That's Life v 2.0

Things I Have Done Instead of Blogging #2

2012-01-17T09:05:00.002-06:00

Not only have I not been blogging, but I was almost completely torn away from online life last week, when I sent my iphone in to have the screen fixed after I dropped it onto our hardwood floor and cracked it. What I realized while my phone was gone, was that the internet fills a spot in keeping my hands busy. I check my email, I check twitter, I check facebook, I play words with friends, I read what other people are writing. And I do these things, often, so that I have something to do with my hands.

So this week, after seeing a book in Violet's room on knitting for kids, I decided that knitting was the perfect way to "do" something. I have actually learned to knit before. But it was in 10th grade, when I was forced to take a class on sewing and "creative stitchery." I did not like it. But then again, I tend to not like things that I am forced to do. And now, I am over 20 years removed from being forced to learn to knit. And knitting suddenly had some sort of allure for me. And I think that part of it, is that I don't like there to be things that I "can't" do. I figure that most things that I "can't" do are really only because I haven't really tried (except for maybe ice skating. I have tried ice skating and I am pretty sure I can stop trying now).

It turns out that knitting, at least the basic stitches, is really pretty easy. I used what ever yarn and knitting needles Violet had and got busy relearning to knit. And it is a perfect thing to occupy my hands while watching football, and basketball. And the cats love it too. And they helped keep my legs warm, just like my laptop usually does when I am watching TV, or the always fun "watching Jack Jack play the Wii."

And even though my family kind of made fun of me, they are all totally jealous of Jack Jack's new pussycat bath puppet. And Dash has requested I make him Harry Potter puppet. I think I may have to learn a few new stitches before that happens. But, I also think I may have found a new addiction. And I have even purchased my own knitting needles and some super soft yarn for my next project.

Things I Have Done Instead of Blogging #1

2012-01-08T06:52:00.001-06:00

6 mile "winter" hike with 2 boys and a dog.

Not Resolutions...Revolutions

2012-01-01T19:08:00.000-06:00

It is the new year already and pretty much anything I post here is going to sound resolution-like.

It doesn't matter what I call them, resolutions, goals, thoughts that I think while alone in the shower....it is still an attempt at a new start for the new year.

But, to be honest, I don't need a new start. I don't need small little changes to work toward a better me. I yam, who I yam (I also like sweet potatoes, by the way. Have you ever tried the Pioneer Woman's sweet potatoes? Even people who don't really like sweet potatoes, complemented them at our Christmas dinner.).

But....I CAN do better.

I can listen more and react less.

I can do more for myself and empower those around me to do for themselves.

I can see where I want to go, and I can have the faith to follow the road map to get there.

I can read more, and say less.

I can give up on the multitasking.

I can create a better definition for "having it all."

I can be more present.

I can be a better friend.

This place...this place has been my friend. This place is so pretty. I love the blank page that waits for my thoughts to flow out of my fingers. This place has created friends that I would have never had. And now I don't want to leave.

But, the truth is that sometimes, I am not a very good friend. Sometimes, I worry more about getting my own "stuff" taken care of, that I don't make time make sure my friends are taken care of. Sometimes, I read what you write, but I don't comment, because I am so busy.

Sometimes, I live so much in my head that I forget what other living there is to be done.

And, sometimes, there are things in my head, that can't be said anywhere, let alone here.

I don't need resolutions to get me where I want to go. I need a revolution.

I am not leaving. But, I am also not staying.

I will still be here (I have to keep posting photos to my Cat Lady photo album, after all), and here and here and I might still be here, but it isn't going to look the same.

My revolution isn't a quitting, it is just an overthrow of the government.

You know where you can find me.

Peace.

Relaxing...or Something

2011-12-20T17:37:00.001-06:00

I was really excited to have a few days off while my kids were still at school and the Mr. was still at work, and before my parents and grandparents arrived to get a few things done before Christmas. It turns out that it was a good thing that I had those days, because they have been a whirlwind of getting things done. Right, now, as I write this post, is the very first time in the last two days, that I have sat still and not been asleep. But, it has been good, and productive. And my tree now looks like this, with all the presents wrapped set under the tree. Although, there was that one present that I had to wrap the corners of, with packing tape, because it turns out that one of the cats was gnawing on the corners, right through the paper and box and everything.

I still have a couple more presents that I want to get, but it doesn't look like anyone will be deprived...does it? I am not expecting any really exciting gifts for myself. In fact the Mr. and I decided to make the kids our priority in gift giving and are not buying for each other. But, we also got our kids and parents some gifts that I am excited to give. And that should be way more fun that anything I might get for myself.

Tonight, JJ and I have some time to ourselves, while the older kids and the Mr. get to go to Chicago to participate in a sing a long Messiah, so we made a few gingerbread cookies, and he ate some of the dough, and I ate some of the dough....

Alas, I think that all this productivity must come to an end, and this evening will be used for reading and relaxing. Because, isn't that what you are supposed to do on vacation? At least I though it was.

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I posted another Christmas Card picture over here. So far, I am estimating that my total donation to the American Cancer Society at about $30 plus $11 dollars for each of the comments on that post. There are few more days left to help me increase my donation.

Get Out of Here!

2011-12-13T08:08:00.001-06:00

I have to be at work by 7:15.
I live 35 minutes away from work if I drive straight there.
I drop Violet off at her high school first.
Some days I have to get gas.
I also have to make sure that both of my boys are awake and in the process of getting dressed before I leave.
I need to make sure that my youngest has breakfast out for him, or he won't eat anything, and you can already see the kid's ribs.
I have to make sure that the lunches, that I packed the night before, are out on the counter because if they are in the fridge, no one will see them and they will get left there.
I need to make sure that Jack Jack's backpack, that we made sure had his homework in it last night, is where he can find it and his shoes, his winter coat, his hat and his gloves are all next to the backpack so there is no last minute searching for any items, as the Mr. makes sure the boys are ready for the bus on his way out the door.
I have to make sure that Dash is not gumping around the house about the horribleness that society has forced upon him by making him wake up and go to school five days out of the week.
I have to remember my laptop bag with my work computer in it. One day I went to work without my computer....
I have to actually wake up and get out of my nice warm bed when my three alarms go off (the first one goes off at 4:10am) and get up in time to complete my workout for the day, currently in the dark and cold.
I have to make sure I am in the shower and Jack Jack is up drinking chocolate milk and watching TV with the Mr., by 5:45.
I have to make sure that none of the clothes I pick out for Jack Jack might be itchy or too stripey, or make him "look like a dork."
I have to make sure that I am actually dressed in clothes that don't make me look like a dork.
I also have to rely on Violet being awake and dressed and not looking like a dork and having her pet chore completed.

All of these things need to happen just right, in order for me to be out the door by 6:25 and at work by 7:15. If one little thing goes awry, I will, like today, arrive at school just three minutes late, right as all the buses are pulling out of the parking lot and blocking my entrance to the school, and I will have to wait for them depart and instead of being three minutes late, I will be eight minutes late and will have to fight my way through narrow hallways filled with kids, like a salmon swimming upstream.

Do you know how often I make it to work before 7:15? ummmm......yeah.....maybe once every other week? It is not like I don't try. I could get up earlier. But would you like to get up earlier than 4:10am?

But, it seems that something always goes awry with my plan. Today, the dog didn't know she had food out for her and Violet had to wait for her to eat and then had to take her out while I sat in the car waiting for both of them and we left four minutes late and then it turned out I had to stop for gas or I wouldn't make it to work at all. Some days, I sleep though my alarm. Other days, a kid is having a meltdown. One time I had to fight my older kids for the toaster so that I could make sure Jack Jack's waffle was toasted. Sometimes all my clothes are dumb and don't fit right and I don't like any of them and it takes me too long to get dressed. One time, I was holding the socks I wanted to wear in my hand and they disappeared on my way downstairs to find my shoes. I found those socks, two days later, under my bed. Sometimes, I set my phone down and then realize I don't have it once I am already in the car and I have to go back in the house to find it.

I told a co-worker, that one day, I wouldn't have kids at home, and then I would get here every day, on time. I suppose that might be a boring one day. Maybe.

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Have you seen our Christmas Card photos? I am donating the money I would have spent on Christmas cards to the American Cancer Society. And for each comment on this post, I will donate an additional dollar.

Cards for a Cure

2011-12-06T08:09:00.001-06:00

Tomorrow is my mom's final step on her cancer road. She will be having surgery to re-attach her intestines. Then, after her recovery, which I am sure will not be fun, she should be good to go. Cancer free. Ready to take on the rest of her life, starting with a Christmas visit to Indiana.

My grandparents are coming for Christmas too. Their Christmas card was the very first card I received this Christmas season. It is a picture of them on their 60th anniversary. My grandma had her own cancer to get through and is now several years removed from her breast cancer treatments. My grandparents still take their, daily, three mile walk every morning together. I am looking forward to having them here.

Last year, when it came time to evaluate my insurance benefits at work, it suddenly seemed like a really good idea to have another $33 per month deducted from my paycheck to add a cancer policy on my health insurance.

The wife of one of my bosses has MS. She is wheelchair-bound and has very limited use of her hands. She was also diagnosed with a fast growing breast cancer. They have made the decision to fight the breast cancer, even though that means not treating the MS.

A family friend was diagnosed with advanced colo-rectal cancer at age 23. She has been fighting the cancer for almost four years, suffering through debilitating treatments. Her body is about to be done with this fight. In my prayers, I want to pray for healing and I do, but I also pray for an end to her suffering. And I pray for her husband and her family, as they work through their own pain.

I don't know Susan, but I read her blog. And her breast cancer battle has her currently hospitalized. And her words, as she tries to be a mom to her kids and battle cancer at the same time, have immensely touched my heart.

This year, I am not sending out Christmas cards. I like Christmas Cards. I like sending Christmas Cards, I like receiving them. But, I had decided to save my money and not send out cards this year. But, as I drove to work, today, contemplating my mom's surgery and my grandparents' visit, and praying for my friend, I decided I wanted to do more. So, I have decided that the money that I would have spent on Christmas cards, will be donated to the American Cancer Society.

And, because I am not sending out Christmas cards, I am going to post the best pictures I could find of my family this season here. Consider this your Christmas card. And as a bonus, for every comment I receive on this post before Christmas, I will donate an additional dollar, in honor of my mother, my grandmother and my friends near and far, including my online cancer survivor friends (Lyndsay, & Tori, just to name a few).

The American Cancer Society bills itself as "The official sponsor of birthdays." This year, I believe they are also sponsoring my Christmas.

I am starting with this picture. My plan is to periodically update this post with more pictures until Christmas.

Picture #2 - Happy Holidays, from Violet.

Picture #3 - My baseball boys

Almost

2011-11-28T09:33:00.001-06:00

I almost read and commented on all your blogs this long weekend. And then...I didn't. Instead, I marked them "all as read" in my reader. I am starting fresh today.

I almost convinced my husband that he and I need to apply to be on the Amazing Race. Almost....we still have a few more days to make and submit our video. He is totally convinced....or more likely, he is convinced that it is a really bad idea and we will end up looking like those crazy bickering couples.

I almost made the decision to leave blogging and twitter altogether. I closed my twitter tab. I closed my google reader tab. I closed my blogger tab. I closed my laptop. And then, I decided that it was ok to just leave some of those things alone for a while and come back to them when I am ready.

I am almost ready for Christmas. We cut down and decorated our tree. We are now allowing Christmas music. I even have half of my shopping done already. All these scene needs is a few presents under the tree. I guess I have to wait for another paycheck for the rest of my shopping....

I almost concluded that I have nothing left to write here. I agree with one of my friends who says "There are miles between me and my best self, just as there are miles between me and my blog self." This really hit home to me this weekend. My words here, are a piece of me, but they aren't me. There is so much of me that is not written down. I feel like I "know" many of you from your words. But, in the end, words only tell the story that we want them to tell. We leave out parts, we change the inflection, we write about the writable parts and that is the picture of me you see on this page. It is probably easier this way anyway. You might not like me so much in real life. Real life has a way of doing that.

I have almost de-cluttered our house. After spending time cleaning my grandparents' house, after my grandpa's funeral, I have felt the need to make sure I don't have that kind of clutter around my house. I know that my house is not even close to that. But, we have our clutter spaces, our hidden cabinets of "stuff", our corners that collect paper, our childrens' rooms..... I have a few places left go (the office, that cabinet above the fridge, that other cabinet in the laundry room), but, I started in the kitchen. I also tackled my own closet, and now, both of the boys' rooms are cleaned out. Junk has been thrown out. Stuff has been organized. Books have been passed from room to room. And I am left with a HUGE box of books that I don't want to throw out, yet, are too easy for even the youngest reader in my house. We kept our favorites and I may be sending a box to my niece....maybe only half of the books? But, what to do with the rest? It is like the opposite of spring cleaning, getting the house ready for being inside most of the winter.

I almost ran out of words....but apparently, I didn't. Aren't you glad?

For Reals

2011-11-18T11:39:00.001-06:00

We all like to brag about our kids. And I try not to do it very often, but there are some things about my kids that I am pretty darn proud of. On the other hand, there are some things about my kids that drive me crazy.

This is Jack Jack. Jack Jack is loving and sweet and likes to snuggle tight, even though he is almost six and a half years old.

Jack Jack is one of the youngest kids in his first grade class but he reads well above grade level, has no problem with 1st grade math and had straight As on his first report card with "real" grades.

Jack Jack is awesome at drawing.

He loves Tball and loves to watch the Bears play football.

Jack Jack has started reading me bedtime stories instead of me reading to him. Last night he read me Freddy Fornortner and the Swamp Monster.

But, Jack Jack does not like cold water. And swimming lessons have been torturous, for both of us.

Jack Jack also likes to be silly and sometimes, he is silly at the wrong times, like during music class, or during story time at school.

Jack Jack is probably not the most behaviorally mature kid in his class. He is young, he is a boy....that's three strikes against him right there. Ok, I know it is only two, but being a boy counts for two when we are talking maturity, right?

He has an excellent teacher this year. He has patient, supportive parents, who value education and have done this parenting thing a few times already. And yet, he continues to find it hard to get through a school day without a few too many reminders about his behavior. And trouble at school, consistently means he is also in trouble at home as we want to make sure he understands what the expectations are for his behavior.

Sigh....

His teacher said he isn't being deliberately defiant. He doesn't get in major trouble. But it is those constant reminders that he needs And he is always unhappy when he gets in trouble. And that makes me sad, at how he seems to be trying hard, but it is just so hard...And that makes school, a much bigger struggle than it should be for a kid who has no trouble with his academics.

And I am left wondering, am I doing something wrong? Or is he just being a creative, fun loving, spunky six year old boy who is being asked to be quiet and sit still all day when his body isn't ready to do that? What should we be doing differently? Or do we just need to continue to be consistent and patient and wait for that whole maturity thing to kick in?

Wednesdays

2011-11-10T11:46:00.001-06:00

Last Wednesday, I woke up late, Violet woke up late, I had a weird dream that stuck with me and seemed to throw off my whole morning.
Last Wednesday, Dash sliced his thumb open but also had a field trip that I took the day off of work to chaperone and we prayed that butterfly bandages would suffice, instead of stitches.
Last Wednesday, Jack Jack got a "butterfly slip" at school, which meant that he was talking when he was supposed to be listening. He said he wasn't talking. He was whispering. He has gotten too many butterfly slips this year.
Last Wednesday, there was an angry mother and father in the house.
Last Wednesday, we had to cancel cello lessons because of Dash's thumb even though he has an audition for a local youth symphony coming up.
Last Wednesday, Jack Jack refused to get in the cold, cold swimming pool at swimming lessons and I argued and cajoled, and begged and pleaded and tried bribery to get him in the pool as I watched my money being wasted and sat there, embarrassed at the tantrum my six year old was throwing.
Last Wednesday, we left swimming lessons early, with the threat that he was still coming back, every single week until he could swim.
Last Wednesday, I decided that I quit Wednesdays.
Last Wednesday, I felt like I failed.
Last Wednesday, I ended the day with stale chips and beer.

This Wednesday I woke up late, Violet woke up late, and I had a weird dream about roller coasters.
This Wednesday we still made it out of the house on time and I made it to my morning staff meeting without walking in late in front of our school superintendent.
This Wednesday, could have very well been a repeat of last Wednesday, with the addition of a dentist appointment for the boys, which was Jack Jack's very first trip to the dentist.
This Wednesday, I prepared for the worst. I went in with the game plan of being calm, even as I ran from place to place.
This Wednesday, Jack Jack came home from school with a smiley face on his folder.
This Wednesday, Jack Jack told me how he finally passed his Rocket Math level L, that had been stymying him for weeks. He said that he told himself that he could do it, and then he did.
This Wednesday, Jack Jack didn't want to talk to the dental hygienist and chose to spell out answers to her questions with his fingers, but was perfectly behaved for the entire visit.
This Wednesday, Jack Jack completed his homework without complaint.
This Wednesday, Dash made it to his cello lesson and I got to sit through half of it before heading to swimming lessons.
This Wednesday, the Mr. told me how he played a video of Dash playing the cello for the orchestra teacher at his school and the teacher was amazed that Dash is only in his second year of playing any instrument.
This Wednesday, I watched Jack Jack play in the water at swimming lessons, and didn't care that he really didn't participate in the lesson, as I chose not to engage in that battle.
This Wednesday, I was just happy that Jack Jack was in the water and was appropriately proud at the things that he DID do, and clapped when he held his breath for 20 whole seconds with his face in the water (best in the class).
This Wednesday, Jack Jack read me a bedtime story.
This Wednesday, I ended the day with a cup of tea and toast, relaxing with the Mr., and some of our favorite TV shows.

This Wednesday, could have easily been last Wednesday.
Sometimes, life is like that.
But, this Wednesday, I chose to only control the things that I could. I can teach, I can guide, I can counsel my kids. But, I can’t control the way that they choose to act or react.
It is my own reactions that are what make the difference.
This Wednesday I didn't let my emotions get in the way. Sometimes, though. I have to have “last Wednesdays”, in order for get me to “this Wednesday.”

Ketchup

2011-11-06T08:16:00.004-06:00

I don't really like ketchup. The smell of it grosses me out. Except on hamburgers and hotdogs, then I will eat it, but not smell it. Also, why does Ketchup and Catsup spell the same thing? By the way, spell check only recognizes Ketchup. In case you were wondering.

Really, this post has nothing to do with Ketchup or Catsup.
It does have to do with the fact that my entire week has been a game of Catch-up. And Catch-up, in many parts of the country, sounds just like Ketchup.

You don't want, nor will you get, a play by play of my entire week. But, there are some important points about this catch up week (important to whom? Eh...that's debatable):

I am still trying to catch up on laundry, after being gone for five days over and around last weekend. My mother-in-law did the kids' laundry, but it seems like I have still been doing laundry all week long, every day. I suppose if people stopped wearing clothes, this would solve the problem....

Work consisted of me always trying to catch-up on the days missed. It didn't help that before my grandpa died and I missed two days of work to fly out there, that I had two other days off of work already planned. This past Wednesday I chaperoned a 6th grade field trip with Dash. (How this came about, and the day, really does deserve its own blog post. Maybe, one day, it will happen. Let's just say for now, that he begged me to come, and as a working mom, that guilt of never being able to do that kind of stuff, worked on his behalf.) Tomorrow, I have another day off, as Violet and I will be taking a college tour. Yes, it is college planning time already. Hopefully work survives....

Except for Dash's field trip, which really was fun. Wednesday was a bad bad day. It ended with me, having dinner at 8pm that consisted of stale potato chips and beer.

I still haven't been to the grocery store (also why stale chips and beer was a viable dinner option)....MAYBE this afternoon that will happen.

Dash tried to cut his thumb off this week with a cat food can. Ok, it was actually an accident. But, it probably should have had stitches....but didn't.

I ran in a 15K race yesterday. It was awesome. Erin went with me. And so did 20,000 other people. Erin ran the 5K in a pretty pink skirt. There was a man in my race who wore the same pretty pink skirt. It made it harder to find Erin after the race. But, it was so fun to have Erin there. The day was a blast and I think my face was covered in chocolate after the run. This was my first race in over a year and a half (and after my knee surgery & recovery from last spring), and it turns out all my training is actually showing up in real improvements. This makes me over the top happy. But, now I need another training goal to get me through the winter.

After the race, I spent the rest of the day at an all day church function, which will be continuing today. Luckily they are feeding us, because there is still no food in our house. This also, made me very tired and very sore, but also thankful for the extra hour of sleep. And when I went to bed just before 9pm (actually 8pm), I got to sleep until almost 7am, because even my youngest child was busy enough and tired enough to take advantage of that extra hour.

Now...I am off to try to again, catch up on that darn laundry.

The Dust on My Shoes

2011-11-01T14:32:00.000-05:00

On my flight home, from California to Indiana, I glanced down at my shoes. They were dusty. Against the black of my Nike running shoes, the dust stood out. I wondered why I hadn't noticed the dust before traveling in such dirty shoes. And then I realized that the dust, was from the hours I had spent cleaning at my grandparents' house over the course of the previous four days. And I decided that the dust could stay. Sooner or later the dust will be mixed with my Midwest mud, or washed off as I run through a rainstorm. But, for now, I had no desire to "shake the dust off my boots."

It has taken me a lot of time, to be able to put my thoughts together and write about the last five days. And there is still too much for me to put in one blog post. There is still too much for me to put words to at all. It was a physically and emotionally exhausting few days. But, I am so glad I was there.

At the memorial service, for my grandfather, I read parts of what my dad had written, about his father. And I shared a few of my own memories. And I also listen to my brother recount some of the many things that that he shared with my grandfather. I couldn't make it through without tears. But, I hope that what I said, was said well enough to honor my grandfather and my own father.

After the service, it became very apparent that although many people knew my grandpa, not very many people really knew him. I don't know if I really knew him. He was a quiet, private kind of guy. And as he got older, he got quieter, and more private. I think that many people were surprised by the perspective that my brother and I shared, the perspective that we were privileged to have, the memories that we have of a kind, patient, highly intelligent and curious man, who also had a great sense of humor. At first, it made me sad, that so many people didn't really know that much about him. And then, I realized that our legacy is not about how many people know us, but about how the people who really know us, remember us.

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When I looked at my shoes and I saw the dust, it was the dust of cleaning an old house filled with "stuff." Most of the stuff was obvious trash: the collections of plastic bags, the bags of junk mail, the disintegrating boxes of magazines. But, a lot of the stuff wasn't so easy to throw away. My grandparents' primary means of communication over the last 10 years or so was via handwritten notes. There were notes everywhere. At first I couldn't bring myself to throw them away. And then, I realized that we had to, there were too many to save. I think we read almost every one of the notes though, before putting them in the recycling box. They were glimpses of their life, their daily to do lists, questions about dinner, requests to clean up the clutter. I felt like I was throwing their life away, day by day, note by note.

We also found sentimental items, old toys, books, Dodger memorabilia, my grandpa's violin that was probably made in the late 1800's, stacks of date books and calendars going back years and years with all their important dates written in, some things that might have a monetary value, but mostly items that have an emotional value. We asked a lot of questions about what to keep and what was not worth saving. Really, all this "stuff" still belongs to my grandmother. But, I think she is putting much of that "stuff" behind her. Although, she does really seem to want the old couch, with the springs popping out the bottom, for her new place. Why does she want this couch? Why do we hold on to much of the "stuff" in our lives? Sometimes the answers aren't as easy as a "keep pile" a "recycling pile" and a "trash pile."

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I found myself alone, on Saturday evening, trying to at least finish the monumental task of the living room before heading back to my parents' house. It was at this point that it all became too much. I couldn't throw anything away any more. The tears came instead as the memories flooded. When I walked in, the house smelled just the way I remembered, and it may have been close to twenty years since I had been back in their house. But it wasn't just the memories, it was the idea that all this stuff and all this dust was representing my grandparents' life. For better or for worse, the stuff was a part of who they were, and the life they made. And now one of them is gone. And my grandma doesn't need all the stuff. And the stuff can't stay where it is. But, as my dad also wrote "Letting Go is the Hard Part."

The title of this post came first. Sometimes the post comes first. But, this time it was the title. And the title reminds me that 'all we are is dust in the wind.' My grandpa will be cremated, probably sometime this week or the next. And he, quicker than most, but just like all who pass away, will be just dust. "For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." I can't stop life from rolling on. But, for now, the dust on my shoes stays put.

Remember

2011-10-23T11:01:00.002-05:00

Last week I wrote about my grandma and her moving out of her home, so that she could live fully.

Last Sunday, my grandma and my grandpa saw each other at church and my mom said that my grandpa, in an uncharacteristic display of public affection, kissed my grandmother when he saw her.

Sometime between this Thursday evening and Friday evening, my grandfather passed away. He would have been ninety-four in December.

My grandpa had always been adamant about being independent. My dad said that as a father, his dad was the kind that really could do anything. And he died, right where he wanted to be, in his own home.

I remember my grandfather like this, with a smile on his face and a funny story on his lips.

He grew out his beard later in life, only maybe 6 years or so ago. He grew out his beard around the same time by dad shaved his. My dad said it was probably to maintain the "hair balance" of the universe.

I remember afternoons spent at my grandpa's house when he would let my brother and I eat white toast with butter and sugar and drink coke. My mom never let us have that much sugar in one sitting, let alone white bread.

I remember that he liked to joke around and one time there was an earthquake, and my brother and I thought he was just shaking the table and teasing us. And by the time we figured it out, the earthquake was over.

I remember sitting in the living room and watching 60 minutes.

I remember how loud the trains were that ran near their house.

I remember the lemon trees that he carefully tended in his yard and the homemade lemon-aid that we made from those lemons.

I remember his stories of his dad driving up the mountain to buy grapes to make wine, on dirt roads, during prohibition.

I remember him his with his Dodger gear on, getting ready to go to the game.

.
.
.

I am not sure I know how to do this grieving thing very well. I've been blessed with family that has always seemed like they will live forever. But, there are no forevers. There is just the time we have, the time we have spent, and our memories.

The Mean Mom

2011-10-18T14:05:00.000-05:00

Saturday, as I was in the middle of making my bed, Dash asked me something. I don't even remember what he asked me, and I don't remember my response. But, what do distinctly remember, is my tone of voice. And it was the "Irritable Mean Mom" tone. And after Dash left, and as I continued the task of making my bed, I wondered to myself if my kids ever get to hear my nice voice anymore.

On Sunday, I was driving the boys to get haircuts and they were bickering. They are always bickering. It gets old and both of them contribute and neither one of them lets it go. And I stopped the car, in the middle of the road, and I yelled. And one of them muttered "why are you so mean all the time." And my response was something to the effect of "because you are making me be mean."

A few weeks ago, Violet commented that I was using the "I Wish My Children Would Leave Me Alone" tone of voice.

It is true that the kids can be irritating.
It is true that sometimes they don't listen.
It is true that they DO tend to want me to listen to them when they are all talking at the same time.
It is true that sometimes they whine.
It is true that I can tell them to do the same things over and over again and it doesn't make a difference (pick up your dirty socks off the floor of the living room, put your dishes IN the dishwasher, take care of your pet BEFORE it poops on the floor, don't kick the cabinets, turn the TV down, brush your teeth....).

...it doesn't make a difference....
If it doesn't make a difference, why do I keep doing it? Why do I keep doing the same things over and over and expecting a different result? Because the result I am currently getting is just the "Irritable Mean Mom" voice. And I don't really think I like that voice.

There have to be adults in the house. The Mr. and I are parents, not friends to our children. And sometimes that means that we have to be "mean" in order for lessons to be taught. And we should have high expectations for their responsibilities and behavior. But, teaching and expecting don't really mean I need to walk around using my "Why Do I Even Have Children" voice.

Sometimes I need to remember the irony of telling my children to be nice to each other when I am not being nice.

Sometimes I need to remember the hugs and the kisses that I still get.
Sometimes I need to remember the proud faces after a successful orchestra concert or an A on a tough test.
Sometimes I need to remember how much they still look to me for approval.

And sometimes I need to remember that change starts with me.

Tea Awesomeness

2011-10-16T20:47:00.001-05:00

Jack Jack and I LOVE Tea Collection. Jack Jack has always been very particular about what he wears and the most important part of any clothing choice is that it has to be soft. He doesn't like itchiness, or bumps. He is not a big fan of jeans or anything with a tag in it. And he definitely won't wear it if he thinks it will make him look like a dork. But, Tea is the opposite of all those thing.

So, we were both thrilled to pick out a few new Tea items for the school year. Of course, it then promptly, turned eleventy billion degrees and he couldn't wear any of his new fall clothes. But when fall finally fell, he had great fun chasing after his brother and his mother and yelling "Adios Bicicleta!"

He had so much fun, that he even consented to be an armrest for his brother? I am sure that lovely brotherly moment was followed by yelling and wrestling and tackling.

Fall also means baking. And my children, who never seem to hear me tell them to pick up their clothes off the floor, ALWAYS hear the sound of me getting out the mixer. Because the mixer means cookie dough. And everyone knows that if you are baking you get cookie dough. That may or may not be why Jack Jack showed up in his Fuerte Polo ready to start measuring for me.

We also ordered this hoodie. Jack Jack Wears this Cinco Sences Hoodie all the time to school. But, do you think I have gotten a picture of him in it? Nope, because, apparently, as soon as he gets in the house after school, most of his clothes disappear from his body.

We have tried to wear these Super Side Stripe Pants. This is my only disappointment from Tea so far. Jack Jack is super skinny. He is not super short though. Jack Jack, at an average six year old height, but only thirty eight pounds, can only wear pants that have REAL drawstrings (those fake useless drawstrings are one thing that are guaranteed to drive me up a wall as I try to find another extra large safety pin to gather them up in the back) or adjustable waistbands. I guess, I figured that these sweats would have a drawstring in them. But, they do not. And they do not stay up on my skinny guy at all. I am going to have to sew them, because they are super pants. But, my sewing skills are weak, and my extra time is few, so right now, these pants are still waiting.

I was totally thrilled to be given the opportunity to review some Tea Collection clothing in exchange for a few free items. We already loved Tea, but tend to check out their sales. This opportunity came at the exact right time. Me getting pictures taken and posted, took a lot longer that the shipping ......

Living Fully vs. Dying Slowly

2011-10-13T09:52:00.001-05:00

I hope my dad doesn't mind me writing this post....but his facebook status this morning really got me thinking.

My grandma, my dad's mom is moving into an assisted living facility this weekend. This is a good move for her. She and my grandpa are both in their 90's and have been living, with very little help, in the same home for the last sixty four years. This is the house that my dad lived in, his entire life, until he got married. But, my grandma broke her hip a few years back and her mobility has been limited since. And she IS in her 90's. And it has gotten harder and harder for my grandma to take care of herself and for my grandfather to help her.

It is hard on my dad, though. It is mortality staring you in the face. If your parents or grandparents are in their 90's, logically and rationality, you know their time is limited. And as my dad stated on facebook, it is kind of like "watching her slowly die." And it is, in a way.

And yet, at the same time, she has life left in her. No one knows how long. But she isn't going into a nursing home. She is going into an assisted "living" facility. And I think the "living" is the important part.

My grandma, was never the most outgoing person in a room. But, the first thing that I think of when I think of her is her laugh. I can hear it now and see her smile. And the second thing I think of is baking cookies with her, especially sugar cookies and criss-cross peanut butter cookies. I have her handwritten recipes for these cookies that we used to bake together, but it isn't the same as baking them with her. I can remember the size of her kitchen, the small table in the corner, and the feel of the handheld mixer that we used to beat the eggs and cream the butter and sugar, and her patient directions as we baked together.

I will never forget, doing a report on the Great Depression and interviewing my grandmother. She told me that the actual Depression, was not such a big event in her family, because they were already poor. She lived in the Midwest, with her parents and I don't remember the actual timeline of events, but I do remember that before the start of the Depression, her father, was severely injured at work and was in the hospital for a period of time. On the day, he was scheduled to come home, her mother left to go get him, but had to come home without him, because he had died. Their "Depression" had already started.

My grandma went to work, later in life, for the Los Angeles Dodgers. In a family that were already big fans of the Dodgers, this was the coolest thing ever. She worked in the season ticket office for years, back in the day of Tommy Lasorda and the Big Dodger in the sky that helped them win at least one World Series championship game while she was there (The whole office staff was even treated to a trip to Hawaii after one of their World Series wins). I can remember going to a World Series game with her and the atmosphere and the crowds of reporters who seem to fill half of the stadium. We were very lucky to go to so many games growing up and so many of them were with my grandma and my grandpa and their transistor radio tuned to hear Vin Scully's radio broadcast. To me, there is no other voice of baseball than Vin Scully.
After high school, this connection even allowed me to work for several summers, in the ticket office, myself. It was an awesome first job.

My grandmother liked working. She liked getting out and meeting people and working with people she enjoyed. And this is why I think this move will be a good one. I think she is excited about the move and the people she will get to interact with and the positive aspects of this change. And I also like to think that this is her way, to use whatever time she has, to not be held back by the physical changes, but, to live fully.

So yes, facing the reality of our loved one's finite life is so very hard. And it makes me very sad to think about how the geographical distance between us has limited the time that I have gotten to spend with her in the last 13 years and has limited the amount that my own kids have gotten to know her. But, it makes me very happy to know that she will be well taken care of and that she will be at a place that will allow her to fully live.

My Grandma, at her 90th Birthday celebration

Making an Impression

2011-10-10T14:26:00.003-05:00

So.....my friend/co-worker/fellow blogger, Erin, finally convinced me to leave my hermit hole and hang out with her, and a couple other bloggy friends. I am so bad at that type of thing. But, I am really not as socially awkward as I pretend to be. In reality, I am just busy and tired, and perfectly happy to hole-up at home in my spare minutes.

But, I went. And I got to meet Keli and Donya, who are super awesome, and even assured me that the giant zit on my nose did not turn me into a two headed monster. And we had a great time eating lots of food and chatting and just enjoying the evening.

And because I like to walk on the wild side, I went all out and ignored the warning sign in my head that said "DONT EAT THE CREAMY PASTA. YOUR INTESTINES WILL BE ANGRY." I saw the signs...but, I went all crazy and ate most of the food on my plate anyway.

Have I ever told you that I have an overactive ability to pass out? Usually it is when my intestines are angry. But, there have been other episodes as well. I have been checked, and double checked and it remains, currently, as an awesome quirk of my body.

So...yea.....at some point in the evening, luckily after the bill was already paid, I felt a rumbling in my belly and I thought it would be best to high tail it to the restroom. As soon as I locked the door, I realized that the passing out signs were coming. My hands got tingly. My head felt like it was filled with bees. And I thought "Oh NO! I am not going to pass out in a locked restroom at a restaurant. But, I was going to pass out. Because, one thing that I have learned, is that once I feel that way, nothing I do, or don't do is going to stop it, and it would be best to lie down on the floor as quick as possible so that I don't fall. So, luckily, I still had use of my hands and I started desperately composing this text to Erin "I'm unlocking the bathroom. Come in I'm conna pass out." Aren't you impressed with my very few typos? I know that I am.

And that Erin, she was there in a jiffy. And she wouldn't even let me put my head on the bathroom floor to pass out, like I kind of wanted to, but put it in her lap. And she took very good care of me. And even called my husband to come get me. I will spare you all the fun details in the middle, but suffice to say that now we have to be friends for ever.

By the time my husband got there, I was feeling much better. But, do I know how to make an impression, or what? I guess I didn't need to worry so much about that zit on my nose.

BTW - Kelli's accent is so totally awesome, and she cracked me up. And Donya is going to have a baby soon, and I am pretty sure that I never looked that great when I was pregnant. I am so glad I got to meet them.

Coach

2011-10-04T07:00:00.000-05:00

The Mr. and I used to coach together. First we coached middle school cross country and track. And then, he was hired as the high school boys coach and he hired me to be his assistant. We worked well together. And we had good kids and fun times. And in a way, those boys were like our own kids. There was a large group of them that we coached from the time they were 6th graders, until they graduated from high school. They called the Mr. "Coach" and I was "Coachette." We spent hours a day with these boys, all year long: summer workouts, seasonal workouts, Saturday meets, long bus rides, over night trips to meets downstate, Blizzard Buster winter runs, early morning practices, hours in the weight room, summer Friday mushball games after practice, pasta dinners....our weeklong summer training camp.

But, coaching is a lot of work. And even though these sports are limited in their seasons, it was really a full year commitment. And as our family got larger, and I started working full time, and our kids got old enough to have their own activities, we realized that we couldn't both do this any more. It wasn't fair to our kids. And so, I became a spectator, rather than a coach. And the Mr. coached for another few seasons, but then realized that he too, needed more time with his family. And it was sad, when he told his athletes that it was time for him to move on. But, it was right.

It has been a number of years since our coaching days. Many of our athletes are now adults themselves and are graduating from college and working at grown up jobs and getting married. And we still think of them and the years we spent with them fondly. And this past Friday night, on our date night, the Mr. and I talked about coaching and what a good thing it was, and some of the fun and funny memories we had of coaching. And the impact that we hoped we had on those boys. And we also talked about the tremendous workload that coaching was and how it was still the right decision, to be where we are now.

One of the funny stories we talked about was one particular runner that we called "Bro." At our summer training camp, one of the nights the boys looked forward to was the night we took them into town to a buffet restaurant. And on this particular night, there was a clown, making balloon animals. And it turned out that Bro always wanted to be a clown. And he and the clown spent the evening making balloon animals together. And we had pictures in our end of the year yearbook to prove it.

I am friends with a few of our old athletes on facebook. And it was just too much of a coincidence that the very next day, after the Mr. and I were reminiscing about Bro and his clown college aspirations, that Bro (who has now graduated from college and is soon to start a computer job with the military) posted some pictures on his facebook page, of high school cross country. And one of those pictures? Bro, a clown, and some balloon animals at a cross country dinner. I commented on there that we had JUST been talking about that very picture. And he responded back "I miss and love both of you..."

And a few hours later. While I was freezing at my daughter's high school cross country meet, I received a text from another ex-athlete, talking about his younger brother running cross country and how when he cheered for his brother, he cheered so loud that it drowned out all the other spectators and reminded him of how "Coach" used to cheer (aka yell) for him back when he was in high school.

And it was funny, these two contacts, just the day after our conversation over dinner. And it was a good reminder that the hours and minutes and days that we spent were worth so much more that the measly coaching paychecks and the organization headaches that came with coaching. And even though, we have moved on to another phase in our lives, it was a good thing.

When I Grow Up.....

2011-10-02T16:14:00.003-05:00

One of my friends, graciously, picks up Jack Jack from the bus, in the afternoons, and then brings him home after I am home from work. She relayed this story to me.

JJ: When I grow up I am going to have a Ferrari Enzo
Friend: Really? Wow! What kind of job are you going to have when you grow up to be able to afford a Ferrari Enzo?
JJ: I am going to be a professional football player.

My friend said she had to stifle her laughter at the thought of my 38 pound six year old, ever being big enough to even play Pop Warner football, let alone NFL football. Instead of laughing at his dreams, though, she said:

Friend: Well, if you make it to be a professional football player, I guess you do deserve a Ferrari Enzo.

Fast forward several months. JJ and I spent a day watching cross country races at a school where we could also watch a JV high school football game at the same time. That night....

JJ: Mom, I don't think I want to play football when I grow up.
Mom: Oh? Why?
JJ: Because, don't you remember those football players that we saw? One of them got injured and I might get injured.
Mom (with relief): True.
JJ: But, only when I grow up, because I can still play football as a kid because kids wouldn't hurt each other unless they were bullies.
Mom: Sigh....

And then, today, while watching the Bears play....

Mom: Dad, JJ says that he doesn't want to play football when he grows up after all.
JJ: Yeah, I don't want to get injured.
Mom: So what will you do when you grow up, instead?
JJ: Sue people.
Mom:...............................

It's Not You, It's Me....

2011-09-28T09:30:00.000-05:00

I am reading a book again.

So sorry.

Because when I am reading a book, I tend to ignore all of you lovely people.

And really, I am not ignoring you. I read you, in stolen moments, sometimes in the bathroom. But commenting....that is a whole other ballgame.

But, I have a new book on my Kindle. And it is a long one. Am I the only geek that tends to chose books by how long they are? I read fast. And I get very involved in the story. And if the book is done too quick, then I am left with only the memories and I feel a little cheated. Better to have a long story that keeps me involved for a long time.

This book combines all my favorite elements: It is 1000 pages. It is historical fiction. It starts just before World War I. And the best part? It is the first part of a trilogy. So, finishing the book doesn't mean I have to be done with the characters. The book kind of reminds me of a similar book series that I read back in high school: The Winds of War and War and Remembrance. I actually picked those books almost entirely because of their size. I was tired of going back to the library every other day during the summer. Those books took me three days each, on a beach, to get through. I might have issues.

I tried reading at work....Did you know that you can get the Kindle Chrome Reader app for the Chrome browser? It is awesome. But.....I actually do have work to do. And I don't read well in short bursts. Especially this book that has detailed historical information that I would really and truly like to understand. And then there is that whole guilt thing....But, the kids get to have 30 minutes a day to read here at school. Why can't I? How about an hour, if you include my lunch that I usually work through anyway?

Reading in the car (my other source of "spare time") is generally frowned upon.

I do enjoy my son's hour long cello lessons, though. What a great hour that is. Good music and an hour of time for me just to read. Bonus!

Jack Jack's swimming lessons are not a great time for reading since I spend most of the time trying to convince the poor scrawny kid that he DOES want to get back into the freezing cold water.

It is also hard to read in the rain at cross country meets.

I won't ignore you forever. I promise. I only have 700 more pages left of this book left to read....

Cwtch

2011-09-19T21:14:00.001-05:00

My husband's family is Hungarian and Welsh. I never met the Hungarian side of his family. When we got married, the Mr.'s last living grandparent was his Welsh grandmother. She has since passed away, but one of her legacies that lives on is in the Welsh phrases that his family uses. There are not a lot of them anymore, but the one that is most used is the "Cwtch" (pronounced Cutch).

Officially, to cwtch, is to cuddle, or snuggle. But, those are really too cutsie of words to describe what a cwtch is. My boys love to cwtch with their grandma, even though my 12 year old might act like he is too old for that type of thing.

My youngest, asks me to cwtch with him every day after school. It is our routine. He has some chocolate milk, he gets to watch a little TV, I lay there with him as he lays his head on me, or just makes sure he can touch me in some way. It is, in a way, his and my way of detoxing from our long day at school and work and reconnecting before we have to get started on dinner and homework and whatever activities the afternoon and evening have in store for us.

Today, as we were cwtching, I wondered if cwtch really was a word or if it was just something that the Mr.'s family had created for their own. So, I looked it up on my phone and this is what I found: "Welsh word for an affectionate hug. There's no literal English translation, but its nearest equivlent is "safe place". So if you give someone a cwtch, you're giving them a "safe place".
And this: "Snuggling and cuddling and loving and protecting and safeguarding and claiming, all rolled into one. There is an element of intimacy, earnestness and ownership in this Welsh word."

And that, is pretty much the perfect definition ever, of what it is like to cwtch with Jack Jack.

Keeping the Universe Balanced For You

2011-09-16T15:36:00.002-05:00

I don't know how it is at your house, but at my house, with three kids and two adults (and two cats and a dog), there is hardly ever a time when everyone is in their happy places at the same time. There seems to always be someone who feels the need to seek out attention to satisfy some sort of unmet developmental or emotional need.

Sometimes, I think that my family members take turns at this attention seeking on purpose. It is almost as if, when there is too much peace in the house, that people see that open space as an opportunity to assert themselves and fix the universe that was obviously tipped out of balance by all the harmony in our corner of the earth.

And it is not like people in this house do not get attention.

Right now my oldest is coming and going and always needing a ride and a few dollars. I think she refuses to ask friends for rides in the hopes that she will get a car. But, first she needs the time to perfect her driving skills so that she can get her license. She is also talking about joining the swim team, because she isn't busy enough between school and the violin and orchestra and church and friends and what ever other activity strikes her fancy. She is also talking about college. She likes to talk about colleges that cost lots and lots of money. If anyone would like to give her a full ride scholarship to Boston University, she would be forever grateful for the $50,000 a year this particular institution collects from its students. I am taking her to visit a lovely campus, just an hour and a half from our house. And it is paid for through our tax dollars and would cost less than half of a Boston University education. She gets grumpy when money walks all over her dreams. Her parents call that reality.

Right now my youngest has found out he is a comedian. He comes up with things that have the whole dinner table laughing: "I love bread." "I think I'll marry bread.""You may now kiss the bread."
Or this one: "I wonder who would win in a fight with Mr (Gym Teacher) and Dad?" And as we sit wondering why in the world Dad and the gym teacher would be fighting, he continues "The winner would be the heavyweight champion of the world!" And if you have seen my husband, or the gym teacher, you would understand that neither one is going to be a heavyweight champion any time soon. But, he is also having trouble listing and following instructions. He would rather be making people laugh. He is doing a great job on his academics, but I have heard of a few too many times that Jack Jack has had more than a few warnings to stop messing around and start paying attention at school. Sigh... We have now instituted a reward chart, on the premise that every day he gets a good report from his teacher, he earns a point. And points earn prizes. This is the chart I made today. He has already put together his $1.00 Star Wars puzzle that he earned with his first two points. I know he can listen. But, he has been choosing not to. And we have to get that turned around.

Right now, my middle child, the one who has always been the one who seeks the most attention and seeks it loudly and with great gusto, seems to actually be the one with the least amount of drama. He is finding his place. He is playing his cello. He is getting great grades. He is downloading classical music onto his iPod? He is taking a break from baseball this fall and running with his dad or I, on occasion. He still annoys his siblings....and his parents. But, he is just doing his thing and doing it well. I am sure it will be his turn for some loudness again soon, probably right after I drive Violet somewhere and Jack Jack starts earning his points on a daily basis, and the dog stops biting her nails and the cats' get fed....

Two Things I Will Not Do

2011-09-13T21:49:00.001-05:00

I am a big fan of kids learning things.
I am also a big fan of making learning something that kids want to do, and not something that is forced on them.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, there are these things call "standards" that dictate what kids learn in school and when. Most teachers do a great job at doing their best to make learning fun. But, the truth is that kids have different interests and talents and not all of them want to learn, or are ready to learn, the same things at the same times. But the standards....the standards rule the classroom.

I am pretty strict with my kids and school. We have high expectations and we work to ensure that our kids are making the most of their years spent in the halls of learning. Homework will be done and done well. Grades will reflect that they are doing their personal best. Tests will show that they are learning.

However, there are two things that I will not do in the pursuit of education.
#1 - I will not force my children to read.
#2 - I will not force them to practice their instruments.

And maybe I can say these things because I am lucky. But, I really and truly feel that my job as a parent is to provide the tools, the opportunities, the experiences and that if I have done this part then my kids will love to read and I won't have to force them. And this seems to have worked.

And my older two both play instruments, and I never gave them a set practice time or made them practice when they didn't want to. And one of my kids is a decent violist, and the other one has decided that he is the next Yo Yo Ma. And both of them will be as good as they want to be, and it will not be about me, but about them.

Maybe this makes me a lazy parent.
Maybe this makes me a parent of kids with inborn gifts.

But, maybe it also makes me a believer in allowing kids to learn to love things, in their own way.... And if I have read them bedtime stories every night since they were old enough to notice a book.... And if I have bookshelves of books in the house..... And if I am a reader any chance I get. And if I pay for their music lessons and orchestra fees.... And if I let them find their own way through their talents.... then they can make books their friends because they want to and they can take their musical gifts as far as they want to go with them. And these will be two battles that we will not be fighting.

I will, though, have to decide whether to yell when my 12 year old cellist, decides that he needs to practice, for the third time that day, at 10:30pm, or just to leave it alone and fall asleep to the sweet sounds of the bow and strings.

List O' Randomness

2011-09-06T21:48:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I got a fat lip while flying a kite. Probably my fault for making it a pterodactyl attack kite and making Jack Jack run while the kite squawked and tried to attack him. But, seriously, who gets hit in the face by the kite they are flying?

Jack Jack has been complaining, lately, that his dad smells like pork chops. I haven't noticed the smell of pork chops myself, but it does make me laugh.

I felt like I relaxed this past weekend, but I didn't actually read a single page of my book.

At Dash's cello lesson, I sat down on the couch and it broke. His teacher tried to make me feel better by telling me they had just moved it and put it together and that I was the first person that sat on it. But, their cat kept glaring at me and mentally telling me to back away from the cookies.

I am totally ok with Jack Jack doing his homework like this, while he sings homework songs.

Don't ever use the phrase "blew by my boss" in a tweet. Just think about it. Now stop thinking about it because that is just WRONG. EWWW! Darn Erin anyway....

Speaking of wrong and of twitter, the other day I was totally and completely creeped out when an ex-boyfriend showed up in my list of "who to follow." I am glad he is gone now, but it makes me wonder if I showed up in his list and if he would have recognized me if I did. And now, I have to stop thinking.

You know what is cute? Cats. Cats are cute. My cats are also crazy. And I am throwing in another cute cat picture to change the subject. And also, so you will be amazed that my cat jumped all the way up there from our dining table. WOW! Amazing!

Dance Moms....for some reason my husband started watching this show. It is horrible. And now, I can't look away. I actually look forward to gasping at the awfulness each week. And the same time I feel absolutely horrified for those girls.

And least I am the world's most perfect parent. At least I was until Violet told me that I let Jack Jack watch things that she NEVER would have gotten to watch when she was his age. And then, I let him have a dinner with no vegetables, WHILE he did his homework while watching Phineas and Ferb because I totally even forgot he HAD homework, because we were at Violet's cross country meet all afternoon. My mother of the year award is gone for sure.

Spheres

2011-09-02T19:36:00.000-05:00

What does your sphere contain?

In my sphere is my family, my work, my church, my running. Those are in no particular order except that the first is always the first. And in my sphere, the me part, usually comes last.

As I looked forward to the extra day that this weekend contains, I started to see people signing off the internet for the weekend. And there is value in that. There is a time when you need to prioritize. And the internet can take away from the important things, if you let it.

But, in my sphere, I spend long days working, and not long enough evenings carting family around. Even with my iphone in hand, there was very little interneting for the past few weeks. When I am at work, I work (with only occasional blogging or Words with Friending while I eat my lunch. And this week we had two even longer days in which our internet was out and there was not even quick peeks at blogs while I stuffed food quickly into my mouth). And when I am at home, family comes first and every thing else...running, writing, reading....gets pushed to those "extra" hours. Like that "extra" hour between 4:30am and 5:30am? in which I am running, and not sleeping? Yeah, those kind of extra hours.

In my sphere, this week was all out of even "extra minutes". I fell asleep, most nights, at the very earliest opportunity, usually while futilely trying to beat Sarah at another Words game.

In my sphere, there is a book I started, that hasn't even been opened for the last two weeks.

In my sphere there are beers in my fridge that I have been too tired to drink.

In my sphere there is a Netflix movie that has been sitting, unopened, on our counter for almost a month.

In my sphere there will still be laundry to launder and groceries to grocer and all the other important stuff that doesn't get done during the week.

In my sphere, I am sure that I can put each and every "extra" day, hour and minute to good use this weekend.

But, in my sphere, a long weekend, is also an opportunity to use some of those "extras" to not always be doing, but sometimes just to be. And maybe I will be here. Or maybe I won't. Or maybe I will be too busy reading my book and drinking my beer, to care.

A Tale of Two Kitties

2011-08-29T11:45:00.000-05:00

I was chatting with a blogger friend who mentioned she hadn't blogged much lately because life had been quiet.

I also haven't blogged much lately, but not because life is quiet, but because it is so busy, yet at the same time, not really all that exciting when it comes to writing. Unless you really want to hear about the excitement of going to three school open houses in the same week? No?

I told my friend that I was going to resort to posting about funny things my kids say, just to write something. And she suggested also posting photos of my cats. PERFECT! A cute kid/cat blog post that is really about nothing.

So first....cat photos:

Cute! Really makes all the claw marks and cat hair worth it when you laugh at their antics and "awww" over how cute they are.

And next, a kid quote:
JJ " Mom, I had a dream about a really pretty girl. She had long whitish, golden hair. She kind of looked like the Zelda Princess. And it was a really good dream until she exploded because of a pipe bomb." ........

I hope that kid stays far away from the counselor's office......