tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166345414868879622024-01-20T01:14:39.143-05:00Just Making Our Wayjustmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.comBlogger75125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-48340106125253898452011-09-04T19:22:00.000-04:002011-09-04T19:22:10.382-04:00On the WaterThe other night some friends took me and the kids out on their boat. It's just a little Boston Whaler, more of a fishing boat, really, but the kids were super psyched. It was a first for them. Things started out a little rough - and I don't mean the waves. Pixie got out there okay, but when we were sitting on the boat ready to head out, she Freaked. Capital "F' freaked. But we rolled with it - my friends didn't hesitate, which I appreciated. I think if for one second we had stopped to try to calm her down we would never have left the beach. Although she gripped my pants hard enough to leave a permanent wrinkle, once we got moving, she had a great time. Such is often the case with my little Miss. (Wonderboy, however, steered the boat "going 40mph!!" so no worries there!)<br />
<br />
What our little roundabout in the Bay really reminded me of was how much I love and miss getting out on the water. My parents bought our sailboat when I was really little - maybe even the year I was born, I'm not sure. When I was cognizant enough to know what was going on, I hated it. My Mom and Dad had to promise a trip to McDonald's in order to get me to go. I was scared of the boat tipping over - no matter how many times my Dad told me it would never do that. So as we rowed back to shore from the mooring I would be giving my Mickey D's order to my exhausted parents. I was good like that.<br />
<br />
As I got older, I did learn to appreciate the sailboat. (And stopped insisting on McDonald's on the way home.) I loved our time on it, in fact. I never really learned how to <i>be </i>a sailor though. I could hoist the sail and work the tiller if needed. But I didn't get all the lines and when to tack and all that jazz-a-ma-jazz. Even without knowing all the intricacies - I loved that boat.<br />
<br />
So much so, that when it came to a point when my Dad couldn't sail it on his own (we were all older at this point and living our own lives that didn't involve weekends on the old Erikson 27'), he decided to sell it and I was so hurt. The boat was such an important part of our lives when my Mom was alive, you see, that it felt like a part of me was being ripped away. I said I would take it, fix it, whatever it needed....But my Dad was right. The boat, at that time, was old and the work needed would cost a fortune. It just wasn't worth it. A bitter pill for me to take.<br />
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Being on the water with our friends made me want to give that experience to my kids so much. I don't want my daughter to be scared of boats. I wish I could give them what my parents gave me. Time together that was so precious. 'Cause where were you gonna go in the middle of the Bay? I'll never forget my Dad telling me how he and my Mom would leave the house with a couple bucks in their pocket, some food from home and off we'd go for the weekend, out on the boat. Imagine that?<br />
<br />
Financially, I don't know if it will ever be possible for us to own a boat. But I know one thing, any chance I get to expose my kids to being on the water - I'm taking. For them...and for me.justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-35825675690336563782011-05-16T21:05:00.000-04:002011-05-16T21:05:09.297-04:0036:51My first official 5k race time. I've kept up with it, have run that distance more then once, actually. But the first race is definitely something I will never forget. My sister C. and good friend J. ran with me. (They are "real" runners. I still feel like a bit of a pretender. Which I know I'm not <i>really </i>- but J. has run the NYC marathon for heaven's sake and C. has finished a triathlon and is training for a half marathon. You get the idea.) <br />
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They stayed with me and my slow pace though, even if they were chatting the <i>entire</i> time! Even up a damn hill that left me huffing and puffing. But we finished strong, and together. Even though the race results had C. finishing two minutes behind me. HA!<br />
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My first race number. I thought it was a good one. Thirty-one was a good year.<br />
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I plan to have another one in June, and hopefully just keep adding to the pile.justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-69721950344579050852011-04-10T09:02:00.000-04:002011-04-10T09:02:10.626-04:00The comedy and tragedy...of PokemonA few nights ago as The Mr. and I were settling into bed, Wonderboy calls out and, "Wants to talk to Daddy." With the heavy sigh of dealing with the umpteenth stalling tactic, my husband goes into his room to find out what he needs. Next thing I hear is the unmistakeable sounds of the Wonderboy ramping himself up into an emotional frenzy. The Mr. comes back into our room.<br />
"What's going on?" I ask.<br />
"Apparently, WB loaned his giant Pokemon card to Sam last week and now Sam won't give it back."<br />
<br />
Not three minutes go by before WB is now in our bedroom, continuing his tale of woe. We manage to get out of him that he loaned this card (purchased for him as a gift by his Grandfather for receiving Student of the Month) to Sam and when he asked for it back, Sam kept putting him off. Of course, righteous indignation asserts itself in The Mr and me. We're giving each other the, "What a little jerk" eyeballs over WB's head as he continues his sob-story.<br />
<br />
But then, of course, the plot thickens. It turns out that you are not <i>supposed </i>to bring Pokemon cards to school, something the WB knows. He just couldn't resist bringing in the illicit goods in to show <strike>off</strike> to his friends. The card was loaned to Sam, with the understanding that it would be returned at the end of the week. When WB asked for it back, Sam threatened to tell the teacher that WB had brought it to school. (So, essentially, still a little jerk.)<br />
<br />
Now getting in trouble at school is one of WB's biggest fears. Not the simple, "be quiet" kind of trouble, but Serious Trouble. And he knew he was courting danger bringing in the cards as he had <i>already been told once not to have them at school. </i>So the frustration over not getting his most special card back was countered by the absolute terror of getting busted. All of this we learned through many tears and the hitching of breath that comes with such emotional strain.<br />
<br />
We talk it out. WB must approach Sam again. He should tell him, in his own words, that he is not being a very nice friend. We give him permission to use the "My parents will call your parents" threat if he has to. (Of course, he wanted us to do the dirty work for him and asked if we could call Sam's Mom then and there!) We held firm that he needed to try to figure this out himself and if Sam threatened to tell again that WB should let him. <i>(Ha! We'll call your bluff you little bleepedy-bleep!) </i>That suggestion had the effect of somebody dousing you with ice-cold water while you were sleeping. Once we put WB's eyeballs back in his head, we explained that it would be better for him to be honest and apologetic with his teacher instead of afraid.<br />
<br />
He finally calmed down and with many declarations of The Mr. and me being, "really awesome" and "the best," he finally went to sleep.<br />
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The next day when I picked him up from school, he very proudly told me that Sam had given him the card back. Of course he used the parental threat, but the fact was, he did it. I was proud of him. <br />
<br />
Or, you know, as proud as I can be over a kid who breaks school rules and is foolish enough to loan out his most prized Pokemon possession. justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-57883863050388659152011-03-24T10:25:00.000-04:002011-03-24T10:25:44.875-04:00Reason #45,6780,478......to hate New England winters. Last week we were riding bikes and I was out running with no coat on.<br />
<br />
Today? We woke up to this:<br />
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Now, while I won't deny that it <i>is </i>pretty<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhzXlNovsbu7hLn4ZiCQ3bqS-0PVPfT6kUS0Yz-h8DqokmPGPCVUoo8zEcjfkdP8Plk1VOFqDCAjuSLU1c1pn8xHUM4Cz8Lh_cG8_FeMFc_0B6d4mB4tpsT_Ofz9lrk5qdaZ1L4vSDC8ZJ/s1600/DSC_0033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhzXlNovsbu7hLn4ZiCQ3bqS-0PVPfT6kUS0Yz-h8DqokmPGPCVUoo8zEcjfkdP8Plk1VOFqDCAjuSLU1c1pn8xHUM4Cz8Lh_cG8_FeMFc_0B6d4mB4tpsT_Ofz9lrk5qdaZ1L4vSDC8ZJ/s320/DSC_0033.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
you know these poor things are thinking,<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNSeJd2T0g2HIgCfR9WzWDYEREvNVDrhYVus6stLnEmWQtymshv7qIGIlOCrAJqtJipXH5OveQCls39NOb9FZiQM2QMgnRFuPxFiEeaiJeJHWZ0fl6nrf2OZx5RbvqQvXlBButvfmgLix/s1600/DSC_0045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNSeJd2T0g2HIgCfR9WzWDYEREvNVDrhYVus6stLnEmWQtymshv7qIGIlOCrAJqtJipXH5OveQCls39NOb9FZiQM2QMgnRFuPxFiEeaiJeJHWZ0fl6nrf2OZx5RbvqQvXlBButvfmgLix/s320/DSC_0045.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Excuse me, what the f*ck just happened here!?!!?</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> </i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hell, even this guy is like, </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnQ3R-eV_kAc7x9Xr7IPI9J3rT5qB9ug_Sfu6R0rVI7YhCXTvSYT_3hsYafvWQlg3OmsUzb8aayACNCnctTaWS27yYsRNZ_fhrMEmVx6aOIOAmT0iLqrfdpQtb9BNjmVwqCjTsC7G5sO-Q/s1600/DSC_0037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnQ3R-eV_kAc7x9Xr7IPI9J3rT5qB9ug_Sfu6R0rVI7YhCXTvSYT_3hsYafvWQlg3OmsUzb8aayACNCnctTaWS27yYsRNZ_fhrMEmVx6aOIOAmT0iLqrfdpQtb9BNjmVwqCjTsC7G5sO-Q/s320/DSC_0037.JPG" width="247" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Really? Was this absolutely necessary?</span></span></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><i> </i></span></div>justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-82615215081484725492011-03-18T19:47:00.000-04:002011-03-18T19:47:04.852-04:00So...ya know....What's been happening?Wow. That was quite a break. Not really sure why I'm writing today, and can't promise I won't go away for a long time again. But hey, I'm here now. Technically, I'm at work now. And ten minutes ago there was a full-on Mariachi band playing the cocktail reception of the wedding that's happening in the hotel right now. It was like Three Amigos - except there were four of them. It was hilariously awesome.<br />
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Here's some things that have been on my mind as of late.<br />
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1. I have now officially been alive longer then my Mother ever was. It alternately breaks my heart and makes me more determined then ever to keep moving forward with my life.<br />
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2. Last night Pixie feel asleep curled next to me in her little bed, her two little hands holding mine. It was truly a moment I hope never to forget. She is so sweet and loving and I can't stand the thought of her growing up.<br />
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3. Therapy is one of the best things I have ever done for myself. Hands down. Best.Ever. It helps that I love my therapist. I can't believe the things she has made me realize and feel. If you've ever thought about doing it, I'm telling you - do it.<br />
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4. The Beiber obsession continues in our household. Wonderboy was practicing for a "Sing-Off" that was going to happen at recess today. He had the printed lyrics to Never say Never and has been driving us all mental walking around and singing it. Plus, Pixie tells us about four times a day that she is going to marry Justin Beiber. And I may have - MAY have - put one of his songs on my running playlist. cough*ok, I did*cough.<br />
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5. By running playlist, I do not mean a list that keeps running continuously. I mean, I have started running. Been doing it for about a month and I have registered for a 5K in May to keep me going. I don't love it all the time, but I was getting bored with my 30 day shred. I had also spent some time talking about it with my Aunt and she convinced me to give it a try. I don't love it every time, and had a particularly hard go yesterday, but I'm up to 2 and 1/4 miles which makes me feel pretty damn great.<br />
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6. Going off of those thoughts - I feel really great that I have finally taken control of my dissatisfaction with my body by doing something about it. It took me long enough to get from the whining stage to the actual doing stage, but I'm there now and it's been very positive. (Again, thanks to the therapist for kicking me off my butt.) (Which is hopefully getting smaller!)<br />
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Not like everything is all roses and sunshine. For example, our dog had six kidney stones removed two weeks ago. They actually gave them to us in a little jar. Blech.<br />
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In three months I will be 40. I wanted, and needed, to get things in a better place before I reached that milestone and I feel like I have begun that process. Here's hoping I can stick to my guns and keep the progress going.justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-36529311600084154962010-12-17T16:57:00.000-05:002010-12-17T16:57:14.647-05:00Keeping 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.<br />
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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 <i>avoid </i>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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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?<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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Good Things. justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-43921882308026931392010-11-08T23:03:00.000-05:002010-11-08T23:03:56.615-05:00Whoot! Fall!I love Fall. (Although I didn't love waking up to the dusting of SNOW this morning. WTH, Mother Nature!?!)<br />
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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.<br />
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Yeah, it eventually leads to the most dreaded of times - winter in New England. But for now? I'll take it.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeZZbWngnmlNpH7sdHaULX_S_COT3grWgxliKlKmJpO_5tT10GHQUoLUMmwuSPdEGqppKa-Td5Z0yvvi5C67edlFGmj8keGJbNH1OTVqnr-7BeucE6BL5HBrH99NeN05ewARdRU4n5t-f4/s1600/DSC_0056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeZZbWngnmlNpH7sdHaULX_S_COT3grWgxliKlKmJpO_5tT10GHQUoLUMmwuSPdEGqppKa-Td5Z0yvvi5C67edlFGmj8keGJbNH1OTVqnr-7BeucE6BL5HBrH99NeN05ewARdRU4n5t-f4/s320/DSC_0056.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-12097448248439026932010-10-28T15:31:00.000-04:002010-10-28T15:31:46.969-04:00Lies, Lies, Lies, yeahWonderboy 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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."<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>everybody's</i> 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."<br />
<br />
WTF? <br />
<br />
"Okay," I say (deep breath), "let's talk about your <i>real </i>school. And let's remember how important it is to tell the truth. Do you play with your friends at recess?" <br />
"Yes."<br />
"Are there any kids that are giving you a hard time or being mean to you?"<br />
"No."<br />
<br />
GAH! Is this <b>all </b>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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Some days I really think we should have just stuck with the dogs. <br />
justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-70469008663096450012010-09-25T20:39:00.000-04:002010-09-25T20:39:38.992-04:00Baby, 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?<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO4VLPEQeKoeAM0cnYrlrwVE-xtPD3a3eCp4AJyqZ_ysok61LnZANSC_V12YVcvJLwJX-uCY3NvH1NKt4sKca-_mp7CyhkW68KzkcPPExGXX0SqZA4NlxdA0XmG2M_lBTrhgHM1hlr4FXA/s1600/my-world-2-justin-bieber.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO4VLPEQeKoeAM0cnYrlrwVE-xtPD3a3eCp4AJyqZ_ysok61LnZANSC_V12YVcvJLwJX-uCY3NvH1NKt4sKca-_mp7CyhkW68KzkcPPExGXX0SqZA4NlxdA0XmG2M_lBTrhgHM1hlr4FXA/s320/my-world-2-justin-bieber.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
GAH! <br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Send help!<br />
<br />
And Duran Duran!justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-68159946289573614612010-09-13T21:44:00.000-04:002010-09-13T21:44:31.835-04:00View, 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!<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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! <br />
<br />
Okay. Not really. Or... only sort of.justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-13311586906067358422010-09-05T17:26:00.001-04:002010-09-05T19:09:07.049-04:00A few of my favorite things and first stepsI'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.<br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>anything </i>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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>Clueless</i>, "Yeah, I hope not sporadically!" Oh, Brittney Murphy.)<br />
<br />
Hope you are all well! (not sporadically!)<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">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.)</span>justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-29421954404090960652010-08-19T00:17:00.000-04:002010-08-19T00:17:06.555-04:00Vacation!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!)<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
There was a pink piano (that's Pixie pretending that she can play)<br />
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There were attempts at golf (Wonderboy doesn't quite have the hang of it yet...)<br />
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<br />
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? <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jiJX-AxyWMwYVNYkrUQXCr-ZUos8rVzKYV1xgYHeTeD2pbShDvm2CPqufSSlZ-5LdF0E_ra2Ip9sCfnNkyzxf9HUnjClXYf1mszclerbNMPZnfE5Lgq4RTv7sI_oLbUlezOVjsU36cAX/s1600/Mags.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jiJX-AxyWMwYVNYkrUQXCr-ZUos8rVzKYV1xgYHeTeD2pbShDvm2CPqufSSlZ-5LdF0E_ra2Ip9sCfnNkyzxf9HUnjClXYf1mszclerbNMPZnfE5Lgq4RTv7sI_oLbUlezOVjsU36cAX/s200/Mags.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHXKJqlEKe5iNpQ3S9H0JhFmqb5m1E44L1LrTqLQs6pjNpDpc3C2gfpw1-G7ksz5vCwe52QhQhypLr8PKYY-OEIVYssJViSKq4oMrNe_CIs4gCLwL6ZJfecmBVc81e0YERTzqPqQ-h049-/s1600/Dress-Up.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHXKJqlEKe5iNpQ3S9H0JhFmqb5m1E44L1LrTqLQs6pjNpDpc3C2gfpw1-G7ksz5vCwe52QhQhypLr8PKYY-OEIVYssJViSKq4oMrNe_CIs4gCLwL6ZJfecmBVc81e0YERTzqPqQ-h049-/s200/Dress-Up.JPG" width="142" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">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.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3l9dK_K5KnB5oRotgt6KCGKiSwW4Zmu325YSs1rJeEEK-V0akccjtXUaFfJWw1KF_oohXDJunXaVCzNzE-pK-5mQ40vFtBgIyASbcR6w5dLFUFdKe_HFpGT2PSDeflMGxy95sz4klUo5l/s1600/BoysDressup.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3l9dK_K5KnB5oRotgt6KCGKiSwW4Zmu325YSs1rJeEEK-V0akccjtXUaFfJWw1KF_oohXDJunXaVCzNzE-pK-5mQ40vFtBgIyASbcR6w5dLFUFdKe_HFpGT2PSDeflMGxy95sz4klUo5l/s200/BoysDressup.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">And there were sunsets like this. Sigh.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Oh! And matching t-shirts. Hello, adorableness!</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><br />
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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!justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-84045237096382518812010-08-01T09:35:00.000-04:002010-08-01T09:35:56.262-04:00You are NOT invisibleDear old man in the Stop and Shop parking lot,<br />
<br />
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 <i>tweezer </i>(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!<br />
<br />
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 <a href="http://justmakingourway.blogspot.com/2010/03/get-down-get-funky.html">trap</a>. 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.<br />
<br />
But I can tell you this - watching someone pull at their ear hair really did not brighten my day. justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-38490696437007152212010-07-17T18:36:00.000-04:002010-07-17T18:36:16.779-04:00Lawn ZenOr 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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>very </i>highest wheel height, I ventured into the meadow with my Sony discman blasting the Blues Brothers - which is my lawn-mowing soundtrack. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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 <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0068615/synopsis">frogs</a>? 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*<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Finally - what a total sense of accomplishment you get from mowing the lawn. It's something so <i>tangible</i>, 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!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Oh. And ten points to anyone who can figure out the riddles.</i></span>justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-24216548349548084012010-07-08T20:54:00.001-04:002010-07-08T20:54:54.245-04:00Weepy-101I 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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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!)<br />
<br />
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.)<br />
<br />
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 <i>your </i>day?justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-74852796580312216352010-07-04T00:33:00.000-04:002010-07-04T00:33:45.738-04:00Happy 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!<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhma1oLQte8COnDchdfO9yWzAIaHryAzfHhB0teuhJ-nezxL_jv28wyHJb7Z59Dg2afe2cQ4UU2bvEN0XW7cB78DJ0I6tj7JCJc4TVMqSljj7Wg2_hU01oU7qJz8zYLc_gPu0fiLrbAf1Yd/s1600/IMG_6586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhma1oLQte8COnDchdfO9yWzAIaHryAzfHhB0teuhJ-nezxL_jv28wyHJb7Z59Dg2afe2cQ4UU2bvEN0XW7cB78DJ0I6tj7JCJc4TVMqSljj7Wg2_hU01oU7qJz8zYLc_gPu0fiLrbAf1Yd/s320/IMG_6586.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Right? I mean <i>come on!</i> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Fabulous cake recipe found at <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2007/06/fourth_of_july_/">Pioneer Woman</a>.)</span><br />
<br />
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:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUlf2ylFSTH-XPuoJHq8LftYyYnQvakV-_aXiT3LODgBAcADsyr8hEwzGB8ztuXvQKAZEzkIm0N7MI8TdMVC4Fo_Q7LwHuTyZwrPmQovSnNt1eOlmsVzh64cQqBoaTQkuX7Jm5eM5MYdYw/s1600/IMG_6570.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUlf2ylFSTH-XPuoJHq8LftYyYnQvakV-_aXiT3LODgBAcADsyr8hEwzGB8ztuXvQKAZEzkIm0N7MI8TdMVC4Fo_Q7LwHuTyZwrPmQovSnNt1eOlmsVzh64cQqBoaTQkuX7Jm5eM5MYdYw/s640/IMG_6570.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Hope everyone has a fabulous and SAFE holiday! Kisses!justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-34631890797209167682010-06-30T09:33:00.000-04:002010-06-30T09:33:29.382-04:00Thirty-NineAnd so, now it is my turn.<br />
<br />
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!)<br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
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?justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-5156914147569703102010-06-25T22:48:00.000-04:002010-06-25T22:48:00.964-04:00Pixie, 4.0On 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.<br />
<br />
What is the best thing about being 4 years old?<br />
<i>The shoes I'm wearing.</i> (In her defense, they were a very pretty pink and she did pick them out herself.)<br />
<br />
What's your favortie thing to do with Mommy?<br />
<i>Go to Nana's house. </i>(I know someone who is going to like that answer!)<br />
<br />
Favorite thing to do with Daddy?<br />
<i>Go somewhere to eat!</i><br />
<br />
Favorite thing to do with Wonderboy?<br />
(Tough to decipher this one) <i>Look and see for a Christmas tree.</i><br />
<br />
Favorite people to visit?<br />
<i>My family.</i> (awwwww)<br />
<br />
What's your favorite thing to eat?<br />
<i>Hot dogs.</i> (all about the nutrition in our house!)<br />
<br />
What else do you like to do?<br />
<i>Play in the sprinkler</i> (although only if it's about a foot high.)<br />
<br />
What's your favorite thing to eat for breakfast?<br />
<i>Hot dogs, silly!</i> (oh right, of course. (I do not let her eat hot dogs for breakfast.))<br />
<br />
What else do you want to tell us about being four years old?<br />
<i>Our house is not painted yet.</i> (well, that's true. Jeez, pretty observant.)<br />
Anything else?<br />
<i>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.</i><br />
<br />
Well! Mommy looks forward to that time too, sweetheart.<br />
<br />
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.justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-69633059812315984822010-06-16T22:57:00.000-04:002010-06-16T22:57:34.409-04:00On this day...Well, actually - on this day tomorrow. Wait, does that make sense? Let me start again.<br />
<br />
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 <i>lot </i>of waiting around for the people in the lobby....and the WB came into being.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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!)<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-22595564229460367062010-06-10T09:43:00.000-04:002010-06-10T09:43:39.196-04:00One More Thing I Should Have Thought Of Because Now I'd Be RichHave you seen these things? <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz2FIMeaZtUJOt2wlbBRmLeoTdsl4OAtOLUF0noccURtSnfALcVo5HeK4jcq6J2uHz4LfW3TFk-4ca899-19XUrUDAQUC9C4qbDT8n1Pl80wEFty9orJRGlH_k3jT31NzgUKwaE3JA5n__/s1600/silly-bandz-dinosaur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz2FIMeaZtUJOt2wlbBRmLeoTdsl4OAtOLUF0noccURtSnfALcVo5HeK4jcq6J2uHz4LfW3TFk-4ca899-19XUrUDAQUC9C4qbDT8n1Pl80wEFty9orJRGlH_k3jT31NzgUKwaE3JA5n__/s200/silly-bandz-dinosaur.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
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. <br />
<br />
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, <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdwNud6iznE6e4FiCZJaqrxtYlg4KQKvOUzSR0dHCl4NV9FODMmllkP50YnWk1H5xnMGSPpjl3wqO035MPgPlPTvOb-Wy6utRSce8qQYreMS5eDxb8XrEHdtNAIppOiDXLIAJ6heTFnnmP/s1600/madonna-with-bracelets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdwNud6iznE6e4FiCZJaqrxtYlg4KQKvOUzSR0dHCl4NV9FODMmllkP50YnWk1H5xnMGSPpjl3wqO035MPgPlPTvOb-Wy6utRSce8qQYreMS5eDxb8XrEHdtNAIppOiDXLIAJ6heTFnnmP/s320/madonna-with-bracelets.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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.<br />
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And yes, our house is no exception, we have lapped up the Kool-Aid:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFk0kV-p8TnNK-a5nKnKdSomtMQCTXp4NEsTpT_-pxuYxqpzRMFLGegRJZ_Yiu9_DR2NZ6zqz1UsV2sL87vBkD5hBunYlYxFjcSpGRoqHGvs4PitcQJbfqN5XkA8Ni0shg6vCL7Z8pn9G/s1600/SillyBands.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFk0kV-p8TnNK-a5nKnKdSomtMQCTXp4NEsTpT_-pxuYxqpzRMFLGegRJZ_Yiu9_DR2NZ6zqz1UsV2sL87vBkD5hBunYlYxFjcSpGRoqHGvs4PitcQJbfqN5XkA8Ni0shg6vCL7Z8pn9G/s320/SillyBands.JPG" /></a></div>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 into<i>every</i> 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. justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-39701613764650748102010-06-01T21:02:00.000-04:002010-06-01T21:02:09.987-04:00We have a saying in my family"Never let the truth get in the way of a good story." <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
It's not just normal kid fibbing, you know this kind:<br />
"WB - did you brush your teeth?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
"Really? Then why isn't your toothbrush wet?"<br />
<br />
<br />
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."<br />
"Really?" I ask.<br />
"Yeah...but I...lost it. At Nana and Papa's. So I couldn't bring it home."<br />
To which I reply, "Hmmm."<br />
"You don't believe me!" (Dead giveaway.)<br />
"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?"<br />
<br />
Silence from the backseat for a minute. And then, "Sorry, Mama."<br />
<br />
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.)<br />
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.)<br />
<br />
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,<br />
"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."<br />
"Really."<br />
"Yeah! I'm telling the truth! (dead giveaway) I did! I saw it on-line that they had closed it."<br />
"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."<br />
"Yes!" (And this is the WORST part - he starts to get upset! He's buying into his own bullshit!!!)<br />
"Okay then, when we get home you can get on the computer and show me exactly how you did that."<br />
<br />
Silence from the backseat for a minute. And then, "Sorry, Mama."<br />
<br />
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?<br />
Hey! Come back here!justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-16851329208608251852010-05-24T14:31:00.000-04:002010-05-24T14:31:40.804-04:00Yeah, 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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>something</i>! 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
At least I don't have to look at Smirky McSmirkson anymore. So I got that going for me!justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-76727712328506180352010-05-19T22:18:00.000-04:002010-05-19T22:18:15.690-04:00And the Prodigal Son returnsAs TNC (my step-mom) said, "He walked on that plane like he was getting on a bus. Not a bit of worry in sight."<br />
<br />
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 <em>such</em> a great time. Lots of golf cart trips with Papa and Sadie (the dog). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUak5rH9ih-VjKNoKGm6jsVUEy8ttzI7BghxFCOtZlajxJ6FEcVmw91UQzpocf2SUmzZbbrfSGhXbh9A7fQ_lq974UJ6Ub0z5YTQ7oEaVReqBJ7hy9sjB_WNe_Ax_PWbtm-sGy2uoxkK3t/s1600/Jake+Ride%27s+Them!+3008x2000-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUak5rH9ih-VjKNoKGm6jsVUEy8ttzI7BghxFCOtZlajxJ6FEcVmw91UQzpocf2SUmzZbbrfSGhXbh9A7fQ_lq974UJ6Ub0z5YTQ7oEaVReqBJ7hy9sjB_WNe_Ax_PWbtm-sGy2uoxkK3t/s320/Jake+Ride%27s+Them!+3008x2000-1.JPG" wt="true" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">I figure it's okay if the dog is not anonymous</span></em></div><br />
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!" <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0oB6lutg1fOFyY_-6nNCMqiv0jC-8DkW92yn9Id9yjqOka2VqDC2S3mXFFl-zplT0sD8ds3spMARK_BziqDNJ9YZ9MaaoQ2VGTrz7imnPWTv7MPATAFknk71Xa0ZXvAPOHjONjtFj1tuz/s1600/Ripley's.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0oB6lutg1fOFyY_-6nNCMqiv0jC-8DkW92yn9Id9yjqOka2VqDC2S3mXFFl-zplT0sD8ds3spMARK_BziqDNJ9YZ9MaaoQ2VGTrz7imnPWTv7MPATAFknk71Xa0ZXvAPOHjONjtFj1tuz/s320/Ripley's.JPG" width="212" wt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">I can't understand at all why he would be scared?!</span></em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Couple of highlights that I want to remember for him:<br />
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.) <br />
<br />
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!*<br />
<br />
Taking his first golf cart ride at 1AM in the morning when they finally made it to the house!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Going to the pool three times on his first full day there. And multiple times every day thereafter.</div><br />
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.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">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!!!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Visting the zoo. Coolest part - petting the stingrays and the water park! (Literally, since it was something like 90 degrees.)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU0XP3j8YW95uYmbsCs3T5rwfVF4Ord3zqg9p246faPD9iltBvEYudzrD_w8o9DvkbmgCUXnx4ejpBaCaFrnr8FaQqWCCVia0467qwqsPspW2-ydRZmbBuDFN0LsLckvS8uVaoTg5Vuf8w/s1600/Stingrays-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU0XP3j8YW95uYmbsCs3T5rwfVF4Ord3zqg9p246faPD9iltBvEYudzrD_w8o9DvkbmgCUXnx4ejpBaCaFrnr8FaQqWCCVia0467qwqsPspW2-ydRZmbBuDFN0LsLckvS8uVaoTg5Vuf8w/s320/Stingrays-1.JPG" wt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Stingrays are awesome</span></em></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEfma7asHwBFCQ8iw9IaZAxvRaGuoUEuKF8fqhsPzf55UlgyvZ8Y9odX5H6GQd1FdkQ8z5iajX80gxEx30188qb2pDzaFC5-TKwZFYukLEDYZwIXFcq0u6WMx6zuvqqL8WEGHZqkYlfpQz/s1600/Waterfall.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEfma7asHwBFCQ8iw9IaZAxvRaGuoUEuKF8fqhsPzf55UlgyvZ8Y9odX5H6GQd1FdkQ8z5iajX80gxEx30188qb2pDzaFC5-TKwZFYukLEDYZwIXFcq0u6WMx6zuvqqL8WEGHZqkYlfpQz/s320/Waterfall.JPG" wt="true" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Oooo, cooling. </span></em></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">(I would just like to say that none of the other people in this picture are related to me. </span></em></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Expecially the chick with the pink hair.)</span></em></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Meeting the pilot on every single plane he was on. Also going into the cockpit. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">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 <a href="http://justmakingourway.blogspot.com/2010/04/bickersons-20.html">expected</a>...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Thanks, all, for your support. It was tough - and we missed him. Although, as I emailed to <a href="http://decksidethoughts.blogspot.com/">Deckside Thoughts</a>, he was still a punk to me over the phone on his second day there, so that tempered the missing just a bit!justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-88683220080253801282010-05-12T18:05:00.002-04:002010-05-12T18:05:51.872-04:00StepsI 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516634541486887962.post-46711626786115227362010-05-06T21:26:00.001-04:002010-05-07T09:30:52.061-04:00It'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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.)<br />
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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. <br />
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And don't even get me started about how busy my work is right now. Ugh.<br />
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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.<br />
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In conclusion, don't hate me because I'm a bad blogger. Or because I'm beautiful. <br />
(Ha! See what I did there? Witty!)justmakingourwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01410133602131763514noreply@blogger.com16