Just Making Our Way

On the Water

2011-09-04T19:22:00.000-04:00

The 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!)

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.

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 be 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.

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.

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?

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.

36:51

2011-05-16T21:05:00.000-04:00

My 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 really - 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.)

They stayed with me and my slow pace though, even if they were chatting the entire 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!

My first race number. I thought it was a good one. Thirty-one was a good year.

I plan to have another one in June, and hopefully just keep adding to the pile.

The comedy and tragedy...of Pokemon

2011-04-10T09:02:00.000-04:00

A 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.
"What's going on?" I ask.
"Apparently, WB loaned his giant Pokemon card to Sam last week and now Sam won't give it back."

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.

But then, of course, the plot thickens. It turns out that you are not supposed to bring Pokemon cards to school, something the WB knows. He just couldn't resist bringing in the illicit goods in to show ~~off~~ 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.)

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 already been told once not to have them at school. 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.

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. (Ha! We'll call your bluff you little bleepedy-bleep!) 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.

He finally calmed down and with many declarations of The Mr. and me being, "really awesome" and "the best," he finally went to sleep.

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.

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.

Reason #45,6780,478...

2011-03-24T10:25:00.000-04:00

...to hate New England winters. Last week we were riding bikes and I was out running with no coat on.

Today? We woke up to this:

Now, while I won't deny that it is pretty

you know these poor things are thinking,

Excuse me, what the f*ck just happened here!?!!?

Hell, even this guy is like,

Really? Was this absolutely necessary?

So...ya know....What's been happening?

2011-03-18T19:47:00.000-04:00

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.

Here's some things that have been on my mind as of late.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!)

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.

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.

Keeping my streak of one post a month alive!

2010-12-17T16:57:00.000-05:00

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!

2010-11-08T23:03:00.000-05:00

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

2010-10-28T15:31:00.000-04:00

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!

2010-09-25T20:39:00.000-04:00

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.

2010-09-13T21:44:00.000-04:00

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

2010-09-05T17:26:00.001-04:00

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!

2010-08-19T00:17:00.000-04:00

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

2010-08-01T09:35:00.000-04:00

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

2010-07-17T18:36:00.000-04:00

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

2010-07-08T20:54:00.001-04:00

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!!

2010-07-04T00:33:00.000-04:00

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

2010-06-30T09:33:00.000-04:00

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

2010-06-25T22:48:00.000-04:00

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...

2010-06-16T22:57:00.000-04:00

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

2010-06-10T09:43:00.000-04:00

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

2010-06-01T21:02:00.000-04:00

"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...

2010-05-24T14:31:00.000-04:00

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

2010-05-19T22:18:00.000-04:00

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

2010-05-12T18:05:00.002-04:00

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.

2010-05-06T21:26:00.001-04:00

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

2010-04-30T10:21:00.000-04:00

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...

2010-04-25T16:11:00.000-04:00

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

2010-04-17T22:45:00.000-04:00

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

2010-04-15T11:09:00.000-04:00

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.

2010-04-12T16:45:00.000-04:00

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

2010-04-03T21:06:00.000-04:00

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

2010-03-28T11:27:00.000-04:00

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)

2010-03-25T10:14:00.012-04:00

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!

2010-03-23T14:41:00.000-04:00

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.

2010-03-21T21:25:00.000-04:00

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.

2010-03-17T20:42:00.000-04:00

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

2010-03-11T20:51:00.001-05:00

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.

2010-03-06T19:36:00.000-05:00

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

2010-02-28T11:12:00.000-05:00

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.

Not the gifted program

2010-02-24T21:07:00.000-05:00

We own an Australian Cattle Dog. Dogs that are known for their IQ's, if you will. This dog, is an Australian Cattle Dog. Impressive. Smart. Trained.

Our dog? Well, let me put it to you this way. Our back sliding door went off it's track today, and since it's miserable weather I didn't feel like going outside to try to fix it. So I let the dog out the front door. He pees, then goes off for a few minutes to do his thing. I wait. Then I call him. Nothing. Whistle. No dog. I know he hasn't gone off because there's no exit from the back yard, I would have seen him had he tried to take a walk about the neighborhood. So I'm calling and calling. Until something finally occurs to me. I go back inside, upstairs to the sliding door, move the curtain, turn on the deck light, and see - the dog. Looking at me as if I'm the moron.

I had to put my boots and coat on and walk all the way around the house to the back yard, where he's looking down at me from the deck all like, "Hey! are you coming to play with me?" I finally get him to come down the stairs and then he runs ahead, tail all wagging...to the front door.

Let's just say, he's not going to be winning the grand prize on "Pet Star" anytime soon.

A...blog, you say? Hmmm. Sounds vaguely familiar...

2010-02-18T08:46:00.000-05:00

Something about posting one's thoughts and experiences? Checking in on other blogs and leaving comments? It's starting to come back to me....

I don't even have any real excuses, just the usual work, hanging with the kids, watching the Olympics. Really, staying up waaaay too late every night and watching the Olympics. No offense to the lovely Canadians, but your "prime time" is my midnight. I can't keep this up! Also? (And this has nothing to do with Canada) I am seriously over the eight million BMW commercials. That's great that you "sell joy" and all - but apparently I will never be able to afford your "joy," and I'm starting to get an inferiority complex.

Wonderboy is on vacation this week and we were trying to decide what to do since I had the beginning of the week off. We thought about museums or aquariums and figured out that the cost to even get in was going to kill us, nevermind the parking fees, food, gift shops, etc. And then I had the best idea! (If I do say so myself. And I do.) Just two towns over from us are several inexpensive hotel chains on a strip with casual restaurants. Did I mention most of these hotels have a pools? Well, they do. So we went "away" overnight. Kids got to spend tons of time in the pool, we heard about a magic show that was going on in the next town over and went to that. Can I just say - I totally love magic shows. I know it's all sleight of hand, I get it, but I don't care. I'm still completely amazed. Yeah, we still spent more money then we should have. It was worth it. It was something totally different and very fun.

Now, however, I am back at work and facing a big weekend of events. So even though I'm here, I'm probably still not really here yet. I'm going to have to post this and force myself to get back to work as opposed to checking out all of you that I am long overdue in reading. I'm thinking of you though! If that can count just a little bit?

Perfect

2010-02-14T20:25:00.001-05:00

Really. How else would I want to spend Valentine's night? What could be better then a parental and 6yr old and 3yr old all out dance party to this?

Nothing, that's what. Hope yours was just as awesome!

What was that line about "the things that kids say?"

2010-02-07T16:54:00.000-05:00

You know the way kids can be interested in their s.e.x.u.a.l. organs without any knowledge that there is anything inappropriate about it? Because, at this age - there really isn't anything inappropriate about it - they're just kids, figuring themselves out.

So yeah, my 3.5 year old daughter is kind of obsessed with nip.ples. (I don't want to spell out that whole word, for fear of creepy people.)

After her bath several months ago, she pointed to her own and said, "What're these?" I like being honest with the kids about What Things Are Called, so I told her those were her nip.ples. Now, whenever she gets out of the tub and we put her lotion on, she asks me, "Can I put some on my nip.ples?"
"Uuuuh, sure honey." *Please let her outgrow this phase before she hits grade-school.*

Then one morning she was in the bathroom brushing her teeth when I got out of the shower. She looked at me and said, "Wow, Mama. You have biiiiig nip.ples."
I decided not to get into semantics and just said, "Mm-hmm."

To which she replied, "They're humongous!"

Gee honey, that is really quite a vocabulary you are developing.

It's in the blood. Just not my blood.

2010-02-04T21:57:00.001-05:00

Tonight for his bedtime story, Wonderboy requested that we "read" his new Lego catalog. No Napping House, no Giving Tree, no Cut-Ups Carry On, not even any Magic Tree House. Nope. We read the Lego catalog. Which, I have to admit, was pretty damn cool.

I have been around Legos for as long as I can remember. My brother (who goes by Octopunk around here) is a Lego fiend. He was the kid that would get a new Lego set for Christmas and immediately open it up and take the time to put it together while I ripped through my pile of presents. Then, an hour later, I would have no more presents and he would have fifteen. Totally.Not.Fair.

But I would be lying if I said I was not hoping, once I found out I was having a boy, that he would develop his own love of Legos. It's one of those cool things about my brother, his talent with those little plastic pieces, that has always amazed me. I just don't have it. Sure, I can build some random thing. But this? And this? And good lord, THIS? That's the kind of shit my brother does.

So, yes, we have Lego pieces scattered throughout our house. And yes, those things are a bitch to step on in the middle of the night. But the fact that my six year old can talk on the phone with his 42 (whoops!) 41 year old uncle for twenty solid minutes about a new Bionicle he just got? Well, that's alright by me.

This is not a paid endorsement by Lego. I only WISH they did stuff like that!

That's what I get

2010-02-03T20:45:00.000-05:00

After I posted last night the Mr. comes in to the bedroom and says, "So? Where are they?"
"Where are what?" I ask.
"The Cadbury Creme Eggs?"
"Oh. Ummm."
"You ate them ALL?"
"No, I did not eat them ALL. They are in my purse."
"You're hoarding them?!"
"Well...I didn't think you liked them! You can get them.... But there are two left and I want one!"

I really missed that extra Cadbury Creme Egg this afternoon about 2pm. But I'm a giver. When I'm forced into a corner, anyway.

There must be another way!

2010-02-02T19:57:00.001-05:00

Part of my big plan for this year was to work on eating healthier and doing something more active with my body then going up and down the stairs carrying a laundry basket. At some point last year I had purchased a book - The Best Life Diet - by Oprah's guy. I picked it up the other night and started reading. It's interesting, he really wants you to take a more thorough examination of why you eat what you eat, yada, yada, yada and really makes the point that the idea of this is for the rest of your life. All very good things.

Phase One has you not cutting your diet by a great deal, but you do have to give up six foods, soda, eating before bed...and some other stuff. I haven't finished that chapter. But they sounded reasonable. Generally eating better, but not going crazy on the restrictions. Again, sounded like something I could achieve.

I realized the next day as I was grocery shopping with Pixie, I am really going to need to figure out something else. Because when that four pack of Cadbury Creme Eggs called my name. Oh, and they did call to me, I was powerless to resist them. (Total unofficial poll here - yea or nay on the CC Eggs? I feel people either love them or hate them.) Not only was I not able to resist their sweetly sugared call, I surreptitiously ate one on the way home! Managing to maneuver it out of it's cardboard packaging and it's loud crinkly foil with Pixie being none the wiser. (I really wasn't kidding about that Do As I Say thing.)

So what is my something else? Well clearly it's got to be getting off my arse and exercising. If I'm not going to be able to curb the sweet tooth, and let's face it, I don't want to! Then physical labor is where it's at. Of course I have lots of excuses for not doing that to...gym is too expensive, TV is broken (yes, still), it's like the frozen tundra outside. But something has got to give. And I really don't want it to be the button on my pants.

Taking any and all suggestions on what forms of exercise might have worked for people in the past. I know what my dear Serena at Zip-n-Tizzy will say, (she of the yoga-firmed abs) but I'm curious to hear if anyone else has had success with one thing or another.

And now, I'm seriously off to go sit in my bed and watch The Biggest Loser. Does anyone else think that chick on the red team is a total beyotch?

Moments with the Pixie

2010-02-01T21:10:00.003-05:00

(Ms. Picket threw down the gauntlet last week to do 5 posts in 5 days. Just mentioning that because a)She's awesome and you should check her out if you don't know her and b) explaining why I'm posting so damn much this week!)

You know time goes by so fast with the kiddos. You think you are going to remember everything adorable or funny they said, and then a month later you can't recall what you had for breakfast yesterday, nevermind what cute things your kids have been babbling. And that, my friends, was quite a sentence!

So I wanted to record here some of the things the Pixie - in all her 3 and a half-ness - has been saying of late. One of my favorites is "Lellow." As in, "I see a lellow bus!" She doesn't seem to have trouble with other "y" words. But lellow has remained a staple.

Also, there is a street near us that is named "Mount Hope." This has morphed into "Hount Mope." Which I ask her to say about five times in a row because it cracks me up so much.

Then there are the ways in which she suddenly seems so much bigger. Tonight we went to the grocery store. As we were waiting at the light to turn into the parking lot I said, "I like the grocery store." Pixie responded, "I like the grocery store too, Mom." It just sounded like such a big kid sentence.

Also tonight as I was putting her to bed, I had to retrieve her "princess blanket" from downstairs. I turned off the light and said I'd be right back with the blanket. As I'm walking out of the room she says, "Hey, what's the big idea?" And she really stretches out that "ideeeeeeee-uh."

Okay, one more. To the Pixie, everything happened "yesterday." Whether it was her birthday last year or the 4th of July parade or Christmas. All of it happened yesterday. No sense of time whatsoever.

She's a hoot. Her three's have not been nearly the nightmare we experienced with her brother. I really don't want her to grow up. I know that's silly, but she's SO sweet (mostly) right now and all huggy and into Mommy. I want to keep that. So I'm keeping a bit here. So when she's a raging teenage brat I can look back and remember, just like it was yesterday.

Recall!

2010-01-29T22:06:00.001-05:00

Remember when all kinds of stuff started being recalled? I think it started a couple of years ago with children's cold medicine. (And may I say, for the record, that those people who cannot figure out the correct dosage for their children have totally screwed it for the rest of us who just want our kid to get some relief from horrible stuffiness and hacking coughs. Jerks.)

Somehow when all that started I signed up to get email alerts from the government whenever anything gets recalled. That is some interesting shit. Some of it is awful - hello strollers amputating tips of fingers!?! But other ones? As long as no injuries have actually happened, I just have to giggle a little bit. Because it seems that whatever the thing is, it is often being recalled for what it sounds like it is supposed to do. For example, Ammonia is a chemical, correct?

"Ammonia Recalled by OnLine Packaging Due to Chemical Hazard"

Gas Grills - tend to utilize fire to cook things...

"Sagittarius Sporting Goods Recalls Gas Grills Sold at Lowe's Stores Due to Fire and Burn Hazards"

I think anyone using a log splitter would keep in the back of their head to be careful!

"MTD Recalls Log Splitters Due to Amputation Hazard"

And then there are the ones where you really have to ask yourself. Shouldn't someone, somewhere along the line have tested for this?

"The Life is Good Company Travel Mugs Recalled Due to Burn Hazard.
Hazard: The travel mugs can become excessively hot to the touch when filled with hot liquids, posing a burn hazard to consumers."
We're making a travel coffee mug! Hey, do you think we should test how hot it gets when we put something hot in there? Nah...

And this one! Where are the editors!?!
"Home Improvement Books Recalled by Oxmoor House Due to Faulty Wiring Instructions; Shock or Fire Hazard to Consumers
Hazard: The books contain errors in the technical diagrams and wiring instructions that could lead consumers to incorrectly install or repair electrical wiring, posing an electrical shock or fire hazard to consumers."

Let me tell you something else. If I had a buck for every hooded sweatshirt with drawstrings that gets recalled I'd be a freaking millionaire. Why anyone is still making these things is a mystery. In 1996 the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission issued guidelines about drawstrings in sweatshirts and jackets. 1996, people!! Can we get it together already!

So remember, keep your kids away from strollers and hooded sweatshirts and seriously, everything is covered in lead paint. Just get them a cardboard box to play with or something. Let's all be safe out there.

Do as I say....

2010-01-25T20:35:00.001-05:00

You know what's funny? The fact that I ate a molten lava chocolate cake with vanilla ice-cream as my afternoon snack. When I wake up from the sugar coma it will be a brand new week.* That's not my point.

My point is that I would never, ever let my kids eat a molten lava chocolate cake with vanilla ice-cream for an afternoon snack. No, no. They would have something like a banana. Or maybe some raisins. Yogurt with granola. You get the picture. In short, something healthy.

I can't believe I am actually about to write this because I completely hate this phrase - but the fact of it is, I am a garbage gut. (I think it's the word "gut" that really freaks me out about that phrase, that is definitely not one of my favorite words.) Anyhoots. I have a wicked sweet tooth that I indulge pretty regularly. Ditto the salt...tooth? Or whatever words you want to use to describe someone who would eat half a bag of chips in one sitting. Yeah, that's me. (And, yes - believe me, I light a candle to the metabolism gods every day I do something ridiculous like have a molten lava chocolate cake with vanilla ice-cream for an afternoon snack. So far they have been treating me kindly.)

But my kids? I'll be darned if I'm going to let them eat like I do. (At least not until they are old enough to live on their own and buy their own food.) I see and read about the obesity epidemic that is affecting the youth of today. I get it. Also - I do eat healthy things too. I love fruits and vegetables - I just don't eat them as often as I should.

I just find it interesting, it's like another secret you are let in on when you become a parent. How to sneak money under the pillow while extracting a tooth without waking them up. How to give "the look" that will stop any and all whining (at least momentarily.) And how to stealthily eat cookies for breakfast while giving your kids oatmeal. Awesome.

I know, I know. My eating habits do suck. One of my goals this year was to try to do better about that. I did not achieve that goal today.

But I did have an amazingly yummy afternoon snack.

*Quote from Roseanne Barr - when she was funny.

I'd like to thank the Hollywood Foreign Press...

2010-01-19T23:16:00.000-05:00

When my sister and I realized on this past Saturday that we wouldn't be able to watch the Golden Globes together on Sunday we hatched a plot for her to "DVR" them and we would get together tonight and watch them, cleverly being able to fast forward through the commercials and boring bits. We are so wikked smaht. Also, we got a chance to eat fattening food and drink wine. Two bottles worth no less! (So if this appears a bit smudgy....well, I'm drunk.) (Tee-hee.)

It occurred to me as I was driving home... (Oh, maybe I should amend that "I'm drunk" bit since I then drove home....eh. She lives, like, two minutes from me...) So. It occurred to me tonight, while listening to all the Thank You speeches of the all and mighty powerful Hollywood elite, that I'd like to make my own thank you speech. I mean, how often do we, the huddled (non-famous) masses get to really say thank you to those in our lives that have made a difference? Maybe it's just me, but I'm not really getting a lot of opportunities on a televised scale to let the world know who has made me, well, me.

So. Without further ado, I would like to recognize the following people. Without which, I wouldn't be the woman I am today...

First off - my Dad. A greater man has never lived as far as I'm concerned. Oh, sure - he has his faults. A bit broad in calling other people "Horse's asses", but truly, a person this world is the better for because of his living in it.

My Mom. I know we were together much too short a time. But through my memories, and the memories of Dad and your sisters...I know you. I miss you. I hope you are proud of me.

To TNC (my stepmom - though she lost that title long ago). A woman who helped me to live again after my Mom died. A person who is - and she'll know how important this is - a good egg.

My siblings. Thank you for steering me right and showing me when I was wrong. To the girls - you have shown me the joy of having sisters in every sense of the word. To my brothers - you've shown me what it looks like to be there - for your sisters and as the wonderful husbands and fathers you have all become.

The Mr. What can I say? You have shown me the true meaning of partnership. We've had ups and downs - but I can't imagine my life without you. And I don't want to. We have two amazing, wonderful kids. I can't wait to see what the rest of the years together hold for us.

To the many amazing teachers I've had. You are part of the reason I feel I am capable of being out here and writing what I feel. I know Mr. Roland would be lamenting over my grammer...but I will never forget what you taught me. I thank you for giving your time.

And to you. My blogosphere friends. To those of you who knew me under a different header and stayed with me and supported me by still being with me when I had to start anew. In its way, it was one of the harder things I've had to do in the past couple of years. Give up that recognition and become anonymous. You have no idea how much I value your continued presence.

Uh-oh...they're playing me off....those bastards with their violins. I'd also like to thank my musical directors: Simon LeBon, Robert Smith, Michael Stipe....um, that guy from Depeche Mode...Sinead O'Conner...

Oh, damn. They've gone to commercial.

The eyes have it

2010-01-14T21:16:00.003-05:00

Isn't it about time in our all scienced up, medical world for poor vision to go the way of the dodo bird? I mean seriously. Shouldn't we be able to fix this stuff from birth by now of something?

I have worn glasses since the fourth grade. I got my Mom's crappy genes in the eye department. (Sorry for the harshness there, but she would totally agree with me.) When you're a kid and your eyes start to go you squint a lot and think that's going to solve the problem until some well meaning teacher asks you if you can see the board and the next thing you know you're being called "four eyes." And really, why is that such an insult?

When I was in high school I had glasses that were almost as big as my entire face. I look at pictures now and cannot believe no one told me I looked like George Romero and for god's sake to buy some smaller frames.

Hello there, aren't I cute?

I finally got contacts in college and have never looked back. I just prefer to wear them then my glasses. (No, I don't have the Romero frames anymore.) But then about three months ago my right eye started to be a little blurry. I wear disposable lenses, so figured it was time to put a new lense in. Except that didn't help. Then I noticed it was blurry even when I was wearing my glasses so I went to the eye doctor, expecting them to give me a new prescription and send me on my way.

But, no. Apparently, my eyes aren't being "contoured" enough in the soft lenses and I need to use something harder. As in, hard lenses. Now for those of you who have never experienced any kind of poor eyesight, you can probably not relate - so let me try to describe it this way. Imagine a big piece of glass sitting on top of you eyeball. Got it? Okay, good. My doctor puts a lense on to "give it a try" and I'm telling you, I actually got a little sick to my stomach. I told him I couldn't do it and he said, Well that's okay because there are new hybrid lenses that are hard in the middle, but soft around the edges! We try some. I can deal.

My lenses came in this week. I go to get them and be sure that everything is a go. They are a little uncomfortable, but definitely something I can get used to. And I can see! Crisp and clear for the first time in several months. Happy sigh. Except when I go to check out and find out they are $400 f*cking dollars A PAIR! Oh, and? They are only good for six months. GAH! $800 frigging dollars a year - plus the cost of the stupid saline solution!!!! What a racket.

I am SO looking into lasik surgery. You know, so they can take more of my money.

We're like pioneers!

2010-01-10T14:40:00.000-05:00

So, our big TV broke. It actually broke I think almost two months ago now. (I have no concept of time anymore, I swear to god 2003 was like, yesterday.) The part we need to fix it was not going to happen right before Christmas, and since we are still trying to dig out from the bacchanalia, it's not happening anytime soon that I can tell. (Before I get any further I should mention that we are not TV-less. We do have a small one in our bedroom. And we also have a portable DVD player, so we're not talking crazy here. And I guess we're not really talking pioneer-land, but it sounded good.)

However, the lack of the giant, pulsing box has not been the tragedy that I first expected. True, my daughter has become obsessed with Road Runner. Seriously. I don't know how that DVD ended up in the player but she asks for it every day. While my brother and his family were here over the holidays he commented that the Road Runner "soundtrack" was an interesting background to the general chaos. Wonderboy's TV consumption has also gone way down. He sometimes sneaks in a show in the morning in our room, or after dinner before bed, but since he has to be off in the bedroom by himself, it often doesn't last long. He likes to be in the middle of things making noise too much to stay secluded!

Another nice thing about it is that I've taken to hanging out on the couch and reading while the Pixie gets her Road Runner fix in. I love, love, love to read. However, it's often the thing the goes by the wayside when time gets tight. I don't read anything that taxes my brain too much. It's not that I don't think I would enjoy a "classic" now and then. But I prefer to delve into something....well, a little more fun. I also got a bookstore gift card for Christmas (best gift evah!) so I have some new books. (One of which is a parenting book - I'll let you know how that turns out.) I just finished one of those new books and I'm throwing it out here because I really enjoyed it. It's called "Water for Elephants" by Sara Gruen. Really great.

Thinking about how much I liked this book got me to thinking about how much I would like to pass it on to someone else. That led me to wondering if I could start an on-line book swap. I'm always looking for new books to read, what if others are as well? It can't cost that much to ship one book somewhere, right? Crazy? Cool? I don't know. But if anyone wants, I'll send my copy of this book out to the first person to email me. If you want to send something in return, great. If not, that's okay too.

I guess it's not so bad being down to one small tv. I mean, not forever - let's not get irrational. But for now? I'll take it.

Ring a ding ding

2010-01-06T12:29:00.000-05:00

First New Year's resolution blown. Actually, I didn't realize it was a resolution, but hindsight and all...

Avoid head trauma. Although now that I have experienced head trauma, maybe I'm free and clear for the year? Fingers crossed and all?

You know how at some point in a Tom and Jerry cartoon Tom is going to step on the prongs of a rake and it's going to send the handle of said rake flying into his head? I sort of had one of those moments at work the other night. Except it wasn't a rake, it was a huge industrial sized fan. I inadvertently stepped on the base of the fan which was all wonky and the big metal mechanism part of the fan on the back crashed into my forehead. Stars are so pretty.

Luckily there was still someone else in the building, (we were in the process of locking up so this isn't often the case.) I came out of the kitchen holding my head (which thankfully was not bleeding) and said, "I just really hurt myself." Jim took one look at my head and almost fainted himself. Huge, red welt from the top of my hairline to right above my eyebrow. Off we go to the walk in clinic, bag of ice to my head. Sigh. Happy F-ing New Year.

But, no fracture and no concussion. Just a big ole egg and what is turning into a lovely black eye. So I'm all set with bodily injury 2010, okay? Let's just cross that one off the list and move forward. And away from heavy objects.

It's time

2009-12-31T08:56:00.000-05:00

I'm ready. Ready to shake the dust of this year off my heels. Ready to ~~maybe~~ ~~hopefully~~ definitely make some changes. I've never really been one to do the whole "New Year's Resolution" thing. At least not seriously. And that's not what I'm doing now. But I feel a bit like I'm standing on the edge. The edge of a line where I look behind me and see...well, mostly good things. There are a lot of bumps - some were unavoidable, most were human error - I know those will still happen, I'm not naiive. I also know however, that some things truly need to change if we want to be better. I was going to write "happier" there - but that's not the right word. We are mostly happy now.

When I look forward from the edge on which I stand I see...possibility. I also see an uphill battle. It won't be easy to change. It never is. But I'm at a point in my life where I feel like I have to do something. In six months I will be 39. I've always known it would be a momentous year in my life. It was the last year of life for my Mom. She never made it to her fortieth birthday. It's something of a talisman to me. As I've gotten closer and closer to that mark I've begun to realize that if I want things to be better I need to make them better. No one is going to come along and hand me a sack of dreams fulfilled.

Will I fail and fall down and (as Vodka Mom is wont to say) f*ck up every day? Of course. No question about that, really. But I want better. I'm ready for better. I'm ready to open my eyes, take a deep breath, and step from the edge.

Take a break

2009-12-21T11:31:00.001-05:00

Like many, things are a bit hectic and crazy for me right now. Trying to get everything accomplished on my long list (that doesn't seem to be getting any shorter, by the way) is keeping me up at night. I have been neglecting this blog and feel like I should have half a dozen posts stored up in my brain, but for some reason every time I sit down to try to write something I come up empty. So instead of putting something half assed together (which would be ~~totally something I would do~~ so unlike me), I thought I'd provide a little break from the "stress" everyone talks about. I've been addicted to the soundtrack to the Blues Brothers for about a year now. It is my go-to music when I need a lift. I hope you enjoy the following. I dare you to listen and not start tapping your feet. Merry, Merry!

We're thinking retirement

2009-12-10T08:49:00.000-05:00

So here's the thing. You know how vampires are all wicked popular now, right? Not popular like in my day, when Anne Rice was the coolest vampire thing going and you had to slog through pages and pages of teeny tiny print describing ancient New Orleans. Not to knock Anne Rice. I loved those books. And dreamed of somehow becoming a vampire before any of this Team Edward-Team Jacob malarky.

My real point here (which is actually not to sound like a high minded octegenarian), is that I think we may have hit the lottery. I'm pretty sure the Pixie is on her way to vampirism. (Is that a word?) My evidence:

Exhibit A: Girlfriend is a night owl. We put her to bed at a normal time, usually 7:30 to 8. She will stay in her crib (um, yeah. She's 3.5 and still in her crib. What of it?) and talk to herself or her animals, "read" books and generally hang out until late. I'm talking ten o'clock late! The other night I was reading in the living room and I hear her singing to herself. I get up and look at the clock, 9:45. I go closer to listen to what she is singing and really got a laugh. "Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg..." Hilarious.
She also hates getting up in the morning. That might be because she isn't going to bed until I do, but it is not unusual for her to sleep until 10 to 10:30 even!

Exhibit B: Now I know this picture is kind of grainy because I had to blow it up - but check out these teeth!

I mean seriously! I think I could rest my case on those babies alone! (She's either headed to vampirism or beaverism...oh, I'm kidding.)

I will give you that she does reflect in mirrors and she can go out in the sun and all - without sparkling. But surely vampires have figured out how to get past that problem by now, right? Maybe if I'd actually read those Twilight books I might have learned that secret. Regardless of all that - don't you think this is a golden opportunity? I think I should write to Hollywood and send a picture of those teeth along. We could be set for life!

Land of the Living

2009-12-03T09:58:00.000-05:00

omigod, I'm like, finally alive! The day after I got home from the FL trip - November 18th to be exact - I started getting sick. I was sick all through that weekend, fever and all. That broke on the following Monday, so I thought I was on the mend. Uh, wrong. I thought it was some cold/flu type thing and that I just had to man up and get through it. Finally, after a week and a half of congestion and coughing and miserableness, the Mr. insisted I go to the doctor. Don't get me wrong, I am not one of those people who steer clear of doctors - I just thought they were going to tell me it was viral and there was nothing to do about it.

So I finally go. Only to find out I have double ear infections (what am I, six months old?) and a sinus infection. Nice. But here we are, five days and a Z-pack later and I finally remember what it feels like to feel good! Hooray for antibiotics and cough medicine with codeine!

Of course now I have to face the world and do things like laundry and apparently the people who pay me expect me to do some kind of work or something. Phht. Like I have time for that. So I'm way late on catching up on things like emails and blogs and starting to panic about Christmas, etc, etc. Good times.

At least I'm healthy! And let me tell you, I can really appreciate that now. So be sure to get your rest out there, and drink plenty of water and shit like that. Because you don't want to be sick this time of year, it sucks.

Promise to be back to full participation soon, especially since I need confirmation that the Pixie is in fact, a vampire.

It's like an epiphany. A sucky one.

2009-11-24T15:31:00.001-05:00

As some of you may recall from some writing I did before - and for those of you who were not around then - I will start by saying: I'm a slob. Although I absolutely hate that word. It just sounds so...so...slovenly. Okay, sorry - I'm not making sense. Let's start again.

I have never been neat. There, that's better. My room as a kid was always layer upon layer of crap. Clothes, toys, games, Barbie clothes, etc. You get the idea. As an adult, I am sorry to say, I am not much better. Slightly, perhaps. I do have my fits and spurts of cleanliness. It does get to a point where even I cannot take it. Today, for example. I have the day off - childless. Ah, the freedom to Get Things Done. I came home from dropping the Pixie at daycare and started right off and cleaned my car. That was a really good feeling. Very proof positive of a job well done kind of thing.

Then I decided to tackle the Wonderboy's room. Here is where the epiphany part comes in. Oh.My.God. My kid is just like me. I started in the closet pulling out all the accumulated crap. Stuff that hasn't seen the light of day in months? Donate pile. (And one that will be boxed up and in the car before he ever sees it.) Cheap, horrible McDonald's toys? Garbage. I cut a swath. Next to the shelves! Taking everything off so I could dust(!) and put things neatly back.

Okay. Now I'm onto the toy box. *shudder* On a side note. Wonderboy is big on Legos. His uncle, my brother, is a Lego genius (seriously, he was once a finalist for one of their jobs at Legoland.) So I was kind of psyched when WB showed an interest in Legos. They're cool and I dig the family history thing. But holy shit, the Legos!!! EVERYWHERE. I had started by using quart containers for them and eventually just dragged out a big bin and started throwing them all in there.

People. I have been at this freaking room for almost three hours. Then I lift up the bed skirt and find out just exactly how much like me this little punk is. Here is proof of all the stuff I pulled out from under his bed. From the last time he "cleaned his room."

I thought that whole thing about "When you grow up, I hope you have a kid just like you!" was for when they were teenagers? I am f*cking doomed.

How come no one asks you what you want to be when you grow up when you're a grown up?

2009-11-19T15:23:00.000-05:00

I envy those people that knew from the time they went to college - or before - what they wanted to do with their lives as far as a career. And then went out and made those careers happen. Me? I thought for years I wanted to be a teacher. My parents were teachers, aunts, cousins - it was in our blood. I went to school and majored in education to be a high school English teacher. Second semester of senior year I was in a classroom. In a classroom going, "Holy shit, I don't think this is for me."

And so, all these many years later I have a job in an industry that I never expected. It's okay and all. It takes a special kind of crazy to work in any aspect of hospitality. But the benefits suck. Like big-time. The hours can also suck. We work weekends which has luckily been okay so far, less daycare for the Pixie = less money going out in that direction. However, in two years she is going to be in school like the Wonderboy. Their lives will be Monday through Friday. Weekends are for things like sports, playdates, birthday parties.

What I'm getting at here is that I need to figure out what the hell I'm doing career-wise. Good time to be thinking about this, right? Economy is totally tanked - let's go find a new job! The other part of it is, the avenues that I am thinking of pursuing will require me to go back to school. Which means paying for school. It's such a vicious cycle. Can't quit work to go to school full-time. Can barely pay for anything at the moment, so let's add some educational debt into the mix! Plus, did I mention how much I hate change? A lot. Frightens me down to my littlest toe.

But it's time to face facts. Health insurance is kicking our ass. Can't get it through either job so we go private and it's a fortune. My kids are young, we have a good amount of time before they get to college. I'm not *ahem* that old. If I'm looking at 25 or more years of work, I'd like it to be doing something I truly enjoy. I just wish I could figure out what that is. I have some ideas - full on career change kind of things. Scary. The thought of starting over - scary. The thought that I'd still be sitting at the same desk in another twenty years? Even scarier.

Any advice?

I have not joined a cult

2009-11-16T16:56:00.000-05:00

In case you were worried. Have been in Florida since Thursday night. Some bumps in the yearly sisters trip this year. All is well and we will be home tomorrow. I'm sure it will take me awhile to catch up with everyone!

One of the reasons I would miss New England

2009-11-09T09:09:00.001-05:00

Autumn. Or Fall, if you prefer. I know some people don't like this time of year since it's the beginning of the end as far as seasons go. (And New England winters are definitely a reason I would not miss New England.) But how could you not be blown away by these colors?

Seriously. And check out this crazy tree that I am totally fascinated by

Isn't that just amazingly cool? Happy Fall! Let's remember to enjoy it before everything becomes covered in ice and snow.

Taxi!

2009-11-05T09:51:00.001-05:00

Holly Golightly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?
Paul Varjak:The mean reds, you mean like the blues?
Holly Golightly: No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?
Paul Varjak: Sure.
Holly Golightly:Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!

Kind of tough for me to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. But man, I've been fighting the mean reds for a couple of days now. I wasn't going to write about it. Considering how I was kind of whiny in my last post. I don't want the few of you who come here to start thinking I'm Debbie Downer all the time. But part of the reason I started blogging was to get some of the stuff that rolls around my head OUT of my head, so there you have it. You can veer off now if you'd like, my feelings won't be hurt. And I'm sure I'll come up with something more uplifting soon, just not today.

It started the other night. Which was a perfectly normal night, hanging out with the kids and the Mr. Doing the dishes, watching the general craziness. Wonderboy brings over the binder that has all the letters my Mom wrote to my Aunt (the one I just mentioned in the Halloween post.) Anyway, there are some pictures in the back that he was showing me - I don't know why he pulled it off the bookshelf. The pictures are in the back of the book and I turned and started reading the last letter. My Mom was writing about my brother and me - ages 15 and 11, respectively. About my pre-teen drama and my brother learning to drive, about possible trips we were going to take that summer. And then it hit me. I flipped the page forward and looked at the date at the top of the page. Early February, 1983. She never made it to the end of February. Never saw me and my brother hit ages 12 and 16. We never went on those trips.

I don't often get maudlin or depressed (anymore) about Mom's sudden death. I try to remember, with my Dad and brother and her sisters, the wonderful person she was. The creative, funny, smart woman. But sometimes it just comes out of left field. The hurt and anger. The taking your breath away unfairness of it all. When that hits it's hard not to just curl up in a ball and hide under the covers. For the past couple of days I have been hiding behind the pages of a trashy novel - uninspired to do much of anything. But that isn't a way, or a reasonable way with two young kids a job and a husband, to be.

I recently listened to a recording of Joan Didion's book "The Year of Magical Thinking". I decided to try the book on CD thing and oddly, because I prefer the trashy novels, picked this out. It is the true story of the impact and aftermath of a sudden death. In this case, the author's husband. The subject matter is heavy, yes, but it isn't unbearable and Didion's examinations and thoughts on the aftermath are very interesting. It is a book I would recommend to anyone.

Maybe reading this so recently is part of what triggered my emotions. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe I just missed my Mom.

Since I can't combat the mean reds by a trip to Tiffany's to window shop while eating a danish, I will continue to try to shake them off the best way I know how. By keeping my brain busy with the day to day stuff, and more importantly, by hugging the Mr, Wonderboy and the Pixie very, very tightly. And never letting a day go by without telling them how much I love them.

Bah Humbug.

2009-10-31T15:44:00.000-04:00

When I was a kid I once told my Mom that Halloween was my favorite holiday because it had my two favorite things: Dressing Up and Candy. That is pretty much still true today. I don't go crazy with decorations or dressing up myself - although if invited to a party I would totally want to get a really cool costume. Which I wouldn't be able to afford. Anyhoots. I sort of live vicariously through the kids now. Carving pumpkins and getting them fun costumes makes me happy. I'm not creative though - so we do store bought, but they can be fun too!

I can remember my Mom making me costumes as a kid. The year I really remember though was when I was in 4th grade. Someone had given my Mother a couple of old prom dresses, very lacy and full. My friend Jessica and I got all decked out in them and thought we had the best costumes ever. Years later, after Mom had passed away, my Aunt R collected together a bunch of letters my Mom had written her over the years. In one she mentioned that Halloween and laughingly wrote how Jessica and I were going as "Ladies of the Night!" That cracked me up.

But this year, I do not like Halloween. Because, you see, both my husband and I work on weekends. And this particular Saturday, we both have to work late. So all these people who are psyched because it's Saturday and then can have fun parties all day and build up to going out trick-r-treating and yada, yada, yada can go suck it. My In-Laws are taking our kids trick-r-treating. (Which I'm extremely grateful for - don't get me wrong.) But it's not me. And that sucks. I'm trying to get myself out of the funk and remember it's only ONE year. But I'm not there. And that sucks. So I'm a bit of a Scrooge today.

Here is a picture of my front steps as I left the house this morning at 9am.

Considering how lame our neighborhood is, most or all of that candy will probably still be there when I finally get home with the kids at 9pm. Which is the only silver lining I got going right now. *sigh*

BUT - Halloween is still great, and I do hope all of you get to enjoy the day and night! Be safe and have fun!

I Did It

2009-10-27T13:04:00.001-04:00

But I would have totally chickened out if Susan from Trout Towers hadn't yelled at me. About two weeks ago while I was over reading Brittany, she linked to another blog she is a part of, Aiming Low. They were having a party. A blogger party. (Sponsored by HP no less.) And it was in Boston, on the 26th. I paused. Boston? I could do Boston. No plane fare, no hotel bill. Sure, a bit of a drive - but nothing crazy. I RSVP'd. Then I panicked. I dropped a note to Susan asking her if she wanted to come along. She said yes! I relaxed slightly.

Sunday afternoon I emailed Susan basically saying I was completely willing to wimp out on the whole thing. Because, you see, going to something where I don't know people and have to introduce myself and make small talk? Pretty much my version of hell. Luckily, Susan wasn't having it. She promptly responded saying, "WHAT? YOU ARE GOING!"

So yesterday after work I found myself driving to Boston for a blog event. And to my credit I only once thought, "What the hell am I doing?" I got there fine and eventually found my way up to the ballroom where the event was being held. I signed in and quickly went to get a drink. OPEN BAR, people! These girls know how to do things right. The food was also really good. I actually introduced myself to a few people - all of whom were very nice. Then Susan got there and I was really able to relax.

And she totally looks like that woman in her avatar. I'm serious. Susan's husband Chris and friend Jacob were along for the ~~free food~~ interesting event, so we all hung out and got to know each other better. Which is kind of funny since really, we know so much about each other's lives already. There were some great give-aways from HP and Staples. None of which I won, but Susan got some fly binders from Staples. We also got to print a bunch of pictures on the variety of HP printers that were stationed around. So that was fun.

Then Brittany came and sat with us! (And not to sound to pathetically stalkerish, but that was really cool.) No, I don't have photographic evidence of this, but you can picture it like this:

We talked blogs for awhile and by then it was 10:30 and the night was wrapping up. I still can't believe I went. Completely out of the box for me. And I'm so glad I went! Sure it was fun to print pictures using other people's ink and photo paper, but the best part was getting to meet some people that I really admire face to face. Thanks again, Susan for not letting me chicken out! (And thanks to Aiming Low for making it happen!)

Conversations with the Wonderboy

2009-10-20T21:00:00.000-04:00

This past Saturday I had to stay at work late and our sitter had to work in the evening so she ended up dropping the kids at my work at 5pm for them to hang out until I was finished. Luckily, not only is this okay with the powers that be, my kids are also pretty used to hanging out there. They were incredibly good. Especially considering we didn't get out of there until 7pm. By the time we were rolling out, the evening wedding's cocktail reception was in full swing. That is not something the kids are used to since when I do have to bring them with me it's usually midweek and daytime.

As we started on the drive home I mentioned to the Wonderboy if he liked getting a chance to see all the people enjoying themselves - since it's usually so quiet when he's been there. And if I had know where that was going to lead, I probably would have just turned up the radio.

Me: "So, that was cool, huh? Seeing all those people at the wedding? Now you know what it's like when it's really busy."
WB: "Yeah! Why can't you marry your sister again?"
Me: "......Um. It's against the law."
WB: "But why?"
Me: "......" In my head I am trying to figure out how I can talk about genetics and blood relations and birth defects with a six year old and then - oh, that would mean talking about where babies come from and....
"It's against the law."

WB: "Well, I'm going to marry Elizabeth." (Girl in his grade he has liked for the past two years)
Me: "You have lots of time to decide who you are going to marry."
WB: " I HAVE decided already."
Me: "Well you can't GET married for a long time."
WB: "I know that Mama. Wouldn't it be cool, if you were still working where you work now, I could get married there!"
Me: "Yeah, honey. That would be neat." (Please kill me if I am still working there in 20 years!!)
WB: "I would be really proud, to get married there, where you work."
Me: "Aw, that's nice hon."
WB: " And then, I could come back to your office and visit you!"
Me: ".....Um, I think I would probably be at the wedding, Sweetie. I probably wouldn't be working..."
WB: "Oh. Yeah, I guess so."

Love you too, kiddo.

Bright lights, Big....food

2009-10-15T08:43:00.000-04:00

I love grocery stores. Ever since I was a kid going to the local Almacs with my Mom, I have been drawn to them. I vividly remember that Almacs too. The first aisle had all the canned goods on the left. Slanted shelves so the cans could be loaded from the back and move up when one was taken from the front. Making that sshhh-klank! sound as they all rolled forward.

I always wanted to go when shopping day rolled around. Even for the little in-between trips. I would actually get upset as a kid if one of my parents went without me. Once I learned to drive - although I didn't do the Big Shop - I could be relied upon for the quick trips. When I was in college my dorm was two blocks away from a Star Market. Sometimes I would go and just walk around the aisles. Not a dime in my pocket, just window shopping at the grocery store. I would inevitably feel cheered up when I left.

I can't explain the love, exactly. I mean, I do love food - but it's more than that. Grocery stores are always bright. They are orderly and clean. For the most part, the people are friendly. And you can find some interesting things on those shelves. There's just something about crossing items off my list as I wander the aisles that satisfies me. Looking at rows of colored fruit and vegetables appeals to me. Seeing a good deal on a frequent purchase gives me a little joy bubble. (Okay, that's kind of embarrassing to admit, but I'm leaving it in here.)

Has some of the happiness effect of grocery stores worn off over the years? Well, I wouldn't be honest if I didn't make note of the fact that it's not as much fun with one, or two whining kids in tow. And it was definitely better when it was my parents paying for it all! But overall, I still love going. Want me to pick anything up for you?

Success!

2009-10-07T10:58:00.000-04:00

You know what's awesome? Well, I'll tell you. What is awesome is pulling off an amazingly epic surprise birthday party. It's especially excellent when the party is for your (and I say this with love) very Type A personality sister who is *ahem* the one who usually calls the shots.

For the past six weeks my younger sister, Step-Mom and myself have been scheming and wheeling and dealing in order to make this happen. I practically felt like I was planning a wedding! Not only do you have the usual party plans: tables, chairs, linens, flowers, cake, food - you also have the added pressure of the secrecy of everything.

Because it had to be great. This was a milestone birthday for Type A, the big four-oh, so we really wanted to do it in style. Once the plans were set in motion that both my parents would come up from Florida, they furthered the craziness by flying my two brothers in from across the country. Oh, yeah. We figured, even if she did suspect there was some kind of party or event happening - having the far-off brothers appear would never enter her mind.

Turns out the toughest part was getting her OVER to my house where we were all waiting! I will say one thing - I don't think it's good for my blood pressure to plan too many of these things. As the time neared, every car that came around the bend of our road was a sign for me to yell, "Quiet! they're coming!" Only to turn out not to be them. Like three times. FINALLY, they arrived.

And as the surprisee later said, "I almost had a heart attack!" We got her SO GOOD! Man, that is satisfying. Almost worth all the stress before hand. She freaked and flipped out at seeing everyone and generally felt as special as she should. Because she deserved every minute of it, being the awesome person that she is. Type A and all.

It was, in her words, "Off the charts." And I really couldn't have asked for more then that. Of course, I think we were all a little sorry the next day when "off the charts" became "epically hung-over". To say I was useless at work is the understatement of the year! But what the hey, it only happens once. Boy, did we make the most of it!

(Which is also part of the reason I haven't been around much this past week, looking forward to catching up with everyone!)

Music...makes the people....come together

2009-09-29T18:53:00.000-04:00

You all know your Madonna, right?

The Mr. and I had the good fortune to see U2 recently. They were on my list of Bands To See In Concert and, although I wish I could have seen them in the Achtung Baby glory years, they still put on an amazing show. While we were waiting to see them the discussion turned to what other bands are on The List and which ones we've already crossed off.

The Cure was a big one for me for many years. I finally saw them in college on what was supposed to be there "final tour." Notice how lots of bands have like, sixteen "final tours"? Kind of annoying. Anyway, I was psyched to see them and they put on a great show. Because they are awesome. Awesome.

One of the others that I was able to cross off my list in 2004 was Madonna. Hey - I am an 80's girl, I love me some Madonna. It was the Re-Invention World tour. My girlfriend and I had called and got a bunch of tickets because there was a group of us that were going. There was also a limo company that was trying to get on our Preferred Vendor List where I work and they had agreed to give us a limo - for free - for the drive up to the show. Holla! So off we went in grand style. When we got to the show we split up the tickets and went in - we were not seated together. When the check in lady scans the tix, they won't read so she sends us over to the window. The lady there proceeds to look at our tickets and tell us, "These are for tomorrow night's show." D'OH! Then as we all stood there with our mouths open, she flips through a stack of tickets and says, "here you go, the show's not sold out so I can exchange them." Okay, we can move again. We then proceed to like the best freaking seats EVER! I mean, I could see Madonna's muscle definition. I felt kind of bad after the show though when the other crew described their seats as being, "Three rows from the back wall." Sorry again about that ladies!

The first concert I went to was the Moody Blues. What? My parents had like, the entire Moody Blues collection. Someone at work gave my Dad the tickets and it was after Mom had died so he told my brother and I that we could go. I was stoked! The Fixx opened for them. They were okay, but man - I loved the Moody Blues. Yes, I'm a geek. I'm also a good wife. Because I went to see KISS with the Mr. and that is SO not my cup of tea. But he came with me to see Alanis Morrisette and Tori Amos (or the Angry Women Tour as he likes to call it), so he gets props for that.

Any concert stories you want to share? Who is on your must-see list? Who have you been able to cross off that list? I'm curious.

Just because you're right, Al Gore, it doesn't mean I have to like it.

2009-09-25T08:41:00.000-04:00

Enough with this fooking weird weather already!!! I give you 2009: crappy, never-ending winter which led into a rain soaked spring which led into The Summer That Never Happened. Until it did happen - at the end of August and into September. Dressing the kids is a nightmare. Shorts and t-shirts or pants and t-shirts? Shorts and long sleeve shirt? T-shirt and sweatshirt? Sandals? Sneakers? GAH!

I know I shouldn't be complaining. At least we did get some nice weather finally. And who doesn't love 75 degrees and sunny? Even if it is on September 24th. Thing is, I love the seasons of New England. Well, I don't love winter other then that first snowfall and during the holidays. But all in all, the transition into Spring, with all the little green things poking out of the ground makes me so happy. When the Summer heat rolls in, with it's long days? I'm in love. The crispness of an Autumn day, kicking through leaves on the sidewalk is perfection. Being at home with a fire in the fireplace while snow softly falls outside? Is the only time I like Winter. But three out of four ain't bad!

What I don't like is the weather messing with my head. Never mind it messing with people's lives. (See this post from Carolyn...Online who describes it best.) I admit to being a little freaked out by the changes in Mother Nature's script over the past few years. It will be interesting to see if we humans can actually make a positive impact on the Earth, as we've kind of been screwing it up for some time now.

All I know is, whatever little tan I had is long faded and I'm ready to cover up my pasty legs with some tights and boots. I know it's slowly coming - Fall, that is. It's creeping in around the edges like this:

A random branch of red in a sea of green. I'm ready. As long as it isn't two weeks of Autumn followed by an early snowstorm that starts a wretched winter. If that happens all bets are off and we're moving to Florida.

On the Inside

2009-09-18T20:37:00.003-04:00

I never saw the movie, "The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind", but I find the concept intriguing. Erasing part of your mind.

Let's take a journey inside my head. Hmmm. This lovely desk holds my education - much of it learned outside of any "hallowed halls of higher learning". You'll notice the English drawer is a pretty big one - at least compared to the Mathematics folder tucked into the back corner over there. There's some Science in there, but I'm pretty sure History has been reduced to a few crumpled pages.

These pretty boxes house the memories of my youth. Some that are wonderful - some not so great. But all a part of who I am today. A lot of them have become faded pictures as the years have gone by. I wish I could remember more.

That giant armoire in the corner is full of totally useless stuff about celebrities and a LOT of song lyrics from the 80's and 90's. That's a fun place to hang out now and again.

There's a whole room over there dedicated to parenting. The memories of the kids as babies, seems so long ago! The funny thing's that they have said - although it's really best for me to write those down as we can already see the memory room gets hazier and hazier with everything I'm trying to cram in there. So yeah, parenting stuff. School schedules, phone numbers for playdates, that nagging feeling that I've forgotten to do something for someone.

Oh, that's the work wing over there. Best to stay away from that whole area right now.

What's that? Well, I try not to go out into that lake too often. Unfortunately, things have a way of escaping from the depths. Those are the memories of the past that I should let go of. The things I can't change now, so really whats the point of dredging them back up again? Except I can't seem to stop myself. Replaying and replaying. Thinking of all the best things to say and do, in hindsight of course. This is the place I'd erase if I had the power. Although I wouldn't want to lose the lessons, so not sure how that would work. Since it's usually the stupid stuff you really learn from, and hell - I already obsess too much about this shit - I don't want to have to go through it again.

Guess I'll have to learn to live with it. Hopefully I can at least try harder to focus on the present and the future, which I have some control over, as opposed to the past. Still, I think I'll go hang out in my comfy chair by the big armoire. I'm feeling the need for some mindless gossip and Duran Duran.

I got yelled at by an old man from Florida

2009-09-11T08:00:00.000-04:00

(Which was not my Dad. Ooooo, SNAP!) Sorry, Dad - couldn't resist.

And the point was...? Oh yeah. So I'm coming home from work the other day and I am at a point in the road where two lanes go down to one. You know, a merge. I think most people know that the general "rules of a merge" work out to be that every other car kind of works it's way in until you're all in one happy line. Well. The guy to the right of me was apparently not familiar with, or just didn't care about, said rules. He is practically in the back seat of the car ahead of him he is so tight to their bumper. So when I realize he is not going to let me in, I turn and look out my window to kind of give the, "What the heck?" glance. My window was halfway down and his was all the way down and he proceeded to yell, "Learn how to drive!" (He may or may not have sworn at me, I couldn't be sure.) He pulls up past me and I notice his license plate. Florida. An old man from Florida with poor merging skills just told ME to learn how to drive. Nice.

Thing is, I am a pretty damn good driver. (The Mr's eyebrows just may have raised a fraction of an inch.) But it's true. Yes, I have a bit of a heavy foot at times, I can admit that. All in all, however, I know the rules of the road and I follow them. Okay! Yes, I pass on the right occasionally - I'm not claiming to be a perfect driver. I just don't do all the stupid shit everybody else seems to do. Now I do live in New England, and we have *ahem* something of a reputation as crappy drivers. And I'm here to tell you, it's true. People here do not use their turn signals. They do not seem to have any idea who goes first when you meet at a four way stop sign. They pull out halfway into the street in the hopes that someone will stop and let them go. They drive the speed limit in the passing lane. (Hence the need to pass on the right.) Makes me crazy!

And even though I don't mind driving and often enjoy it (as opposed to being a passenger), I would still be the first one to sign up to have a teleportation device set up in my house. You know? To have the power to "I Dream of Genie" my way out of one place and be in another? I would SO make that my wish if I had the opportunity. Not to have to deal with the pain in the ass New England, (and/or Florida) drivers, not to sit in traffic for no discernable reason, or worse for the eight miles of construction going on at rush hour. Not to have to wait for the car to heat up in winter, or cool down in summer. Just a quick double blink and I'm gone.

That would be so cool. I also think it would cut down on my stress levels quite a bit. Since I might have a wee bit of that road rage thing the people talk about. Although I wouldn't necessarily label it as "rage," more like a frustrated anger. Which I realized recently is not such a great thing to have with kids who are old enough to understand everything I am saying. The other day I'm in the car with Wonderboy and the Pixie sitting at a stop light. The light changes but the car in front of us doesn't move for a moment. Then I hear WB from the back seat, "Come ON, lady! GO!" Oops.

So yeah, I'm down for the teleportation, apparate spell or whatever it takes. Anything to keep my kids from developing a swearing habit - and keeps old men from Florida from swearing at me.

Connections

2009-09-03T09:52:00.000-04:00

In the end of July two of my Aunts came to visit. R lives in Colorado and S lives in New Hampshire and even though we're close to New Hampshire we just don't get to visit very often. These two women are my Mom's sisters. My Mom was one of those people that made sure everyone was keeping in touch within her family. When she died, we lost some of that. Not that we don't ever communicate - it's just that we all have our own lives and we're not as good as keeping up with each other.

So I was really thrilled when my Aunt R said she was making a trip East and was going to get S and come and stay with us for a couple of days. It had been a long time since either one of them had seen the kids, so I was especially psyched for them to get to spend some time with Wonderboy and the Pixie, as well as the Mr. and myself. These women are so special to me. Not only because they are both really cool women, but also because of the connection I feel with my Mom when I am with them. It's been twenty-six years since my Mom died, so my memories of her have dimmed a bit - relying more on pictures and stories.

But when I'm with my Aunts, I can hear her voice in their laughter. I see the curve of her face in theirs. I picture her, lounging on our couch after hunting through the shelves of cookbooks as R and S did - reveling in some of the Mr's and some I inherited from my Mom. I see how she may have been with my own children - listening in that teacher's way to what they are saying and delighting in their words and actions.

It was a laid-back visit of the best kind. One where we all got to hang out and just be with each other. I may not always be the best about phone calls or emails, but I think they know how important they are to me. And that in their way, they bring her back to me again.

And then this happens

2009-08-29T20:37:00.000-04:00

Last week, as I was dropping the Wonderboy off at his summer camp, a thought occurred to me, "Hmm, not a lot of cars here this morning." Also, "Hmm, where are the signs for Camp?" So I call the office number and say, "Hi. Is Camp over?"
"Uh, yes. The week ending the 14th was our last week."

Ah. You can just mail that Mother of the Year award out now, thankyouverymuch. Luckily, I had that Thursday off anyway (and then I played hookey on Friday.) But then we got to this week.

Long story, short - the two days that Wonderboy would have been in camp this past week (Thu and Fri), he was hanging out in my office instead. Thursday was pretty stressful because our owner was on property for a meeting and even though the company has become way more kid-friendly over the years, as opposed to when I started and it was okay to bring your dog to work - but not your kid, I was still a bit on edge. Luckily, the Mr. came to pick WB up at 2pm, so I managed to stay mostly sane. However, I knew that on Friday the Mr. would be working late and the Boy would be with me the Entire Day. So Thursday night as he was getting ready for bed he and I made a pinky promise that we would both try our very hardest not to get cranky with each other the next day.

And I have to say - we really did try - and we succeeded! Yes there were a few moments - when he was yelling to me from the back office that my cell phone was ringing while I was helping some customers - that were a little embarrassing. But most of the people around when he was laughing out loud at some Looney Tunes cartoons he was watching thought it was pretty funny. He listened. The back talk and pouting were limited. He only said he wanted to go home a couple of times. Which I can't really blame him for - it's not a big office and we were there a full eight hours. That's a lot to ask of any kid, nevermind an active six year old!

Not only that, it continued after we left. We picked up the Pixie and they didn't fight or get on each other's case in the car ride home. We stopped by my sister's for awhile and they both did some great turn-taking and sharing. They held up for a late grocery store run for some pre-cooked dinners which they both ate without complaint. A nice bath for the two of them, easy bedtime for the Pixie and a special treat for the boy and I after she was tucked in: Pre-season football in my bed until Daddy got home.

And as he fell asleep on my shoulder, all I could think of was, This is the best day we've had together in awhile. We should make pinky promises more often!

"I'm funny how, I mean funny like I'm a clown, I amuse you?"

2009-08-24T21:05:00.000-04:00

Oh, sense of humor...where have you gone? Okay, not really. I know my sense of humor is intact. I can be funny, I crack people up sometimes. But that kind of funny is not what I am referring to. What I seem to have lost is my sense of fun.

You see, I am not the Fun Parent. Not only am I not the Fun Parent, I find I am often the Shrill, Snappy Parent. I'm not sure how I got here. Yes, I harp on my kids about their manners, but so does the Mr. - we're equal opportunity that way. Yes, okay - I am the stricter of the two, and I do tend to be the one who will actually stress about their behavior. I don't necessarily have a problem with that; it's the fact that I can't seem to just let go when it's a time where those things don't really matter.

If we're all just hanging out at home, isn't it kind of funny when Wonderboy pretends to fall out of his chair for the twelfth time? Or when the Mr. puts a napkin on his head and pretends he can't see the kids? Or when we're having dinner and the Pixie, whose three, laughs so hard she lets out Man Size Burps? (Actually, that's not a good example because that is ALWAYS hilarious.)

Now I do have my particular issues with the Mr. and how he gets the kids riled up before putting them to bed. I'm all for them playing around and tickling and all that - but I do think some hours of the day are better then others for that stuff. But even when it's the middle of the day I find myself getting grouchy about it instead of jumping into the fray. When the six year old asks, "Are you cranky?" I think it might be time to take a good hard look at why I've become such a Debbie Downer. I had to bring my kids to work with me today (which I hugely appreciate being able to do), my boss was getting ready to leave and asked Wonderboy if I was as grouchy at home as I was at work. WTF? Here I am worrying all day about the kids bothering someone and I get scolded for being grouchy! And this from a bonafide grouch! Jeebus.

I don't have an answer to the question right now. But I'm aware of it and I think that's part of changing the behavior. Honestly, I know I'm not going to suddenly become one of those crafty/game-playing/super imaginative parents. That's just not me. However, I think I can start to try to ease up and relax a little bit. I remember both of my parents as being fun. Sure, my Dad played the role the Mr. is now - the tickling and wrestling and being silly - but my Mom was fun in her own way. I think I just need to find my way, and try not to let the rest of daily life make me forget how to make my kids laugh. Because I do realize how incredibly important that sound is to my own happiness.

(10 coolness points for the first person who comments on where the title quote comes from)

How little?

2009-08-21T14:04:00.000-04:00

I was wondering the other day what the ratio of "little things" to "makes you happy" is considered to be normal. You know, on a range of people giving the "thank you wave" when you let them go ahead of you to a stranger saying "bless you" when you sneeze in a public place. Those all seem like pretty solid little things that proportionately give a nice feeling of happiness.

So what does it say about my life exactly that I was ecstatic the other night when I remembered I had purchased medium sized garbage bags for the trash can in the upstairs bathroom? Seriously, I was way too excited.

The Mr. was doing that ritual known as the Trash Round-Up. You know the one. The night before the morning the trash is picked up you go around and empty every trash can in the house. Other people do this too, right? I have memories from my youth as a child of my Dad making this round. Anyhoots, the trash can in our bathroom is not wicker, exactly. More wicker inspired...meaning it's got a lot of little holes in it. So it's really fun when there is no bag in there and perhaps someone (coughMrcough) has tossed a not quite empty Diet Coke can in there. Which then leaves a lovely little puddle, or even better - when I tip the trash up into a larger bag, sends drips flying all over the place. Like I need that extra bit of cleaning.

Wait - where was I? Oh yeah. So he comes in and empties the can, which I had lined with an old plastic shopping bag. That was when I remembered. THE MEDIUM BAGS! They fit this particular trash receptacle perfectly! No mess! Mo drips! The bag reaches all the way to the bottom! As I was waxing on about the joys of my medium bags I realize the Mr. is staring at me with a strange look on his face.

"What? It's the little things that make me happy." I hear myself say. He just shook his head and went to empty the next trash can.