very vague.  He doesn't know the kid's name (Fishy clue #1, WB knows everybody's name)  I asked if he's told a teacher. "They think I'm not telling the truth because I don't know his name." Hmm.  I say he should try to find out his name so we can address the problem.  We talk about it for a few minutes more and then he says, "Nevermind about what I was saying before.  That was just in my IMAGINARY school."

WTF? 

"Okay," I say (deep breath), "let's talk about your real school.  And let's remember how important it is to tell the truth.  Do you play with your friends at recess?" 
"Yes."
"Are there any kids that are giving you a hard time or being mean to you?"
"No."

GAH!  Is this all just attention-getting behavior?!?!  Obviously I want to take him seriously - especially about stuff that happens at school - but his history in the honesty department is a little shaky.  I'm not one to want to squelch his imagination, however I have to draw the line somewhere. 

Sigh.  Just another one of those nights that prove to you that parenting is a lot of guess-work.  Right now, we are focusing on seeing that WB gets some more "hang with Daddy and Mommy" time.  And daily reminders of how much we love the truth. 

Some days I really think we should have just stuck with the dogs.
 

Baby, baby, baby, ohh...god, kill me now!

We lived through The Wiggles.  We didn't mind Sesame Street or the Backyardigans.  I actually enjoy the soundtrack to "Princess and the Frog."  But this?  THIS?

GAH! 

And mind you, this has not been brought into our house by Pixie.  Oh no.  This is alllll Wonderboy.  Remember those book order things you would get at school?  The ones that were printed on thin newsprint paper with the teeny-tiny ordering lines on the back? Yeah. So he brings one home a month or so ago and shows us what he wants.  The Justin Bieber "super pack."  Including! A book, stickers and...wait for it....an entire CD!  Get it now for the low, low price of twelve dollars!  Kid actually took money out of his piggy bank to pay for it.  'Cause hell to the NO were we going to buy it for him.  The Mr. and I kept pressing him, "Are you surrrre that's what you want?  Look at some of the other books you could get!  You could get all these other books for $12."

Didn't work.  Book orders came in a week ago.  The Mr. refuses to let him play the CD in his car.  He's the smart one.  Me? I'm the pushover.  But it's testing my ever-loving patience.  It's SO painful. I'm even past the point where it's cute when WB and Pixie sing along.  That lasted exactly one car ride, actually. 

Send help!

And Duran Duran!

View, haloo! Oh yes, definitely, view haloo.

Ya ever get alllll sorts of excited to introduce your kids to one of your allllll time favorite movies only to have it fall flat?  I have been so, so excited to have the kids watch Mary Poppins.  When we had the flood, our VCR bit the dust.  Which was kind of a suck since we had so many darn video tapes.  One of which was Mary Poppins.  Wonderboy found the box to the video and had been asking to see it.  Yes!

I had put Netflix on hold this summer because we were just too busy to be watching movies on a regular basis.  But it kicked back in on Sept 1 and I was all sorts of pumped to put that first on the list.  I mean, come on!  Mary Poppins!!  Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Tuppence a bag! Step-in-time! A wooden leg named Smith!  What could possibly be better?

Apparently, the new drawing program the Mr has installed on the computer.  Sigh.  Although they did get through most of it.  They really liked the chalk picture and the tea-party on the ceiling, and they loved Step-in-time.  (I mean really, who doesn't?)  But I think the final message was just a bit over their heads.  Or their attention span. 

I admit, I was bummed.  I wanted them to be rapt.  I wanted them to be enthralled.  I wanted them to get the total joy of Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke.  I got about half-rapt.  I guess, for a first viewing, that's not too bad.  Maybe it's just that there are so many options out there for them today, a movie like Mary Poppins is just not sophisticated enough.  And to that I say...PPHHHFFFTTTTT!  My kids will damn well love this movie!  I will force feed them this film until they can recite every line and love doing it! 

Okay.  Not really.  Or... only sort of.

A few of my favorite things and first steps

I've been having a lot of conversations inside my head lately.  Some of them have been lamenting that I don't have anything interesting or funny to blog about.  And that I have let this whole entire thing slide - not only my writing but my involvement with everyone else.  But I've decided to put all that aside and remember why I started doing this.  For myself.  To write about things that I am feeling, to write about my kids and provide memories for them and for the Mr. and me to reminisce about.  So that's what I'm going to do today.

We had a sitter for Wonderboy last week as his camp had ended.  She was telling me a few days after the fact that they had been going out and she was worried about not having a key to the house.  WB explained that they could get back in using the code on the garage.  He said, "You just press 1-2-3-4 and tic-tac-toe."  To which the sitter thought, "That is some funky code! Why don't you show me."  So he pressed the four key code and hit the pound key, #, or "tic-tac-toe."

One of the days I brought WB to work with me.  He is old enough now that he can wander around, with certain guidelines, and I don't worry about him.  At one point I realized I hadn't seen him in a bit so I went to see where he was.  Turns out he was sitting at the outside restaurant bar regaling the staff with his usual aplomb.  Telling them all about how much he had grown this year (we recently went for his 7(!)yr doctor appt) and his taste in music, heavy metal, (thanks to the Mr for that one.)  I received many nice compliments the next day on what a good kid he was, and how well behaved - that's the best music to my ears.

Seriously - I don't want Pixie to get any older.  When I think about the fact that within 10 years she will be a cranky, moody teenager I cringe.  And if she is anything like I was?  I'm doomed.  She is kind of all about Mommy right now and I'd be lying if I said I didn't love it.  As we lie in bed together at night after her story, "just for a bit,"  she will cup my chin with her little hand, look me in the eyes and say, "I just love you Mama."  Perfect.

I don't want her to stop saying "alligator" when she means "elevator."  I don't want her to grow out of starting almost every sentence with, "Well, I just...."  Okay, maybe grammatically speaking it would be best if grew out of that one.  I know each stage will be new and exciting, minus the teenage years, and I do look forward to those - but damn, three and four have been so wonderful.

And for me.  I had my first session with a therapist.  I'm really happy that I took this step, I know it's something I should have done years ago, but better late then never.  I'm not going to go into too much detail about it here, but I want to remember the beginning of this process.

I do want to try to catch up with my blogging friends, I will try to do so, but I know right now it is bound to be sporadic.  (Whenever I hear that word I think of the line from Clueless, "Yeah, I hope not sporadically!"  Oh, Brittney Murphy.)

Hope you are all well! (not sporadically!)

PS - Had to turn the word verification on - sorry.  As few comments as I'm ranking these days, it's even more annoying when they turn out to be some Asian gibberish.)

Vacation!

Well hi there!  (If anyone still bothers to read this after such a hiatus)  Sorry to have been away so long - although not sorry since a good chunk of the time away was spent on vacation, baby!  (Well, okay, it was only a week - but still - vacation, baby!)

My whole, huge family - 27 in all, which includes the 13 grandkids - 12 of which are 7 or younger, four of which are two and three of which are one...Ha! Seriously, it was really a vacation.  Big hawge house on the beach, big week-long party for kids and adults alike.  And now I will bore you with some pictures.  Because I can.

There was a pink piano (that's Pixie pretending that she can play)

There were attempts at golf (Wonderboy doesn't quite have the hang of it yet...)

There were several nights of dress-up.  Because really, what better time is there to wear your tutu or Ariel costume if not on vacation?

 

And don't think the boys didn't join in as well!  WB likes to mix things up a bit, combining Iron Man and Pirates.

 

And there were sunsets like this.  Sigh.

Oh!  And matching t-shirts.  Hello, adorableness!

I took over 900 pictures, so really, you should be thankful that you only have to look at these!  And now it's back to reality - man, what a drag.  Will try to catch up with everyone soon!

You are NOT invisible

Dear old man in the Stop and Shop parking lot,

While I applaud your sense of personal grooming - a habit that we all should pay attention to - I do not think your car is the best place to be violently pulling at your ear hair in the hopes that it will come out.  Firstly, because that works much better with a handy little device called a tweezer (seriously, they are not that expensive).  And secondly, unless you are in the back of a limo or have those fancy tinted windows, EVERYONE CAN SEE YOU!

What is it about being in your car that makes people think they cannot be seen by other people? I myself, have occasionally fallen into this trap.  Except I know I do it and don't really care.  In fact, I kind of like the idea of someone having a little laugh at my air-guitaring expense if it means I've brightened their day a bit.

But I can tell you this - watching someone pull at their ear hair really did not brighten my day. 

Lawn Zen

Or the things that go through my mind while mowing our lawn.  I should preface by saying that we haven't mowed our lawn in close to a month. I KNOW!  Thank god we don't have a neighborhood association as I'm sure they would have been burning us in effigy.  Although that may have helped slow the lawn growth.

The reason it has gone on so long is that we are just crazazy busy and it's been mother-lovin' hot and when we finally get home the very, very last thing either the Mr. or I want to do is mow the damn lawn.  So we've been ignoring it.  But last night, I could do it no more.  So after setting the lawn mower on its very highest wheel height, I ventured into the meadow with my Sony discman blasting the Blues Brothers - which is my lawn-mowing soundtrack. 

Yes, I did say Sony discman.  I do not own an I-pod like the rest of the known world.  And, about fifteen minutes in, when the batteries on my awesome portable disc player died? And we had no replacements? I was seriously cursing the I-Podless situation.  Damn thing cut out right in the middle of Aretha Franklin too.

So I was left to my own wandering thoughts. First of which was that I am unwittingly now a snail murderer.  Remember that movie with the evil frogs?  I just remember the end shot with the big old house covered in frogs. That's sort of what our lawn looked like.  Long blades of grass with snails.  I think I mowed over about a million snails.  Wiped out entire colonies.  Poor things, never knew what hit them.  I hope they don't organize and come after us.  *shudder*

Did anyone else go through a stage in...maybe middle school...where "riddles" were popular?  Two of the ones I thought of last night were, "The music stopped, and she died."  And the other one, "A guy is dead (why they all involved dead people, I'm not sure) in a room locked from the inside. There is nothing in the room except the dead body and a puddle of water.  How did he die?"  Those were some real brain teasers.  Why they suddenly came to mind while I was mowing the lawn, I have no idea.  Maybe it was all the snail murder going on.

I thought about my lack of blogging this summer.  And decided not to get too het up about it.  Been there - done that.  Doin' what I can.

The Pixie and WB were inside watching a Power Rangers movie while I was out mowing and she came out periodically to tell me a)She was hiding in the closet during the scary parts b)She was now having a picnic on the living room floor and c) she just wanted to give me a kiss.  Awwwwwww.

Finally - what a total sense of accomplishment you get from mowing the lawn.  It's something so tangible, you know?  First - it's an ankle-high crab-grass fest and then, at the end?- it's all lovely rows.  Covered in snail remnants.  Pretty!

Oh. And ten points to anyone who can figure out the riddles.

Weepy-101

I fucked up at work today.  Pretty badly.  Not "You're fired" badly, but bad enough. It was just something stupid, really.  Not seeing the big picture.  But man, seeing that look in my boss' eyes.  It's like disappointing my father; I just want to crawl into a hole and disappear. 

I managed not to actually cry at work though - 'cause that's always fun.  As soon as I was out and able to call the Mr. though - the tears started flowing.  Yet another moment when I wish to god I wasn't so emotional.  And here I gnash my teeth when the WB starts up.  Hellllooooo, genes.  Are there emotional genes?  Let's just say yes and call it a day.

I have to say though - I feel very, very sorry for people who don't have some sort of support system when they get home.  Because nothing in the world will make you forget about your dismal work situation then your 4yr old daughter telling you when you pick her up from pre-school that, "You're the best, Mama."  Or having your husband come home with open arms for a big, long hug (and a bottle of wine too!)

And yes, even though I remain a little weepy, I'll get through it.  I'll toe the line at work (must google where that phrase came from. And shouldn't spell-check recognize "google" by now?  Ah-ha.  Apparently it does recognize it if you capitalize the "G" - and just for that, I'm not.)  I do really need to get my focus together with the work factor.  Maybe this is the wake up call I need.  That and the realization that I should really, probably, finally, after all these years find myself a good therapist and get my shit together!!!  (Part of that whole 39 year thing.)

Anyhoots - sorry, this post is kind of all over the map.  Much like my brain of late.  Har-dee-har-har.  Enough about me, how was your day?

Happy Freakin' Fourth!!

It's 12:24am.  I have to be at work by 7am tomorrow. Er...today.  But check it out you all, I just finished this beauty!

Right?  I mean come on!  (Fabulous cake recipe found at Pioneer Woman.)

Also?  Our town hosts a really big parade and also a Drum Corps show.  So last night when we pulled up to our driveway, this was across the street:

Awwww yeah, baby.  I loves me the Fourth of July! I get all weepy when the soldiers go by in the parade.  I clap along to the amazing marching bands (really, that's not an oxymoron.)  I bow down to the Mr. since he usually has the 5am duty of going and securing us a prime "spot."  And don't even get me started on how much the kids love it.

Hope everyone has a fabulous and SAFE holiday!  Kisses!

Thirty-Nine

And so, now it is my turn.

I wrote a whole post last night about whether or not I could make this year as important as it has become in my head.  Except I was a couple of glasses of wine in, and I felt - in retrospect this morning - that it was a little bit too dramatic and whiny.  (And I wonder where Wonderboy gets it!)

The reason I feel this way about this year is that this is the age my Mom was when she died.  Forty never happened for her.  I know mentally, that I am perhaps putting too much pressure on myself to make it all happen This Year. But I can't keep hanging around waiting for some epiphany to motivate me.  If this is what is going to spurn me into some kind of action, then so be it.  There are things that I want to do, things that I want to get accomplished.  A year from now I want to be able to look back and say, "Here I am, Mom.  Further then you ever got to be.  But look, look at what I have done.  Know that it was inspired by you."

And so, with that good stuff in mind, I'm off to have cake for breakfast. Because really, what better way is there to start your birthday?

Pixie, 4.0

On the momentous occasion of the Pixie's fourth birthday, (yup, three years and eight days apart, didn't even plan it!) I decided to ask her a few questions about what made Four so important.  Her answers to my pretty silly questions - hey, it was early in the morning! - are in italics.

What is the best thing about being 4 years old?
The shoes I'm wearing. (In her defense, they were a very pretty pink and she did pick them out herself.)

What's your favortie thing to do with Mommy?
Go to Nana's house.  (I know someone who is going to like that answer!)

Favorite thing to do with Daddy?
Go somewhere to eat!

Favorite thing to do with Wonderboy?
(Tough to decipher this one) Look and see for a Christmas tree.

Favorite people to visit?
My family.  (awwwww)

What's your favorite thing to eat?
Hot dogs. (all about the nutrition in our house!)

What else do you like to do?
Play in the sprinkler (although only if it's about a foot high.)

What's your favorite thing to eat for breakfast?
Hot dogs, silly! (oh right, of course. (I do not let her eat hot dogs for breakfast.))

 What else do you want to tell us about being four years old?
Our house is not painted yet.  (well, that's true. Jeez, pretty observant.)
Anything else?
I want you to be little so you can sit in my seat and I want to be big and sit in your seat in the car.

Well! Mommy looks forward to that time too, sweetheart.

In all seriousness, you my darling Pixie, are beyond a joy to me.  From the way you start many sentences by saying, "Well, actually..." to the way - tonight - while we were at a red light you mimicked my, "Come ON, lady" perfectly.  You add laughter and light to our lives every day.  Happy Birthday my beautiful girl.

On this day...

Well, actually - on this day tomorrow.  Wait, does that make sense?  Let me start again.

Seven years ago right now I was in the hospital.  It having been decided earlier in the day that it was time for Wonderboy to come out.  Thing was, he didn't want to come out.  But, the doctor said it was time.  However, not only was WB not ready, I wasn't - ahem - physically ready either.  So - seven years ago right now I was in a hospital room experiencing, "the balloon".  (I know you feel me Aging Mommy!)  Anyhoots, one uncomfortable overnight, and a lot of pitocin the following morning, and a lot of waiting around for the people in the lobby....and the WB came into being.

Truth be told, I wanted a boy.  We had found out the sex, and I was thrilled.  I had an older brother and I just wanted a boy first.  And I got him.  And then didn't have a clue what to do with him.  You know how it is in the beginning of your first child - when everything is terrifying?  It was.   And yet, wonderful. So very, very wonderful.

And now my baby, my little perfect first child, is turning seven.  F*cking SEVEN.  How did this happen?!?!  His first word was, "quack."  Literally.  We thought he was going to be very well-versed in duck speak.  He learned, "no"  soon enough.  And we, foolish first parents, thought it so funny to hear him say it in his adorable voice, we would ask him questions we knew he would say, "no" to.  Learned that the hard way.  (Also learned not to say, "Dammit!" or "Jesus Christ" within ear-shot.)  He learned to climb stairs when we moved into our house when he was two.  When he was three he not only gained a baby sister, he called me a "crazy bitch" in the Atlanta airport.  (Which he had overheard from some punk at daycare - not at home!)

Four was an even bigger declaration of independence.  But not as hard as three. (Thank the good lord.)  Five brought kindergarten and learning and karate and oh my, how he has blossomed.  Who is this boy?  Where is my baby?  Six has flown by in mostly good terms.  There was talking back and drama and fights with his sister, but there was also kindness and curiosity and laughter.

And there was a kid who, a couple of days before he turned seven, happily went for a walk with his Mom and talked about his day, and held her hand.  A kid who will always be my boy...my baby.

One More Thing I Should Have Thought Of Because Now I'd Be Rich

Have you seen these things? 

They are called "Silly Bandz" or "Krazy Bandz" or some other foolish name that replaces an "s" with a "z" (annoying)  and they are sweeping the nation!  Or at least, our town.  Everyone from four year olds to college kids are clamoring for these things.  Little colored rubber bracelets in the shapes of dinosaurs or tiaras or sea creatures, etc, etc. 

First of all, are we in 1983?  Because if so, I've got some serious neon to dig out of storage.  I'm telling you people, if only Madonna had branched out a little from this look,

she could have been even more of a bajillionaire!  As I'm sure the people who created these things are sure to become.  Well, maybe not bajillionaires - but you know what I mean.

And yes, our house is no exception, we have lapped up the Kool-Aid:

I'm kind of shocked at how quickly I caved to this trend.  Not that I am anti-trend per se, but I'd like my kids to not jump intoevery new thing that his or her friends have.  That being said, forking over $3 for a little peace and quiet doesn't seem too bad.  At least it's not $100 sneakers. 

We have a saying in my family

"Never let the truth get in the way of a good story." 

We started saying that in joking reference to the way TNC can sometimes...embellish a bit when relating a story.  Apparently, my son is taking this saying to heart.  In fact, he is telling so many stories right now I think he's made it his mantra.

It's not just normal kid fibbing, you know this kind:
"WB - did you brush your teeth?"
"Yes."
"Really? Then why isn't your toothbrush wet?"


It's things like coming home from the airport with him and Pixie in the car.  Pixie is playing with her Zhu Zhu Pet.  WB pipes up with, "I have a Zhu Zhu Pet."
"Really?" I ask.
"Yeah...but I...lost it.  At Nana and Papa's.  So I couldn't bring it home."
To which I reply, "Hmmm."
"You don't believe me!" (Dead giveaway.)
"Of course I believe you.  Because it would be silly to make up a story like that. Right?  Why would you make up something like that?"

Silence from the backseat for a minute.  And then, "Sorry, Mama."

And this is just one of many, many examples we are coming across.  Some of it is harmless.  I happened to see a wild turkey yesterday while out in our yard.  I called to him to go look out the front door so he could see it.  Cool, right?  This morning he goes to the window and says, "A turkey!  (Mind you, I can see out this window too, which I don't think he realized.)  "I see a turkey...but it just ran away."  (News Flash - there was no turkey.)
But some of it requires investigation.  He told my MIL that some kids were picking on him at school and he was still upset about it.  She asked him if he told the Mr and me and he said, "Yes. But I forgot what they said."  So her initial reaction of something being really wrong was kind of tempered by his admission that whatever life lessons we had told him, he couldn't remember. (For the record, we are checking with the school, but I just don't think anything really happened.)

Which is the MOST frustrating part.  Boy who cried wolf, anyone?  And he KNOWS that story.  I have brought it up to him when he gets caught - yet again - talking smack.  I am seriously starting to worry...that I'm going to lock him in his room!  I can't take it.  The worst part is, he starts to believe himself!  Sunday - we take a bit of a drive to go to a BlockBuster because the one in our town shut down.  Apparently that's the way of things - because the one we drove to was also out of business.  On our way home he says to me,
"Mom, I actually went on-line to the BlockBuster site and saw that that store wasn't open anymore. I just didn't want to say anything."
"Really."
"Yeah!  I'm telling the truth! (dead giveaway)  I did! I saw it on-line that they had closed it."
"Uh-huh.  So you found blockbuster on-line, managed to figure out how to locate a store on the website and found that the one we were going to was closed."
"Yes!" (And this is the WORST part - he starts to get upset! He's buying into his own bullshit!!!)
"Okay then, when we get home you can get on the computer and show me exactly how you did that."

Silence from the backseat for a minute.  And then, "Sorry, Mama."

It's driving me mental!  Is it just for attention?  Believe me, the kid gets attention.  Is he delusional?  I don't really think so.  But I am telling you - it is a 24/7 work of fiction at our house.  And I can't take it much longer. I don't know where to start with it.  The "why" of it all is certainly part of my struggles - but I do think the answer to that is the attention and maybe that other people will think he's cool or something?  Or be impressed?  I don't know.  I need to do some research on it, clearly.  In the meantime - if anyone has any advice I'd gladly take it.  Or just send him to your house until he's through this phase.  That works too, right? Right?
Hey! Come back here!

Yeah, so about that whole "shred" thing...

I totally bagged out on it.  I started doing the second work-out - and I liked it, but damn if stuff didn't get in the way and I really, really lost my early on motivation.  I'm also pretty sick of looking at Jillian's smirky face, so I'm taking her away.  It was real, sweetie. 

The bummer part about it was that I was actually seeing some results!  Some definition where there was none before.  You'd think that would be enticement enough to keep it up.  I think I got bored with it.  Which is pretty lame considering it was only 20 minutes of my life every day to commit to.  But somehow, that seemed like too much of a challenge.

So I've been doing a fat lot of nothing in the work-out department.  I need to find that motivation again.  Just to do something!  My younger sister has been running since last November - all through the cold New England winter she would go at least a few times a week.  And man, does it show!  She looks great.  I've been circling around the idea to try that.  Except the whole "running" concept really does not appeal to me.  I'm trying to work myself up to walking and then maybe throwing some running in if I feel really inspired.  Unfortunately, I have yet to carve out the walking time in my schedule.

I think I will though.  I do like the results I saw during my shred days.  I don't think I'll never work out again.  For me it's the constant battle of managing my time.  Well, work in progress and all.

At least I don't have to look at Smirky McSmirkson anymore.  So I got that going for me!

And the Prodigal Son returns

As TNC (my step-mom) said, "He walked on that plane like he was getting on a bus.  Not a bit of worry in sight."

Which is exactly how he came off the plane.  In the Iron Man t-shirt that my Rent's got for him on, I think, his first full day - that I'm pretty sure he wore almost every day he was down there.  He had such a great time.  Lots of golf cart trips with Papa and Sadie (the dog). 

I figure it's okay if the dog is not anonymous

So many times going to the pool that even he lost count!  Movies, ice-cream, carousel rides, zoo trip, a visit to Ripley's Believe it or Not! that we all thought he would be totally into but apparently, "scared me to death!" 

I can't understand at all why he would be scared?!

Couple of highlights that I want to remember for him:
The first leg of his flight circling Baltimore for an hour and a half because of weather - and him getting off and saying, "That was the best ride of my life!"  Also, having his picture taken with the captain of the plane (once they'd landed.) 

Seeing a group of World War II veterens on the stopover in Baltimore and insisting on going around to all of them and saluting.  Also asking TNC if she would take his picture with a couple of them. *sniff!*

Taking his first golf cart ride at 1AM in the morning when they finally made it to the house!

Going to the pool three times on his first full day there.  And multiple times every day thereafter.

Having my parents bring him to Target so they could buy him underwear because they couldn't find where I'd packed it *ahem, zippered suitcase pocket*.  Guess they aren't into the whole "commando" thing.

Doing one page in his "vacation journal" which was homework from his teacher.  Which resulted in me cracking the whip at 9PM last night so we could GET IT DONE, please god!!!

Visting the zoo.  Coolest part - petting the stingrays and the water park!  (Literally, since it was something like 90 degrees.)

Stingrays are awesome

Oooo, cooling.

(I would just like to say that none of the other people in this picture are related to me.

Expecially the chick with the pink hair.)

Meeting the pilot on every single plane he was on.  Also going into the cockpit. 

And for me?  Seeing the Pixie go running up to him and give him a huge hug when he came off the plane. So sweet.  Of course, that changed within fifteen minutes of being in the car together.  But, that was to be expected...

Thanks, all, for your support.  It was tough - and we missed him.  Although, as I emailed to Deckside Thoughts, he was still a punk to me over the phone on his second day there, so that tempered the missing just a bit!

Steps

I didn't think I would cry.  It actually took me completely by surprise when I felt the tears prickle at my eyes.  Me, who had been so gung-ho about the whole idea of this trip.  For you see, today I put the Wonderboy and my step-Mom, WB's Nana, on a plane.  He is going for a visit to FL, by himself.  She and my Dad called me almost two months ago with the idea.  "We want Wonderboy to come down."  I said I thought that was a fabulous idea.  And I meant it.

Nana was coming up to see us and attend a family birthday party.  My niece and nephew turned two and my sisters decided on a joint Pirate and Princess party.  (More on that later - great time!)  So it was arranged.  He would return to FL with Nana.  He will come back up North by himself.  I didn't hesitate on this.  Time alone with my parents?  Fully undivided special attention on my boy?  No way would I ever deny any of them the pleasure this trip will have.  I will be nervous for him when he comes home next week.  Although I never said that to him in all the time we have been talking about the trip.  He is the first grandchild to fly by himself  - closely guarded by his JetBlue attendant - and we have made a big deal out of that.  I don't want him to be scared in the slightest.

I will worry about other things.  Like his behavior and whether he remembers to chew with his mouth closed.  If he will fuss or get dramatic at bed-time.  I'm hoping he will be so worn out from going swimming and playing with Papa and riding in the golf cart, that bedtime will be easy. 

The day finally arrived and I was so excited for him when we all woke up this morning.  He was going to school and Nana and I would pick him up at 1:30pm.  As my day progressed I became aware of how blue I was feeling.  Pixie and I were at my sister's for lunch and she asked what was wrong.  My sister asked me if I was nervous for WB.  But it wasn't really that.  I wasn't nervous at all.  I was sad.  I realized how much I was going to miss him.  Even though I'd like to put him on a plane to Timbuktu some days, in reality, it was pretty hard to let him go.

Of course I did.  Even now they are up in the wild blue yonder, on their way to sun and fun.  I am truly thrilled for him and so grateful to my parents for this special, special trip.  And if I have to have a little private cry now and again over the next five days...well, it will be worth it.

It's not you, it's me. No, really.

I cannot get my shite together.  I have become one of the worst bloggers I know.  I'm barely squeaking out a post a week.  And that's all fine for those bloggers who have hundreds of followers and are all sorts of popular.  But for little ol' me?  Not too cool.

Eh.  What can I say?  We've had all sorts of stuff going on around here.  There was the flood, for example.  And can I just say that our flood insurance company, homeowners insurance company and FEMA can all kiss my ass as not a single ONE of those agencies decided we were worthy of assistance. So a big fat middle finger to them.  All of that means that we are still without a downstairs as we can't afford to replace the carpet yet.  The upside of this is realizing we can live in a smaller space without killing each other.  So we got that going for us.

On the positive front, the Mr. got a promotion at work.  He is the big executive cheffy head honcho.  (I think they should put that on his business cards.)  Which is totally awesome and he completely deserves it.  We are *angels singing* all getting health insurance through the company now!!  As he had none previously and the kids and I were on a private program that cost about $550 a month, this was excellent news.  And he got a raise as well.  So Woo-to-the-Hoo!  Only downside is they don't really have any seasonal help yet, so he is working pretty much every day.  This means we are having to rethink our entire kid coverage schedule and that is making me a bit nuts.  Plus, being the only parent at home at night after a long day makes me more then a bit nuts. 

It also requires that I figure out what to feed them at night, and hello? if I'd wanted to be saddled with that responsibility, I wouldn't have married a chef!  (Not really, I'm just not an instinctual cook, so everything takes me longer and I make a huge mess.)

Pixie has gone from being the wonderful go-to-bed girl that I have bragged about to the pop-out-of-bed-every-three-minutes-for-some-inane-reason girl. 

And don't even get me started about how busy my work is right now. Ugh.

At the end of all that, when the kids finally get to bed and I've cleaned the kitchen and made lunches (which I actually have yet to do, dammit), and can finally get around to blogging?  All my brain wants to do is have a glass of wine and read a trashy romance novel.  It does not want to get up and be witty.  Or interesting.  Look at this post, it's basically me whining the entire time.  Wow. Sorry about that.

In conclusion, don't hate me because I'm a bad blogger.  Or because I'm beautiful.
(Ha!  See what I did there?  Witty!)

Mind of the Pixie

I don't know where some of the stuff comes from that rolls around in that little brain of hers, but here are some recent examples.

"I'm going to build a swimming pool."
"Oh really, honey?"
"Yes.  We are going to build it when we get home.  I need some wood and some water."
"Hmm. I don't think we have enough wood or water at home to build a swimming pool. Maybe we will have to build it another time."
"Well, we can just stop at the water and wood store.  It's not very far from here."



This is the point where I have to break it to her that we are not going to be able to build a pool today. We can't get to the Wood and Water store in time.  She assures me, again, "But it's not far from here!"  "Far" and "here" being completely fluid things, you understand.

This morning, on our way to school, she came out with this one,

"I love flowers."
"I love flowers too, sweetie!"
"But I also like bugs."
"Well, that's cool.  You can like both things."
"I love ladybugs.  We need to go get some at the ladybug zoo."
"The ladybug zoo?"
"Yes. It's not far from here!"

I'm starting to see a trend. 

Vacation, All I ever wanted. Vacation, Had to get away...

So I took the past week off since the Wonderboy was on vacation and I wanted a break from work.  I learned a few things along the way:

1.  No matter how long 7 days sounds at the beginning of the week, it is definitely not enough time to get everything done.

2.  Also challenging is the idea of "getting things done" when you have two kids running around.  See this example of what I mean (there's actual math involved!)

3.  I have figured something out about myself.  I may not be the crafty Mom, or the sporty Mom, or the Mom that will play Bakugan with you for hours.  But I will be the Mom who will get up in front of an audience and embarrass herself if my kids think it's cool.  We were at a kids show on Wednesday - two guys who sing funny songs and dance around, etc. One of the numbers had kids going up and putting on silly hats and costumes.  I'm encouraging Wonderboy to raise his hand, which he is only lukewarm about.  Then the performer guy says, "Now we need a grown up to come up here!"  Wonderboy immediately says, "Raise your hand, Mom!"  I'm pretty sure I was the only adult to do so.  Up I go to become the "robot" with a wire mesh trash can on my head and my middle wrapped in tin foil.  In front of a good portion of town.  That's the kind of thing I will do in a heartbeat.  Hell, I was in the drama club in high school and I'll never hesitate to get some extra attention - plus, and more importantly - both Wonderboy and Pixie thought I was awesome.

4.  There is really nothing better then a night away with your sisters.  No husbands or kids - just us.  We stayed in the hotel where I work, went and had our toes done, drinks and dinner.  Good conversations and lots of laughter.  (And thanks to those husbands and kids who let us escape for the night!)

5.  If you have kids who are six and older I whole-heartedly  recommend "How to Train Your Dragon."  Have you seen these new 3-D movies??  I have not seen Avatar so this was my first experience and I have to say - amazing.  Also?  It was a really fun flick.  Wonderboy and I went to a matinee on Friday when Pixie was in daycare and we both loved it.

6.  I like these cows.  I pass by them on my way to and from work.  They're excellent.

I want to take this calf home with me, it's so freaking cute.

Finally, I want to say thanks for everyone's kind words last week.  Starting my vacation going to a wake and a funeral was pretty awful, not that it would have been better at any other time.  Christine has been away with her girls, but I hope to get together with her soon.  I will pass along all of your heartfelt thoughts.

Further proof of my theory that Death is a F*cking Bastard

My friend Christine is one of those people that I will always consider a good friend.  We worked together for many years.  She gave me maternity clothes when I was pregnant with the Wonderboy.  She is also a person that is genuinely great.  Funny, sensitive, smart.  Friendly to everyone.  A truly good soul.  Deserving of every happiness.  She and I have not seen much of each other recently.  Busy lives and different schedules have rendered us occasional email friends without much face to face time. But because of the kind of person she is, she will always be one of my favorite people.

Yesterday, I found out that her husband of thirteen years died suddenly this week.  His name was Frank.  He was as warm and friendly as Christine.  They have two young girls  - ages 9 and 8 (approximately, I admit to losing track.)  Christine has had some high level hotel jobs, Frank worked in audio and was able to stay home with the girls for the past several years.  Every time I think of them all, I start to cry.

One of the things Christine and I had in common was that we both lost our Mom's at a young age.  We've talked about how we wanted to have huge 40th birthday bashes since neither of our Mom's made it to that milestone.  She also lost her Dad.  Part of the deep connection that she and Frank had was that they had both lost their parents.  They had other family, but they were each others' true family.  I honestly cannot imagine what she is going through.

It makes me think about my Dad, and what he went through when my Mom died.  With two young kids.  And my heart breaks all over again.  Why the fuck does shit like this have to happen?  I know there is no answer to that question.  I don't have the faith that some do to help ease any of the pain.  Sometimes I regret that, but it is what it is.  So I lean on others.  My family and friends that can take some of it for me.  I hope to be able to do that for Christine. 

Some people, after experiencing a death in their life, get the "live every day to the fullest" idea in their head.  I don't think, in theory, there is anything wrong with that idea.  But I also don't think that it means that we have to try to solve world problems, or go sky-diving every other day or put even more pressures on our already stressed selves.  I think living to the fullest is what is best for you in that day.  It might mean reading a book and taking a nap.  Or cuddling up with your kids on the couch for a movie.  Or having a dance party in your living room. 

The only thing that I think is really crucial to do every day is to tell those that are closest to you that you love them.  No matter what.  Every day.

The Bickersons. 2.0

Growing up, my older brother and I used to fight. You know, like siblings do.  "It's mine!"  "Give it back!"  "Stop it!"  All that good stuff. 

I remember one time my brother calling me out on the fact that I used to yell loudly so that I would be guaranteed to get the attention of whatever parental unit was closest.  At the time, I don't think I consciously realized I was doing it,  but of course, that was exactly my tactic.  We grew out of it eventually.  Especially when our Dad remarried and my step-mom and her four kids moved in - because that was when we got a glimpse at some experts in sibling battles.  The Bickersons.

My two younger step-sibs, lets call them Thing 1 and Thing 2 for the purposes of this post, were unbelievable.  Thing 1, my brother - age 9 when they moved in.  Thing 2, the baby girl - age 5 when we all came together.  They would just pick at each other constantly.  T1 would drive T2 crazy - and vice versa.  They didn't really fight physically that I can remember - but the nagging, the teasing, the never-ending pick, pick, pick. My Dad dubbed them, "The Bickersons."  I had never seen the likes of it.  And thought I never would again.  Funny thing, life.

Enter Wonderboy and Pixie.  Ages - almost 7 and 4, respectively.  I think they are going to give the original Bickersons a run for their money.  Wonderboy has inherited my "yelling loudly" technique.  Which, in hindsight, is completely annoying!  What really drives him crazy though is when the Pixie will say something nonsensical.  She's constantly bringing up events that only happened in her head which he is well and determined to prove DID NOT HAPPEN.  "You didn't have a party today.  Did she have a party today, Mom? See? You didn't have a party."

It's like he can't reconcile her 3yr old brain in his 6yr old brain.  As far as he's concerned - anything that someone says is taken at face value.  If she calls something by a wrong name, he has to point it out.  If she says something random, he has to prove that it's nonsense.  It's that same pick, pick, pick.  GAH! 

Then, of course, are the times when it does get physical.  This is usually running around play that turns into something more rough and Wonderboy forgets that she is smaller then him.  I always know the moment it has gone too far because I will hear her start to cry and he is instantly trying to make her laugh so he doesn't get busted.  Lately, his tactic is to hit himself "in the jimmies," or tell her to.  (Because everything to do with butts or penis' is hilarious, didn't you know that?)  Anyway, I'm waiting for the day that it's going to backfire on him and she's going to haul off and kick him in the nuts.

They are driving me mental.  And I'm not always sure the best way to handle it.  Intervene?  Don't intervene?  Let them try work it out?  (Secretly, and as a former "little sister"  I tend to think that route usually benefits the elder child...)  Any and all advice would be greatly appreciated. Because if I don't get some relief from the Bickersons Next Generation soon I might as well go out and buy my own liquor store.

Overdue sunshine. Literally and figuratively.

Check it out, y'all!  The sun is shining on our corner of New England and Spring is finally here!

 Leaves!  Leaves!

Ooo!  Ahhh!

There is something about this time of year that makes me intrinsically happy.  The little red buds that give way to bright, new green leaves.  The pop of daffodils around every corner.  The burst of color on the blooming trees. Every day when I drive to work, there is some other part of Spring making itself known.  Happy, happy.

Another thing that makes me happy is when other bloggers that I stalk respect give me a little sunshiny love!

I received this some time ago from the lovely Stacia at Fluffy Bunnies.  She shares my passion for the decadent Cadbury Creme Eggs. She makes me get teary.  She makes me laugh.  She makes me think.  She is a relatively new find for me and I am so grateful I stumbled across her fabulous blog.  Thanks for continuing to provide sunshine in my life, Stacia!

I feel a little silly passing on the love - since most of the blogs I follow have pretty big followings of their own and you probably all read them anyway.  But I'm going to mention a few new blogs that I have recently found and was instantly smitten with.

Aging Mommy.  Smart, funny, slightly anti-social like yours truly - this is a Mommy you want to hang out with.

The Unbitten Tongue.  From a woman who just couldn't take not being able to be totally herself on her blog. So she started another one.  Cool, huh?

Deckside Thoughts.  A fellow New Englander. Need I say more?  And I don't even hold her obsessive love of NASCAR against her.

Hope this bit of sunshine brightens your day, just as it did mine!

JMOW and the no good, very bad day

Tuesday morning started out well.  I actually got up for my early 6:15 alarm to do my Shred for the day.  I'm getting my water in the kitchen when I notice my phone flashing.  Check my email to find out the Wonderboy's school has cancelled for the day.  Hmm.  Curious.  Maybe it has something to do with all the rain we've been getting?  I start to walk downstairs and think to myself, "What is that noise?"

That noise?  Was this:

About five inches of water - in our entire downstairs living room.  Spewing from the shower drain in the downstairs bathroom:

I had shut the shower door in this shot - but you can see it still pouring out.  And yes folks, that is not just water coming out of that shower drain.  It's all kinds of stuff you really don't want to see INSIDE YOUR LIVING ROOM.

That night, in trying to keep some semblance of normalcy, I mean - the poor kids had to fend for themselves most of the day, I went ahead with my plans to make cookies for story-time at the Library the following morning. It was my week and who am I to let a little flood prevent the kids from getting their dinosaur cookies? We successfully rolled and cut 40 little stegosauras'. That's when my brain took a break and I tried to open a little tube of frosting with an open pair of scissors.

This is my thumb after making a quick trip to the walk-in clinic for THREE F-ING STICHES. Talk about adding insult to injury. Or injury to insult as the case may be.

The monsoon that hit New England this past week hit our state particularly hard.  Lots of people were - and are - in way worse shape then we are.  I know this logically.  It still doesn't change the fact that we have a major suckfest going on.  We have cleared everything out of there, steam cleaned with bleach so that we can at least not be breathing in some potentially harmful mold stuff.  No matter what, the carpet is going to have to go. 

And this is where financial things like, oh....no savings, shitty credit rating, no help from the flood insurance that our mortgage company insist we get, really start to make you incredibly depressed as the days go on.  Trying to keep your head above water takes on a whole new meaning.  Har-har.

So that's been our week - and the reason I've been MIA.  Hopefully things will start to even out a bit and I'll get back in the swing of things.  Until then, hope everyone has a Happy Easter!

The Agony of Defeat

Don't you love those "lessons of parenting" days?  Wonderboy had his second karate tournament yesterday.  In his first one, last fall, he received first place in his age group.  To say we were beyond thrilled is an understatement.  We were SO proud.

He practiced really hard leading up to this tournament.  At his karate lessons four times a week, going over and over his form (routine) at home.  He was ready.  I was worried leading up to it - how to walk the line of keeping his confidence up while still cautioning him that he might not get first place this time.  Which he seemed to think was in the bag.

The competition is made up of a few different schools in our area, so he is not just competing against kids from his class.  Unlike the first tournament, where only one other girl from our group participated, almost every kid in WB's class entered.  Some were younger and therefore were not in the same age group as WB, but it did mean that all the parents were there.

We watched and cheered on the younger kids.  All of whom got trophy's - which is cool.  One little boy in the 5yr old group totally froze and started crying!  It made me get all choked up.  Poor kid.   Finally, it was our turn.  There were nine kids competing in WB's age bracket.  That's a pretty big group for this kind of thing.

Wonderboy gets up and begins.  His presentation (the speech they make to the judges telling them their name and what they are going to do) is strong and loud.  He steps back and begins.  Great moves, nice loud ki ai's (the yelling part).  Guard stance, back fist, body punch, round house kick, slide up, second round house ki- WHAM.  Lost his balance and fell on his butt.  (Although I'm sure it wasn't actually this way - in my head I heard the "Gasp!" go up from the crowd.)  I looked over at the Mr. and I swear we both had tears in our eyes.  He worked so damn hard!  It just didn't seem fair!  Immediately I begin thinking about how hard it was going to be to console him.

Meanwhile, without hesitation, WB got back up and finished the form strong.  He bowed to the judges and went back to his spot on the floor and, as people were clapping for him, gave me a wink!  And when he was called  into the "runner up" row instead of first, second or third, he never once seemed sad or felt badly about it.  He was excited about getting a ribbon since he, "didn't have one of those yet!"

There were no tears.  There was no regret.  At least not from the Wonderboy.  The Mr. and I?  That's another story.  We were both so bummed out for him.  Truly upset - although only when we were alone.  I mean, we weren't disappointed in him, clearly, just sorry that his hard work hadn't mapped out as we'd hoped.  Thank god my kids haven't shown any Olympic-like skill sets!  I don't think I could take it.

But we learned from him today.  He was the one who took it all in stride.  Who lived by the, "it's not important if you win or lose - just have fun" mantra.  And I have to say, that was what made us the most proud.

The Pang. (With additional thoughts)

I didn't expect it.  Not one little bit.  But suddenly, a couple of days ago, it was there.  The thought just snuck into my brain.  Me!  The person who has been so adamant - especially after finding out the Pixie's gender - that two kids would be it.  We had our boy and our girl.  What I had always hoped for.

And yet....Sitting there at our desk at home, I thought, "Am I really never going to be pregnant again?  Couldn't we have one more?"  (That thud you just heard was my parents hitting the floor.)

I said something to the Mr. a bit later and after his initial reaction, "You're crazy," he realized I was serious.  We actually talked about it.  The fact that we barely survive financially right now.  That my current health insurance wouldn't cover it, so we would have to figure that out before we even started trying.  The fact that we barely survive financially right now.  That the Wonderboy would be eight or even nine years older then his brother or sister.  The fact that we barely survive financially right now. That we would be back in the world of diapers and sleepless nights.  Oh, and did I mention the money concerns?

I've felt for a long time that this is our family.  The four of us.  And now that the kids are getting older we can do more things together and have a great time.  How would a baby effect that dynamic?  I don't know.  But for some reason, the thought of never having another baby is making me sad.  And even with all those factors that show why it, perhaps, wouldn't be the best thing for us, I can't seem to shut the door completely.  Am I crazy?  Probably.  Am I just having an emotional reaction to the fact that the Pixie doesn't want me sing songs to her anymore at bedtime?  Maybe a smidge.  But it's in my head.

Are we going to do anything about this sudden pang?  I have no idea.

UPDATE:  In thinking about this more, I wanted to add that I do realize how incredibly lucky I am to have my two kids.  I know, and have witnessed in my own family, the struggles so many couples go through to become pregnant and bring those pregnancies to term.  I in no way mean to sound ungrateful or take for granted that we could get pregnant again if we decided to act on this idea.
~JMMW

SHAZZAM!

Check out my new look, yo!  Just wanted to give a shout out to the Mr. for all the help getting this together. He's wikkid smaht with the technical mumbo-jumbo.  Thanks, honey!

Get down, get funky.

A month or so ago I was driving to work and rockin' out to the Blues Brothers.  Singing and air guitaring/keyboarding my way through my daily commute.  I sort of half notice this pick-up truck alongside me - because, truth be told - my ride to work is kind of like my own little NASCAR track.  I see which car I can get ahead of and stay ahead of, or who is determined to stay ahead of me.  It's like chess.  You get the idea.  So I pull up next to this pick-up at a stop light, singing my head off to Aretha Franklin's "Think."  Light turns green and off I go.  Pick-up is keeping up with me, but then I get ahead and move into his lane.  We come to another light and he pulls up on the left of me. 

Ah-ha.  So now it is on, Mr. Pick-Up.

With Jake and Elwood as my background, I pull ahead as the light turns green.  Leaving Mr. Pick-Up, and his "hemi" in my not quite an SUV dust!  HA!

Not long after, I'm at work, getting my morning going.  When the restaurant manager, Sean, comes in and says, "Hey!  Did you know that was me driving next to you?!" 

Uuuummmmm.  No. No I didn't.  Then he proceeds to tell everyone about driving next to me as I was speeding my way along and obliviously singing my heart out.  I was slightly embarrassed.  Until he got to the part about me blowing his doors off - then I felt better. 

The thing that struck me then - and again today as I was driving home and singing my heart out to U2 - was that I hardly ever see anyone else openly enjoying music in their cars.  I started to pay attention to it tonight.  I was at a red light, and also at a particularly good guitar section of "Breathe,"  and as I pan my vision to my rear view and side mirrors I don't see anyone in their car who is obviously listening to music.  There were no drum beats on the steering wheel.  No singing (which, has anyone else noticed? can totally be mistaken for crazy talking to yourself.)  Not a single air guitar in site!  I mean, I can't be the only one, right?  If you are alone in your car, do you not take the opportunity to listen to something other then The Backyardigans?  And really get into it?  What is wrong with all of these people?

It's only day one. And it's already ugly.

I am finally, actually doing something about the fact that I have wanted to start some sort of exercise program for the past...oh, several years.  Today I started Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred. Basically, you do this twenty minute non-stop work-out every day, for 30 days.  And then you go on to the level 2 work-out for 30 days, followed by level 3.  Sounds simple enough, right?  HA!

I'm really not sure which is worse:

1.  That when I watched it last night to get a feel for what I was going to be attempting this morning, the Wonderboy decided that he wanted to try it.  (Reminder, he is six.) 

2.  Sitting on the couch watching him attempt bicycle crunches. (Actually, that was pretty funny.)

3.  Giving it my first attempt this morning only to have him come downstairs and want to talk to me in the middle of it while I'm gasping for air.

4.  Once I made it through to the bitter end (cursing that cocky wench after about the first five minutes), having Wonderboy ask to see my "abs" so he could check my progress.

5.  Feeling sore and achy all day and pounding three Tylenol this afternoon to just please, make it go away!

6.  Having Wonderboy insist on doing his "fitness," as he calls it, again tonight.  Since he wants to go, "all 30 days!"

7.  Wonderboy trying to convince me that "his legs are already getting fitter."  Even though I've explained to him several times that "It doesn't happen that fast!"

Or

8.  The fact that I am going to attempt to get up at 5:30 in the morning tomorrow to try to do it again.

The Order of Things

I was thinking about birth order today.  Specifically wondering if it actually plays any role in how our kids behave.  In reading about it here I think we may have some reverse syndrome going on.  In case you don't feel like clicking over, it's the bit about the younger child being spoiled and pampered and the older child being "dethroned" when the younger one comes along that interests me.  Because I think we have somehow done that backwards.

When the Wonderboy was a baby, and into his first years of toddler-hood we did the epic bedtimes.  The sitting in there until he was asleep.  Or doing the commando crawl across the floor, freezing at the slightest exhaled breath or body twitch like we were in the sites of a sniper.  And though we no longer have to endure that specifically - he is almost seven after all - his bedtime is still way more involved then the Pixie's.  Hers tops out at fifteen minutes.  His story/chat/bathroom/drink/need to tell you something/now I need to tell Daddy something/I just want that toy/book/music on/dog with me in my bed/cat in the room/no cat in the room/how do you spell light/connect/freezer/when are you checking on me? can last an hour and a half.  GAH!

I wonder if that is due to the fact that the Pixie just tends to be mellower?  Or did she become mellower because she was the second one and we were way more relaxed by the time she came along.  Putting her in her crib and letting her cry it out was a cinch.  Maybe that's because she was a better sleeper all along though?

He is drama, pure and simple.  Kid hasn't met a good melodramatic breakdown he didn't love.  She can pitch a fit - don't get me wrong - but it's over so much quicker then his storms. How did they get this way? Each of them born to us, but different in so many ways.  How much of their personalities are based on what they see and learn, and how much is inherited or innate? Does any of it come from which one of them was born first?

I don't know the answers to any of these questions, really.  Yet it plays in my head when I look at the two of them.  Not only as to what kind of little people they are now, but what they will be like as tweens, teenagers, adults.  So much unknown.

I do know one thing though.  If we have to deal with these bedtimes much longer?  He's going to have to find his own apartment a lot sooner then expected!

It's all technology, all the time! Kind of.

Did you hear the angels singing last weekend?  From up on high?  Did you hear them exalting the song of the Mr?  Because they were.  (And, NO! Jeez, get your mind out of the gutter.)  They're voices were raised in joyful singing because the Mr. FIXED OUR TV!! He went on-line and figured out what was wrong.  We finally had enough money to go buy the part and - thanks to the internets - he not only found the instructions on how to do it, some guy put an entire video up on You Tube showing the process! Whoot to the internet!  And Whoot to the Mr for being so technologically savvy. 

It was kind of sad how entranced the children were within five minutes.  I mean, it wasn't like we were completely void of TV the whole time. We just had to watch it on a very small screen.  Well, not anymore!  Plus it means we can play Wii again.  My professional bowler status can't go to waste!

********************

I must admit that I am completely in love with my GPS.  I've had it for awhile - it was a very generous gift from a friend - and it lay around the house for too long because I wanted the Mr. to upload some music to it.  (Since I am apparently one of the last few people on earth not to own an Ipod.)  Although there is not a ton of space on the GPS, I have a nice sampling now that I can listen to as I drive to work.  And I love seeing where I am going!  Is that totally geeky?  I know I'm like a year behind the times as far as GPS goes, and even more then that regarding the MP3player - but hey - I'll take it when I can get it, you know?

********************

 On a non technology related note,  I am re-reading Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH. Man, I love that book.  I remember being excited when they were making a movie out of it in the early 80's, since I had read the book. And then I remember my first experience with being disappointed in a Hollywood adaptation of a book.  Especially at the age of 11, I just didn't understand why it wasn't exactly like what I had read! What the hell, Hollywood?

I initially picked it up to see if it was something the Wonderboy might like.  He enjoys some "chapter books," so I'm getting excited, now that he is almost seven, to figure out what beloved books from my childhood I can introduce him to.  If anyone has any suggestions, I'd love to hear them!

And now I'm off to drive home, listening to some of my tunes and checking out every upcoming street on my route. 'Cause  I'm all wicked modern like that.

She

She was an amazing cook.  Would read cookbooks like novels.  Made hundreds of dozens of cookies at Christmas for all of our family friends, teachers, school bus drivers - anyone who was lucky enough to be on the list.  One time she made a "salt encrusted"  beef dish (I think it was beef.)  After it cooked, you were supposed to rap the crust and it would "break easily away."  My Dad ended up taking a hammer and chisel to it in order to break that stuff.  She could see the humor in the whole situation. 

She also loved to read novels.  Romance novels to be precise.  She would sit, so engrossed, somehow able to tune out my whines of "Mommy.  Mommy.  Mommy"  for at least a few minutes.

She was a teacher.  What was then called a "Resource Teacher."  She didn't deal with severe special needs, more learning disabled kids.  They all loved her.

She grew up on a farm in New Jersey.  She could ride and jump horses, although I never saw her do that as an adult.  She would talk about the hardness of being a kid on a farm, the pain in the ass jobs.  I've always thought it would be wonderful.

She was barely 5'1''.  Just scraped it.  I was a head taller then she was when she died.  At 11 I looked down at her.  But she had the spirit of a woman who was 6' tall.  She didn't let people intimidate her because she was small.

She had a great imagination.  When we would go out on the sailboat for the weekend, she would spin yarns for my brother and me.  I try to make up stories for my kids sometimes - and wonder at how she was able to create things so easily.  She would read aloud to us as well.  We have a picture somewhere of my brother and I on either side of her, sitting on the boat, with her reading Pippi Longstocking to us.  I love that picture.

She was creative in other ways too.  I guess I would call her "crafty" nowadays.  She sewed, did needlepoint, could figure out ways to keep us occupied on rainy days without turning to the TV.  (Another trait I don't seem to have!)

She was taken from us twenty-seven years ago this past week.  Suddenly. Her heart failed, and subsequently ripped ours' out.  Over the years, I have gone through many ups and downs remembering her, as anyone would losing their Mom at such an early age.  The shock, the terrible grief and pain, the anger.  Mostly now I get sad about the fact that I never knew her as an adult.  I never got to hang out with her and have a couple of glasses of wine and just talk. But I can remember her, and all that made her such a wonderful woman.  And I can share those things.

My Mom, at the helm.