It's funny sometimes, how our feelings seem so out of our control. Yesterday I had a blue day, for no reason at all (except the phase of the moon, hormones, holidays, you know, no reason). The sun was shining and it was a crisp winter day, the sky was blue and the kids were even trying to behave. Yet there I was, crying into my shirt about how sad I was. I was very sad.
It is easy to get sucked into the "poor me" mentality. I have to change Layla's pump site and it will hurt her, and it will hurt my heart. I have to have workers here all week to fix a problem that came about all on it's own, with no rhyme or reason,(underground wiring, rain, rocks) and it costs money. I want to eat chocolate, or carbs, or anything but celery, but I know that it wouldn't help me reach my goal of getting to where I want to be. I want my hair to look pretty, and it doesn't, it sticks out, and my face is round, and too pink. The shoes that I ordered don't fit. My chocolate didn't come in the mail...Silly things. Things that don't matter.
Guess what? Last night there was a storm, there was wild wind, and pouring rain, and today the sun was out again. The roads were all messy, trees had lost branches, and the creek by our house was swollen up, full to the very edges of it's banks. I went for a run outside. It is beautiful here. Right here, where I get to live, it is paradise. Sure it is wet, and soggy and covered with moss, but I have a warm dry house, and fuzzy pants. (and today, I have back up at home with me, so the teams are even).
Sometimes it takes a storm to shake things up a bit, make it nice and messy, so it can become clear how lucky we are. In it's chaos, and the destruction that it leaves behind, it reveals the things that are comfortable that we take for granted, every day. Today, in the fresh air, I realised that yes, Layla having diabetes does suck. Bad. It sucks worse than anything else. But also, we are lucky enough that we have money to buy her insulin, and pump supplies. Not everyone is that lucky. Today, I thought about how lame it is to have to pay a bunch of money at Christmas time, to electricians, to fix something that just broke (even though it shouldn't have),but, we are lucky that it will get fixed. (and in time for my parents to get to come stay with us for Christmas). MY PARENTS ARE COMING FOR CHRISTMAS! I ate one delicious (small) muffin, and I remembered that I am looking better every day because of the changes I have been making, and every decision counts. I looked in the mirror and laughed, remembering that it is just hair, and I am lucky to have any at all. (also that pink is a great color to be, it is bright, and healthy and alive.)
It's all about perspective, the way you look at something can change the way it is, to you at least, and let's face it, that's what counts. Today was a good day, I made it that way. I am in total control of my own happiness. (well..today I am, that chocolate better come soon!)
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
let he who is without sin...
I had a curious interaction today with a boy in our science class. I was helping a little girl with her project and he came up to me and asked "are you a Christian?" Not wanting to scare him (or offend this little fellow) and also feeling a little curious about where this conversation was headed, I answered "some days.." He glanced at my ring finger, (where I have my wedding band tattooed) then turned his tone very condescending and said "well, the bible says you shouldn't put ink on your body!" HA!
It should be known that I have spent a fair amount of time in church, and I am very well aware of what the bible says. I am also aware that the good book has been translated, updated and rewritten so many times, that the original text is a mere digest of what it once was. The actual verse is in Leviticus (19:28) and says, "Do not cut your bodies for the dead, and do not mark your skin with tattoos. I am the Lord." Seems pretty clear doesn't it. Indeed. (and here comes my problem with that) Just for fun, let's go ahead and look some of the other verses right around those couple of sentences, shall we? This passage in Leviticus, including the surrounding text, is specifically dealing with the pagan religious rituals of the people living around the Israelites. God didn't want his people to get confused (apparently by looking like the pagan tribes that were their neighbors, in case it would lead them astray) fair enough. He is their father and he is trying to protect them.
This is the go to passage that is quoted when people that don't appreciate tattoos want to show you that the bible says it is wrong. Why do you think they never mention the verses that come right before it? ready, and.....verse 26, "Do not eat meat that has not been drained of its blood," and verse 27, "Do not trim off the hair on your temples or trim your beards." This would mean that all Christians should keep kosher and not get haircuts! (or else face the harsh wrath of being a practicing pagan!) Back then these customs were associated with pagan rites and rituals. Today they are not. I think my favorite though is back just a little further, (Leviticus 19:19) "Nor shall a garment of mixed linen and wool come upon you." The good people of Israel were commanded to avoid the mixing of fibers in their garments! Like I mentioned before, I have spent many an hour in a pew and I am telling you, polyester blends were all OVER that place. (not to mention the super cute, but overly judgmental kid today, was wearing at least 3 different kinds of fabric.) I bet you a dollar he couldn't quote any of those other verses surrounding the one that he referenced to me. It made me wonder why he would think that it was his job to tell me that I was bad. Bad according to who? A bad mother? A bad wife? A bad person?
I hope that in raising my children I teach them to be loving, caring, compassionate humans, that are less judgmental and more forgiving. The world has enough finger pointing and furrowed eyebrows. It needs more understanding glances, more people willing to help others, more good neighbors, more art, more poetry, more smiles.
I will tell you right now (in good faith) that I am not a pagan. I'm not. I am not against them, I just don't happen to be one. Also, the wisdom of our mothers still rings true-don't judge a book by it's cover. You will, inevitably, miss all of the very best ones if you are going for the prettiest, most perfect copy. The ones with the colorful jackets, scuffed bindings and dog eared pages always have the best stories, the most adventure, and you would be surprised how much truth, honesty and goodness you will find inside.
Kids are so cool, they are exactly a product of their environment. It was a good reminder what a monumental task we have in our hands, right now, and how very careful we must be to let them become distinct individuals, with morals and standards, but at the same time, shelter them from the glaring harshness of reality whenever we can. To try and help them become productive members of society, while securing in themselves the knowledge that they are amazing, and beautiful, and brilliant. And that everyone is different. Thank God.
It should be known that I have spent a fair amount of time in church, and I am very well aware of what the bible says. I am also aware that the good book has been translated, updated and rewritten so many times, that the original text is a mere digest of what it once was. The actual verse is in Leviticus (19:28) and says, "Do not cut your bodies for the dead, and do not mark your skin with tattoos. I am the Lord." Seems pretty clear doesn't it. Indeed. (and here comes my problem with that) Just for fun, let's go ahead and look some of the other verses right around those couple of sentences, shall we? This passage in Leviticus, including the surrounding text, is specifically dealing with the pagan religious rituals of the people living around the Israelites. God didn't want his people to get confused (apparently by looking like the pagan tribes that were their neighbors, in case it would lead them astray) fair enough. He is their father and he is trying to protect them.
This is the go to passage that is quoted when people that don't appreciate tattoos want to show you that the bible says it is wrong. Why do you think they never mention the verses that come right before it? ready, and.....verse 26, "Do not eat meat that has not been drained of its blood," and verse 27, "Do not trim off the hair on your temples or trim your beards." This would mean that all Christians should keep kosher and not get haircuts! (or else face the harsh wrath of being a practicing pagan!) Back then these customs were associated with pagan rites and rituals. Today they are not. I think my favorite though is back just a little further, (Leviticus 19:19) "Nor shall a garment of mixed linen and wool come upon you." The good people of Israel were commanded to avoid the mixing of fibers in their garments! Like I mentioned before, I have spent many an hour in a pew and I am telling you, polyester blends were all OVER that place. (not to mention the super cute, but overly judgmental kid today, was wearing at least 3 different kinds of fabric.) I bet you a dollar he couldn't quote any of those other verses surrounding the one that he referenced to me. It made me wonder why he would think that it was his job to tell me that I was bad. Bad according to who? A bad mother? A bad wife? A bad person?
I hope that in raising my children I teach them to be loving, caring, compassionate humans, that are less judgmental and more forgiving. The world has enough finger pointing and furrowed eyebrows. It needs more understanding glances, more people willing to help others, more good neighbors, more art, more poetry, more smiles.
I will tell you right now (in good faith) that I am not a pagan. I'm not. I am not against them, I just don't happen to be one. Also, the wisdom of our mothers still rings true-don't judge a book by it's cover. You will, inevitably, miss all of the very best ones if you are going for the prettiest, most perfect copy. The ones with the colorful jackets, scuffed bindings and dog eared pages always have the best stories, the most adventure, and you would be surprised how much truth, honesty and goodness you will find inside.
Kids are so cool, they are exactly a product of their environment. It was a good reminder what a monumental task we have in our hands, right now, and how very careful we must be to let them become distinct individuals, with morals and standards, but at the same time, shelter them from the glaring harshness of reality whenever we can. To try and help them become productive members of society, while securing in themselves the knowledge that they are amazing, and beautiful, and brilliant. And that everyone is different. Thank God.
Monday, November 15, 2010
fall back
I had a lovely time in Missouri, but it was a very fast trip, spanning various states, and multiple time zones, all in a 4 day stretch. Add to that staying up way too late watching chick flicks and giggling, and you have the recipe for one tired mama. (Let me clarify-my mom and the aunties were still going strong, I think I even slowed them down sometimes!)
It is so amazing to me how beautiful this country is. I think it's strange that people want to travel, so they think they have to leave the United States and head to some foreign and exotic land. There is so much to be seen here, so much breath taking beauty, right here, connected to the very soil where we live every day. Domestic travel is great for lots of reasons, but one is that ticket prices are usually much less costly, and when you arrive at your destination, everyone there (pretty much) speaks your language! Your money is good to go, without having to exchange it, or figuring out what the current rate of the U.S. dollar is. (math is hard) My favorite part though, is that you may have some relative (distant ones work too-look them up!) that will meet you at the other end, and lend you their couch to sleep on, and be your personal guide to the city. It doesn't get much better than that!
My Aunt Loretta was our gracious hostess this time, and was glad to show us all around the secret treasures of the St. Louis area. The food was fantastic, the weather was clear and crisp, and the company, as always, was my very favorite part. It is so neat for me to get to see places that are different from where I live. I saw ginkgo trees that were loaded with fruit, and picnicked at a state park that was filled with tall, thin trees, with sparse, yellowing leaves, that had white papery bark. I saw oriels and even a lone (brownish and kind of disappointing) cardinal! The dirt was a different color than my dirt, and the river rocks were paler than the ones we dig out of our garden. The actual earth there was made of different things than at home. I wanted so badly to go out in the evening and catch a jar full of fireflies, but the season had just ended and they had all disappeared. (my cousin told me they died, but I think they maybe flew south-since that's what I would do if I was a firefly)
We bought antiques, and took walks through crunchy leaves. We laughed. We shopped at vendors that had things from all over the world. I ate a caramel apple as big as my head. (I had help) I got a sweatshirt that was made in the shadow of Mt. Kilimanjaro (which I LOVE!) And I didn't even need my passport.
It was a great trip. I need a nap.
It is so amazing to me how beautiful this country is. I think it's strange that people want to travel, so they think they have to leave the United States and head to some foreign and exotic land. There is so much to be seen here, so much breath taking beauty, right here, connected to the very soil where we live every day. Domestic travel is great for lots of reasons, but one is that ticket prices are usually much less costly, and when you arrive at your destination, everyone there (pretty much) speaks your language! Your money is good to go, without having to exchange it, or figuring out what the current rate of the U.S. dollar is. (math is hard) My favorite part though, is that you may have some relative (distant ones work too-look them up!) that will meet you at the other end, and lend you their couch to sleep on, and be your personal guide to the city. It doesn't get much better than that!
My Aunt Loretta was our gracious hostess this time, and was glad to show us all around the secret treasures of the St. Louis area. The food was fantastic, the weather was clear and crisp, and the company, as always, was my very favorite part. It is so neat for me to get to see places that are different from where I live. I saw ginkgo trees that were loaded with fruit, and picnicked at a state park that was filled with tall, thin trees, with sparse, yellowing leaves, that had white papery bark. I saw oriels and even a lone (brownish and kind of disappointing) cardinal! The dirt was a different color than my dirt, and the river rocks were paler than the ones we dig out of our garden. The actual earth there was made of different things than at home. I wanted so badly to go out in the evening and catch a jar full of fireflies, but the season had just ended and they had all disappeared. (my cousin told me they died, but I think they maybe flew south-since that's what I would do if I was a firefly)
We bought antiques, and took walks through crunchy leaves. We laughed. We shopped at vendors that had things from all over the world. I ate a caramel apple as big as my head. (I had help) I got a sweatshirt that was made in the shadow of Mt. Kilimanjaro (which I LOVE!) And I didn't even need my passport.
It was a great trip. I need a nap.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
full circle
I have lots of "boyfriends". They are men that interest me for many reasons, and make me think I am in love with them. Reasons could include a) dimples, b) piratey appearance, c) shirtless construction workers and/or d) anyone bearing gifts (ie-the UPS man-of course). I would also like to add at this point, in case you don't really know me at all, it is love from afar. Since a) pirates are actually dangerous and smelly, b) construction workers often partake in smokeless tobacco which is like my 3rd least favorite thing in the world (after war and under wires) AND it includes spitting-ew, and c) I happen to already own a dimpled, piratey love who brings me gifts. YAY ME!
One of my mom's favorite stories to tell about me is when I was 2 and had a pair of red tennies. We lived in a house in a neighborhood with a little front yard, edged by a sidewalk, and then of course, a road. It wasn't a busy road, but the occasional car did happen past, and there were very strict rules about using the sidewalk, and going any where near the black top. There was a line carved into the concrete (where it met the pavement) and the rule was that I was to NEVER cross the line. Ever. (safety first and all that) So Mom says (I mean, come on, I was 2, I have no memories of any of this. I can barely remember breakfast--and today it was more like brunch, since I just finished it) that I used to look right at her to be sure she was looking, and then, stick one red tennied toe over the line. Just to be contrary, or see if she would explode, or what. (Now that I am a mother myself, I plead the 5th, 2 year olds have no control over themselves, and should not be expected to behave well. Have I mentioned that I am still 2 years old?)
Anyway, one of her cute little memories is me, acting all rascally, wearing bright red sneakers.
Guess what? (hold on, I'm about ready to tie this all together)
You know I love the UPS man, and he just came with my NEW SHOES!! Guess what else?! They are RED! Look out world, I have bright red sneakers, and a non supervised weekend coming up. Please drive extra carefully, and watch for my toes sticking out into the road. I just can't promise that I will behave.
Just a side note, my mom also ordered a pair and we are taking on the world together WITH the Aunties to boot. I hope the planet survives.
me (with one of my many boyfriends) Donavon Frankenreiter-we are in love.
One of my mom's favorite stories to tell about me is when I was 2 and had a pair of red tennies. We lived in a house in a neighborhood with a little front yard, edged by a sidewalk, and then of course, a road. It wasn't a busy road, but the occasional car did happen past, and there were very strict rules about using the sidewalk, and going any where near the black top. There was a line carved into the concrete (where it met the pavement) and the rule was that I was to NEVER cross the line. Ever. (safety first and all that) So Mom says (I mean, come on, I was 2, I have no memories of any of this. I can barely remember breakfast--and today it was more like brunch, since I just finished it) that I used to look right at her to be sure she was looking, and then, stick one red tennied toe over the line. Just to be contrary, or see if she would explode, or what. (Now that I am a mother myself, I plead the 5th, 2 year olds have no control over themselves, and should not be expected to behave well. Have I mentioned that I am still 2 years old?)
Anyway, one of her cute little memories is me, acting all rascally, wearing bright red sneakers.
Guess what? (hold on, I'm about ready to tie this all together)
You know I love the UPS man, and he just came with my NEW SHOES!! Guess what else?! They are RED! Look out world, I have bright red sneakers, and a non supervised weekend coming up. Please drive extra carefully, and watch for my toes sticking out into the road. I just can't promise that I will behave.
Just a side note, my mom also ordered a pair and we are taking on the world together WITH the Aunties to boot. I hope the planet survives.
me (with one of my many boyfriends) Donavon Frankenreiter-we are in love.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
here I go!
Just a quick check in today, so many things to do, and always, not enough time to get it all done.
I have hit the second of my weight loss goals today, I have lots of them. Lose 10 pounds was the first one, (the next one was to make it to a round number, which was only 2 more pounds after that). I have a friend that successfully lost 65 pounds and she said to make lots of small goals, so when you meet them you feel like you are making good progress. I think it is working, and I get to go pick out my reward prize this weekend in St. Louis! I want a $15 little thing, seems pretty reasonable to me (although, when I want something, I can always find a way to make it seem reasonable to myself, it's a gift)
My next goal is losing 10% of my original weight (the doctor actually "prescribed" this one at my last appointment, so it is kind of a big deal). I will hit that when I lose 8 more pounds! (this will be 20 pounds down, that is a little more than 10% for me, but like I said, I like round numbers) I have a prize picked out for that one too, it helps to know your motivation.
In other BIG news, I am leaving on the red eye flight in 2 days bound for St. Louis! My mom and the Aunties are meeting me there (one lives there and is hosting). We are going to experience fall in Missouri, I hear it is phenomenal, and I am very excited. We are going to an apple butter festival, the botanical gardens, some outdoor markets and other fun girly stuff. I am literally giddy. (it might be the coffee-hard to say) I will only be gone for a 4 day weekend, but am feeling like I need to get a little attention, as opposed to giving it for a few days, so I think this will be just the thing! (squee!)
I am trying to train for a 5k run in March called the Shamrock run, it is one of my goals. I don't actually run (ever) so this is a big one for me. Usually my legs feel wobbly and I think I am going to throw up when I get off of the treadmill from my jog (3 minutes at a time so far! ug, I don't know if I can do this!) but so far, I am feeling optimistic and it has kept me going. Eyes on the prize baby-nothing tastes as good as thin feels!
The rainy season has officially started here, and the sky is dark all the time, and the skies have opened. I am so thankful everyday for my warm house and my cozy little family. Speaking of them, time to go get a little math done. Take care!
I have hit the second of my weight loss goals today, I have lots of them. Lose 10 pounds was the first one, (the next one was to make it to a round number, which was only 2 more pounds after that). I have a friend that successfully lost 65 pounds and she said to make lots of small goals, so when you meet them you feel like you are making good progress. I think it is working, and I get to go pick out my reward prize this weekend in St. Louis! I want a $15 little thing, seems pretty reasonable to me (although, when I want something, I can always find a way to make it seem reasonable to myself, it's a gift)
My next goal is losing 10% of my original weight (the doctor actually "prescribed" this one at my last appointment, so it is kind of a big deal). I will hit that when I lose 8 more pounds! (this will be 20 pounds down, that is a little more than 10% for me, but like I said, I like round numbers) I have a prize picked out for that one too, it helps to know your motivation.
In other BIG news, I am leaving on the red eye flight in 2 days bound for St. Louis! My mom and the Aunties are meeting me there (one lives there and is hosting). We are going to experience fall in Missouri, I hear it is phenomenal, and I am very excited. We are going to an apple butter festival, the botanical gardens, some outdoor markets and other fun girly stuff. I am literally giddy. (it might be the coffee-hard to say) I will only be gone for a 4 day weekend, but am feeling like I need to get a little attention, as opposed to giving it for a few days, so I think this will be just the thing! (squee!)
I am trying to train for a 5k run in March called the Shamrock run, it is one of my goals. I don't actually run (ever) so this is a big one for me. Usually my legs feel wobbly and I think I am going to throw up when I get off of the treadmill from my jog (3 minutes at a time so far! ug, I don't know if I can do this!) but so far, I am feeling optimistic and it has kept me going. Eyes on the prize baby-nothing tastes as good as thin feels!
The rainy season has officially started here, and the sky is dark all the time, and the skies have opened. I am so thankful everyday for my warm house and my cozy little family. Speaking of them, time to go get a little math done. Take care!
Monday, October 11, 2010
ain't love grand
Two weeks ago I celebrated 14 years of marital bliss with a boy that came to my 15th birthday. Alan says he knew I was "the one" when he first laid eyes on me. I think he made that up because he knows girls like romantic stuff like love at first sight. (although to his credit, I was a super cute 14 year old, for the record). I say that I knew he was "the one" after we had been married about 7 years. These things take time.
Alan has always been smart, logical, level headed, stable and even. I have always been sassy, silly, naughty, crazy and inappropriate. Over the years some things have changed; the way we look, what we eat, having a bunch of kids, level of debt (you know...everything) but the above character traits have stayed pretty much the same after all of this time. We were basically opposites when we met, and now after living over half of my life with him, I choose to call it "complementary". (It sounds more positive I think).
Sometimes when he does things the absolutewrong opposite way than I would have done them, I sit there, confused, and try to figure out why anyone would do such a thing. A perfect example is making the bed. Every night he strips all of the blankets off until just the bottom fitted sheet is left, and pulls up each layer nice and tight until it is just so. Then the pillow are arranged and he can get in. When I am feeling up to the challenge, I hurry to brush my teeth first and jump into bed so I can yank the covers up all wonky (how I like them), and when he tries to strip the bed down, a tug of war ensues. (With me ALWAYS victorious (thank you very much), after living with me for so long, Alan has learned that you just can't fight with crazy. I told you he was smart.)
It would almost seem to an outsider that I do these things just to be contrary, but honestly, it is just my way, I don't try to label it. I think when we were newlyweds we had to work so hard at being married, that we were a little distracted and overwhelmed, and now that is just the way we are.
We have changed each other a little bit though, over the years. Alan isn't quite as serious as he used to be, and I try to be less insane. (I said try) We don't question each other as much as we used to, we trust more, and share responsibility. Alan tries his best to understand me, and is very kind and tolerant of me and my ways, and tries to support me whenever he can, even when it puts him outside of his normal comfort zone.
He smiles and sighs when I invite strangers over for parties (internet friends are barely strangers), he rolls his eyes when I get 14 boxes of fiber cereal because it is a good price, and he barely even breaks stride when I say things like "I bought a red robot vacuum today." (even though he has never heard of a robot vacuum and they sound really expensive)
When we were out for our anniversary, I realized just how much he has changed over the years. He had taken me to Lush (my very favorite store for smelly stuff) to get some deodorant, a shampoo bar and some dusting powder, and was patiently standing by whilst I made best friends with the cutie with the facial piercings behind the counter. I told Cutie that I was there for my powder and he mentioned that it was now discontinued and what was on the shelf was all there would ever be. EVER. (whoa, I almost cried-seriously) Now I am not a big fan of beauty supplies, or even a high maintenance girl in general, but I like what I like. With out a word, Alan walked over to the shelf and proceeded to load ALL of the remaining powders into the basket. There were 9 little cans.
Does he think I am ridiculous? Absolutely. Did he think I would have left without all of the powders? Probably not. Did he make me super happy and remind my why I love him? Indeed. I skipped out of the store. On the way back to the car, we also snuck into an emergency room to use the bathroom....It was almost too much for me to process in one day. Good thing the next day he was back to his sensible self. I don't even think I will mess with the covers this week. (too much)
I love Alan
Alan has always been smart, logical, level headed, stable and even. I have always been sassy, silly, naughty, crazy and inappropriate. Over the years some things have changed; the way we look, what we eat, having a bunch of kids, level of debt (you know...everything) but the above character traits have stayed pretty much the same after all of this time. We were basically opposites when we met, and now after living over half of my life with him, I choose to call it "complementary". (It sounds more positive I think).
Sometimes when he does things the absolute
It would almost seem to an outsider that I do these things just to be contrary, but honestly, it is just my way, I don't try to label it. I think when we were newlyweds we had to work so hard at being married, that we were a little distracted and overwhelmed, and now that is just the way we are.
We have changed each other a little bit though, over the years. Alan isn't quite as serious as he used to be, and I try to be less insane. (I said try) We don't question each other as much as we used to, we trust more, and share responsibility. Alan tries his best to understand me, and is very kind and tolerant of me and my ways, and tries to support me whenever he can, even when it puts him outside of his normal comfort zone.
He smiles and sighs when I invite strangers over for parties (internet friends are barely strangers), he rolls his eyes when I get 14 boxes of fiber cereal because it is a good price, and he barely even breaks stride when I say things like "I bought a red robot vacuum today." (even though he has never heard of a robot vacuum and they sound really expensive)
When we were out for our anniversary, I realized just how much he has changed over the years. He had taken me to Lush (my very favorite store for smelly stuff) to get some deodorant, a shampoo bar and some dusting powder, and was patiently standing by whilst I made best friends with the cutie with the facial piercings behind the counter. I told Cutie that I was there for my powder and he mentioned that it was now discontinued and what was on the shelf was all there would ever be. EVER. (whoa, I almost cried-seriously) Now I am not a big fan of beauty supplies, or even a high maintenance girl in general, but I like what I like. With out a word, Alan walked over to the shelf and proceeded to load ALL of the remaining powders into the basket. There were 9 little cans.
Does he think I am ridiculous? Absolutely. Did he think I would have left without all of the powders? Probably not. Did he make me super happy and remind my why I love him? Indeed. I skipped out of the store. On the way back to the car, we also snuck into an emergency room to use the bathroom....It was almost too much for me to process in one day. Good thing the next day he was back to his sensible self. I don't even think I will mess with the covers this week. (too much)
I love Alan
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
tradition
Tonight I am blazing a trail into unknown territory. There is a little project I have been wanting to do for a long time, and tonight I got out 3 pairs of scissors and I started it.
When I was little, I had a very special, very favorite blanket, named Wooby. My great grandma Maggie made it for me when I was tiny,and it was perfect. On one side there was pastel wild flowers (my VERY favorite thing!!) and the other side had an amazing technicolor 70s print complete with yellow lions, pink puppies, and Raggedy Anns. It had a silky binding that I would rub on my cheeks when I needed to feel it. (you know, therapeutically). My mom was continuously mending it and fixing the binding, (real love is tough on things!) After many years of good, solid, hard use, I lovingly wrapped it in tissue and put it away in a box in the garage. I was leaving for college.
A few days later I married Alan and adopted his childhood blanket-cowboy blanket. Alan's blanket was not as good, but I was IN LOVE with this boy, and it smelled like him, and I thought it was cool that it had been his for such a long time. (Honestly, it was made of the same type of fabric as my Wooby, and that is why I really loved it.)
A few years back, my mom brought Wooby to my house, and we washed it up, and Maggie snagged it for her own at first sight. I was a little, um, hesitant, but how could I say no? It was obvious that she felt a similar kinship to Wooby that I had felt as a little girl. (and let's be honest, for therapy now, I need a little more than a silky rub on the cheek) I let her put it on her bed. Every thing was fine until one night she yelled from her room that she was "ALL TANGLED UP IN THE BLANKETS!!" I went in to rescue her, only to find that there was a gigantic hole through one side of Wooby. I untangled her, gently gathered up my blanket and retired it once again.
Alan's cowboy blanket is falling apart at the seams, and the nasty 1975 polyfill batting keeps trying to touch my face when I am sleeping. Against Alan's wishes, I still have it on our bed (well just on my side-he hates it and thinks I am nuts. I am.)
Anyway, in my mind (where I am 120 pounds and a superior crafter) I have done this amazing project where I salvage my favorite fabric of all time (it's a loose weave cotton, and feels soooo soft, there is nothing like it available now)from both of these blankets, and piece them together into one amazing super Wooby, to snuggle with to the end of my days. So tonight I cut them all apart from their battings and bindings, and cut through all of the 1970s yarn ties and started cutting them into 6" squares to build my very first quilting project. Please don't be confused here-I have NO IDEA what I am doing. I don't even have a book.
The blankets were both in a horrible state of disrepair, and honestly couldn't have been in much worse shape, so I don't feel too nervous. My Wooby had patches and mismatched binding (some yellow, some blue, some thick, thin, silky, cotton) it was almost a quilt already. Cowboy blanket was literally falling apart. I feel like since I am doing this project for myself, it can't really go wrong.
With a heavy heart I disassembled them. Maggie was there and got really upset. "Mama! Why did you cut up that blanket?!? I LOOOOOVE that blanket!!!" I told her I was going to try to fix it. She believed me until she saw me cut it up into little pieces. I hope she likes the final product, I will probably have to share.
I really like the idea of a project so long in the making. I think of Alan's mom making cowboy blanket for him when he was just a little thing. And I think of my grandma Maggie sewing together all of the colorful fabrics that she had picked out just for me, when I was so small. I think of the hot California nights when I had to go to bed when it was still light out, so I hid my face under the blanket and felt the cool cotton on my cheeks. All of the tears that my blanket dried when things went wrong, and all of the mud puddles that it got dragged through just because. It was a fort, it was a cape, it was stuffed under my shirt to be a pregnant belly. It was a friend.
Now I am using my hands to give it a new life as one of the coolest things ever. A blanket. No matter what, it will be perfect. (I am leaning towards a silky binding.)
When I was little, I had a very special, very favorite blanket, named Wooby. My great grandma Maggie made it for me when I was tiny,and it was perfect. On one side there was pastel wild flowers (my VERY favorite thing!!) and the other side had an amazing technicolor 70s print complete with yellow lions, pink puppies, and Raggedy Anns. It had a silky binding that I would rub on my cheeks when I needed to feel it. (you know, therapeutically). My mom was continuously mending it and fixing the binding, (real love is tough on things!) After many years of good, solid, hard use, I lovingly wrapped it in tissue and put it away in a box in the garage. I was leaving for college.
A few days later I married Alan and adopted his childhood blanket-cowboy blanket. Alan's blanket was not as good, but I was IN LOVE with this boy, and it smelled like him, and I thought it was cool that it had been his for such a long time. (Honestly, it was made of the same type of fabric as my Wooby, and that is why I really loved it.)
A few years back, my mom brought Wooby to my house, and we washed it up, and Maggie snagged it for her own at first sight. I was a little, um, hesitant, but how could I say no? It was obvious that she felt a similar kinship to Wooby that I had felt as a little girl. (and let's be honest, for therapy now, I need a little more than a silky rub on the cheek) I let her put it on her bed. Every thing was fine until one night she yelled from her room that she was "ALL TANGLED UP IN THE BLANKETS!!" I went in to rescue her, only to find that there was a gigantic hole through one side of Wooby. I untangled her, gently gathered up my blanket and retired it once again.
Alan's cowboy blanket is falling apart at the seams, and the nasty 1975 polyfill batting keeps trying to touch my face when I am sleeping. Against Alan's wishes, I still have it on our bed (well just on my side-he hates it and thinks I am nuts. I am.)
Anyway, in my mind (where I am 120 pounds and a superior crafter) I have done this amazing project where I salvage my favorite fabric of all time (it's a loose weave cotton, and feels soooo soft, there is nothing like it available now)from both of these blankets, and piece them together into one amazing super Wooby, to snuggle with to the end of my days. So tonight I cut them all apart from their battings and bindings, and cut through all of the 1970s yarn ties and started cutting them into 6" squares to build my very first quilting project. Please don't be confused here-I have NO IDEA what I am doing. I don't even have a book.
The blankets were both in a horrible state of disrepair, and honestly couldn't have been in much worse shape, so I don't feel too nervous. My Wooby had patches and mismatched binding (some yellow, some blue, some thick, thin, silky, cotton) it was almost a quilt already. Cowboy blanket was literally falling apart. I feel like since I am doing this project for myself, it can't really go wrong.
With a heavy heart I disassembled them. Maggie was there and got really upset. "Mama! Why did you cut up that blanket?!? I LOOOOOVE that blanket!!!" I told her I was going to try to fix it. She believed me until she saw me cut it up into little pieces. I hope she likes the final product, I will probably have to share.
I really like the idea of a project so long in the making. I think of Alan's mom making cowboy blanket for him when he was just a little thing. And I think of my grandma Maggie sewing together all of the colorful fabrics that she had picked out just for me, when I was so small. I think of the hot California nights when I had to go to bed when it was still light out, so I hid my face under the blanket and felt the cool cotton on my cheeks. All of the tears that my blanket dried when things went wrong, and all of the mud puddles that it got dragged through just because. It was a fort, it was a cape, it was stuffed under my shirt to be a pregnant belly. It was a friend.
Now I am using my hands to give it a new life as one of the coolest things ever. A blanket. No matter what, it will be perfect. (I am leaning towards a silky binding.)
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
cookie monster
So it is a week into my current diet and I am feeling great! I have been on countless diets before and some have worked, some haven't. Never the fault of the diet, always the fault of the dieter. If you stick with a program, it will work, the trick is keeping up the hard work until the weight comes off. Believe me, I know, it is hard work. Always before I have decided that I didn't like the way I look (usually after seeing myself and all of my chins in random pictures that friends took, in awkward poses, usually 2.5 sheets to the wind-not pretty under any circumstance-but I digress...) this time, my motivation is different.
I used to work with a girl, she was average. Her hair was normal, her face was pretty, her belly was jiggly-you know, my kind of girl. Just like me in fact. She just posted some pictures of herself on facebook (or the downfall of civilization, as Alan calls it) the other day, and she is a knock out! Seriously, it's ridiculous. I looked at her, and then I looked again.
Here was a normal girl, that I knew, that had lost 65 pounds by just getting it done. (sounds easy right? HA!) Well, feeling my pants get tighter and tighter wasn't a strong enough motivator (plus I totally ROCK yoga pants, so why bother with jeans anyway-right?) but besting this girl was. Leave it to me to find a bitchy way to find my muse. (it's a gift) I decided right then that if she could do it, then you bet your sweet ass that I could do it too. It was ON!
So here I am, a week in and doing fine. Better than ever before on a diet even. Any time I need to remember what my goal is, I can peek at her gorgeous skinny pictures and remember right away. She is now a super model and I am rolling around in stretchy pants. (please note that later when I fall off of the wagon, I will need support and lots of cookies. Also note, PMS is rapidly approaching..that of course needs no further explanation)
I have been spending all kinds of time swapping recipe ingredients to make yummy things that I can eat and still feel full and have the foods I want. (and need, let's just be honest here for a minute-why do you think I am in this position in the first place? cookies=need)
Without further ado, I give you
diet friendly kick ass almost peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (WHUT?!-OH YEAH!)
1/2 C sugar free maple syrup
1/2 C Better n' Peanut Butter (fake peanut butter, find it at Trader Joes)
1 tsp vanilla extract (I used almond, I'm a freak like that)
1 C whole wheat flour
2 Tbsp mini chocolate chips
preheat oven to 350*. Put parchment on your big cookie sheet. In a large mixing bowl whooge together syrup, nut butter, and vanilla. When it's nice and smooth, stir in flour. When it's a nice stiff dough, add chippies. Use your cookie scoop to plop it all onto the parchment (I got 21 this time, they don't grow much so you can crowd them) and stick it in the oven for 10 minutes. They will slip right off the parchment no problem, so you can eat them right away. (I know this is important!)
these little babies will knock your socks off and they are only 40 calories each! even less if you leave out the chips-but why would you EVER do that? These whip up in minutes-please learn from my mistake and make them when no one is looking, or you will have to share. (which really isn't fair at all)
that's all-j out
I used to work with a girl, she was average. Her hair was normal, her face was pretty, her belly was jiggly-you know, my kind of girl. Just like me in fact. She just posted some pictures of herself on facebook (or the downfall of civilization, as Alan calls it) the other day, and she is a knock out! Seriously, it's ridiculous. I looked at her, and then I looked again.
Here was a normal girl, that I knew, that had lost 65 pounds by just getting it done. (sounds easy right? HA!) Well, feeling my pants get tighter and tighter wasn't a strong enough motivator (plus I totally ROCK yoga pants, so why bother with jeans anyway-right?) but besting this girl was. Leave it to me to find a bitchy way to find my muse. (it's a gift) I decided right then that if she could do it, then you bet your sweet ass that I could do it too. It was ON!
So here I am, a week in and doing fine. Better than ever before on a diet even. Any time I need to remember what my goal is, I can peek at her gorgeous skinny pictures and remember right away. She is now a super model and I am rolling around in stretchy pants. (please note that later when I fall off of the wagon, I will need support and lots of cookies. Also note, PMS is rapidly approaching..that of course needs no further explanation)
I have been spending all kinds of time swapping recipe ingredients to make yummy things that I can eat and still feel full and have the foods I want. (and need, let's just be honest here for a minute-why do you think I am in this position in the first place? cookies=need)
Without further ado, I give you
diet friendly kick ass almost peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (WHUT?!-OH YEAH!)
1/2 C sugar free maple syrup
1/2 C Better n' Peanut Butter (fake peanut butter, find it at Trader Joes)
1 tsp vanilla extract (I used almond, I'm a freak like that)
1 C whole wheat flour
2 Tbsp mini chocolate chips
preheat oven to 350*. Put parchment on your big cookie sheet. In a large mixing bowl whooge together syrup, nut butter, and vanilla. When it's nice and smooth, stir in flour. When it's a nice stiff dough, add chippies. Use your cookie scoop to plop it all onto the parchment (I got 21 this time, they don't grow much so you can crowd them) and stick it in the oven for 10 minutes. They will slip right off the parchment no problem, so you can eat them right away. (I know this is important!)
these little babies will knock your socks off and they are only 40 calories each! even less if you leave out the chips-but why would you EVER do that? These whip up in minutes-please learn from my mistake and make them when no one is looking, or you will have to share. (which really isn't fair at all)
that's all-j out
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
back to school
every year (for the last 3 so far anyway) the back to school season makes me think of the bad Adam Sandler movie "Billy Madison," and more specifically this scene.
I can't start getting school ready without this silly song getting stuck in my head. (and feeling an almost desparate craving for snack packs) The worst part is, I don't know any of the other words of the song after "Back to school," and it must be sung the same goofy way as Adam does it. The result is me walking around sounding like an idiot singing the same 3 words over and over again. I have actually made up quite a few of my own verses just to break up the monotony. (and they are pretty good too, if I do say so myself, clever words rhyming with school are kind of tricky to come up with)
Anyway, it is back to school time for us, or rather, back in school, since we don't really go anywhere for a while. We are taking lots of creative classes this year (read as: classes I don't have to teach, where the girls get to learn things I don't know, and we get to be away from each other for an hour at a time-YIPPEE!) We are all really looking forward to classes starting, but are finding ways of keeping busy and schoolish until we get to move on to more exciting things.
Layla will be starting second grade this year and my baby will be in kindergarten. Somehow this seems kind of like a big deal to me. I feel torn between relief that they are finally growing up and, um, nope, that's it I guess. I thought for a minute it would be a little sad, having my baby officially a grade schooler, but I am doing ok for now. (let me remind you that school hasn't technically started for us yet-tomorrow is our first day, so I reserve the right to change my mind and get all freaky and hormonal over it in the next few weeks, or year, or you know, ever.)
We have had a fantastic fun filled summer, and besides my tomato bushes being loaded with giant green tomatoes, and the onset of fall without a single one making it to ripeness (pause for breath-phew!) I am ready for fall to make it's appearance.
We have made lots of jam with fruit we picked (and local honey-mmm) and are planning to make some applesauce soon, our new classes are very exciting, and it is always fun to meet new friends and learn new things. I am ready to get back to our days having some kind of schedule and consistency, I am NOT looking forward to the early mornings, but have some fun and yummy breakfast and snack ideas. (leave it to me to use food as my motivator)
Speaking of that, I thought I would follow up the "IlovemyselfIamadandelion" post with a bout of I hate being jiggly self loathing, (oops) so today is the start of a new diet. Let's not call it that though if you please. I would much prefer, "days of delicious breakfast shakes (and another for lunch, and a sensible dinner)" instead, because somehow, that sounds less daunting and more manageable. Actually, instead of sensible dinner, let's say mouthwatering, wonderful dinner, just a bit less than I want to have because I am watching portion sizes, or something like that. You know, to keep morale high. I am carefully choosing some motivational items (read as: amazing things I want to buy on the internet but don't have a good reason to justify the purchase) to reward myself when I reach goals. (goal today, do NOT eat my weight in chocolate, or chips...let's start small, so we don't get set up for immediate failure) It is currently almost 3 o'clock and I still get 2 more shakes and a yummy dinner. I am feeling pretty good! I see new earrings in my near future!
ps-I will take some first of school pictures and share them soon, maybe this weekend when we go to the Rogue Valley. It is currently raining here, so we are stuck inside and look a little crazed (I think the cabin fever is sinking in-NOT good since it is just the beginning of the dark seasons!) not a good look for pictures (although, probably more realistic-ha!)
I can't start getting school ready without this silly song getting stuck in my head. (and feeling an almost desparate craving for snack packs) The worst part is, I don't know any of the other words of the song after "Back to school," and it must be sung the same goofy way as Adam does it. The result is me walking around sounding like an idiot singing the same 3 words over and over again. I have actually made up quite a few of my own verses just to break up the monotony. (and they are pretty good too, if I do say so myself, clever words rhyming with school are kind of tricky to come up with)
Anyway, it is back to school time for us, or rather, back in school, since we don't really go anywhere for a while. We are taking lots of creative classes this year (read as: classes I don't have to teach, where the girls get to learn things I don't know, and we get to be away from each other for an hour at a time-YIPPEE!) We are all really looking forward to classes starting, but are finding ways of keeping busy and schoolish until we get to move on to more exciting things.
Layla will be starting second grade this year and my baby will be in kindergarten. Somehow this seems kind of like a big deal to me. I feel torn between relief that they are finally growing up and, um, nope, that's it I guess. I thought for a minute it would be a little sad, having my baby officially a grade schooler, but I am doing ok for now. (let me remind you that school hasn't technically started for us yet-tomorrow is our first day, so I reserve the right to change my mind and get all freaky and hormonal over it in the next few weeks, or year, or you know, ever.)
We have had a fantastic fun filled summer, and besides my tomato bushes being loaded with giant green tomatoes, and the onset of fall without a single one making it to ripeness (pause for breath-phew!) I am ready for fall to make it's appearance.
We have made lots of jam with fruit we picked (and local honey-mmm) and are planning to make some applesauce soon, our new classes are very exciting, and it is always fun to meet new friends and learn new things. I am ready to get back to our days having some kind of schedule and consistency, I am NOT looking forward to the early mornings, but have some fun and yummy breakfast and snack ideas. (leave it to me to use food as my motivator)
Speaking of that, I thought I would follow up the "IlovemyselfIamadandelion" post with a bout of I hate being jiggly self loathing, (oops) so today is the start of a new diet. Let's not call it that though if you please. I would much prefer, "days of delicious breakfast shakes (and another for lunch, and a sensible dinner)" instead, because somehow, that sounds less daunting and more manageable. Actually, instead of sensible dinner, let's say mouthwatering, wonderful dinner, just a bit less than I want to have because I am watching portion sizes, or something like that. You know, to keep morale high. I am carefully choosing some motivational items (read as: amazing things I want to buy on the internet but don't have a good reason to justify the purchase) to reward myself when I reach goals. (goal today, do NOT eat my weight in chocolate, or chips...let's start small, so we don't get set up for immediate failure) It is currently almost 3 o'clock and I still get 2 more shakes and a yummy dinner. I am feeling pretty good! I see new earrings in my near future!
ps-I will take some first of school pictures and share them soon, maybe this weekend when we go to the Rogue Valley. It is currently raining here, so we are stuck inside and look a little crazed (I think the cabin fever is sinking in-NOT good since it is just the beginning of the dark seasons!) not a good look for pictures (although, probably more realistic-ha!)
Friday, August 13, 2010
apples and oranges
this is the back seat conversation that took place today. I had told the girls that they needed to be quiet and on good behaviour since we were in stop and go, Friday traffic and I was feeling kind of stressed out.
Mags: random loud chattering
Layla "Maggie! you need to be more quiet, that yelling is very dangerous!"
Maggie "Listen here, I'll tell you what's dangerous, a pet bear, now that would be dangerous!!"
Well, you can't really argue with that now can you?
Have I told you lately that I love these girls?
Mags: random loud chattering
Layla "Maggie! you need to be more quiet, that yelling is very dangerous!"
Maggie "Listen here, I'll tell you what's dangerous, a pet bear, now that would be dangerous!!"
Well, you can't really argue with that now can you?
Have I told you lately that I love these girls?
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
aha!
I was just in the shower, soaping up all of my glaringly white, jiggly bits, and thought, "now that is a great body." True story. I will let you know, that in my life until this moment, I have had this thought less than a handful of times. As you know, I am not a super model, (or even a hand model for that matter), and as most women do, judge myself rather harshly. Sure, I don't like wearing a bathing suit, and tight pants make my tummy squish out at the top (not attractive, just believe me on this), but there are things that I do like, and I forget to focus on those things. I have great ankles. My elbows are also very nice.
I have heard it said many times that you can't change someone. I believed it too, people are who they are. With my new found self appreciation though, I would like to tell you that that statement is indeed wrong. People are constantly changing, and if you are a major influence in their life, you will inevitably change them.
I used to be a girl (and now a woman) who had a decent amount of self respect and self esteem, but always in the back of my mind, a little itchy spot of self loathing, that would ooze out and infect my brain sometimes with negativity and self doubt. I believe this is normal, to a point. (I am still working on my *phd, so it's hard to say if I am actually right, or just agree with myself)
I sometimes wonder, if I am a happy girl, with a good life, why do I think I need to look differently to be truly happy? Alan tells me that he loves me exactly like I am. (he says this often, apparently I need convincing) Is it possible for him to really love me even though I don't look like societies ideal of the perfect woman? Could it be that maybe his idea of the perfect woman is me? With my freckles poking out, and my hair frizzing up, an entire wardrobe of clothes that have elastic waists instead of zippers and buttons? The answer is no. (or so I had convinced myself) But then I stepped back. Who am I to say what is beautiful?
Dandelions are my favorite flower. In high school I loved orchids, they were tropical and rare. When I was a young adult, I loved hydrangeas, they grew in the yard of my first house. Now that I have beautiful girls who pick me dandelion bouquets by the handful, they are my very favorite flower, hands down. I can't see a dandelion without smiling, they make my heart happy. Their bright vibrant color, the amazing way that they change from a tiny green bud, to a fuzzy yellow flower, to a white feathery seed puff, to me, are a perfect example of beauty. I would take a fistful of dandelions any day over an expensive bouquet of anything.
Then I got it. I am a dandelion! I am Alan's dandelion. Some people see weeds and break out the round-up, (Alan used to), but now we pick them, and blow the puffs all over the yard, and make wishes like crazy. And smile. Maybe my job isn't to the be prettiest, or the skinniest, or the best. Maybe my job is to help people smile. It is a very respectable job I think.
One thing I really enjoy about getting older is that somehow things seem to sort themselves out. Life gets a certain clarity all on it's own. You are certain what is important and what isn't. There isn't room for fronting or drama, there is only room for things that truly matter. It is such a relief to live each day for what it is, nothing more, just to enjoy the experience of it.
I realise that my body has literally supported me every single day that I have been alive. One of the reasons my belly pokes out is that I have made a family (ahem, and appreciate beer). I have earned these little body modifications through hard work, and also all of the amazing experiences that I have been through.
Today, I noticed that I have a smokin' set of ankles, and then I got dressed (in tie top pants) and joined some good friends for 7 layer chocolate birthday cake. I smiled the entire time.
*imaginary
I have heard it said many times that you can't change someone. I believed it too, people are who they are. With my new found self appreciation though, I would like to tell you that that statement is indeed wrong. People are constantly changing, and if you are a major influence in their life, you will inevitably change them.
I used to be a girl (and now a woman) who had a decent amount of self respect and self esteem, but always in the back of my mind, a little itchy spot of self loathing, that would ooze out and infect my brain sometimes with negativity and self doubt. I believe this is normal, to a point. (I am still working on my *phd, so it's hard to say if I am actually right, or just agree with myself)
I sometimes wonder, if I am a happy girl, with a good life, why do I think I need to look differently to be truly happy? Alan tells me that he loves me exactly like I am. (he says this often, apparently I need convincing) Is it possible for him to really love me even though I don't look like societies ideal of the perfect woman? Could it be that maybe his idea of the perfect woman is me? With my freckles poking out, and my hair frizzing up, an entire wardrobe of clothes that have elastic waists instead of zippers and buttons? The answer is no. (or so I had convinced myself) But then I stepped back. Who am I to say what is beautiful?
Dandelions are my favorite flower. In high school I loved orchids, they were tropical and rare. When I was a young adult, I loved hydrangeas, they grew in the yard of my first house. Now that I have beautiful girls who pick me dandelion bouquets by the handful, they are my very favorite flower, hands down. I can't see a dandelion without smiling, they make my heart happy. Their bright vibrant color, the amazing way that they change from a tiny green bud, to a fuzzy yellow flower, to a white feathery seed puff, to me, are a perfect example of beauty. I would take a fistful of dandelions any day over an expensive bouquet of anything.
Then I got it. I am a dandelion! I am Alan's dandelion. Some people see weeds and break out the round-up, (Alan used to), but now we pick them, and blow the puffs all over the yard, and make wishes like crazy. And smile. Maybe my job isn't to the be prettiest, or the skinniest, or the best. Maybe my job is to help people smile. It is a very respectable job I think.
One thing I really enjoy about getting older is that somehow things seem to sort themselves out. Life gets a certain clarity all on it's own. You are certain what is important and what isn't. There isn't room for fronting or drama, there is only room for things that truly matter. It is such a relief to live each day for what it is, nothing more, just to enjoy the experience of it.
I realise that my body has literally supported me every single day that I have been alive. One of the reasons my belly pokes out is that I have made a family (ahem, and appreciate beer). I have earned these little body modifications through hard work, and also all of the amazing experiences that I have been through.
Today, I noticed that I have a smokin' set of ankles, and then I got dressed (in tie top pants) and joined some good friends for 7 layer chocolate birthday cake. I smiled the entire time.
*imaginary
Saturday, June 12, 2010
hey stranger
Good news-I'm feeling much better. Woohoo! I was just about convinced that I would never recover, but today the sun is out, I can breathe and taste, and the pressure in my head is gone, I am feeling great.
Tomorrow we are planning to get my garden in (finally, over a month later than usual) and then we have to pack because the girls and I are headed down to Sactown for a couple of weeks of sunshine and swimming pools and family goodness.(NANA & AUNTIES!) We are planning to come home somewhere around the end of the month, we'll see if any sweet negotiating happens and where we end up, summer is fun!
The schedule is already filling up, so far we are looking at swimming lessons, diabetes camp, a garage sale, the 10th annual Blochtoberfest (FestX), visiting guests from out of town, and we just booked another "crazy mama" trip to a hostel on an island outside of Seattle where we will stay in teepees. No moss growing under this rock I tell you!
I should have some down time early this week while chilling on the banks of the Rogue River, so I will try to finish the Mexico report then, otherwise, the statute of limitations will go into affect and you will never know what happened. (well, let's just be honest here, you will never really know what happened, and for that matter, a couple of those nights, I'm not so sure myself)
until then my friend, take care..
Tomorrow we are planning to get my garden in (finally, over a month later than usual) and then we have to pack because the girls and I are headed down to Sactown for a couple of weeks of sunshine and swimming pools and family goodness.(NANA & AUNTIES!) We are planning to come home somewhere around the end of the month, we'll see if any sweet negotiating happens and where we end up, summer is fun!
The schedule is already filling up, so far we are looking at swimming lessons, diabetes camp, a garage sale, the 10th annual Blochtoberfest (FestX), visiting guests from out of town, and we just booked another "crazy mama" trip to a hostel on an island outside of Seattle where we will stay in teepees. No moss growing under this rock I tell you!
I should have some down time early this week while chilling on the banks of the Rogue River, so I will try to finish the Mexico report then, otherwise, the statute of limitations will go into affect and you will never know what happened. (well, let's just be honest here, you will never really know what happened, and for that matter, a couple of those nights, I'm not so sure myself)
until then my friend, take care..
Monday, June 7, 2010
Today is a BIG day.
In about an hour we are leaving to go get Layla officially hooked up to her insulin pump. This is really exciting for a lot of reasons, but the main ones are that she will have to have less injections, (since insulin is administered in a different way) and that we should be able to have tighter control of her blood sugars, which will result in her overall health being better (especially in the long term). We are excited and nervous, and this first bit is going to be stressful and nerve wracking, with the expected high blood sugars, (as we transition from 2 insulins down to 1) and sugar checks every couple of hours (even through the night). This is a huge step for us, and we have been working towards it for quite some time. Wish us luck as we take this next step in Layla's diabetes care! Here we go!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
time to get ill
I am sick. It is bad. Today I finally called the doctor to see if I could come in to get some help, and a cheerful lady on the line told me that viral infections can last up to three weeks, and that I need to make friends with my neti pot and humidifier. Thanks, that is all the help I needed. Oh wait, I can't breathe, so neti pot is out, and I think that we all know humidifiers are for babies, so thanks for NOTHING!
Needless to say, I am tired and cranky and not looking or feeling my best. I have been trying to avoid mirrors as much as possible since it is a scary sight to say the least. My hair is fuzzed up, my eyes are like dried up raisins, there are zits popping up in actual constellations all over my face, and I am getting a cold sore. Really?! Is this some kind of punishment from the universe for having one good week?!
Anyway, tonight I told Alan that I am afraid that this is what I will look like when I get old. He looked at me and said "you are just sick, you are not getting old." and I could HEAR him roll his eyes. Is that even possible?! Try it. I think he has a gift, possibly Jedi powers even. I think he thinks I am faking it (I am totally not--although he did cook EVERY meal-ALL weekend, this may be useful information for later, when I feel good enough to fake a horrible, mind melting illness)
OH! My left foot just fell asleep, I am pretty sure this is a symptom. (or it could be the benadryl, hard to say).
Just wanted to let you know that the Mexico recap will commence once I am feeling a little better and the room stops spinning. (I did NOT have enough fun for that to be happening!)
hack-cough
mom-is that you?
I see a bright light
must...hang...on...
Needless to say, I am tired and cranky and not looking or feeling my best. I have been trying to avoid mirrors as much as possible since it is a scary sight to say the least. My hair is fuzzed up, my eyes are like dried up raisins, there are zits popping up in actual constellations all over my face, and I am getting a cold sore. Really?! Is this some kind of punishment from the universe for having one good week?!
Anyway, tonight I told Alan that I am afraid that this is what I will look like when I get old. He looked at me and said "you are just sick, you are not getting old." and I could HEAR him roll his eyes. Is that even possible?! Try it. I think he has a gift, possibly Jedi powers even. I think he thinks I am faking it (I am totally not--although he did cook EVERY meal-ALL weekend, this may be useful information for later, when I feel good enough to fake a horrible, mind melting illness)
OH! My left foot just fell asleep, I am pretty sure this is a symptom. (or it could be the benadryl, hard to say).
Just wanted to let you know that the Mexico recap will commence once I am feeling a little better and the room stops spinning. (I did NOT have enough fun for that to be happening!)
hack-cough
mom-is that you?
I see a bright light
must...hang...on...
Monday, May 31, 2010
Home is where
I am. It was sunny and 90ish degrees every day in Puerto Vallarta, and it hasn't stopped raining since we arrived home a little over a week ago. Now, since I am sure you have been patiently waiting (and holding your breath) and just to torture myself, since I am a closet masochist, I will try to recount to you, the magic that is Mexico.
Day 1:
After a short nap, we left for the airport around 3am. I had been up late to finish packing, brief the aunties (again), shave my legs, paint my toes, double check that my bathing suit was packed, and you know, make up things to stress about in general. We boarded the flight without a problem and had landed in Phoenix in no time.
I had a blind date with an internet friend for coffee at the Phoenix airport during our layover, so we headed out of security for that, and I proceeded to do jumping jacks in the middle of the concourse until Cynthia found me. (How else would a stranger recognise you?!) She was awesome, the bagels were fine and the coffee was terrible. Soon, it was time to head back through security for our flight to Mexico. We waited in a long security line and finally found our gate. There was no one there. There was no airplane there. Alan went to check the monitor, and found that they had moved our flight, it was now 2 concourses over, and they were boarding. We RAN the entire way, arrived breathless, and boarded as soon as we got to the gate. There was sweat but luckily no tears (ok, well maybe just a couple of little ones). When we were finally in the air, I started to relax.
We arrived in Puerto Vallarta around 3pm on Saturday along with about 6 other airplanes (by the looks of the cramped and stuffy passenger holding area) and had to wait over an hour to get through immigration. We got the crankiest, slowest, worker that has ever walked the planet, and she was hesitant to let anyone into her country. Listen, I get it, Mexico is great, but um, we have been flying since way before dawn, and I am ready for about 13 beers, so, GEEZ! It was torturous. Finally we got through everything and wound our way out of the airport, to find Robert (queue angels singing) waiting for us with a cooler full of cold beer and a nice cool ride for us back to Old town. It was like I was home.
We got to our room,(not the penthouse-sigh) dropped our backpacks, and headed down for a sunset dinner on the beach. We got to catch up with our friends with our toes in the sand, eat amazing food, and watch the sun set over the ocean. Hours later as we sat on our balcony watching the waves, we decided to take our beers down to the beach again, (it never gets old) so we could be just a few feet closer to the water. We sat there in the dark and chatted and laughed just like on our honeymoon (oh, I am a LIAR! we never had a honeymoon, I was 12 and Alan had finals the next day or something, but in a perfect world, if we had one, it would have been like this) We were both exhausted, so finally we drug ourselves out of the trance we were in, and decided to head back to our room.
It was then that we (quite literally) stumbled onto another couple sitting on the beach not far behind us. They informed us that a friend of theirs owned the villa just down the beach, and was currently hosting a wedding. (phew! I thought it was funny that an 80's soundtrack was playing in my mind, but was having a hard time explaining the disco lights. PLUS probably a little more air supply if my subconscious was actually in charge) There was going to be fireworks soon right from our beach! They were scheduled for 10:30, but this was Mexico, so it would probably happen tonight. Since we had nothing planned for the evening, we sat back down in the sand. At 11:15(ish) we saw someone scurrying around down the beach, and moments later, our private show started. They were huge and beautiful, and almost close enough to touch. For about 10 minutes we watched the most amazing show of our lives with our new friends. Time after time, the sparks shot up into the air, exploded, and then rained glitter down into the water, leaving behind puffs of smoke and magic. (I would like to amend earlier honeymoon fantasy to also include this)
After the show was over we went back to the room, and slept. Hard.
How can real life possibly compete with this?!
Portland Airport at 3am
at the PHX airport, with our backpacks!
My (real life) friend Cynthia!
Day 1:
After a short nap, we left for the airport around 3am. I had been up late to finish packing, brief the aunties (again), shave my legs, paint my toes, double check that my bathing suit was packed, and you know, make up things to stress about in general. We boarded the flight without a problem and had landed in Phoenix in no time.
I had a blind date with an internet friend for coffee at the Phoenix airport during our layover, so we headed out of security for that, and I proceeded to do jumping jacks in the middle of the concourse until Cynthia found me. (How else would a stranger recognise you?!) She was awesome, the bagels were fine and the coffee was terrible. Soon, it was time to head back through security for our flight to Mexico. We waited in a long security line and finally found our gate. There was no one there. There was no airplane there. Alan went to check the monitor, and found that they had moved our flight, it was now 2 concourses over, and they were boarding. We RAN the entire way, arrived breathless, and boarded as soon as we got to the gate. There was sweat but luckily no tears (ok, well maybe just a couple of little ones). When we were finally in the air, I started to relax.
We arrived in Puerto Vallarta around 3pm on Saturday along with about 6 other airplanes (by the looks of the cramped and stuffy passenger holding area) and had to wait over an hour to get through immigration. We got the crankiest, slowest, worker that has ever walked the planet, and she was hesitant to let anyone into her country. Listen, I get it, Mexico is great, but um, we have been flying since way before dawn, and I am ready for about 13 beers, so, GEEZ! It was torturous. Finally we got through everything and wound our way out of the airport, to find Robert (queue angels singing) waiting for us with a cooler full of cold beer and a nice cool ride for us back to Old town. It was like I was home.
We got to our room,(not the penthouse-sigh) dropped our backpacks, and headed down for a sunset dinner on the beach. We got to catch up with our friends with our toes in the sand, eat amazing food, and watch the sun set over the ocean. Hours later as we sat on our balcony watching the waves, we decided to take our beers down to the beach again, (it never gets old) so we could be just a few feet closer to the water. We sat there in the dark and chatted and laughed just like on our honeymoon (oh, I am a LIAR! we never had a honeymoon, I was 12 and Alan had finals the next day or something, but in a perfect world, if we had one, it would have been like this) We were both exhausted, so finally we drug ourselves out of the trance we were in, and decided to head back to our room.
It was then that we (quite literally) stumbled onto another couple sitting on the beach not far behind us. They informed us that a friend of theirs owned the villa just down the beach, and was currently hosting a wedding. (phew! I thought it was funny that an 80's soundtrack was playing in my mind, but was having a hard time explaining the disco lights. PLUS probably a little more air supply if my subconscious was actually in charge) There was going to be fireworks soon right from our beach! They were scheduled for 10:30, but this was Mexico, so it would probably happen tonight. Since we had nothing planned for the evening, we sat back down in the sand. At 11:15(ish) we saw someone scurrying around down the beach, and moments later, our private show started. They were huge and beautiful, and almost close enough to touch. For about 10 minutes we watched the most amazing show of our lives with our new friends. Time after time, the sparks shot up into the air, exploded, and then rained glitter down into the water, leaving behind puffs of smoke and magic. (I would like to amend earlier honeymoon fantasy to also include this)
After the show was over we went back to the room, and slept. Hard.
How can real life possibly compete with this?!
Portland Airport at 3am
at the PHX airport, with our backpacks!
My (real life) friend Cynthia!
Thursday, May 13, 2010
vacation check list
*cute new haircut--check
*break in new sandals, as to have calluses instead of blisters--check
*back up camera battery--check
*back up memory card--check (the sales guy told me that the difference between an amateur and a pro is 1000 shots, we will see about that)
*go on a fast to lose 20 pounds, but instead lose 5 pounds and then gain it back in prevacation binge--check
*pluck beard hair--check
*practice pack, then pull everything out, then practice pack again, forget bathing suit every single time--check (leaving actual packing until 2 hours before flight departure time)
*make laminated lists and rules and instructions for babysitters (who happen to be the aunties, who on their worst day are like 10,000 times better at watching the kids than me anyway) appreciate the irony--check
to do still before we leave:
*shave legs (past knees-this is a special occasion)
*paint toe nails in some, as of yet to be determined, amazing color
*make 47 more lists for the aunties (and laminate)
*clearly mark all emergency exits with reflective tape and streamers
*figure out how to get a weeks worth of stuff into a small backpack (including bathing suit)
*put bathing suit in a really obvious place, possibly wear it to bed that night (plan on finding a new one when we get there, when I forget it anyway, or hope we get the upgrade to a penthouse, with our own pool, where Alan can enforce his "no bathing suit" policy)
*don't forget to breathe. Going on vacation is hard work!
*break in new sandals, as to have calluses instead of blisters--check
*back up camera battery--check
*back up memory card--check (the sales guy told me that the difference between an amateur and a pro is 1000 shots, we will see about that)
*go on a fast to lose 20 pounds, but instead lose 5 pounds and then gain it back in prevacation binge--check
*pluck beard hair--check
*practice pack, then pull everything out, then practice pack again, forget bathing suit every single time--check (leaving actual packing until 2 hours before flight departure time)
*make laminated lists and rules and instructions for babysitters (who happen to be the aunties, who on their worst day are like 10,000 times better at watching the kids than me anyway) appreciate the irony--check
to do still before we leave:
*shave legs (past knees-this is a special occasion)
*paint toe nails in some, as of yet to be determined, amazing color
*make 47 more lists for the aunties (and laminate)
*clearly mark all emergency exits with reflective tape and streamers
*figure out how to get a weeks worth of stuff into a small backpack (including bathing suit)
*put bathing suit in a really obvious place, possibly wear it to bed that night (plan on finding a new one when we get there, when I forget it anyway, or hope we get the upgrade to a penthouse, with our own pool, where Alan can enforce his "no bathing suit" policy)
*don't forget to breathe. Going on vacation is hard work!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
I see you there!
YOU! sneaky stalker. I put a counter on my blog to see if anyone on the planet gave a hoot about the random crap I write, and it keeps spinning up like crazy. Well, it's not exactly spinning, but I am actually very surprised at the numbers, there have been about 100 hits per week. Probably only about 87 of those are me checking on things, and trying to decide if I have anything else to say, so that means that 13other times, someone else is coming here. (or maybe my mom clicks it just to make me feel better, she would totally do something like that-once she took me to see strippers even-not related, just funny, especially if you know my mom.) There are only 2 people officially following the blog, (one is a good friend who had to sign up out of pity since I had NO other followers) and the other person has not as of yet revealed themselves-very mysterious. (mom is that you?!)
On a funny side note, did you know that when you add a counter to something, you can have it start at any number you want? It made me giggle that you would put a counter on something and not start at 1. I guess there are reasons, maybe a high counter is super impressive or something, but I just started at 1, a few years into the blog, that's just how I roll. (plus I am not good at math and a fake number would have just made me confused and think that I probably need to hide from the paparazzi or something)
Anyway, I just wanted you to know, that I know, that you are there-all strong and silent, without even a friendly comment, or sarcastic cheer. (or small expensive gifts, just to show you care) I went all big brother on your ass and you didn't even know it. BAM!
book update: I have written a few pages, and have done a little editing whilst enjoying a nice buzz, so I would say, the book is coming along nicely. I think it's really funny, and no one else has read it, so I am sporting a 100% approval rating right now. It makes me think that I might be the target audience,and showing it to anyone might be a horrific mistake. Plus how much of a princess would I be if I wrote myself a book and just kept it all for myself? I hear that everyone and their brother is writing a book now anyway, so maybe it's too mainstream for my likes anyhow. Who needs to be a kabillionaire anyway?! Not me boy!
vacation update: the Aunties come tomorrow and we leave for Mexico in 3 days. I am all bound up with excitement. (what do you think it means?) I think you know how I feel about the Aunties and about Mexico, so I will leave it at that. We are planning on trying to see some petroglyphs and crocodiles while we are there, but you know what they say about the best laid plans (especially when there is tequila involved).
See you on the flip side! Adios!
On a funny side note, did you know that when you add a counter to something, you can have it start at any number you want? It made me giggle that you would put a counter on something and not start at 1. I guess there are reasons, maybe a high counter is super impressive or something, but I just started at 1, a few years into the blog, that's just how I roll. (plus I am not good at math and a fake number would have just made me confused and think that I probably need to hide from the paparazzi or something)
Anyway, I just wanted you to know, that I know, that you are there-all strong and silent, without even a friendly comment, or sarcastic cheer. (or small expensive gifts, just to show you care) I went all big brother on your ass and you didn't even know it. BAM!
book update: I have written a few pages, and have done a little editing whilst enjoying a nice buzz, so I would say, the book is coming along nicely. I think it's really funny, and no one else has read it, so I am sporting a 100% approval rating right now. It makes me think that I might be the target audience,and showing it to anyone might be a horrific mistake. Plus how much of a princess would I be if I wrote myself a book and just kept it all for myself? I hear that everyone and their brother is writing a book now anyway, so maybe it's too mainstream for my likes anyhow. Who needs to be a kabillionaire anyway?! Not me boy!
vacation update: the Aunties come tomorrow and we leave for Mexico in 3 days. I am all bound up with excitement. (what do you think it means?) I think you know how I feel about the Aunties and about Mexico, so I will leave it at that. We are planning on trying to see some petroglyphs and crocodiles while we are there, but you know what they say about the best laid plans (especially when there is tequila involved).
See you on the flip side! Adios!
Saturday, May 8, 2010
happy mother's day
Tomorrow is mother's day, it will be the 7th one I will have celebrated as a mama. It got me to thinking, what is it exactly that makes someone a mother. I mean, of course, there is the obvious-giving birth-but I think there are other, equally important qualifiers as well. I decided to put together a list (ala Jeff Foxworthy) so you can see if indeed, you might be a mother.
If you have wiped a booty that wasn't yours, you might be a mother.
If you have cleaned up messes that you had no hand in making, you might be a mother.
If you have licked your finger, in order to use it to wipe something off of someone else's face, you might be a mother.
If you cut your finger, and can only find Snoopy band aids to put on it, you might be a mother.
If you find yourself taking orders from someone much smaller than you, that is covered in peanut butter, you might be a mother.
If you cry at cheesy commercials with chubby babies, or romantic movies about true love, you might be a mother.
If you have ever used the words "because I said so!", you are probably a mother.
If you have stretch marks and saggy boobies, and they make you feel proud, you are probably a mother.
If you have earned your laugh lines, you are probably a mother.
If you always put the wants and needs of others before your own, you are probably a mother.
If you have cared about something or someone so much, that it made your heart hurt, you are definitely a mother.
If you have stayed up all night worrying about someone, and can only breathe easy when you know they are ok, you are definitely a mother.
If you have ever been so terrified that your insides actually melted, you are definitely a mother.
If you have comforted others, and provided a safe harbour for them to rest, you are definitely a mother.
If you have seen the best in someone, and encouraged them to do the same, even when it is hard for them to see, you are definitely a mother.
If you have ever looked into the eyes of a child, and felt hope for the future, you are definitely a mother.
If you have looked into the eyes of a monster, and then proceeded to kick it's ass, you are definitely a mother.
Having kids is hard, I think it might just about almost kill you. But then, when you come out at the other end and look back, it is something priceless. There is no amount of money you can put on those mud pies, skinned knees, snuggly mornings, whipped cream feasts (oh yeah we do that!), nothing else in this world that has a value that even comes close. As hard, and dirty, and scary and prickly as it is, there isn't anything I would change. Today the sun was out, the girls played and giggled and picked me daisies all day long. It was a good day.
Happy mother's day Mom, Grandma, Auntie Retta, Aunt Deb, Nikki-I love you ladies so much! Happy mother's day to all of the mamas, I hope your day is amazing, you have earned it! (now go sleep in and then when you decide to get up, demand a Starbucks!)
If you have wiped a booty that wasn't yours, you might be a mother.
If you have cleaned up messes that you had no hand in making, you might be a mother.
If you have licked your finger, in order to use it to wipe something off of someone else's face, you might be a mother.
If you cut your finger, and can only find Snoopy band aids to put on it, you might be a mother.
If you find yourself taking orders from someone much smaller than you, that is covered in peanut butter, you might be a mother.
If you cry at cheesy commercials with chubby babies, or romantic movies about true love, you might be a mother.
If you have ever used the words "because I said so!", you are probably a mother.
If you have stretch marks and saggy boobies, and they make you feel proud, you are probably a mother.
If you have earned your laugh lines, you are probably a mother.
If you always put the wants and needs of others before your own, you are probably a mother.
If you have cared about something or someone so much, that it made your heart hurt, you are definitely a mother.
If you have stayed up all night worrying about someone, and can only breathe easy when you know they are ok, you are definitely a mother.
If you have ever been so terrified that your insides actually melted, you are definitely a mother.
If you have comforted others, and provided a safe harbour for them to rest, you are definitely a mother.
If you have seen the best in someone, and encouraged them to do the same, even when it is hard for them to see, you are definitely a mother.
If you have ever looked into the eyes of a child, and felt hope for the future, you are definitely a mother.
If you have looked into the eyes of a monster, and then proceeded to kick it's ass, you are definitely a mother.
Having kids is hard, I think it might just about almost kill you. But then, when you come out at the other end and look back, it is something priceless. There is no amount of money you can put on those mud pies, skinned knees, snuggly mornings, whipped cream feasts (oh yeah we do that!), nothing else in this world that has a value that even comes close. As hard, and dirty, and scary and prickly as it is, there isn't anything I would change. Today the sun was out, the girls played and giggled and picked me daisies all day long. It was a good day.
Happy mother's day Mom, Grandma, Auntie Retta, Aunt Deb, Nikki-I love you ladies so much! Happy mother's day to all of the mamas, I hope your day is amazing, you have earned it! (now go sleep in and then when you decide to get up, demand a Starbucks!)
Friday, May 7, 2010
time flies!
On Tuesday Maggie climbed to the top of the 25 foot high rock wall at the Y. Yesterday evening Layla mastered riding her 2 wheeler (with no training wheels) and no help from Dad at all. It was a big day. Today I took Maggie to get her first manicure and pedicure as a special treat, and when we got home, she informed me that her tongue could move one of her teeth. She has her first loose tooth. Layla is quickly becoming a fluent reader, understands the concept of division, can do her own injections, and can make pancakes all by herself. Maggie gets herself dressed, brushes her own teeth and can make her own peanut butter sandwich. All of the sudden, my babies are gone, and they have been replaced with big girls. I guess I knew this day would come, but I always figured there would be some sort of grace period. Not blue toe nails, and a 2 wheeler, and a loose tooth all in one day. Good thing it's Friday. I need to sneak in lots of snuggles before they start packing for college.
Monday, April 26, 2010
book
so I decided to write a book, and I wanted to blog about the process, for future reference. Also to keep you updated, so you can preorder it on Amazon when it comes out. I started writing today, so I figure it should be done sometime around, um, well, maybe never (possibly sooner). I got a tiny baby laptop from my grandma (seriously, it is 9" X 6.5" when it is folded up) to help with the process, and so I figure I am well on my way. Now I just have to find a comfy spot, boot up, and let the story come out. So far I have learned that 1)lap tops are really hot when they are sitting on your lap, and that 2) my story is coming out, but it is all jumbled up, full of typos, 3) that naming characters is harder than naming babies, and 4) that writing a book is harder than reading one someone else has written.
I read on the internet that you are supposed to get your idea all pretty and then submit it like that, and write your book after someone agrees to buy it. (I think we all know that I have no patience, and will end up writing the story first, and then binding it at Office Max and giving it away for Christmas to everyone I know when it doesn't get published.) I am totally fine with that too.
So far I have a leading lady to has a tendency to wake up in strange beds and a gorgeous gay best friend, neither if which my grandma will probably appreciate, and will quite possibly come and take back the laptop, so I better get crackin while I still have the chance!
I read on the internet that you are supposed to get your idea all pretty and then submit it like that, and write your book after someone agrees to buy it. (I think we all know that I have no patience, and will end up writing the story first, and then binding it at Office Max and giving it away for Christmas to everyone I know when it doesn't get published.) I am totally fine with that too.
So far I have a leading lady to has a tendency to wake up in strange beds and a gorgeous gay best friend, neither if which my grandma will probably appreciate, and will quite possibly come and take back the laptop, so I better get crackin while I still have the chance!
Friday, April 16, 2010
dry run
this morning I woke up extra early and dragged my friend Lorilee to Old Navy with me for a super shopping extravaganza! I could get 50% off of everything I could cram into a cute (read small) provided shopping bag. Well, it just so happens that I need some fun and sassy summer stuff (for summer and MEXICO which is coming up in less than a month). We got there early since the super sale was only available to the first 50 customers through the door (we were # 7 in line-haha, guess I was excited). After waiting in front of the store for over an hour, they finally let us in to shop. I found all kinds of Janina-licious goods, and crammed them in my tiny bag. I ended up with about 6 times the amount that would fit into my little bag, but somehow was able to use the force to charm the checker into using the discount for all of my goodies, (and Lorilee's--she was just as successful as I was), and we left giggling with hands full of bags, and the afterglow of a good shopping high.
A little later I had the grand notion to pack my new (and incredibly awesome) backpack for a dress rehearsal. I put in my new tiny lap top, (for writing my book, so I can make my first million), and all of my new clothes, and there was still a little, tiny bit of room left for my passport, and my quart sized zip top baggie full of 3.4 oz bottles of liquids,lotions and/or gels. I have been wearing it around ever since. Wish you were here to see it. It is a thing of beauty. (If it gets too heavy for me on the trip, I plan to make Alan wear it on his front like a baby, while wearing his own back pack on his back. I will be the cute one by his side, wearing the fab new summer clothes, taking pictures of nothing in particular, and singing mariachi. OLE!)
A little later I had the grand notion to pack my new (and incredibly awesome) backpack for a dress rehearsal. I put in my new tiny lap top, (for writing my book, so I can make my first million), and all of my new clothes, and there was still a little, tiny bit of room left for my passport, and my quart sized zip top baggie full of 3.4 oz bottles of liquids,lotions and/or gels. I have been wearing it around ever since. Wish you were here to see it. It is a thing of beauty. (If it gets too heavy for me on the trip, I plan to make Alan wear it on his front like a baby, while wearing his own back pack on his back. I will be the cute one by his side, wearing the fab new summer clothes, taking pictures of nothing in particular, and singing mariachi. OLE!)
Friday, April 9, 2010
gearing up
Alan has been ignoring me. It is tax season and he is an accountant, so it is predictable,and even probably acceptable and excusable behavior. This doesn't make a bit of difference to me at all. I am a princess and need lots of attention, and when I don't get it I talk loud, act inappropriately and (wait for it...) go online shopping. Nothing numbs the pain like our rather handsome and distinguished UPS man arriving at my door bearing gifts, just for me.
We have a trip to Mexico coming up next month, so today I ordered us both (not quite) matching kick ass backpacks, (we aren't checking bags this time and I want to look cute whilst hauling all of my junk around for a week) and Alan got some new, super cool, strappy (yet supportive) flip flops. (does thongs sound more manly? Maybe he would prefer I called them thongs...never mind, no matter) They didn't have the (not quite matching) ones I wanted on this particular website so I will have to place my order later. (after I sell some random things that no one will miss from around here, to raise some money for overpriced footwear!)
Alan, if you are reading this, I miss you. (and, just a warning, that cutie in the brown keeps bringing me things (really, did I actually order ALL of this stuff?!?) and he is looking better to me all the time. Good thing April 15th is coming quick!)
disclaimer to those that are NOT Alan: the UPS man looks a little like my dad and while friendly, remains very professional and aloof-lest you start to worry that my marriage is failing at the hands of my out of control internet shopping obsession. It is not; however, I have gotten packages every day this week and there is no end in sight. If you haven't seen me for a week, please send in some back up, we may need an intervention, or at least maybe a casserole to feed the kids that I have been neglecting.
We have a trip to Mexico coming up next month, so today I ordered us both (not quite) matching kick ass backpacks, (we aren't checking bags this time and I want to look cute whilst hauling all of my junk around for a week) and Alan got some new, super cool, strappy (yet supportive) flip flops. (does thongs sound more manly? Maybe he would prefer I called them thongs...never mind, no matter) They didn't have the (not quite matching) ones I wanted on this particular website so I will have to place my order later. (after I sell some random things that no one will miss from around here, to raise some money for overpriced footwear!)
Alan, if you are reading this, I miss you. (and, just a warning, that cutie in the brown keeps bringing me things (really, did I actually order ALL of this stuff?!?) and he is looking better to me all the time. Good thing April 15th is coming quick!)
disclaimer to those that are NOT Alan: the UPS man looks a little like my dad and while friendly, remains very professional and aloof-lest you start to worry that my marriage is failing at the hands of my out of control internet shopping obsession. It is not; however, I have gotten packages every day this week and there is no end in sight. If you haven't seen me for a week, please send in some back up, we may need an intervention, or at least maybe a casserole to feed the kids that I have been neglecting.
Monday, April 5, 2010
tell me more
Kids say the coolest things. Layla is old enough now to have a pretty good filter, so what she says is usually pretty acceptable for general consumption. Maggie on the other hand, is another story all together. She comes up with the very best, mind blowing realizations, and has no filter whatsoever. The cool thing about her though, is that even if she had one, I am pretty sure she would ignore it. (wonder where she gets that?)
Today we made deviled eggs (why are they called that?!) and Maggie proclaimed them to be better than lollipops. This is a pretty big deal, it is like if I said they were better than chocolate. She loves lollipops. Tomorrow she won't like them anymore, but today, they were the best thing ever.
Today she also came and snuggled up in my lap and started asking questions about Pluto. (the former planet) She wanted to know where it went, why it's not a planet anymore if it used to be, (hey, I think we ALL want to know that one) and if it was farther away than the moon. I told her it was even farther away than the moon and she said "good. then I love you all the way to Pluto and back, since the moon isn't far enough!" Sweetie girl.
then she followed up our "moment" with some poop jokes. nice. Gotta love a 4 year old.
ps-update today: she just called from the bathroom "MOM! is poop made out of oranges and milk and sandwiches and candy and donuts?" didn't wait for an answer and went straight into singing the alphabet song at top volume. Am I supposed to be able to keep up?
Today we made deviled eggs (why are they called that?!) and Maggie proclaimed them to be better than lollipops. This is a pretty big deal, it is like if I said they were better than chocolate. She loves lollipops. Tomorrow she won't like them anymore, but today, they were the best thing ever.
Today she also came and snuggled up in my lap and started asking questions about Pluto. (the former planet) She wanted to know where it went, why it's not a planet anymore if it used to be, (hey, I think we ALL want to know that one) and if it was farther away than the moon. I told her it was even farther away than the moon and she said "good. then I love you all the way to Pluto and back, since the moon isn't far enough!" Sweetie girl.
then she followed up our "moment" with some poop jokes. nice. Gotta love a 4 year old.
ps-update today: she just called from the bathroom "MOM! is poop made out of oranges and milk and sandwiches and candy and donuts?" didn't wait for an answer and went straight into singing the alphabet song at top volume. Am I supposed to be able to keep up?
Monday, March 29, 2010
mixed media
we love art, it is our favorite thing (well, besides chocolate, and sleeping in, and beer, and ...). The girls are always using anything they can find to make new and amazing projects. We go through lots of tape and glue around here, lots of beads, cardboard boxes, crayons, markers, pipecleaners, well, you get it. They will make art with anything that is colorful, small, sticky, pretty, shiny, fancy, basically anything they can get their hands on. Both of the girls are really into mixed media, and even don't like their outfits to match because they think then they are wearing mixed media. After finishing any project, I am encouraged to drop whatever I am currently doing, and run (if possible) to view the latest creation.
Tonight after Layla's shower she started jumping around and yelling "MOM COME QUICK!!" (This makes me a little nervous, I don't know what to think so) I jump up, and run into the bathroom only to see her grinning, and pointing at the shower wall. There it was, her latest masterpiece. It was me, made of hair, that had stuck on her hand while she was lathering up with shampoo. I have been immortalized in hair, in the tub (practically the most prestigious place in the entire house). I have officially arrived.
Tonight after Layla's shower she started jumping around and yelling "MOM COME QUICK!!" (This makes me a little nervous, I don't know what to think so) I jump up, and run into the bathroom only to see her grinning, and pointing at the shower wall. There it was, her latest masterpiece. It was me, made of hair, that had stuck on her hand while she was lathering up with shampoo. I have been immortalized in hair, in the tub (practically the most prestigious place in the entire house). I have officially arrived.
Friday, March 26, 2010
I did what?!
this morning there was a HUGE (ok, it was tiny to smallish but whatever, it was really black and had tons of legs and was skittery and offputting) spider on the wall in my bathroom. I grabbed a piece of t.p., and squished it quick, and tossed it in the toilet. We then left for the morning and all afternoon. (flash forward hours and hours until now) I just had to pee. When I turned around to flush I had a mild coronary infarction when I noticed a spider all smashed on the toilet paper I had just used. WHAT THE?!?!? I totally just crapped a spider and didn't even know it (nevermind I only peed), probably this means I am dying! Oh wait, um, I think that may be the spider from the wall this morning. phew. Crisis averted. (well almost, I am still completely freaked out by the thought that I peed the scary, black, 100 legged spider-even though it didn't really happen, and am feeling a little skin crawly and jumpy.. I am going to try to work through this with some chocolate and probably later plenty of Blue Moon-TGIF!)
Sunday, March 21, 2010
shake what your mama gave ya
My mom has a secret. I know what is is, and since I can't (ever, no matter what) keep a secret, I am now going to spill it to you: she acts all serious and strict and matter of fact, but she can be pretty fun. (shocked?!) I remember one of the very first times that I had this monumentous realization. I was 5 and we were coming out of the grocery store with a cart full of groceries. While walking toward the car, she jumped up on the cart and started kicking one foot and riding it like a scooter, effectively leaving me in the parking lot dust. At first I was a little taken aback, (who is this crazy woman?), then I was jealous, (I want to ride that scooter cart!) and then it finally dawned on me-hey! my mom is fun. (YAY!)
Fast forward a couple of decades to now. I get a call from Mom asking me if I want to go to a male review when I am in Klamath for a visit. (um, what?!) Mom giggles and says it is a fund raiser and Tracy is selling tickets. (sidebar-until recently I haven't been back to Klamath very much as an adult, and when I go, we usually just hang out in the woods foraging and whatnot. On one visit though, probably about 10 years ago, I met Tracy while peddling lip gloss. Tracy is about my very favorite person to ever come out of Klamath Falls, she is quick, funny and pretty much just basically kicks ass.) It was as if fate had some how intervened and taken the decision out of my hands; my mom was taking me to watch strippers.
As we drove to the show, I felt a little nervous. After asking more questions about the "review" I had learned that these gentlemen were all over the age of 40 and most had never danced anything other than a two-step in their lives. I was thinking presentation would be crucial, this could go either way, it could possibly be the very best thing I had ever witnessed, or you know, not.
The following story is true, to the best of my memory, and I will now try my best to describe for you the events, (in stunning detail) since your mom wasn't fun enough to take you.
We found a parking spot right in front of the Moose lodge and headed in for the show. A handsome (and fully dressed) man was sitting behind a small card table by the door collecting the cover charge ($5 each). Behind him there was a snack buffet consisting of brownies, a chocolate fountain, crusty bread, mixed cheese cubes and assorted crudites. (very posh. Klamath, it is possible that I have underestimated you, or maybe, just maybe, you have changed in the 15 or so odd years since I left running and never once looked back. It is also very possible that the Moose lodge is like the fanciest James Bond hideout in a 100 mile range and women have never before been allowed to enter it's hallowed doors)
A very handsome Willie Nelson was wandering around with a tray waiting to bring you anything you would like from the bar. (ok, sorry, I know this is a lot of in between talking, but seriously!?! These are polite, handsome, sober men, dressed up, with full heads of hair and all of their teeth-IN KLAMATH!! and they want to serve me. I am thinking I may need to reevaluate everything I know to be true. Please stand by while I try some deep breathing and attempt to get my thoughts aligned.)
We order drinks (mom sprite, me, lite beer for fortitude) and go in to find our seats. In the middle of the room, there is a stage and runway/catwalk made out of plywood, and there, right in the center, jutting out in all of it's hand made glory, is a galvanized stripper pole. A friend of Mom's has saved seats for us, and they are directly at the end of the catwalk, with a first class view of everything that will grace the stage for the next hour or so. I desperately suck on my lite beer hoping it will somehow give me a buzz if I drink it fast enough (it didn't). The lights dim. I am getting a little nervous, luckily Willie swings by and drops off another cold one just in time (I think I might be in love).
Now, I would like to mention that this is the first "review" I have ever been to-ever. I glance around the room and look at the other women (and a few men) that are there with me and am getting the feeling that this isn't their first rodeo. A nice lady gets up on stage and shows us (probably mostly just me) how to properly hold our money so we can stick it in the panties of the dancers. Again I glance around, and see that everyone but me (and Mom) already has their money like this. I am so out of my league.
Thankfully, the first dancer out is Tracy's husband. He was fun to watch and actually a pretty good dancer-I am starting to feel like I might actually survive this night after all. Ladies (and one old guy) are having a great time, money is flying everywhere, I am laughing. There is one lady in the front row scrambling after dropped dollars to "recycle" them. I notice a really old lady in a wheelchair with a afghan over her lap and can't help but laugh. Was Klamath this fun when I lived here?
Dancer after dancer shuffle out to shake their stuff, and we are entertained by a cop, a hula dancer, a leprechaun, a hippie, bad Santa, and on and on. These costumes are amazing, the attention to detail is hilarious, but my personal favorite was the layers of underwear. I don't know if it was pride or what (probably their wives made them, for the sake of everyone) but there was always at least 2 pairs of undies. Tighty whities seemed to be the under layer of choice, but one guy even wore cut off jeans under his fancy tuxedo thong panties. Over and over men came out in their underwear(s) with knee socks pulled all the way up and shiny church shoes on (or velcro orthopedics). I start to get a cramp.
At one point Mom had to sneak out to use the ladies room and when she came back there was a guy wearing camo with a stuffed python hanging out of his pants. When she realized what it was, she immediately covered her eyes and made an audible squeak (guess there are fun limits-ha!)
One fellow sat on my lap, one did his best sexy dance by trying to floss his ass (through countless layers of undies) with a sparkly winter scarf, one played bagpipes, Santa had candy canes.
It is obvious to me now that I am wasting my time. There is no way I can possibly convey the sheer amazingness of the evening to you. My only advice would be to try and catch a show if you ever get a chance, I hear they are already getting requests for future bookings....Elks lodge anyone? Even if you have to steal your baby's milk money and pay with quarters-GO!
I found out that the lady in the wheelchair was 99 years old, and getting to ogle Klamath's finest was her valentines day present. I am telling you the truth when I say I have never had as much fun in Klamath before. (well maybe one time, but I can't tell you that secret, since it's mine)
Fast forward a couple of decades to now. I get a call from Mom asking me if I want to go to a male review when I am in Klamath for a visit. (um, what?!) Mom giggles and says it is a fund raiser and Tracy is selling tickets. (sidebar-until recently I haven't been back to Klamath very much as an adult, and when I go, we usually just hang out in the woods foraging and whatnot. On one visit though, probably about 10 years ago, I met Tracy while peddling lip gloss. Tracy is about my very favorite person to ever come out of Klamath Falls, she is quick, funny and pretty much just basically kicks ass.) It was as if fate had some how intervened and taken the decision out of my hands; my mom was taking me to watch strippers.
As we drove to the show, I felt a little nervous. After asking more questions about the "review" I had learned that these gentlemen were all over the age of 40 and most had never danced anything other than a two-step in their lives. I was thinking presentation would be crucial, this could go either way, it could possibly be the very best thing I had ever witnessed, or you know, not.
The following story is true, to the best of my memory, and I will now try my best to describe for you the events, (in stunning detail) since your mom wasn't fun enough to take you.
We found a parking spot right in front of the Moose lodge and headed in for the show. A handsome (and fully dressed) man was sitting behind a small card table by the door collecting the cover charge ($5 each). Behind him there was a snack buffet consisting of brownies, a chocolate fountain, crusty bread, mixed cheese cubes and assorted crudites. (very posh. Klamath, it is possible that I have underestimated you, or maybe, just maybe, you have changed in the 15 or so odd years since I left running and never once looked back. It is also very possible that the Moose lodge is like the fanciest James Bond hideout in a 100 mile range and women have never before been allowed to enter it's hallowed doors)
A very handsome Willie Nelson was wandering around with a tray waiting to bring you anything you would like from the bar. (ok, sorry, I know this is a lot of in between talking, but seriously!?! These are polite, handsome, sober men, dressed up, with full heads of hair and all of their teeth-IN KLAMATH!! and they want to serve me. I am thinking I may need to reevaluate everything I know to be true. Please stand by while I try some deep breathing and attempt to get my thoughts aligned.)
We order drinks (mom sprite, me, lite beer for fortitude) and go in to find our seats. In the middle of the room, there is a stage and runway/catwalk made out of plywood, and there, right in the center, jutting out in all of it's hand made glory, is a galvanized stripper pole. A friend of Mom's has saved seats for us, and they are directly at the end of the catwalk, with a first class view of everything that will grace the stage for the next hour or so. I desperately suck on my lite beer hoping it will somehow give me a buzz if I drink it fast enough (it didn't). The lights dim. I am getting a little nervous, luckily Willie swings by and drops off another cold one just in time (I think I might be in love).
Now, I would like to mention that this is the first "review" I have ever been to-ever. I glance around the room and look at the other women (and a few men) that are there with me and am getting the feeling that this isn't their first rodeo. A nice lady gets up on stage and shows us (probably mostly just me) how to properly hold our money so we can stick it in the panties of the dancers. Again I glance around, and see that everyone but me (and Mom) already has their money like this. I am so out of my league.
Thankfully, the first dancer out is Tracy's husband. He was fun to watch and actually a pretty good dancer-I am starting to feel like I might actually survive this night after all. Ladies (and one old guy) are having a great time, money is flying everywhere, I am laughing. There is one lady in the front row scrambling after dropped dollars to "recycle" them. I notice a really old lady in a wheelchair with a afghan over her lap and can't help but laugh. Was Klamath this fun when I lived here?
Dancer after dancer shuffle out to shake their stuff, and we are entertained by a cop, a hula dancer, a leprechaun, a hippie, bad Santa, and on and on. These costumes are amazing, the attention to detail is hilarious, but my personal favorite was the layers of underwear. I don't know if it was pride or what (probably their wives made them, for the sake of everyone) but there was always at least 2 pairs of undies. Tighty whities seemed to be the under layer of choice, but one guy even wore cut off jeans under his fancy tuxedo thong panties. Over and over men came out in their underwear(s) with knee socks pulled all the way up and shiny church shoes on (or velcro orthopedics). I start to get a cramp.
At one point Mom had to sneak out to use the ladies room and when she came back there was a guy wearing camo with a stuffed python hanging out of his pants. When she realized what it was, she immediately covered her eyes and made an audible squeak (guess there are fun limits-ha!)
One fellow sat on my lap, one did his best sexy dance by trying to floss his ass (through countless layers of undies) with a sparkly winter scarf, one played bagpipes, Santa had candy canes.
It is obvious to me now that I am wasting my time. There is no way I can possibly convey the sheer amazingness of the evening to you. My only advice would be to try and catch a show if you ever get a chance, I hear they are already getting requests for future bookings....Elks lodge anyone? Even if you have to steal your baby's milk money and pay with quarters-GO!
I found out that the lady in the wheelchair was 99 years old, and getting to ogle Klamath's finest was her valentines day present. I am telling you the truth when I say I have never had as much fun in Klamath before. (well maybe one time, but I can't tell you that secret, since it's mine)
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
you do what you gotta do
Layla has had a loose tooth for a very long time. It is in the front(ish), on the top and has been sticking out straight as long as I can remember. I don't like it. At all. But for some reason lately it has been driving me mad. It's her face, her tooth, her problem biting hard stuff, why would I care? (great question. OCD? PMS? Who knows?)
Anyway, I have been "encouraging" her to yank it out lately since it is so loose. Today she decided it was time, and asked me to pull it out for her. Now I am not new, and have played this tooth pulling game before. She lets me grab it, I pull, and she freaks and yells and runs away. Not fun. I am not playing. "PLEEEEEEEEASE mama?!" "Nope, sorry, as much as I would like to see that sucker gone, I am not interested in participating. Your dad will be home soon."
Maggie is standing by, listening to the whole exchange, and pipes in, "I'll do it Layla!" (I laugh a little on the inside at this, since it is funny, and also since I think that there is NO way Layla will even consider this offer) I don't even know if Layla said yes, but since she didn't hear a "NO", Maggie gets a stool so she was level with Layla, and next thing I know has grabbed Layla by the face and is doing her best to yank that tooth out of her mouth!
She gave it a tug. Nothing. She gave it another, harder tug. She felt it move a little. After a few of these it starts bleeding. (I am sure now that this will be the end of it) Layla starts to squirm, so Maggie starts to talk her through it. "this tooth is ready Layla-Please BE STILL!" then "I almost had it that time, I'm sure!"
Layla is being a real champ about the whole thing and I am absolutely no help at all since I am just distracting them with my loud laughing and camera flash. (moms are so annoying sometimes!)
Maggie is really professional, and is keeping at it with determination. (I surely would have thrown in the towel by now, she obviously doesn't have the same fear of hurting Layla that I do) Layla starts to get more and more restless, so Maggie's distraction technique is getting more impressive. She is now helping Layla plan what she will do with the untold wealth she will surely be getting from the tooth fairy for this wonderful tooth. (Strong work by the way, I almost wanted her to pull some of mine, mama needs a vacation!)
Finally Layla has had enough. She yells at Maggie to "STOP!" Maggie giggles and opens her hand to reveal a tooth in her palm! Layla looked completely shocked, Maggie was so proud. It was a great show.
I wonder if tomorrow, after the tooth has been cashed, Maggie will ask for her cut?
Anyway, today, my stomach hurts from laughing, and my back hurts from life, but I will go to bed happy. These kids are a handful, but they are great, and they make me laugh-every-single-day. (also possibly Mags will be a dentist and pay for a real nice old folks home for me and Alan-you never know)
Anyway, I have been "encouraging" her to yank it out lately since it is so loose. Today she decided it was time, and asked me to pull it out for her. Now I am not new, and have played this tooth pulling game before. She lets me grab it, I pull, and she freaks and yells and runs away. Not fun. I am not playing. "PLEEEEEEEEASE mama?!" "Nope, sorry, as much as I would like to see that sucker gone, I am not interested in participating. Your dad will be home soon."
Maggie is standing by, listening to the whole exchange, and pipes in, "I'll do it Layla!" (I laugh a little on the inside at this, since it is funny, and also since I think that there is NO way Layla will even consider this offer) I don't even know if Layla said yes, but since she didn't hear a "NO", Maggie gets a stool so she was level with Layla, and next thing I know has grabbed Layla by the face and is doing her best to yank that tooth out of her mouth!
She gave it a tug. Nothing. She gave it another, harder tug. She felt it move a little. After a few of these it starts bleeding. (I am sure now that this will be the end of it) Layla starts to squirm, so Maggie starts to talk her through it. "this tooth is ready Layla-Please BE STILL!" then "I almost had it that time, I'm sure!"
Layla is being a real champ about the whole thing and I am absolutely no help at all since I am just distracting them with my loud laughing and camera flash. (moms are so annoying sometimes!)
Maggie is really professional, and is keeping at it with determination. (I surely would have thrown in the towel by now, she obviously doesn't have the same fear of hurting Layla that I do) Layla starts to get more and more restless, so Maggie's distraction technique is getting more impressive. She is now helping Layla plan what she will do with the untold wealth she will surely be getting from the tooth fairy for this wonderful tooth. (Strong work by the way, I almost wanted her to pull some of mine, mama needs a vacation!)
Finally Layla has had enough. She yells at Maggie to "STOP!" Maggie giggles and opens her hand to reveal a tooth in her palm! Layla looked completely shocked, Maggie was so proud. It was a great show.
I wonder if tomorrow, after the tooth has been cashed, Maggie will ask for her cut?
Anyway, today, my stomach hurts from laughing, and my back hurts from life, but I will go to bed happy. These kids are a handful, but they are great, and they make me laugh-every-single-day. (also possibly Mags will be a dentist and pay for a real nice old folks home for me and Alan-you never know)
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
on her own
This morning when I woke up it was quiet. The girls are usually already awake and drawing or watching cartoons, so I poked my head out to check out what was going on.
Layla was sitting quietly on the couch reading a book silently to herself. She has never read on her own before, and getting her to practice reading is usually something I dread, as she fights me every step of the way. (needless to say, this was a big surprise!)
"Whatcha doing?" I asked her. "Reading my new books about horses and ponies" she tells me, and then proceeds to inform me that female foals are called fillies and male foals are called colts. "Very interesting," I tell her, "I am glad you like your new book."
I am feeling very puffy and proud about this moment, she is learning, and I am her teacher. Note to self, get more pony books.
Layla was sitting quietly on the couch reading a book silently to herself. She has never read on her own before, and getting her to practice reading is usually something I dread, as she fights me every step of the way. (needless to say, this was a big surprise!)
"Whatcha doing?" I asked her. "Reading my new books about horses and ponies" she tells me, and then proceeds to inform me that female foals are called fillies and male foals are called colts. "Very interesting," I tell her, "I am glad you like your new book."
I am feeling very puffy and proud about this moment, she is learning, and I am her teacher. Note to self, get more pony books.
Monday, February 8, 2010
I love love
Valentines day is my favorite holiday. Over the years I have met, and continue to meet, many naysayers, cynics, haters and grumps. The funny thing is, usually I might count myself one of their numbers, but not when it comes to Valentines day. I have become rather crusty and negative regarding most things, but for some reason, red foil heart shaped boxes, little cupids and roses make me melt every time. I don't even like cupid, OR roses, (never mind contrived holidays) so this is a strange phenomenon indeed. Over and over I find myself defending valentines day to people who don't understand my feelings for the special day, good people and happy couples included, this too is starting to make me wonder. Why does everyone else hate love day?
Alan says that my strong feelings about the day give him stress, since no mortal man could possibly live up to my expectations. He is wrong, and I will attempt to tell you why. Valentines day is about me. Not him, not cupid, not even chocolate or sex (although I wouldn't turn those down) I love love. I guess I love being loved would explain it better.
My grandpa was my very first valentine. He came over to my house, when I was just a little thing, and picked me up in his car. He had a card for me, just from him, and a tiny, red heart shaped, box of chocolates. We spent the day running errands together, nothing special, but it was then I realized that I was special. I had been singled out, out of everyone on the planet, to be my grandpa's special girl. I remember wondering if my grandma would be upset since he had picked me to be his valentine instead of her. Well, my Gram is amazing and she took it like a hero, and even served us lunch when we went back to their house. I don't remember many other details, just the tiny box of candy and the feeling that I had won a special prize to be chosen as someones valentine. Like I was special, and important and that I mattered.
Not all Valentines days have been extraordinary, but they don't need to be. Valentines day to me is a day that I use to reflect on how lucky I am to have had such a full and wonderful life, and to think back on all the ways I have been loved. The ways are many and varied, but just thinking of them makes my smile and fills my tank. I love you, most times, is more of an verb than a noun. People tell me all the time without saying anything.
The time you called me for no reason just to chat.
When I was stranded and you rescued me.
When you buy me something you hate just because you know I will love it.
When you tell me your secret.
The time you listened to me cry.
The time you watched the girls so I could spend some time with Alan.
When you go on a trip and bring me back a special gift (even though you are so popular and I know most people didn't get anything)
When you know what I need without me having to say a word.
When you smile at me.
The time you told me I looked beautiful, and I knew you were lying, but it felt so good to hear it anyway.
When you made me a special dinner because you know I eat differently than you.
When you told me a dirty joke to cheer me up.
When you make plans and follow through.
When you listen to my ridiculous ideas, and encourage me to follow them.
When you call me from a junk shop to tell me about the treasures.
When you pick dandelion bouquets for me by the fist full.
When you tell me the truth.
When you make time for me.
When you trust me.
When you listen.
When you go out in the cold so I don't have to.
Alan says that my strong feelings about the day give him stress, since no mortal man could possibly live up to my expectations. He is wrong, and I will attempt to tell you why. Valentines day is about me. Not him, not cupid, not even chocolate or sex (although I wouldn't turn those down) I love love. I guess I love being loved would explain it better.
My grandpa was my very first valentine. He came over to my house, when I was just a little thing, and picked me up in his car. He had a card for me, just from him, and a tiny, red heart shaped, box of chocolates. We spent the day running errands together, nothing special, but it was then I realized that I was special. I had been singled out, out of everyone on the planet, to be my grandpa's special girl. I remember wondering if my grandma would be upset since he had picked me to be his valentine instead of her. Well, my Gram is amazing and she took it like a hero, and even served us lunch when we went back to their house. I don't remember many other details, just the tiny box of candy and the feeling that I had won a special prize to be chosen as someones valentine. Like I was special, and important and that I mattered.
Not all Valentines days have been extraordinary, but they don't need to be. Valentines day to me is a day that I use to reflect on how lucky I am to have had such a full and wonderful life, and to think back on all the ways I have been loved. The ways are many and varied, but just thinking of them makes my smile and fills my tank. I love you, most times, is more of an verb than a noun. People tell me all the time without saying anything.
The time you called me for no reason just to chat.
When I was stranded and you rescued me.
When you buy me something you hate just because you know I will love it.
When you tell me your secret.
The time you listened to me cry.
The time you watched the girls so I could spend some time with Alan.
When you go on a trip and bring me back a special gift (even though you are so popular and I know most people didn't get anything)
When you know what I need without me having to say a word.
When you smile at me.
The time you told me I looked beautiful, and I knew you were lying, but it felt so good to hear it anyway.
When you made me a special dinner because you know I eat differently than you.
When you told me a dirty joke to cheer me up.
When you make plans and follow through.
When you listen to my ridiculous ideas, and encourage me to follow them.
When you call me from a junk shop to tell me about the treasures.
When you pick dandelion bouquets for me by the fist full.
When you tell me the truth.
When you make time for me.
When you trust me.
When you listen.
When you go out in the cold so I don't have to.
When I haven't seen you for months or years (or ever), and we easily slip back into the comfortable place we were, just like we never left it in the first place.
The time you didn't get mad even though I deserved it.
When you get up every time in the middle of the night to do the sugar checks.
When you know I needed to buy that, so you didn't mention it.
Because you understand that when you love something, cost isn't a factor.
When you cheer me on.
When you let me sleep in every Sunday and bring me chocolate chip pancakes in bed, because you know that to me, that is the ultimate treat.
When I see beautiful things in nature.
When I feel the rain on my face.
So many things, wonderful things, amazing things, every day I am reminded somehow that I am loved. Tiny things, humongous things, beautiful and simple things. From everywhere.
Thank you, I love you too.
Happy Valentines day.
The time you didn't get mad even though I deserved it.
When you get up every time in the middle of the night to do the sugar checks.
When you know I needed to buy that, so you didn't mention it.
Because you understand that when you love something, cost isn't a factor.
When you cheer me on.
When you let me sleep in every Sunday and bring me chocolate chip pancakes in bed, because you know that to me, that is the ultimate treat.
When I see beautiful things in nature.
When I feel the rain on my face.
So many things, wonderful things, amazing things, every day I am reminded somehow that I am loved. Tiny things, humongous things, beautiful and simple things. From everywhere.
Thank you, I love you too.
Happy Valentines day.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Vive Tuesday
we are girls here, and sometimes we like things just because they are pretty. Ok, let's be honest, it's more than sometimes, "because it's pretty" is the main reason we like anything. (followed closely by "because it's yummy or because it smells good")I love parties and events and activities, and I especially love all the little details that go into them. Taking a shower with suds that smell like flowers, using the good conditioner, wearing cute earrings, sprinkles on the cake, the little things, fancy things, that make them special. A lot of days I forget that Tuesday is special. It is just Tuesday after all, but once in a while couldn't it use some sprinkles too?
Mondays are hard (absolutely NON sprinkle days here) but Tuesdays often get overlooked as well, and today it dawned on me that we may be passing up some definite fancy opportunity. You know like in the movies, the girl who is bookish and shy, wearing slumpy clothes and hanging out with her (drop dead gorgeous, way out of her league) best friend boy? Then in the end she puts her hair up, adds some mascara and lip gloss and she is now Julia Roberts? Of course they live happily ever after since she was so very beautiful on the outside now (don'tcha just love this one? you can be totally amazing, but they only like you unless you're pretty--OOPS-just read my first line again, guess we're all guilty, but hey, if she smelled like cake I would have liked her before she got popular) So today I decided that Tuesday needed a makeover, so we would enjoy hanging out with her a little more.
We decided on a tea party lunch and made cucumber sandwiches with the crust cut off and shaped into little triangles. (fancy). We had sliced rainbow oranges on the side. (beautiful). We drank lemonade out of fancy wine glasses (super fancy, Maggie asked repeatedly if it was ok that we were using the fancy cups since we are kids). We followed it all up with scoops of ice cream in little custard cups with sprinkles (of course). Voila, Tuesday is now beautiful and popular and we are in love. (now if we could somehow get her to stop hanging out so close to Monday, everything would be perfect!)
Thursday, January 21, 2010
hurray for birthdays!
We just finished celebrating Layla's 7th birthday. I am exhausted! Most people have a birthday for a day or 2, or even a week, but we have birthday extravaganzas around here. It's my fault, completely, since I am a birthday princess, but I am good enough to let everyone enjoy the same level of celebrating, so I am kind and fair and just as a ruler. (and I expect a full month of celebrating my own birthday, which is coming up quickly, in case you need to start getting ready for it)
The festivities actually started about a day before her birthday, Maggie and I took roses and cupcakes and Tinkerbell napkins to her art class, so she could experience the whole class birthday love thing (plus then I seriously look like about the coolest mama ever-right?) On her actual birthday we decided to take the day off from school (duh-it was a birthday!) and made special fancy African pastries for breakfast (we are learning about Africa, and got the recipe from a friend who is currently living there). We then got all glammed up and went outside, on this rare dry day in January, for a photo shoot. It went very well, 7 year olds LOVE to ham it up for the camera. (4 and a half year olds really enjoy trying to sabotage the entire effort) Next on the list was lunch out with Daddy and then off to see the latest chipmunk movie. (got great reviews from both girls, who think the squeaky singing of the animated rodents is hilarious!) As soon as the movie was over, we rushed home to tidy up a bit and pick up Alan, then we headed over to Sushi Tsunami for her birthday dinner. Some really good friends were able to meet us and we had a great time, the birthday girl was very pleased. Layla had chosen a 7 layer pound cake and dark chocolate torte from a fancy local bakery for her birthday cake, and we all enjoyed it very much. (second time we sang happy birthday, just incase you are keeping track)
The next day was Friday and Alan brought Layla's BFF Caity home with him from work to stay the weekend. We had a great dinner of pizza and lemonade and craft time. (I am getting tired-thankfully, no singing today)
Saturday started early. 3 girls is a lot of girls. The morning started with some kind of argument, someones feelings being hurt, (can't remember details) and lots of whining and loud talking and high pitch sounds of all sorts, being thrown around by all. It is then that I had my best idea ever. (later proven to not be my best idea ever, but at the time, I was proud and clever) We would go to Chuck E Cheese, where a kid can be a kid, and run around and yell and all that great stuff without making me upset. (right-this is a great idea!) We get to Chuck's place around 11:15 or so, and amazingly, I was not the only adult to have had this thought today. There were about 3000 (give or take) assorted strangers there, ALL running around and yelling and jumping and whatnot. (at this point I start to rethink my brilliant idea) They give us a romantic table for 2 and we settle in and the girls take off. We leave about an hour and a half later so we can go home and eat left over pizza (oh how I love irony) and rest briefly before the birthday party starts. (that's right, now we have a birthday party)
For the birthday event we went to a pottery studio so the kids could paint tiles. It went really well, everyone was pleased, the tiles turned out great (I think, I still have to pick them up) and with happy faces (after treating both diabetics for low blood sugars) we headed next door to an ice cream shop so the guests could enjoy our special birthday "build your own ice cream sundae bar"!! It was really amazing. The ice cream is hand made with all natural goodness and local products when ever it is an option. (can't wait to go back here) The kids got to choose a flavor of ice cream out of about a dozen flavors and then they brought out about a dozen topping options and squirt bottles of chocolate sauce and whipped cream. We were having a double party with our friend Stella, so the birthday girls got a candle in their scoop while we (once again) sang happy birthday. It was so exciting to see all the toppings, and open presents, and get the birthday song AGAIN, that Layla wasn't paying very much attention to things, she was just so absorbed in the festivities. This is when the candle caught her hair on fire. true story. Luckily it was just a little piece, and the flame went out and it just fizzled and singed a bit. She finger combed the burnt bits out, we laughed, and then enjoyed ice cream.
We came home and the girls sang karaoke all night. We took Caity to her Grandma the next afternoon (after more karaoke), and then ended the day with a trip to OMSI and a noodle dinner. I love birthdays-they are about my favorite thing, but the freaking birthday song can kiss my grits. I am not a singer (without any booze in me) and the dang song is so distracting Layla almost lost her hairdo this time.
My birthday is March first but I think I am planning a celebration mid February-that should give me just about enough time to get back into birthday mode. (no singing required)
The festivities actually started about a day before her birthday, Maggie and I took roses and cupcakes and Tinkerbell napkins to her art class, so she could experience the whole class birthday love thing (plus then I seriously look like about the coolest mama ever-right?) On her actual birthday we decided to take the day off from school (duh-it was a birthday!) and made special fancy African pastries for breakfast (we are learning about Africa, and got the recipe from a friend who is currently living there). We then got all glammed up and went outside, on this rare dry day in January, for a photo shoot. It went very well, 7 year olds LOVE to ham it up for the camera. (4 and a half year olds really enjoy trying to sabotage the entire effort) Next on the list was lunch out with Daddy and then off to see the latest chipmunk movie. (got great reviews from both girls, who think the squeaky singing of the animated rodents is hilarious!) As soon as the movie was over, we rushed home to tidy up a bit and pick up Alan, then we headed over to Sushi Tsunami for her birthday dinner. Some really good friends were able to meet us and we had a great time, the birthday girl was very pleased. Layla had chosen a 7 layer pound cake and dark chocolate torte from a fancy local bakery for her birthday cake, and we all enjoyed it very much. (second time we sang happy birthday, just incase you are keeping track)
The next day was Friday and Alan brought Layla's BFF Caity home with him from work to stay the weekend. We had a great dinner of pizza and lemonade and craft time. (I am getting tired-thankfully, no singing today)
Saturday started early. 3 girls is a lot of girls. The morning started with some kind of argument, someones feelings being hurt, (can't remember details) and lots of whining and loud talking and high pitch sounds of all sorts, being thrown around by all. It is then that I had my best idea ever. (later proven to not be my best idea ever, but at the time, I was proud and clever) We would go to Chuck E Cheese, where a kid can be a kid, and run around and yell and all that great stuff without making me upset. (right-this is a great idea!) We get to Chuck's place around 11:15 or so, and amazingly, I was not the only adult to have had this thought today. There were about 3000 (give or take) assorted strangers there, ALL running around and yelling and jumping and whatnot. (at this point I start to rethink my brilliant idea) They give us a romantic table for 2 and we settle in and the girls take off. We leave about an hour and a half later so we can go home and eat left over pizza (oh how I love irony) and rest briefly before the birthday party starts. (that's right, now we have a birthday party)
For the birthday event we went to a pottery studio so the kids could paint tiles. It went really well, everyone was pleased, the tiles turned out great (I think, I still have to pick them up) and with happy faces (after treating both diabetics for low blood sugars) we headed next door to an ice cream shop so the guests could enjoy our special birthday "build your own ice cream sundae bar"!! It was really amazing. The ice cream is hand made with all natural goodness and local products when ever it is an option. (can't wait to go back here) The kids got to choose a flavor of ice cream out of about a dozen flavors and then they brought out about a dozen topping options and squirt bottles of chocolate sauce and whipped cream. We were having a double party with our friend Stella, so the birthday girls got a candle in their scoop while we (once again) sang happy birthday. It was so exciting to see all the toppings, and open presents, and get the birthday song AGAIN, that Layla wasn't paying very much attention to things, she was just so absorbed in the festivities. This is when the candle caught her hair on fire. true story. Luckily it was just a little piece, and the flame went out and it just fizzled and singed a bit. She finger combed the burnt bits out, we laughed, and then enjoyed ice cream.
We came home and the girls sang karaoke all night. We took Caity to her Grandma the next afternoon (after more karaoke), and then ended the day with a trip to OMSI and a noodle dinner. I love birthdays-they are about my favorite thing, but the freaking birthday song can kiss my grits. I am not a singer (without any booze in me) and the dang song is so distracting Layla almost lost her hairdo this time.
My birthday is March first but I think I am planning a celebration mid February-that should give me just about enough time to get back into birthday mode. (no singing required)
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