But Why Mommy

Not Again

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 14:05:00 +0000

I posted on November 1st. I posted again on November 2nd. I posted two days in a row, which is pretty good for me lately.

Two days in a row wasn't that hard. I thought I bet I could do this every day this month. I could join National Blog Posting Month and write a post every day for the entire month of November. I even signed up for it. I could totally do this.

I could do it. (insert hysterical laughter from every one who knows me and who has ever read this blog). Shut up, I could totally do it.

I could but I did not do it. I didn't even make it to the third day. I skipped 5 days before I posted again, and that post was about football and snakes. Then I didn't post until today. That is 4 days out of 12 in the month, not even close to every day.

If they did a National Post Blogs Randomly Every Few Days Month, I could totally do that. But then most of those posts would be about my football picks. In fact, this post is about my football picks, because the fine folks at the NFL have started Thursday night games. You knew that didn't you?

I'll bet that some of my loyal readers are feeling a bit like this fine fellow

a bit put out that they were forced to wear a birthday hat for a stuffed parrot's birthday party.

For that I'm sorry, but this is my blog. I've been working on a few posts but I haven't been able to finish them so football picks it is (winners in bold and red):

Thursday Night
Chicago @ San Francisco

Atlanta @ Carolina
Tampa Bay @ Miami
Detroit @ Minnesota
Cincinnati @ Pittsburgh
Buffalo @ Tennessee
Denver @ Washington
New Orleans @ St. Louis
Jacksonville @ NY Jets
Kansas City @ Oakland
Seattle @ Arizona
Dallas @ Green Bay
Philadelphia @ San Diego
New England @ Indianapolis

Monday Night
Baltimore @ Cleveland
Combined MNF Score = 45

What a Charmer

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 15:08:00 +0000

Why yes that is Bunny with a juvenile Burmese Python. Why do you ask?

We were at Snake Day at the museum and of course Bunny was in heaven. For me it was infinitely better than bug day, snakes are not nearly as creepy as bugs.

Now on to the BFL picks (winners in bold and red):

Houston @ Indianapolis
Washington @ Atlanta
Arizona @ Chicago
Baltimore @ Cincinnati
Miami @ New England
Green Bay @ Tampa Bay
Kansas City @ Jacksonville
Detroit @ Seattle
Carolina @ New Orleans
San Diego @ NY Giants
Tennessee @ San Francisco
Dallas @ Philadelphia

Monday Night: Pittsburgh @ Denver
Combined MNF Score = 45

Check out the rest of the action here.

Stuck

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 15:27:00 +0000

I've had this song stuck in my head for days.

I am sure you can all sympathize. It happens to everyone. And its always an annoying or slightly annoying song. If it were a cool song you wouldn't mind one bit, you'd just sing along. A cool song would be like having your own personal soundtrack.

An annoying song is different. You don't want it in your head. Its there and its threatening to stay. Forever. And it just might drive you crazy in the mean time.

Now the annoying song can be anything. It could be a catchy pop song from an artist you hate or from an artist you are not willing to admit to liking to anyone (not even your diary). It could be a jingle for a local bank, restaurant or the like. It could be a theme song for a television show you hate or are not willing to admit to liking to anyone (not even your diary).

In my case, it is a song from a children's cartoon. These songs are the worst to have stuck in your head. They are designed to be catchy. They are designed to be easy to remember. They are designed to be annoying because they are aimed at toddlers and pre-schoolers.

You can't fight that. The writers of these songs have research on how to make them memorable to children (and adults). Think about it, I'm sure you can remember the words to songs from shows you watched as a child that aren't even on the air anymore. These songs stick like glue.

The worst offender, in my book is Word World. Now I love Word World. Its helping Bunny learn her letters, the sounds they make and it is helping her to learn to read. So its a great show. A great show with annoying music, starting with the theme song and moving on to so many other annoying songs.

We've all heard the advice, to get a song out of your head you just sing it out loud. In theory this releases the song to the universe (or to the person sitting next to you) and frees your head. I follow this advice diligently. You can often find me breaking out in:

"You can never have too many OOs. Doodlely oo, doodlely oo, doodlely oo."

It should work. It should free my mind from this song. It should but it doesn't because Bunny thinks its hilarious that I am singing this song.

"Sing it again momma! Sing it again."
No, I will not sing that infernal song again.
"Please, momma."
Oh all right. "You can never have too many OOs. Doodlely oo, doodlely oo, doodlely oo."

And now its stuck again. It also doesn't help that Bunny requests to watch this episode over and over again, thereby insuring permanent residence in my brain.

Thanks, sweetie.

Picks

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 17:45:00 +0000

Just in under the wire. Winners in red and bold.

Houston @ Buffalo
Cleveland @ Chicago
Seattle @ Dallas
St. Louis @ Detroit
San Francisco @ Indianapolis
Miami @ NY Jets
Denver @ Baltimore
NY Giants @ Philadelphia
Minnesota @ Green Bay - This is huge. This is my Super Bowl.
Oakland @ San Diego
Jacksonville @ Tennessee
Carolina @ Arizona

Monday Night
Atlanta @ New Orleans
Combined MNF Score = 54

Three Years Ago

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 11:40:00 +0000

Three years ago. It seems like it was only yesterday. I can remember the sights, the smells, the sounds of that moment. I can even remember what it felt like to touch you.

Three years ago. It seems like forever. I cannot remember what it was like before. It is as if things have always been this way.

Three years ago, everything changed.

Three years ago, I became the person I was meant to be. The person that nineteen years of education and thirty seven years of living had not prepared me for.

Three years ago, I became a mother.

Three years ago, we became a family.

Three years ago, we traveled half way around the world to meet you.

Three years ago, one journey ended and another one began.

Three years ago, there was you.

Three years ago, there was us.

Three years ago, there was forever.

Illogical

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 13:07:00 +0000

Last night as I was brushing my teeth, I looked in the mirror and did an inspection of what I saw.

I noticed the winter paleness was already setting in, perhaps a result of having 3 sunny days in the entire month of October. I made a mental note to use a little blush so I could look human again. I noticed a pimple on my chin and sighed. 40 years old and I'm still getting pimples.

I moved on to my hair. As I said before, I'm a bit vain about my hair. I like it to look good. For a while now, I've been getting red highlights in my hair. I love them. They make me feel like a rebellious teenager at 40. But they don't last. I had them done 3 weeks ago and as I looked in the mirror I saw a blondish, pinkish, orangey mess. Not good. So I don't think I'll be getting them the next time I go in.

Then I looked at my roots. My hair has been colored various shades over the past 20 years and I don't know my real color anymore. I didn't get my roots done last time I went in, so its been over two months and you couldn't tell. So apparently I'm paying money to dye my hair its natural color (well with a little more red but its basically the same).

My inspection was almost over and I was ready to go to bed when I saw it. At first I wasn't sure what I saw. I thought it might be, but no it couldn't really be. Could it? No it definitely was. A grey hair. My first grey hair.

I felt a strange sensation. It wasn't sadness. It wasn't regret at getting older. I am older, its a fact.

It was something much weirder. I was excited. I felt this strange thrill at having my first grey hair.

Why? Well I still feel like this stupid little kid most of the time. I feel like I have no idea what is going on. And maybe, just maybe grey hair will impart some sort of wisdom on me.

Illogical I know. Give me a week and I'm sure I'll hate it.

Tonight I Wore Red Lipstick

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 02:50:00 +0000

Tonight I wore red lipstick.

Tonight I was a different, more mysterious version of myself.

I always wanted to be the kind of girl who wore red lipstick, the girl who stood out in the crowd. Instead I was the girl who stood in the back wearing lip balm. If I was feeling particularly daring, I would wear a tinted lip balm or lip gloss. For business purposes I would wear my tried and true MAC Twig, a shade described as a soft, muted brownish-pink. It really fit me to a T, I am soft, muted and brownish-pink.

Sometimes I would experiment. I would try bolder, more adventurous colors. Trying to make myself more bold, more adventurous. Sometimes I succeeded. Sometimes I failed. In fact, I have a drawer full of my failures.

Red scared me. Red was too vivacious, too daring. Red was too red.

But one day, I crossed that imaginary line in the sand. I bought a red lipstick. I don't know if it was the right shade for me but I bought it. Carrying it home in my bag, it felt like I was carrying an ancient treasure. I was carrying something that would connect me with famous femme fatales throughout history.

I got home. I ran in the bathroom. I closed the door. I tried on the lipstick. And I hated it. I thought it looked good but I didn't look like me. I looked like someone else, someone who was trying too hard. So I hid it away in the medicine cabinet. Occasionally, I would try it on before I went out. But I would always chicken out, I would cover it with a gloss or another color. I would change it.

But not tonight. Tonight I wore red lipstick.

I was different.

I was the same.

I wore the same shirt and jeans I had run errands in earlier in the day. I traded out my converse for some high heeled boots (because a 5'10" woman can always stand to have an extra 2 inches). I wore perfume. I wore red lipstick.

I was me and I was confident.

For those of you who made it to the end, here are the football picks:

Minnesota @ Pittsburgh

San Francisco @ Houston

San Diego @ Kansas City

Green Bay @ Cleveland

Indianapolis @ St. Louis

New England @ Tampa Bay

Buffalo @ Carolina

NY Jets @ Oakland

Atlanta @ Dallas

Chicago @ Cincinnati

New Orleans @ Miami

Arizona @ NY Giants

Monday Night

Philadelphia @ Washington

Combined Score 35

Sharing is Caring

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 13:06:00 +0000

Now that Bunny is in school she is learning to share. Aside from her weekly play date and time spent with her cousins, she has never really had to share anything. The joys of being an only child. School is changing this. She has to share toys and books with the other kids in class. She also has to share her teachers' attention. And so far so good.

Wednesday was Bunny's turn with the sharing bag, her school's version of show and tell. When its their turn, each child gets the bag so they can bring a special object to school and share with the class. Now Bunny has already brought all of her special "guys" to school for comfort objects, so we had to come up with something the kids hadn't seen. Finally we decided on her new "favorite" toy, a rubber, stretchy green iguana named Liz.

The bag was supposed to have instructions for the parents on it. But Bunny's bag did not. So I didn't really know what we were supposed to do. I vaguely remember we were supposed to write out clues the kids could give their friends to guess what was in the bag, but how many? One? Two? Three? No idea. So I did the only thing I could, I asked Bunny.

"Bunny, how many clues do the kids give?"

"Two."

"Okay, what clues should we give?"

"No, three. One. I don't want to give clues."

"But that's how the sharing bag goes."

"Two."

"So we give two clues?"

"I don't want to share."

"But its your turn to share."

"Okay. Two. No, three. No, two."

"Okay we are doing two. What should they be?"

"Um, she has spines on her back."

"How about lets start off with its green."

"Okay. Then I'm gonna draw some spines on the paper."

"Sure. Let's go with that.

"Can I draw Liz?"

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of the guessing game?"

"So I can't draw Liz?"

"No."

"I don't want to share."

"But it will be fun."

"Fine."

Sharing crisis averted. (Apparently it went fine and she actually shared.) Its good to share.

Bunny has also been kind enough to share things from school with Mommy. Specifically, her cold. In Bunny, it was a mildly irritating cold that turned her into a mini-Darth Vader. But when she gave it to me, it morphed into a nasty, yucky thing that actually gave me vertigo. The everything is spinning, your brain is going crazy kind of vertigo, not the Alfred Hitchcock movie Vertigo. The movie version would have been much preferred, I like Jimmy Stewart. I did not like the head spinny version.

Maybe its not good to share everything.

Life As We Used To Know It

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 12:53:00 +0000

Bunny had a sleep over at Ama and Baca's last night. Its a common enough occurrence and we all enjoy it. Bunny, Ama and Baca love it because they get to spend time together. Frink and I love it because we get to spend time together, alone.

We get to talk uninterrupted. We can go to non-kid friendly restaurants and stuff ourselves with margaritas, chips and salsa. Or we can cook a dinner together that does not involve food in nugget, stick or dog form. We can watch movies that do not have any talking animals or animated characters. In other words we get to be adults.

We also love it because we get to experience a peaceful night sleep. The kind of sleep where you don't have one ear open waiting to hear your child's cries. Deep, restorative sleep. Sleep that is only interrupted by a cat who decides the most comfortable place in all the world is on your feet. A nine pound cat, who in that magical sleeping cat form now weighs 1,000 pounds. And you have to struggle out from under this magically heavy sleeping cat to find a more comfortable position.

But that interruption is minor and your sleep is blissful. When you wake, you have no idea how long you've slept but you know that you are rested. Its only by the faint light behind your curtains, that you realize it is morning. You fumble for your glasses to read the clock and see the numbers six, four, zero.

You smile and wait for the sounds you know are coming, the fumbling of a door knob and the running of little feet. You wait for 33 pounds to launch itself onto your bed. You wait for a little girl, still warm from sleep, to dive underneath the covers. You wait for knees to find your stomach, for feet to kick your thighs, for little hands to reach out for yours. You wait for your morning ritual to begin.

Maybe with your hands clasped together, you will drift back to sleep. Or on weekend mornings, like today, the three of you will lie there giggling and whispering of upcoming adventures. On weekday mornings, she will try to hide under the covers when daddy returns from the shower. I say try to hide because one cannot successfully hide when one is giggling and "whispering" in an outside voice. But daddy plays along, pretending she's not there in that wiggling, giggling lump under the covers, all so she can jump up and yell Boo! And then, at 7 a.m., you can go downstairs and begin the day.

The noises you are waiting to hear don't come. The house is quiet. You realize that she is not here. The enjoyable evening you shared with husband and the restful night sleep you had don't seem as wonderful. There is something missing.

The morning that should hold so much promise because it is yours alone seems rather empty. You could get up and head out the door to run, the pounding of your feet on the earth, the cool crisp air in your lungs would surely energize you. You could make a pot of coffee and putter around the house, open the computer and read the blogs you have been neglecting for so long. Or you could hold on to the sleep that is slowly leaving your body, pull it back to you and drift back into its warm embrace.

You could do any of those things, but your heart's not really in it. The light that makes your day brighter, isn't here. So you just lie there and wait for it to return.

Suddenly, you hear a cry and feel a weight jump onto the bed. Is it her? Your heart starts warm with the possibility that maybe it was just a dream. That maybe she is really here.

No, she is not here. Its just one of your fur babies. The cat has seen you move and is now demanding to be fed. So you give up, get out of bed way too early and begin your day.

And you figure as long as you are up, you should make your stupid football picks (winners in bold and red):

Houston @ Cincinnati

Detroit @ Green Bay

St. Louis @ Jacksonville

Baltimore @ Minnesota

NY Giants @ New Orleans

Cleveland @ Pittsburgh

Carolina @ Tampa Bay

Kansas City @ Washington

Philadelphia @ Oakland

Arizona @ Seattle

Tennessee @ New England

Buffalo @ NY Jets

Chicago @ Atlanta

Monday Night Football:

Denver @ San Diego

Combined score: 42

Check out the rest of the BFL action here.

Artistic Revolution

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 15:14:00 +0000

An artist lives and breathes their work. To create is to live. Like the artist themselves, their work is constantly evolving. One cannot work in the same style, creating the same thing over and over again. They need to grow, to develop, to expand their horizons.

Still the quest for artistic growth can mean a radical departure. A change in style from representational art to abstract impressionism or vice versa can be quite shocking for the viewing public.

Especially their parents.

In Bunny's short artistic career, she has moved from Let's mix all the colors together and see what happens

To her Hamstack period

To a more representational style

I know that she is learning and figuring out how to represent her world, but I miss the Hamstacks.

BFL Picks

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 13:04:00 +0000

I know I've been slacking on posting this week but I've been busy with adoption related stuff. I promise to be a much better blogger this week and come up with something more interesting than football picks. Really.

So here are my picks for this week. The winners are in bold and red:

Cleveland @ Buffalo
Pittsburgh @ Detroit
Dallas @ Kansas City
Minnesota @ St. Louis
Oakland @ NY Giants
Tampa @ Philadelphia
Washington @ Carolina
Cincinnati @ Baltimore
Atlanta @ San Francisco
Jacksonville @ Seattle
Houston @ Arizona
New England @ Denver
Indianapolis @ Tennessee

Monday Night
NY Jets @ Miami
Combined score: 38

On Fish, Books and Football

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 12:22:00 +0000

There is a new resident in our house, a small beta fish named Shape. Shape is a beautiful beta. He is blue and red and very fancy. Bunny loves him very much.

I was all for Bunny having a fish. In fact, I told her she could have a fish when she was six. She is not six. She is three and a half. I did not buy her the fish, daddy did. My main concern about bringing a fish into the house was not Bunny. It was the two furry felines that live with us. They like to hunt and in fact have each caught a mouse (or two). I was afraid that if the cats knew there was a fish, that fish would be no more. Then Bunny would be sad and we'd have to buy a new fish and the cycle would start again.

But he is here now. He will live in Bunny's room. The door will remain closed at all times. And hopefully the cats will remain blissfully unaware of his existence. Fingers crossed.

For my birthday last week, my parents bought me a book. Its not just any old book. It is THE book, Andrew Henry's Meadow. The book that I had them read to me every night of my childhood. It was a long book but I had it memorized. My dad would try to skip some pages but I always knew and called him on it every time. I loved that book. (They may or may not be making it into a movie which I am so going to see.)

So it was amazing to see it again after all of those years. I read it to Bunny, telling her it was my favorite story when I was her age. And then she had me read it again. And again. And again. Its a really long book. Really long. So I tried to skip a page and she called me on it.

Well played, Mom and Dad. Well played.

Now on to my football picks. The winners are in red and bold:

Tampa Bay @ Washington

NY Giants @ Kansas City

Cincinnati @ Cleveland

Oakland @ Houston

Tennessee @ Jacksonville

Seattle @ Indianapolis

Detroit @ Chicago

Baltimore @ New England

Buffalo @ Miami

NY Jets @ New Orleans

St. Louis @ San Francisco

Dallas @ Denver

San Diego @ Pittsburgh

Monday Night

Green Bay @ Minnesota

Combined Score - 45

A Love Letter

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 16:05:00 +0000

Dear Lion,

Do you mind if I call you Lion. I have read your story thus far and the name seems to fit you. You are brave. You are strong. You are a survivor.

When I saw your picture, I fell in love. I knew, in that instant, that we were destined to be together. I have spent the moments since, studying the lines of your face, staring in to your beautiful eyes. I have your face memorized. I can close my eyes and see you before me, laughing, smiling, calling my name. You are mine and I am yours.

But I see that I have gotten a little ahead of myself. You do not know me. We have not been properly introduced.

I am your mother.

And you are my son.

My son. My son. My son.

I repeat those words over and over like a mantra as if by speaking those words you can hear me calling you. Those words connect us through time and space. We are one you and I despite the miles between us. 7,500 miles, oceans, mountains, continents, languages separate us.

They separate us now but we will be together soon. You will know me, know my face as surely as I know yours. We will be a family forever.

I used to call you Turtle, but I was wrong. You were not slow, I was. I delayed and stalled, dragging my feet. I didn't know why. But now I do. I was waiting for you, my son.

And now I must wait a little while longer to hold you in my arms. This may be the hardest wait of all. But I know that it will be worth it because you and I will be together, forever.

My lion. My son.

Love,
Your Mother

Thank You

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 18:52:00 +0000

Today is my birthday. My 40th birthday. The big 4 - 0. And you know what? I am totally cool with that because I am seriously one of the luckiest people on earth.

So today I am going to thank all of the people who have made me feel so blessed and lucky.

First I want to thank my parents because really this day is all about them. Without them, I wouldn't be here. Without them, I wouldn't be the person that I am today. You are two of the most amazing people I have ever met, thank you for being you.

Second, I want to thank my husband. There are so many reasons why I love him but I wanted to share two with you. He helped me realize a nearly lifelong dream yesterday and thereby resolving one of the two bones of contention that we had in our marriage. Ironically both involve baseball (and to be fair there is nothing he can do about the other one so I just need to let it go).

You see I am a huge Brewers fan. I have been for all of my life. When I was a kid, I belonged to the kids club and went to a lot of games. Every year I would look at the schedule and see if there was a game on my birthday. I thought there would be nothing cooler than having your name on the scoreboard on your birthday. For whatever reason I never went to a birthday game.

Until September 28, 2000, my 31st birthday. It was also the last game at County Stadium, the old Brewers' stadium. I told Frink about my wish and asked him to call to have my name on the scoreboard. It would have been awesome to see my name on that old scoreboard on that special day. But he didn't call. And my name wasn't in lights on that day. And I kind of held a grudge for the next 9 years. I even organized a tailgate for one of his birthdays and had his name on the scoreboard.

But then we got tickets to yesterday's game. The day before my birthday. I reminded him about my childhood dream. And this time he came through, which is totally awesome.

But more importantly, he did something for me which was just amazing. Last week we had a discussion about what I wanted to do for my birthday. We didn't have anything special planned so we'd have to throw something together last minute. We decided on dinner at my favorite restaurant with some friends. When he asked who I wanted to invite, I started to cry because so many of the people I would want there were so far away.

So he e-mailed my friend Issa and told her that I was feeling down about my birthday. And together they cooked up the best present a girl could ask for. So thank you, Frink. You are truly amazing.

Now I'm going to thank Issa and my other wonderful friends for the wonderful gift they have given me. Issa organized a blog party for my birthday. She got all of these amazing bloggers who I read,admire and love, some who I know personally and some who I am waiting to meet, to send me birthday wishes from their own blogs. I was floored when I saw this. This blog and the people I have met through it have meant so much to me and to receive something like this means everything.

So thank you Issa, Mommy Geekology, Matthew, Kirsten, Bridget, Kate, Heather, Greis and Stacey for making my day all the more special.

Finally, I want to thank my beautiful girl, Bunny. She's the reason I started this little blog. She is the reason that I do everything. And she is the reason I am truly blessed.

I'm Not Here

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 13:04:00 +0000

I'm over here guest posting at my dear friend Christy's blog. Please stop by and say hi. And while you are there, read some of Christy's archives. She is awesome and I'm sure you will love her as much as I do.

I promise I'll be back with a fresh post tomorrow.

Bugging Out

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 20:58:00 +0000

On Sunday we went to Bug Day at a local park. Bunny was in heaven. She loves her creepy crawlies.

Tarantula

Hissing Cockroach

Millipede

She is one brave girl. The nearest I got to those things was behind the camera lens.

Football!!!!

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 15:06:00 +0000

I've decided to participate in the Blogger Football League again this year. When I told my husband about it, he said I'll make your picks for you if you want. Um, no. This is all for me. I mean I know I sucked at it last year and didn't win anything and didn't beat him at all. But winning isn't everything right?

Wrong! According to Vince Lombardi, its the only thing. So here are my winning picks for this week (winners in bold and color)

Carolina @ Atlanta

Minnesota @ Detroit (FYI this pick is based solely on Adrian Peterson and is no way reflective of who ever they have starting at quarterback for the Vikings)

Cincinnati @ Green Bay (FYI #2 - I will always pick the Packers. I am a total homer that way)

Houston @ Tennessee (FYI #3 - this is no way an attempt to kiss up to the commissioner)

Oakland @ Kansas City (FYI #4 - I'm totally guessing here)

New England @ NY Jets

New Orleans @ Philadelphia (FYI #5 - I like Drew Brees and I think my next door neighbor is starting for the Eagles)

St. Louis @ Washington (FYI #6 - Frink said do not take St. Louis, they are the worst team in the league. So I'm not taking them.)

Arizona @ Jacksonville

Seattle @ San Francisco

Tampa Bay @ Buffalo

Pittsburgh @ Chicago (FYI #7 - I will probably never pick the Bears, unless they are playing the Vikings)

Baltimore @ San Diego

Cleveland @ Denver

NY Giants @ Dallas (FYI #8 - I am so looking forward to teams kicking into the scoreboard. I wonder how many times it will happen per game. 2? 3? And if you are losing, do you just kick into the scoreboard on purpose just to piss the Cowboys off? I would.)

Monday Night

Indianapolis @ Miami

combined score - 38

Who Is This For, You or Me?

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 20:14:00 +0000

Nap time in our house has gone the way of the dodo bird. It is extinct. Dead as a doornail. And it has been for some time.

We (I) tried in vain to have quiet time in her room. I hoped that she could play quietly while I got some things done around the house. Nope. It didn't work in the least. You see she can open her door and come downstairs by herself. So I would spend the hour taking her back upstairs repeatedly. Not the best use of my time.

Then we tried having her watch a video or show while I did other things. Somedays it worked fine. Somedays it didn't. She would get lonely. "Momma can you come here please. I miss you. I want you to watch with me. Please." So I'd come in and sit for a while and go back to whatever I was doing, only to have the whole thing start all over again.

So the next thing we tried has worked like a dream. I can't believe I didn't think of this before. When its time for quiet time, we both head to the couch with our blankets. I lay down first then she lays on top of me. We turn on a show and snuggle for a while. Then she will either lay with me, sit on the other couch or play quietly while watching her show. The most important thing is she is quiet. For a whole hour. Its perfect.

Now how can this be perfect, you ask. Isn't the point of quiet time for you to have some time to yourself? Yes it is. And I do get exactly what I need.

Because every day I fall asleep on the couch during quiet time. I get almost an hour of uninterrupted napping. And it is awesome.

First Days, Celebratory Balloons and Feats of Engineering

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 13:04:00 +0000

Yesterday we all survived Bunny's first day of preschool.

We arrived at school and everyone was excited.

Bunny had her Kai Lan backpack and her trusty triceratops Topsy. Kai Lan would hold all of her treasures and Topsy would keep her safe.

We climbed the stairs.

Found her room.

We braved the chaos and went in. She got an apple with her name that she hung on the bulletin board and a name tag so everyone (who could read) would know who she was. We found her cubby and placed Topsy safely inside. Then she explored the room. At first she seemed a bit tentative but she gained confidence. When she found the playdough, she was all set. She stood side by side with two other kids, who I am sure will become her friends. But for now they were ignoring each other, focusing solely on the playdough.

Frink and I looked at each other and figured this was a good a time as any to make our getaway. We told her we were leaving. We gave her a kiss. She nodded and gave us a dismissal wave as if to to say "go away, I'm busy". So we left.

There was coffee in another room so we could have a chance to meet the other parents. Frink went back to work and I stayed talking with some of the other moms. When I finally felt confident enough to leave, I saw on of her teachers on a bathroom run with another student. I asked her how it was going and found out that Bunny was crying. And then I heard it. A heartbreaking, I want my mommy wail. I was devastated. The teacher looked at me and said "we can handle this". I knew she was right so I left.

Never in the history of time had two hours stretched out so slowly. I went grocery shopping, came home, put all the groceries away and there was still 45 minutes left. So I did what any sane mother would do, I got coffee. And then I did what any neurotic mother would do, I drove to the school and waited outside for the next half an hour.

When it was finally time for pick up, I went inside the school. I stood outside the classroom and heard only singing. No crying. That was good news. When the door opened, I saw Bunny sitting on the floor with her classmates. She looked up at me with a huge smile on her face and I knew everything was going to be alright.

That night, Frink, being the good daddy that he is, brought home a special celebratory desert and a balloon for our big girl. She was thrilled. She loves balloons. And cake. But mostly balloons.

Unfortunately for Bunny, there is another member of our family who also loves balloons. So she spent most of last night and part of this morning screaming "No Tabasco!" "Go away Tabasco!" But of course he got to the balloon and ate some of the ribbon. She was angry. She'd had enough.

So she did what any self respecting preschooler would do, she built a wall to keep him out. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Great Wall of Bunny;

Indeed it is a marvel to behold. Notice that it is guarded by Olive the tiger. The tiger is fierce and will certainly scare the cat away. The wall it high. It is made of bricks and chairs. Surely it will keep the cat out.

Except that it probably won't. But I don't have the heart to tell her.

Snapshot

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 03:37:00 +0000

I want to take a snapshot of exactly how you are right now. I want to carry it with me always to remind me of this time. This time when you were mine, only mine. A time before you belonged to the world of school, friends and teachers. A time when I was the center of your world and you were the center of mine. A time before you have to share me with Turtle, a brother, an unknown. A time when it was just the two of us.

In my snapshot there will be a sunny, warm day. There will be a playground full of children laughing, shouting, running and playing. But my snapshot will not focus on that action, instead we will be a few yards away. We will be under the shade of two large burr oak trees. The sunlight will filter through the trees, dancing on the ground as the wind blows the leaves above.

We will stand there you and I, together. We are apart from the action and the chaos of the playground because we have a greater purpose. There is work to be done. There are things to discover. There is nature to explore.

In my snapshot, you will be crouched above the ground, reaching down, examining what nature has to offer. I will stand nearby with my hand stretched out, waiting. Occasionally you will turn to me with a new discovery, a leaf, an acorn, the whole world. You will place it in my outstretched hand for safe keeping. You know that I will hold your treasure as dear as I hold you.

You find an acorn cap from the burr oak, you turn to me and exclaim "Momma, this is an acorn pail just like mouse had in Bear Wants More." For a moment, I am stunned that you can remember such a small detail but then I realize that is who you are. You remember things.

We talk about how we can't take all the acorns. We have to save some for the squirrels and chippers. I tell you how they will collect the acorns and other seeds and they will store them for winter. You pause for just a moment, letting this information sink in, thinking. Then you grab some sticks and leaves. You bend over, close to the ground, working furiously. You turn and gather some acorns, And then you turn back to your work. You step back to survey your work. You make a few final adjustments. You stand up with a satisfied look in your face and say "Momma, I made an acorn house for the squirrels." And it is perfect.

Full of your accomplishment, you move on. You exclaim with delight when you find a lady bug. You pick it up, letting it crawl on your hand. You hold on to it, not wanting it to get away. For a moment, I cringe. I don't want you to love this bug too much, until there is nothing left. But you don't. You know better. Holding the bug in one hand, you grab acorn caps with the other. You place the lady bug in a cap and cover it with another cap, building a cage, a home for the bug. You carry that home with you for the rest of our adventure, occasionally opening it to check on him. Placing a blade of grass in the house so he has something to eat. You care so much about this little lady bug, you want to make sure he is safe.

When my hands are too full of treasures, it is time to go. You find some soft leaves. You gather them into a pile. You open the lady bug house and you place him gently on the leaves. You try to remember the rhyme "lady bug, lady bug fly away home" but you forget how it goes. But it doesn't matter, you make up your own version and it fits, perfectly.

On the way to the car, we find another acorn. You pick it up to examine it. You hold it up for me to see. "Momma, this acorn is different. Its from a white oak." Of course it is. And it comes home with the rest of our treasures.

This is how I see you, so excited about the world and all of the mysteries it holds. You can't wait to learn. You want to know everything. You want to know it right now.

I want to capture this moment. I want to place it in a locket around my neck, and wear it next to my heart. You are wonderful now. You are perfect. You are 3 1/2. You are ancient. You are timeless. You are my daughter and I love you.

Conquering Fear

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 19:44:00 +0000

Part of being a parent is getting over your fears for your children. You have to let go of the fears that they will get hurt, that they will cry, that they will hate you, so they can actually grow up and experience life. You also have to let go of some of your own fears so they can have the fun experiences that make up childhood.

This is my story of how I let go of my own fears for Bunny's sake.

I am afraid of birds. I hate their beady little eyes. I am scared of their beaks. I am terrified of their claws. I also think they are dirty and disgusting but that is neither here nor there.

I can appreciate them from a (safe) distance. In fact, I even have a bird feeder so we have lots of birds in our yard. I like seeing the cardinals, gold finches and sparrows flitting about (from a distance). They are pretty. I know that.

But they are also creepy. Especially when they fly. Especially when they fly near me.

Why yes I saw The Birds during my formative years. Why do you ask? Oh because seeing people pecked to death can totally contribute to a fear of birds. Yes, that is part of it.

But I had my own experience with birds when I was younger. On a Spanish club trip to Spain we visited a plaza where you could buy seeds to feed the birds (mostly pigeons, enough said). The birds would land on you and eat the feed right out of your hands. They would land on you even if you didn't have feed but had raised your arms. At first it was cool and then it wasn't. They wouldn't leave you alone. Their claws left scratch marks all over your arms. It totally sucked. And it was very reminiscent of The Birds.

So that in a nutshell is why I am afraid of birds.

Bunny on the other hand, loves birds. Of course she does. She loves going into the aviary at the zoo. There is a room there where the birds fly free. I hate it because they are flying around, swooping over your head. They could attack you at any time. I know they probably won't, but they could.

So I do my best to avoid the aviary. Or we run as fast as possible through this room to the area with the pretty birds behind glass. That I can handle. Most of the time this is no problem.

Until now.

Because our zoo has an exhibit where they have cages of cute (but deadly) parakeets, parrots and cockatiels. And then they give you a stick with feed on it and send you into the lion's den. The birds will then fly to you, hop on your stick and eat the feed. So there are birds everywhere, flying around, landing on people and there is no escape. Well I mean there is a door but you are still in a cage with the little buggers. And no matter how cute they are, I am sure they are one empty stick away from pecking someone's eye out.

Most of the time, Bunny's dad takes her to the exhibit to save my sanity. But we made the mistake of saying to Bunny this was the last week for the exhibit and she demanded to go. During the week. So I had to take her. I could have been mean and said no, but I didn't.

I got over my fears and walked into the cage of death. I even had my own stick. Birds flew past me and over my head. Birds landed on my arm and on my hand. Birds landed on my daughter. And I didn't hyperventillate. I freaked out on the inside but on the outside I looked like a normal sane person who isn't afraid of birds. And Bunny had a blast.

Who Taught You How To Drive?

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 01:42:00 +0000

Bunny is bossy.

Bunny is opinionated.

Bunny is a back seat driver.

When she was little, I would narrate everything I did, especially while driving. "Mommy is stopping at the stop sign. We always stop at the stop sign."

As she got older and started to go on walks to the park and around the neighborhood, we explained the rules of the road. Stop signs mean stop. Red lights mean stop. When the light turns green the cars can go. And so on.

Bunny thought it was pretty cool. She loved to point out the stop signs in the neighborhood. She loved watching the lights turn colors, from green to yellow to red and back to green.

But then, as children are often wont to do, she flipped it all around on me. Now when we get in the car, I have to follow the rules of the road closely or she's on me like a hawk.

"Momma, you have to stop at the stop sign."

"Momma, the light is red, stop now."

"Momma, the light is green, why aren't you driving."

"Momma, you are going to fast."

"Momma, you are going to slow."

"Momma, are you sure this is the way to Ama's house. This doesn't look like the way. Are we lost?"

"Momma, are you sure you don't want me to drive? I think I can drive better than you."

Okay maybe she didn't say the last one, but it sure feels like it. And only 12 more years before I can nag her about the way she drives.

Swimming and Running

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 16:21:00 +0000

My hand slashes through the water. My feet kick behind me, propelling me forward. My head turns, rising up to take a breath.

I continue on until my hand touches the wall. I could grab the wall and hold on. Or I could turn, pushing off and moving forward. I choose to turn.

The wall approaches again. And again I choose to turn. Touching the safety of the wall, letting go, turning back to the water.

My body begins to tire. My resolve begins to falter. My mind starts to scream. "This is not normal. This is not safe. There is nothing holding you up. You are not a creature of the sea."

The water is not real. It is not solid. It cannot hold me. Panic sets in.

I try to fight my mind. I try to continue on. I thrash and kick out of control. My chest tightens. My pulse quickens. My heart thumps so loudly I can hear it in my ears. I lift my head trying to take a breath but there is not enough air. My hands frantically search for the wall but it lies just out of reach.

My foot hits the ground. The ground is solid. It is real. One foot, then the other, hitting the ground and pushing off, propelling me forward.

I look up and see the sky. I look down and see the ground. It is solid. It is real. One foot, then the other, moving forward.

Around me are signs of life. Grass, plants, dirt, the smell of the earth. Buildings, cars, concrete, the smells of civilization. A squirrel darts in front of me, looking frightened before it escapes to the safety of a tree. A dog spies the squirrel and strains on its leash, struggling to pull free to chase the squirrel. The hand at the end of the leash pulls back, straining to control, to regain their rhythm. We pass and smile, connecting with each other, connecting with the earth.

This is real. This is solid. One foot, then the other, moving forward.

My mind does not struggle here. The sound of my footfalls, the feeling of connecting with the earth brings a clarity. I breathe in the fresh air. Each breath bringing the peace I have longed for.

This is real. This is solid. One foot, then the other, moving forward.

I have been swimming lately. Some days all I do is swim, struggling to reach the shore. Swimming in my kitchen, swimming at the store, swimming in my sleep. Too much swimming. An endless pool, river, lake, ocean.

I choose not to swim anymore. I choose to run.

This is real. This is solid. One foot, then the other, moving forward.

Silence

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 12:37:00 +0000

It started off simply enough, busy days led to tired nights. I should have blogged. I could have blogged. But I did not. Instead I did other things. I curled up with a book or watched reruns on TV. I did laundry or cleaned. Or I did nothing, the lying on your bed, stretching out, finding comfort kind of nothing.

As I lay there a sort of rebellious feeling welled in my chest. "This is where you belong" it whispered. "Stay here. Its cool here. So comfortable." I listened to the whispers. I tended to agree with them. So I stayed. I was comfortable. Then stealthily, almost conspiritorially, the cats would jump on the bed with me. They yawned and stretched, just as I had done, and laid down next to me. "Stay here. Pet me. Love me"

The signs were all telling me to stay. So I did.

And as they days flew by and the nights were spent in comfortable nothingness, it was easier not to blog. I didn't run to the computer in the morning and open up my browsers to the proper sites so I could sneak a few minutes here and there. I avoided the computer, stopping in only to check my e-mail.

The longer I stayed away from the computer, the less I thought like a writer. I didn't pick up my journal. I didn't jot down ideas on scrap pieces of paper. I didn't compose lengthy posts in my head. There was nothing in my head, in my heart that was trying to be heard. I did not have ideas fighting to get out. I was not looking for the right words. I my mind was silent, almost still. Almost.

At first I stayed away out of rebellion, out of laziness. I don't have to do this. Then I stayed away because of the silence. I can't do this. There is nothing to do, nothing to say.

The silence is still there, drowning out everything else. In a way it is peaceful. I don't have to worry. I could given in to the silence. I may still give in. I can listen to the silence to see what it has to teach me. There are always lessons to be learned.

I can just let it carry me along, to find out where it wants me to go. And it just might help me find my words, my story.

I Am Hardcore Or Quite Possibly Insane

butwhymommy@gmail.com (butwhymommy) — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 15:48:00 +0000

I have a nice little comfort zone, a Renee box, if you will. I know that if I stay within my comfort zone, things are going to be okay. Nothing bad will happen to me inside that box. Outside of the box lies the unknown. Two things could happen if I venture outside my nice, safe Renee box, failure or success. If I fail, I will retreat to the comfortable confines of the box to lick my wounds. I may think twice about trying something outside. Or maybe, just maybe I'll try again. Maybe.

But if I succeed, my comfort zone will expand. The edges of the box will be pushed out to make room for this newfound success. BlogHer taught me that I could make friends with strangers under strange circumstances. And now I feel more comfortable talking to people I don't know. Slowly but surely throughout my whole life, the Renee box has expanded. I've tried new things. I've met new people. I've had fun along the way.

Lately, the Renee box hasn't been that comfortable. I've been going through something, questioning the way I am and the way I do things. Maybe its the fact that 40 is rapidly approaching. Maybe its not. I don't know. But I've been making some changes, pushing myself a little harder to do things, to try things.

The triathalon was one of those changes, a big old rip open the walls of this box type of change. I've always wanted to do something like that, to push myself beyond my limits. To see if I could do something, complete something if I put my mind to it. But as always happens, when I lose that initial bit of enthusiasm, I get tired and cranky. I want to give up, to go back to the way things were. The old me would have quit, would have said well I tried the training and it was too hard.

But the new me, the one who wants to see what is beyond the edges of the box, didn't quit. In fact, I did the opposite. I pushed harder. I signed up for a 5K, a race where I would have to run with other people. I was excited about the race all week. I set an ambitious goal for myself to finish 3.2 miles in 30 minutes. I was ready, I was going to do this.

And then it rained. Well I should say that it poured, a thunder and lightning crashing all around, type of rain. This was before I even left the house. Bunny, snuggled on the couch under her favorite blanket, said to me "Momma you shouldn't run in the rain." I tended to agree with her.

It was dark and wet and yucky but I went. As I drove to the race, I thought for sure they'd cancel it. But they didn't. A few hundred people stood around in the rain waiting for it to start. And then it rained harder so they pushed the race back 20 minutes. I could have left, no one would have known. But I didn't. I stood in the bathroom with a bunch of strangers who apparently were completely nuts.

We waited and the sky opened up again. Thunder crashed and lightning ripped through the sky but I still didn't leave. I was already wet, I might as well stick it out. Finally the skies cleared. Well no they didn't actually clear, it just stopped thundering and lightning and the rain more of a normal rain. As I stood at the starting line, waiting for the horn, the woman next to me said this was nuts and we should just go home. I agreed with her, but I didn't go.

I stayed and I ran. I let go of the time goal, anything under 40 minutes would be a success in these conditions. I just ran. I ran because I needed to. I needed to push myself. I needed to know that I could finish something. I ran because I am getting stronger. I ran because I wanted to run.

I was not fast. In fact, before I got to the 1 mile mark, the leaders of the race passed me on their way to the finish line. But I was not slow. I just ran and I finished*. And I felt great, better than great. I felt amazing despite the fact that I was wet and cold. I finished something I set out to do. And I kicked ass.

*I finished in 35:15. 550th overall (out of 723), 20th in my age group (out of 37), and 209th (out of 316) for women.