I've had a bad habit lately of waking up at 5:30—and it's not to go run 12 miles like my sister-in-law. Today, I finally just got out of bed, and I'm glad I did. Right now it's dark and windy. It has been raining, so all the porch and Christmas lights are especially twinkly and doubled in number by their reflection in the wet streets. Fall has long been my favorite season. It has, of course, never been the metaphor for death, like Spring's metaphor of new life, that captures my imagination. The opposite really. I love that its crisp air showers us with leaves of fire. I never grow tired of their beauty and often find myself picking them up to share with Carter and the kids. In Pullman, I always looked to the fall clouds with the hope of the first snow of the season. It created a longing that isn't true of dark southern skies. These clouds hold promises of rain and wind and thunder. They're dependable and still deep and mysterious.
Hawthorne and I often talk about the weather. It's one of the items on his long list of fascinations. I told him it would rain today. "Why?" he says. (Oh, that child!)
"Because the weather is what it is, Hawthorne. It does what it wants to do. It's cool and frustrating that way, huh?"
"Hmmm," he says. "But how do you know it's going to rain."
Oh how I wish he had a mother with the patience of, I don't know, someone with a lot of patience. Then this could be a longer conversation with the answers he's looking for, but I come back with, "Well, I don't actually know and really neither do the meteorologists. It's all a guess based on the weather patterns we've seen before. That's all I've got, Hawthorne."
He wants to stay on weather, but I'm moving us on. I know that if I bring up another interest, I can change the subject, so I throw a plane question at him and enjoy just listening and thinking to myself that I'm glad I finally tracked down some good planes for his stocking!
Like the weather, Hawthorne's plane interest is a bit of a mystery. I'm not exactly sure what makes a good plane to him. He's all about what the planes can do in his imagination. He doesn't really seem to care what they're called or which one has the extra fin that distinguishes it from the model before that. If in his mind it's a navy plane that can take off and land on a carrier and save the world from some mysterious enemy, it's a good plane. Lord I hope my planes are fit for the job.
Christmas brings with it a bit of pressure for the person in charge of shopping. As an adult, I've always wondered how I can make Christmas easier on my mom. She gets all worked up about it and doesn't enjoy the hustle and bustle. As a mom now myself, I better understand. We want our children to have the thrill of opening a present they love. To pull it out of the box with a huge smile on their faces. The trick is balancing that with some of the other things we want for them: to appreciate how fortunate their lives are, to want to share that fortune, and to understand that happiness isn't found in things. Oh the drama of Christmas. All tied up in such pretty, pretty paper and ribbons. Once I get through all the shopping, trying to figure out the things that will produce smiles for all my nieces, nephews, and children, I'm going to sit back and enjoy my favorite thing: The white lights. This morning, I'm getting quite the show with the wind and leaves and twice as many lights twinkling in the dark outside my window.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Skyler
I tried to save a dying kitten today. Her seemingly lifeless black body was lying on the line between my lane and the right turn lane, cars flying by her. A guy going into the right turn lane saw her lift her tiny front paw at the exact instant I did. We both slammed on our brakes for her. He scooped her up and placed her on a sweater in my front seat. I rushed her to the vet, telling her it would be OK, petting her soft black fur, tears pouring down my face as I looked at her sky-blue eyes and pale lips and tongue. "We're going to take care of you." I said. "You're going to be strong and pull through this, Little One." She was strong, but she didn't make it. I saw her take her last soundless breath and pull her baby tongue into her mouth. "You need a name," I told her, still touching one of her itty paws. "You deserve at least that." I went through a few names before I settled on Skyler, choosing a name that honored the beauty of her eyes.
"Skyler," I said, "you're going to like Coleman. Look for him."
"Skyler," I said, "you're going to like Coleman. Look for him."
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Wings
Oh how time flies. I have had good intentions for getting back to my blog. It's one of the very few times I get to write whatever I feel like writing rather than what I need to write. It has been a long time since I felt like I had something to say—or at least felt like I had something to say and knew how to say it. Also, I've been censoring myself. There are some things I can't talk about here, like the death of my father-in-law because it is so extremely personal to others I love. Then there are things that are just hard to say. I have lots of rants about God and religion that I try hard to keep to myself because there are those of you out there who I love dearly who are very religious. I don't want to offend you and I don't want you to think that I'm judging you. Plus I get so pissed off at politics, and we don't see eye-to-eye on that either do we. But I miss chatting with my friends, which is what I'm doing when I write this. Chatting with some very good friends who I so rarely see or talk with but miss so very very much. So, I hope you'll take my rantings for what they are. Just me—my views, my questions. Just me thinking out loud.
So I have read/heard a couple of interesting things lately. A writer in one of the many magazines I read wrote about a method she uses when she can't find inspiration or the words she needs to say what she's thinking about or even a topic she wants to write about. She calls it the "kitchen sink." She picks out a bunch of random books and magazines and reads just little parts of them. Her book choices range from Hemingway to home repair; they are all kinds of jumbled up topics. She feels like it kick starts her creativity. I realized the other day that I often use TV, books, and magazines as my kitchen sink. The writing, pictures, themes, colors, characters... inspire me. They're fun and funny. Sad and weird. Pretty and complex. Have you ever read another person's writing and wondered how they did that? How they put those words together to communicate that idea? It's a neat feeling. Almost butterflies. Strangely, I feel that way about some of the Longhorn football players. Proud of them. Inspired by them doing the exact thing they were supposed to in a manner that is like art, that is beautiful to witness. Inspiration can come from such strange and unpredictable places. Look for it or don't, but be aware of it when it reaches out to you, and stop for it. Embrace it and roll around the feeling a bit. It's a nice feeling. Complex with its multiple layers of emotion.
Which brings me to the other thing. On NPR yesterday there was a guy talking about his book on slowing down. I found him to miss his own point a little bit, he was focusing more on the actual slowing down rather than the reason for slowing down, but nevertheless, it made me think about slowing down. I think I'm back to my boring ol' simplify theme. But simplifying is so underrated. It's a wonderful way to approach life. I need to re-embrace it and apply it in a way that actually works in my life. Ya know I love clothes, lipstick, magazines, shower gels, a well-stocked kitchen, and using different products for the sake of change. I don't stick well to schedules and am the enemy of routine. These loves do not lead to a simple life in the purest form. But simplicity is still possible. Carter and I have built our lives around it really, avoiding the things that complicate our focus and pull us away from what we're devoted to. That seems like the best way to live simply. (That and one good calendar that people actually look at.) So I'm taking down my Facebook site and disabling my Twitter account. I'm not taking up texting, and I'm deleting half the stuff in my computer files. I've separated my work e-mail from my personal e-mail (now jennghayfl@gmail.com), and I'm getting rid of every shirt and pair of pants in my closet that is a size 2. And though I'll continue to be controlling of my kids' environment, well, I think I'll just continue to be controlling of my kids' environment.
I'll simplify where I can and where it's important to me in order to create the big picture I'm going for. I'll slow down enough to be inspired. And someone PLEASE remind me of this before PTO elections next year!
So I have read/heard a couple of interesting things lately. A writer in one of the many magazines I read wrote about a method she uses when she can't find inspiration or the words she needs to say what she's thinking about or even a topic she wants to write about. She calls it the "kitchen sink." She picks out a bunch of random books and magazines and reads just little parts of them. Her book choices range from Hemingway to home repair; they are all kinds of jumbled up topics. She feels like it kick starts her creativity. I realized the other day that I often use TV, books, and magazines as my kitchen sink. The writing, pictures, themes, colors, characters... inspire me. They're fun and funny. Sad and weird. Pretty and complex. Have you ever read another person's writing and wondered how they did that? How they put those words together to communicate that idea? It's a neat feeling. Almost butterflies. Strangely, I feel that way about some of the Longhorn football players. Proud of them. Inspired by them doing the exact thing they were supposed to in a manner that is like art, that is beautiful to witness. Inspiration can come from such strange and unpredictable places. Look for it or don't, but be aware of it when it reaches out to you, and stop for it. Embrace it and roll around the feeling a bit. It's a nice feeling. Complex with its multiple layers of emotion.
Which brings me to the other thing. On NPR yesterday there was a guy talking about his book on slowing down. I found him to miss his own point a little bit, he was focusing more on the actual slowing down rather than the reason for slowing down, but nevertheless, it made me think about slowing down. I think I'm back to my boring ol' simplify theme. But simplifying is so underrated. It's a wonderful way to approach life. I need to re-embrace it and apply it in a way that actually works in my life. Ya know I love clothes, lipstick, magazines, shower gels, a well-stocked kitchen, and using different products for the sake of change. I don't stick well to schedules and am the enemy of routine. These loves do not lead to a simple life in the purest form. But simplicity is still possible. Carter and I have built our lives around it really, avoiding the things that complicate our focus and pull us away from what we're devoted to. That seems like the best way to live simply. (That and one good calendar that people actually look at.) So I'm taking down my Facebook site and disabling my Twitter account. I'm not taking up texting, and I'm deleting half the stuff in my computer files. I've separated my work e-mail from my personal e-mail (now jennghayfl@gmail.com), and I'm getting rid of every shirt and pair of pants in my closet that is a size 2. And though I'll continue to be controlling of my kids' environment, well, I think I'll just continue to be controlling of my kids' environment.
I'll simplify where I can and where it's important to me in order to create the big picture I'm going for. I'll slow down enough to be inspired. And someone PLEASE remind me of this before PTO elections next year!
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
MIA
Wow, it has been a long time since I last wrote on my blog. Is it possible I've run out of things to say? I doubt it. I think I just can't do Facebook and my blog at the same time.
Let's see, since my last post, Ainsley finished preschool, wrapped up ballet with her year-end recital, grew like three feet, and moved from being obsessed with High School musical to wanting to know everything about Narnia. She's still feisty and fun and thinks her brother is the greatest thing in the world. She catches frogs and digs in the mud, but she still wears a dress, tiara, and jewelry while doing it. She's totally pumped about kindergarten. Carter and I are totally pumped about the one-school drop off and pick up and no more daycare payments!
Hawthorne finished first grade with an impressive number of reading points, learned to tie his shoes, wrapped up his baseball season with a triple, and mourned the end of the Seminole baseball season. Yes, still obsessed with baseball. He spends much of his day with a ball in one hand and a glove on the other. He still refuses to put his head under the water to swim, which may result in me wanting to strangle him by the end of the summer. He has built a "habitat" for frogs in the backyard, and fills it with tiny little toads. Unfortunately, it has taken the sacrifice of a few toads for him to learn that he has to let the hostages go at the end of the day.
We've had visits from my parents and Carter's older brother's family. It's a joy to see the kids with extended family who love them, and I love how they continue to talk about that family weeks after they're gone. There is something very cool about an older cousin. I imagine Billie Blue got a little tired of her two shadows, but her shadows will continue to remember her and their aunt and uncle very fondly--and continue to ask us when we're going to Colorado again to visit them. Ack, next summer. I promise. Write that down somewhere and stop asking!
Carter and I are splitting our work days so that he has kids in the mornings and I have them in the afternoons. It's fun living our lives on the school schedule--two semesters, a winter break, spring break, and summer break. And it's nice to be able to fill a lot of our days with the things of our childhood--trips to the pool, playdates with friends, reading good books, and getting dirty in the yard. Of course on my shift, we also have shopping trips and TV time. This weekend, we head back to the beach. Ah, the beach.
Speaking of good books, someone save me from Narnia. What are some good ones for Mommy to read on the elliptical machine while trying to forget how boring exercise can be. I'm still trying to lose the same six pounds. Chocolate and Mexican food and pizza and cheese fries just keep getting in the way. But, I'm determined. It's swimsuit season and I have some hot friends. So give me some good distraction ideas.
Go see my facebook page for pics. I'll try to get some good ones of the kids at the beach this weekend. Now I'm off to figure out why the AC isn't working and get dressed before the washer and dryer delivery guy gets here. (Our washer died.) They say these things come in threes, but I'm pretty sure I'm up to like five this week!
Let's see, since my last post, Ainsley finished preschool, wrapped up ballet with her year-end recital, grew like three feet, and moved from being obsessed with High School musical to wanting to know everything about Narnia. She's still feisty and fun and thinks her brother is the greatest thing in the world. She catches frogs and digs in the mud, but she still wears a dress, tiara, and jewelry while doing it. She's totally pumped about kindergarten. Carter and I are totally pumped about the one-school drop off and pick up and no more daycare payments!
Hawthorne finished first grade with an impressive number of reading points, learned to tie his shoes, wrapped up his baseball season with a triple, and mourned the end of the Seminole baseball season. Yes, still obsessed with baseball. He spends much of his day with a ball in one hand and a glove on the other. He still refuses to put his head under the water to swim, which may result in me wanting to strangle him by the end of the summer. He has built a "habitat" for frogs in the backyard, and fills it with tiny little toads. Unfortunately, it has taken the sacrifice of a few toads for him to learn that he has to let the hostages go at the end of the day.
We've had visits from my parents and Carter's older brother's family. It's a joy to see the kids with extended family who love them, and I love how they continue to talk about that family weeks after they're gone. There is something very cool about an older cousin. I imagine Billie Blue got a little tired of her two shadows, but her shadows will continue to remember her and their aunt and uncle very fondly--and continue to ask us when we're going to Colorado again to visit them. Ack, next summer. I promise. Write that down somewhere and stop asking!
Carter and I are splitting our work days so that he has kids in the mornings and I have them in the afternoons. It's fun living our lives on the school schedule--two semesters, a winter break, spring break, and summer break. And it's nice to be able to fill a lot of our days with the things of our childhood--trips to the pool, playdates with friends, reading good books, and getting dirty in the yard. Of course on my shift, we also have shopping trips and TV time. This weekend, we head back to the beach. Ah, the beach.
Speaking of good books, someone save me from Narnia. What are some good ones for Mommy to read on the elliptical machine while trying to forget how boring exercise can be. I'm still trying to lose the same six pounds. Chocolate and Mexican food and pizza and cheese fries just keep getting in the way. But, I'm determined. It's swimsuit season and I have some hot friends. So give me some good distraction ideas.
Go see my facebook page for pics. I'll try to get some good ones of the kids at the beach this weekend. Now I'm off to figure out why the AC isn't working and get dressed before the washer and dryer delivery guy gets here. (Our washer died.) They say these things come in threes, but I'm pretty sure I'm up to like five this week!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
What a weird week.
I'm having flashbacks to a previous life this week: working from home, taking care of Ainsley all day, and the two of us walking to pick HF up from school.
Ainsley has chicken pox. Not the kind of chicken pox that involves oatmeal baths and pink polka dots of Calamine lotion covering her body. The kind that happens after you've already been immunized and are exposed to someone with chicken pox. She has about 10 or so pox that don't seem to itch a bit, though 1 of those 10 is on her throat, so she's not really pleased about that. She has a fever and is tired. TV is our main form of entertainment, though we have squeezed in some make-up sessions, pedicures, and dancing to High School Musical and Avril Lavine. She talked me into taking the double jog stroller to pick Hawthorne up from school yesterday. It's a 3-mile round trip with lots of hills. Fine until I have to push all 81 pounds of them up one of the big hills. It didn't help that the stroller tires were flat. It was a fun bit of nostalgia though, and the weather was beautiful. She tried to talk me into it again today, but I wasn't falling for it. I offered a wagon ride when we got home instead. That gave me more control over which hills to tackle! Who knew Florida had so many hills. Turns out, Tallahassee is much more like Georgia than the rest of Florida. so we get our hills, trees, and beaches too. But I digress.
Also this week, I was "elected" to the PTO board. The use of quotes is because everyone is congratulating me as if I won some great honor, but I didn't have an opponent! It has been nice to hear everyone tell me how excited they are about me being on the board. But then I started thinking about what exactly they're expecting from me and I got a little scared. I think they're hoping I'll stand up to the principal, though I'm not sure what they need me to stand up to her on. Our school rocks. I have loved Hawthorne's teachers. It may be that my plan totally contradicts my constituents plan. I want to cozy up to the principal so that if there are ever any issues with say my younger child, I'll be working with someone who owes me.
So now I'm running out to the store to buy a big wall calendar to keep all the meetings, games, performances... straight. Carter says my solution to a "crisis" is always to buy something. Well, yeah. Duh. It will be so cute and organized looking. Problem solved. Because of course it's not that I actually ever miss any of those events, I just feel scattered trying to remember it all. Now I can maybe at least give the impression (to myself and others) that I've got it together. Room Mother Barbie, watch out.
.
Ainsley has chicken pox. Not the kind of chicken pox that involves oatmeal baths and pink polka dots of Calamine lotion covering her body. The kind that happens after you've already been immunized and are exposed to someone with chicken pox. She has about 10 or so pox that don't seem to itch a bit, though 1 of those 10 is on her throat, so she's not really pleased about that. She has a fever and is tired. TV is our main form of entertainment, though we have squeezed in some make-up sessions, pedicures, and dancing to High School Musical and Avril Lavine. She talked me into taking the double jog stroller to pick Hawthorne up from school yesterday. It's a 3-mile round trip with lots of hills. Fine until I have to push all 81 pounds of them up one of the big hills. It didn't help that the stroller tires were flat. It was a fun bit of nostalgia though, and the weather was beautiful. She tried to talk me into it again today, but I wasn't falling for it. I offered a wagon ride when we got home instead. That gave me more control over which hills to tackle! Who knew Florida had so many hills. Turns out, Tallahassee is much more like Georgia than the rest of Florida. so we get our hills, trees, and beaches too. But I digress.
Also this week, I was "elected" to the PTO board. The use of quotes is because everyone is congratulating me as if I won some great honor, but I didn't have an opponent! It has been nice to hear everyone tell me how excited they are about me being on the board. But then I started thinking about what exactly they're expecting from me and I got a little scared. I think they're hoping I'll stand up to the principal, though I'm not sure what they need me to stand up to her on. Our school rocks. I have loved Hawthorne's teachers. It may be that my plan totally contradicts my constituents plan. I want to cozy up to the principal so that if there are ever any issues with say my younger child, I'll be working with someone who owes me.
So now I'm running out to the store to buy a big wall calendar to keep all the meetings, games, performances... straight. Carter says my solution to a "crisis" is always to buy something. Well, yeah. Duh. It will be so cute and organized looking. Problem solved. Because of course it's not that I actually ever miss any of those events, I just feel scattered trying to remember it all. Now I can maybe at least give the impression (to myself and others) that I've got it together. Room Mother Barbie, watch out.
.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Avoiding the rocks.
I find myself at a loss for words these days. The kids provide plenty of stories to tell and funny events to relay, but I don't have it in me. I lack inspiration. I'm in a funk. I regularly have these moments in my life when I can see the potential in everything, but I can also see the walls that prevent me from reaching that potential, and it's so frustrating and demoralizing that it consumes me. There are times when I really just can't see past all the knobby trees with misshapen branches to appreciate the true beauty of the forest. And once I get started critiquing one tree, it just snowballs until I'm frustrated with every little limb that is out of place.
My dean is pissing me off because he just is. It's a long story of him doing a lot of things kind of well and relying on the rest of us to pick up all the balls he's dropping but forgetting to tell any of us which ball we're supposed to watch and catch. He doesn't deal well with personnel issues; he'd rather look the other way than address systemic problems; he lets grudges consume him to the point where he looses touch with the realities of the situation. He has plenty of strengths, but his weaknesses are winning out right now. So I start with that, then I get irritated with my inability to stick with a diet and exercise plan, then the house starts bugging me--so many incomplete projects and so much room for improvement, then nagging little health issues distract me, and pretty soon, I'm overwhelmed by all that I need to fix or all that I can't fix for the various elements of my life to reach their full potential.
There are moments when I'm able to take a deep breath and see the forest. To appreciate how special my family is and to focus on them. But then the other things creep in and leave me tired again. I look at the clock and think I could either get my butt in gear and run errands or go exercise, or I could just crawl back under the covers and go back to sleep. The pull of the bed is really a siren's call. It seems inviting, but it will lead me to feel that even more is left undone. But the siren's call is such a beautiful song. And since when have I ever had an ounce of power to resist the beautiful songs, even when I know they don't have a happy ending.
.
My dean is pissing me off because he just is. It's a long story of him doing a lot of things kind of well and relying on the rest of us to pick up all the balls he's dropping but forgetting to tell any of us which ball we're supposed to watch and catch. He doesn't deal well with personnel issues; he'd rather look the other way than address systemic problems; he lets grudges consume him to the point where he looses touch with the realities of the situation. He has plenty of strengths, but his weaknesses are winning out right now. So I start with that, then I get irritated with my inability to stick with a diet and exercise plan, then the house starts bugging me--so many incomplete projects and so much room for improvement, then nagging little health issues distract me, and pretty soon, I'm overwhelmed by all that I need to fix or all that I can't fix for the various elements of my life to reach their full potential.
There are moments when I'm able to take a deep breath and see the forest. To appreciate how special my family is and to focus on them. But then the other things creep in and leave me tired again. I look at the clock and think I could either get my butt in gear and run errands or go exercise, or I could just crawl back under the covers and go back to sleep. The pull of the bed is really a siren's call. It seems inviting, but it will lead me to feel that even more is left undone. But the siren's call is such a beautiful song. And since when have I ever had an ounce of power to resist the beautiful songs, even when I know they don't have a happy ending.
.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
A lost son.
We had to put our kitty Coleman to sleep last night. He had advanced lung cancer and several broken ribs and was struggling to breath. It was hard to let him go because he was purring to the end. His mother, Mama Kitty, is trying to tell us that he's missing. She meows and leads me to their room, sits on her bed, and looks at me, like "See, he's not here. Where is he? Go find him." It breaks my heart. We got to say goodbye. She didn't.
We explained everything to the kids except the "putting to sleep" part. They knew he was sick and that he wasn't going to live much longer. They understand the idea that at some point, our bodies just won't work anymore. They think we should get another cat to keep Mama Kitty company. Nice sentiment except that Mama Kitty doesn't really play well with others. Coleman was the lover. Mama is the fighter.
Colman was 15 years old. He loved his people and his furry friends. He adored Kizzy and has quickly bonded to Gumbo. They often slept fur to fur. They lounged in the sun together and took comfort in each others company. He lived in all three states with us, and seemed to take to the Pullman snow more quickly than the rest of us. He was a fat cat, weighing in at 15 pounds, and he had a meow that would make your hair stand up on your neck. When he was meowing at the vet yesterday, the tech asked me if that was what I meant by "breathing weird." I said, "No, that's just his normal meow." And he looked at me like I had lost my mind.
"He's a cool cat," the vet said after spending some time examining him. "Yes," I said, "tolerant, loving, and clearly very tough. We'll miss him."
And we do.
We explained everything to the kids except the "putting to sleep" part. They knew he was sick and that he wasn't going to live much longer. They understand the idea that at some point, our bodies just won't work anymore. They think we should get another cat to keep Mama Kitty company. Nice sentiment except that Mama Kitty doesn't really play well with others. Coleman was the lover. Mama is the fighter.
Colman was 15 years old. He loved his people and his furry friends. He adored Kizzy and has quickly bonded to Gumbo. They often slept fur to fur. They lounged in the sun together and took comfort in each others company. He lived in all three states with us, and seemed to take to the Pullman snow more quickly than the rest of us. He was a fat cat, weighing in at 15 pounds, and he had a meow that would make your hair stand up on your neck. When he was meowing at the vet yesterday, the tech asked me if that was what I meant by "breathing weird." I said, "No, that's just his normal meow." And he looked at me like I had lost my mind.
"He's a cool cat," the vet said after spending some time examining him. "Yes," I said, "tolerant, loving, and clearly very tough. We'll miss him."
And we do.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
The girls.
For the better part of my adult life I have been on a quest for the perfect lipstick. I've tried every red from the $6 Revlon classic Cherries in the Snow to the $28 Channel Red Dream. I found beautiful shades of red... that left prints on my straw, caused my lips to dry and flake, left red stains on the cheeks of my loved ones, or whose smell did not equal the beauty of its color. So I kept looking. For 15 years. Through hundreds of lipsticks. Now, I've found it. The perfect lipstick. If they discontinue it, I'll have to wage a bring-it-back campaign—right after I run to every store and buy all they have. I'll be the woman on the web scouring the earth for every last tube of Maybelline's new mineral lipstick in #400 Ruby.
I hesitated to share this holy grail of lipsticks with you because you may just decide to adopt it as your own. This is good in that maybe Maybelline will keep making it, but it's oh so bad if you love it as much a I do and they decides to move on to new formulas. You will get to reap the fruit, or I guess gem as the case may be, of my labor, but promise me now that my reward will be that you send me prized tubes if it is discontinued.
Just in case, I have a backup. It's the runner-up because it has a little sparkle to it, so doesn't have quite the natural look I like, but in a pinch, Aveda Flower Fusion Amaryllis will do. The one thing it really has going for it is that it smells so yummy. It's a great after lunch lipstick.
Now ya know.
And speaking of girlyness. Ainsley went out to dinner last night in her full-on Fancy Nancy persona. Still wearing her pink rhinestone leotard, pink tights, pink ballet shoes, and zebra tutu from dance class, she added a sparkling green tiara, her ballet shoes necklace, and her black purse to round out the ensemble for the "extraordinarily fancy restaurant" we were going to. (The neighborhood Mexican food dive.) That girl provides lots of laughs at this house. At dinner we were laughing about how funny her hand gestures and facial expressions are. She pursed her lips, raised her hands palm up in front of her chest and said, "I just like being fancy and dramatic." Actually she said, "I just like being fancy and ramatic." I just want to spend my day hanging out with her, hugging her, smelling her hair, and laughing at her pure Ainsleyness.
When we went to pick her up from school earlier this week one of her past teachers, Laura Lee, stopped to give her a hug goodbye. Laura Lee said, "She is a very special girl. She cares about everyone. I've never seen a child like her before. Really. It all comes straight from her heart." She went on to tell us stories about how Ainsley takes care of everyone on the playground and lets the teachers know when someone is upset or doing something that could hurt them. Laura Lee wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know, so it didn't really sink in when I heard it. But when thinking about it later, I realized that Ainsley does have an amazing capacity to care for and protect others. It's a gift all wraped up in this package of love and fire; a big heart, a loud voice, and an opinion that wants to be heard. This complicated little girl that already shows flashes of a mature woman. A woman with lots of love to give and a true appreciation for the perfect lipstick!
.
I hesitated to share this holy grail of lipsticks with you because you may just decide to adopt it as your own. This is good in that maybe Maybelline will keep making it, but it's oh so bad if you love it as much a I do and they decides to move on to new formulas. You will get to reap the fruit, or I guess gem as the case may be, of my labor, but promise me now that my reward will be that you send me prized tubes if it is discontinued.
Just in case, I have a backup. It's the runner-up because it has a little sparkle to it, so doesn't have quite the natural look I like, but in a pinch, Aveda Flower Fusion Amaryllis will do. The one thing it really has going for it is that it smells so yummy. It's a great after lunch lipstick.
Now ya know.
And speaking of girlyness. Ainsley went out to dinner last night in her full-on Fancy Nancy persona. Still wearing her pink rhinestone leotard, pink tights, pink ballet shoes, and zebra tutu from dance class, she added a sparkling green tiara, her ballet shoes necklace, and her black purse to round out the ensemble for the "extraordinarily fancy restaurant" we were going to. (The neighborhood Mexican food dive.) That girl provides lots of laughs at this house. At dinner we were laughing about how funny her hand gestures and facial expressions are. She pursed her lips, raised her hands palm up in front of her chest and said, "I just like being fancy and dramatic." Actually she said, "I just like being fancy and ramatic." I just want to spend my day hanging out with her, hugging her, smelling her hair, and laughing at her pure Ainsleyness.
When we went to pick her up from school earlier this week one of her past teachers, Laura Lee, stopped to give her a hug goodbye. Laura Lee said, "She is a very special girl. She cares about everyone. I've never seen a child like her before. Really. It all comes straight from her heart." She went on to tell us stories about how Ainsley takes care of everyone on the playground and lets the teachers know when someone is upset or doing something that could hurt them. Laura Lee wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know, so it didn't really sink in when I heard it. But when thinking about it later, I realized that Ainsley does have an amazing capacity to care for and protect others. It's a gift all wraped up in this package of love and fire; a big heart, a loud voice, and an opinion that wants to be heard. This complicated little girl that already shows flashes of a mature woman. A woman with lots of love to give and a true appreciation for the perfect lipstick!
.
Monday, February 16, 2009
This is first grade math?
At Hawthorne's school students have the option of signing up for a weekly math challenge where they earn points on homework that uses math and analytical skills beyond their grade level. It's called Sunshine Math, and it's hard. On Friday morning, the day HF's homework is due, he had one last Sunshine Math problem to do for the week. I helped him with it while Carter started getting ready for the day. It went something like this:
Billy stops by his grandma's house on the way home from school each day. He likes to take different routes to her house from the school and then to his house. There are three ways he can get to her house from the school and two ways he can get from her house to his house. How many different ways can he make the trip from school to home?
I tried explaining labels for the paths from school to grandma's house (C,D,E) and from grandma's house to home (A,B) and that he can go C-A, C-B, D-A, D-B... But Hawthorne's response was always something along the lines of "I would go the D-B route."
"But that's not what they're asking you, Hawthorne." I'd say. " They're asking you how many different routes he can take, how many ways he can go."
So I go through the whole A,B,C,D,E thing again, which again doesn't work. So I ask Carter to please step in and save me.
He does. Problem solved in a matter of seconds.
"Sorry, Hawthorne," I apologize, "I'm not a very good teacher. Your Dad is much better at explaining things."
Then Ainsley, who has been sitting on my back playing with my hair this whole time says, "That's OK mommy. You're a really good mommy."
Thank goodness she isn't judging me based on my math and teaching skills. Bless that child.
If you'd like your own math challenge for the day, here's another one of the homework problems.
Arrange in a triangle the numbers 1,2,3,4,5,6 so that each side of three numbers equals 10. You must use all of the numbers (each of them once).
I'm pretty sure it took me longer than HF to figure that one out (and Carter had to give me a hint).
.
Billy stops by his grandma's house on the way home from school each day. He likes to take different routes to her house from the school and then to his house. There are three ways he can get to her house from the school and two ways he can get from her house to his house. How many different ways can he make the trip from school to home?
I tried explaining labels for the paths from school to grandma's house (C,D,E) and from grandma's house to home (A,B) and that he can go C-A, C-B, D-A, D-B... But Hawthorne's response was always something along the lines of "I would go the D-B route."
"But that's not what they're asking you, Hawthorne." I'd say. " They're asking you how many different routes he can take, how many ways he can go."
So I go through the whole A,B,C,D,E thing again, which again doesn't work. So I ask Carter to please step in and save me.
He does. Problem solved in a matter of seconds.
"Sorry, Hawthorne," I apologize, "I'm not a very good teacher. Your Dad is much better at explaining things."
Then Ainsley, who has been sitting on my back playing with my hair this whole time says, "That's OK mommy. You're a really good mommy."
Thank goodness she isn't judging me based on my math and teaching skills. Bless that child.
If you'd like your own math challenge for the day, here's another one of the homework problems.
Arrange in a triangle the numbers 1,2,3,4,5,6 so that each side of three numbers equals 10. You must use all of the numbers (each of them once).
I'm pretty sure it took me longer than HF to figure that one out (and Carter had to give me a hint).
.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The true joys of becoming a woman.
Sunday evening when I was getting out of the shower, Ainsley said to me, "Mommy your stomach is so soft and fat. It looks like a baby is in there." She sees this as a compliment.
"That's from you and Hawthorne stretching it all out." I said, leaving out the part about the entire bags of Oreos I consumed during her infancy.
"Someday I'll get to have a soft squishy tummy too. And boobs. When do I get boobs? When did you get boobs?" she asks.
"Hmm." I say. "When I was pregnant," I joke.
"No, really, Mom"
"OK. I guess they started growing when I was 14 or so."
"Oh, good," she replies. "That means I'll get to have boobs and purple toenail polish at the same time."
I am so not ready for that day to come.
"That's from you and Hawthorne stretching it all out." I said, leaving out the part about the entire bags of Oreos I consumed during her infancy.
"Someday I'll get to have a soft squishy tummy too. And boobs. When do I get boobs? When did you get boobs?" she asks.
"Hmm." I say. "When I was pregnant," I joke.
"No, really, Mom"
"OK. I guess they started growing when I was 14 or so."
"Oh, good," she replies. "That means I'll get to have boobs and purple toenail polish at the same time."
I am so not ready for that day to come.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
How low will it go.
We received a rather depressing memo from the provost yesterday that outlined the University budget issues, how the FL legislature's additional cuts will affect us, and how the stimulus plan might help with that. Of course as of now the FL legislative budget for education is so low that we don't qualify for the stimulus package, but I think the U.S. congress is going to fix that. I imagine no congressperson wants to piss off the people in a swing state. At least that's what Carter says. I'm not following the stimulus stuff because I just want to know the end result. Until then, I'll just read the headlines and stick to the crime stories.
I've been reading a lot of books these days. I'm thinking I need to check on my magazine subscriptions to make sure Carter hasn't sabotaged me, but mainly I just like snuggling down in the warm covers to read. The only better place to read is on the beach under a palm tree. Ah, Mexico, how I miss thee. Jillian keeps me well supplied with page turners. Might have to hit the bookstore soon though. Now I want the books that they tempt you with at the end of the book you just read. You know, "Now read an excerpt of author X's next book... They've got me hooked. Though I do not recommend "Devil in the Junior League" or any book by Linda Francis Lee. Although she's pretty good at the steamy paragraphs, the rest is flat and predictable. But what do I know, she's written (and I imagine sold) a lot of books and I've written zero, zip, nada.
Mainly what's on my mind is how my job is changing. Stress is high around here. It makes for a weird environment. The good part is that I always like novelty, change. The bad part is that the transition always throws me a little. I think it's all going to work out well though. I won't be working from home anymore, so the line between work and home will be very clear and easy to stick to. But I can't have meetings in my pajamas anymore. And this is not a good time of year to have to get out of the PJs, into clothes, and out into the 18 degree morning. I'm having Pullman flashbacks sans pretty white snow.
Ah, beach season, how I miss thee.
I've been reading a lot of books these days. I'm thinking I need to check on my magazine subscriptions to make sure Carter hasn't sabotaged me, but mainly I just like snuggling down in the warm covers to read. The only better place to read is on the beach under a palm tree. Ah, Mexico, how I miss thee. Jillian keeps me well supplied with page turners. Might have to hit the bookstore soon though. Now I want the books that they tempt you with at the end of the book you just read. You know, "Now read an excerpt of author X's next book... They've got me hooked. Though I do not recommend "Devil in the Junior League" or any book by Linda Francis Lee. Although she's pretty good at the steamy paragraphs, the rest is flat and predictable. But what do I know, she's written (and I imagine sold) a lot of books and I've written zero, zip, nada.
Mainly what's on my mind is how my job is changing. Stress is high around here. It makes for a weird environment. The good part is that I always like novelty, change. The bad part is that the transition always throws me a little. I think it's all going to work out well though. I won't be working from home anymore, so the line between work and home will be very clear and easy to stick to. But I can't have meetings in my pajamas anymore. And this is not a good time of year to have to get out of the PJs, into clothes, and out into the 18 degree morning. I'm having Pullman flashbacks sans pretty white snow.
Ah, beach season, how I miss thee.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Making time.
I lost a third of my job last week. To blame: budget cuts from our stupid republican (sorry) governor and legislature who think taxes are so bad that they've cut millions and millions and millions... of dollars from FL education—K-12 and all the universities. In K-12, teachers are being laid off, classrooms are getting more crowded, and "non-academic" classes are being slashed. The schools are turning more and more to parents for needed financial support. In the universities, it has gotten so bad that tenured faculty are being let go. For me, it's a little more complicated. Half of my salary comes from the College. The other half is from grant-funded research projects, "soft money." As we finish those projects, the College picks up the extra percentage of my salary until a new grant that I've been written into comes in. We just finished two huge grant projects, we don't have any to replace them, and the College just cut another 10% from its budget, so there isn't any extra money to pick up the part of my salary that the grants were funding. Sooooo, I'm now 65%. At first I was p-i-s-s-e-d. Mainly because it means I have less money to spend and save but also because of the principle of the whole thing. My salary is for my ideas, not for the number of hours I work. They get the same ideas at 65% as they do at 100%. Seems like a really good deal for them and a not-so-good deal for me.
My dean went through the whole spiel when he told me: "Jennifer, you've been with me through my entire deanship. I want you to know how much you are valued. I couldn't do my job without you. You do so much more than marketing. I depend on you for your ideas. I'll always do everything I can to keep you here and get you back to 100%. Yadah yadah yadah."
Yeah, yeah. So Carter and I sat down yesterday and went through the budget and our new schedule. The only painful thing we had to slash was not what we needed to slash for now, but what we needed to slash for the possibility of me losing my job and Carter not having summer funding. Home improvements were the casualty. Damn it.
So, we start the new schedule tomorrow, and I just have to get used to the idea of not having the control over my life that I like to have. Sometimes it's hard to actually live by our priorities. There are always sacrifices somewhere. My family is my number one priority. I have a job that gives me crazy amounts of flexibility. That's important so I can volunteer and be home after school and take Ains to ballet and be at the Valentine's parties and field day and the walk-a-thon... It allows me to have afternoon playdates and to work out at the gym with Carter before we pick the kids up; it allows us to spend lots of time as a family--the four of us. But the flip side is that I have to give up the big career, and for now, the bigger salary, because I want the crazy flexibility so much more than I want the home remodel.
But, you know I still want that home remodel because what I really want is to have "it all."
.
My dean went through the whole spiel when he told me: "Jennifer, you've been with me through my entire deanship. I want you to know how much you are valued. I couldn't do my job without you. You do so much more than marketing. I depend on you for your ideas. I'll always do everything I can to keep you here and get you back to 100%. Yadah yadah yadah."
Yeah, yeah. So Carter and I sat down yesterday and went through the budget and our new schedule. The only painful thing we had to slash was not what we needed to slash for now, but what we needed to slash for the possibility of me losing my job and Carter not having summer funding. Home improvements were the casualty. Damn it.
So, we start the new schedule tomorrow, and I just have to get used to the idea of not having the control over my life that I like to have. Sometimes it's hard to actually live by our priorities. There are always sacrifices somewhere. My family is my number one priority. I have a job that gives me crazy amounts of flexibility. That's important so I can volunteer and be home after school and take Ains to ballet and be at the Valentine's parties and field day and the walk-a-thon... It allows me to have afternoon playdates and to work out at the gym with Carter before we pick the kids up; it allows us to spend lots of time as a family--the four of us. But the flip side is that I have to give up the big career, and for now, the bigger salary, because I want the crazy flexibility so much more than I want the home remodel.
But, you know I still want that home remodel because what I really want is to have "it all."
.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Oh, I'll get to that later.
I am the world's worst procrastinator. I'm doing it right now—putting everything off. I'm sitting here in my PJs and robe postponing the tasks ahead. But—they must be done. I have a huge report to finish editing and formatting by the end of the day today. Actually, I was supposed to have it finished yesterday, but I asked my dean for an extension. I know it's going to have to get done eventually; I just can't seem to make myself do it already!
I've always been like this. Well, for as long as I can remember. And I don't just do it on the big things anymore. I do it on the simplest of tasks. For example, several Christmas presents that I bought in October(!) sat next to their packaging boxes and tissue paper in my bedroom until I finally mailed them LAST WEEK. What's up with that? There are days when I just can't will myself to wash a load of laundry even though it means disappointing one of my children the next day because he/she will have to go another day without her robe or his favorite shirt. I'd like to think it's because I've finally learned to not sweat the small stuff, but it's not that at all. I think about these tasks everyday. They stay on my mental to do list picking at me all the time.
But today I've procrastinated for as long as I can. I'm off to read about what wonderful things we're doing in the Florida juvenile justice system and put some effort into making us sound good while we're saying it. (We're trying to convince the legislature to give us millions more to keep improving the system for them.) I think I'm going to need a lot of caffeine!
.
I've always been like this. Well, for as long as I can remember. And I don't just do it on the big things anymore. I do it on the simplest of tasks. For example, several Christmas presents that I bought in October(!) sat next to their packaging boxes and tissue paper in my bedroom until I finally mailed them LAST WEEK. What's up with that? There are days when I just can't will myself to wash a load of laundry even though it means disappointing one of my children the next day because he/she will have to go another day without her robe or his favorite shirt. I'd like to think it's because I've finally learned to not sweat the small stuff, but it's not that at all. I think about these tasks everyday. They stay on my mental to do list picking at me all the time.
But today I've procrastinated for as long as I can. I'm off to read about what wonderful things we're doing in the Florida juvenile justice system and put some effort into making us sound good while we're saying it. (We're trying to convince the legislature to give us millions more to keep improving the system for them.) I think I'm going to need a lot of caffeine!
.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
17? Really?!
It's supposed to get down to 23 degrees here tonight. 17 tomorrow night. This is Florida, the great land of warmth for those trying to escape, I don't know, places with temps like Washington state. It's the Sunshine State for goodness sake! Global warming is making us dry and cold? Huh?
.
.
The greatest weight.
I find as a parent that the greatest weight I carry is that I can't protect my children from the world. I can coach them to make good choices, ensure they are in good hands when I'm not with them, make sure they are scared of the things they should be scared of and cautious when they should be cautious, respect them in a way that allows them to feel comfortable telling me anything, create a home environment where they feel safe and free to be themselves, stay informed about the things that can harm them (you know, lead paint; pesticides; polyvinyl chloride (#3), polystyrene (#6), and polycarbonate (#7) plastics; sex offenders living within a 5-mile radius...) and try to prevent them from being exposed to things they are too young to assimilate.
Two Tallahassee children died in very tragic car accidents last week. A four-year-old was hit by a van when he darted across the street in front of his school, and a high school student died when one of her wheels ran off the road (one of our beautiful but dangerous two-lane, no shoulder, "canopy" roads lined by huge oak trees) and by overcompensating she went across traffic and hit a tree. Split-second mistakes that ended their lives. We all have examples from our teenage years of lives cut short, and I'm sure we can all come up with at least one incident that we look back at and think, "What the hell was I thinking?!" Thus the weight.
At a girls' night last weekend we were all talking about the crazy things we did as teenagers. (BTW Mom and Dad, compared to every single person I know (well, other than Lewis Snell), I was an angel teenager. No kidding!) One of the moms commented on how she hopes her daughters won't sneak out like she did, and another mom so nonchalantly said, "But they will."
We can only *hope* that there isn't the fatal choice made in a split second.
So we do the best we can to protect them now and to prepare them for the world when the decisions are in their hands.
And just so you know what sent me down this road, I'll give you the advice that you now need to change the drain on your pool and make sure your kids aren't ever playing near the drain of a public pool--even the kid-sized public pool: http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/01/15/entrapment.pools/index.html
.
Two Tallahassee children died in very tragic car accidents last week. A four-year-old was hit by a van when he darted across the street in front of his school, and a high school student died when one of her wheels ran off the road (one of our beautiful but dangerous two-lane, no shoulder, "canopy" roads lined by huge oak trees) and by overcompensating she went across traffic and hit a tree. Split-second mistakes that ended their lives. We all have examples from our teenage years of lives cut short, and I'm sure we can all come up with at least one incident that we look back at and think, "What the hell was I thinking?!" Thus the weight.
At a girls' night last weekend we were all talking about the crazy things we did as teenagers. (BTW Mom and Dad, compared to every single person I know (well, other than Lewis Snell), I was an angel teenager. No kidding!) One of the moms commented on how she hopes her daughters won't sneak out like she did, and another mom so nonchalantly said, "But they will."
We can only *hope* that there isn't the fatal choice made in a split second.
So we do the best we can to protect them now and to prepare them for the world when the decisions are in their hands.
And just so you know what sent me down this road, I'll give you the advice that you now need to change the drain on your pool and make sure your kids aren't ever playing near the drain of a public pool--even the kid-sized public pool: http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/01/15/entrapment.pools/index.html
.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
For goodness sake.
One of my friends who we have playdates with is a master of instilling good manners. Her almost-3 year old and almost-5 year old daughters are pros at "please" and "thank you." They rarely interrupt and I don't think I've ever heard them tell their mother "no." I'm always a little embarrassed of my less-than-well-mannered kids for their constant interruptions, their crazy running around the house, and their lack of pleases and thank yous. At the end of a playdate last week, we were all headed into the house to pack up and see our friends off. I asked (OK, probably told) Hawthorne to come inside and get cleaned up. "No," he said, "I'm not going inside." I usually expect this from Ainsley, but Hawthorne? What the &@#%?
So, my calm (really it was) response was to tell Hawthorne that "it is time to go in, you need to do what I ask you to do, and you only get to say no when I'm actually asking you a question about your preferences." I think it took one more interchange for him to remember that Mommy does not back down b/c Mommy isn't going to play this game now or anytime in the future! blah! (I need him to learn this without question while he's still small enough for me to pick him up and put him where I want him to be.)
Where did I go wrong? I always thought that modeling good manners for my kids would lead to them having good manners. It worked with Ainsley until she was about 3 1/2. She had great manners. She was especially quick with her thank yous. But that disappeared. I think I'll blame it on her classmates instead of our parenting. But then her teacher opened the door for us with a week of lessons focused on manners. We just kept the ball rolling with both kids. We ask that they be polite and considerate. We want pleases and thank yous and WHEN SOMEONE IS TALKING DON'T INTERRUPT.
Carter started counting the number of pleases and thank yous from HF and Ains and marking them on a sheet on the fridge. The power of the sheet-on-the-fridge is amazing. They don't even need a reward. Just seeing their name and marks by it makes them so proud. It's fantastic. So, they start saying please and thank you, and then we get to praise them for that, and then they want to do it more. Wow this is some seriously good parenting people, take note (so you won't think I'm horrible when I tell you about seriously bad parenting another time). However, I'm still working on the whole "DON'T INTERRUPT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO SOMEONE ELSE." And it would be nice if I could get Ains to speak up when someone speaks to her. She's always getting compliments on her "pretty" (which really means eclectic and hilarious) clothes. She always returns these compliments with a blank stare. (Maybe she knows they aren't actually pretty and is trying to figure out what the person is talking about.)
Anyway, the manners are clearly a work in progress. I have great envy for the parents whose kids have it down, especially the parents of 5 (!) children who have it down. And I greatly appreciate the ones who make my kids look good by howling over the candy at the checkout counter or screaming "no" when requested to put their shoes back on in Target or getting used as examples of bad behavior in the Health section of the New York Times: "Making room for Miss Manners is a parenting basic."
So, my calm (really it was) response was to tell Hawthorne that "it is time to go in, you need to do what I ask you to do, and you only get to say no when I'm actually asking you a question about your preferences." I think it took one more interchange for him to remember that Mommy does not back down b/c Mommy isn't going to play this game now or anytime in the future! blah! (I need him to learn this without question while he's still small enough for me to pick him up and put him where I want him to be.)
Where did I go wrong? I always thought that modeling good manners for my kids would lead to them having good manners. It worked with Ainsley until she was about 3 1/2. She had great manners. She was especially quick with her thank yous. But that disappeared. I think I'll blame it on her classmates instead of our parenting. But then her teacher opened the door for us with a week of lessons focused on manners. We just kept the ball rolling with both kids. We ask that they be polite and considerate. We want pleases and thank yous and WHEN SOMEONE IS TALKING DON'T INTERRUPT.
Carter started counting the number of pleases and thank yous from HF and Ains and marking them on a sheet on the fridge. The power of the sheet-on-the-fridge is amazing. They don't even need a reward. Just seeing their name and marks by it makes them so proud. It's fantastic. So, they start saying please and thank you, and then we get to praise them for that, and then they want to do it more. Wow this is some seriously good parenting people, take note (so you won't think I'm horrible when I tell you about seriously bad parenting another time). However, I'm still working on the whole "DON'T INTERRUPT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO SOMEONE ELSE." And it would be nice if I could get Ains to speak up when someone speaks to her. She's always getting compliments on her "pretty" (which really means eclectic and hilarious) clothes. She always returns these compliments with a blank stare. (Maybe she knows they aren't actually pretty and is trying to figure out what the person is talking about.)
Anyway, the manners are clearly a work in progress. I have great envy for the parents whose kids have it down, especially the parents of 5 (!) children who have it down. And I greatly appreciate the ones who make my kids look good by howling over the candy at the checkout counter or screaming "no" when requested to put their shoes back on in Target or getting used as examples of bad behavior in the Health section of the New York Times: "Making room for Miss Manners is a parenting basic."
Monday, January 12, 2009
Rescued by the mommy bloggers.
I blog because writing (when I'm supposed to be doing something more productive) is cathartic to me. Also, I like to give everyone the opportunity to laugh at me as much as I laugh at me. Then of course there is the occasional rant just for the hell of it. I read other mommy bloggers because they make me feel normal. The ones I read are professional writers, who I think maybe by definition are a little neurotic and otherwise off-balance. They make my obsessive compulsiveness seem completely routine, and they are just as hard on themselves as I am. Also, they are the same weird combo of stay-at-home mom and working mom that leads them to have bizzaarly flexible hours that include playdates and volunteer time at school. So we have a lot in common.
Finslippy is one of my favorite blogs. The author cracks me up. Especially this week. Check out "Notable Moments in Exceptional Parenting, part 64."
Finslippy is one of my favorite blogs. The author cracks me up. Especially this week. Check out "Notable Moments in Exceptional Parenting, part 64."
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Happy anniversary to me.
Today is my and Carter's 14th wedding anniversary. It has been an amazing 14 years. I really do consider myself one of the luckiest girls in the universe for nabbing him right out from under all the other girls at Southwestern. He's a catch! What were they thinking letting the new girl come in and steal him away?
We've had quite the adventures over the past 14 years. Lots of living it up in Austin; exploring the NW; freezing our buns off in the snow; adopting Seattle as our runner-up city; making it through pregnancy, c-sections, and infancy with two children; relocating to our Texas ranch house in Florida; falling in love with the Emerald Coast; settling in to our guess-we're-grown-ups-now home; carpooling and working within 50 yards of each other; and enjoying all the benefits of being true partners.
He's an amazing man, my Carter. My parents were fabulously relieved when they realized I had found some one to take care of me. And that he does. He also challenges me–to be the best me, to rise above the muck that I get stuck wallowing in. He summons my strengths, enabling me to be the wife and mom I want to be. And he does it all looking way too handsome for a husband who spends his days around 20-somethings (who keep reminding him how attractive he is with comments on his teaching evaluations!).
I so look forward to the years to come of raising children, traveling, getting lectures about money (yes, I'll get them, no I won't actually enjoy them, but I will appreciate someone else keeping track of the money), having him next to me each night, dragging him through the mall with me, sitting in the kitchen talking about whatever is on our minds, watching the Longhorns and Seminoles, getting him interested in the TV show dujour, riding the easy flow of day to day, and planning the future. The future always holds such great promise for us—and it never lets us down.
I found the love of my life when I was 20 years old. I managed to hold on to him, and I think I'll just keep him all wrapped up forever.
We've had quite the adventures over the past 14 years. Lots of living it up in Austin; exploring the NW; freezing our buns off in the snow; adopting Seattle as our runner-up city; making it through pregnancy, c-sections, and infancy with two children; relocating to our Texas ranch house in Florida; falling in love with the Emerald Coast; settling in to our guess-we're-grown-ups-now home; carpooling and working within 50 yards of each other; and enjoying all the benefits of being true partners.
He's an amazing man, my Carter. My parents were fabulously relieved when they realized I had found some one to take care of me. And that he does. He also challenges me–to be the best me, to rise above the muck that I get stuck wallowing in. He summons my strengths, enabling me to be the wife and mom I want to be. And he does it all looking way too handsome for a husband who spends his days around 20-somethings (who keep reminding him how attractive he is with comments on his teaching evaluations!).
I so look forward to the years to come of raising children, traveling, getting lectures about money (yes, I'll get them, no I won't actually enjoy them, but I will appreciate someone else keeping track of the money), having him next to me each night, dragging him through the mall with me, sitting in the kitchen talking about whatever is on our minds, watching the Longhorns and Seminoles, getting him interested in the TV show dujour, riding the easy flow of day to day, and planning the future. The future always holds such great promise for us—and it never lets us down.
I found the love of my life when I was 20 years old. I managed to hold on to him, and I think I'll just keep him all wrapped up forever.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
I could rule the world.
I'm thinking that if I took all the time I spend watching recorded House episodes and put it into productive thought that I might possibly be able to rule the world. Even if ruling the world wasn't attainable, a clean house, clean clothes, an organized desk, and a flat stomach would certainly be manageable in the time after the kids go to bed or during the free weekend hours. But I'm so attached to House. I love the characters, I want to learn more about them, I want to have coffee with them--and I don't even drink coffee. It's a sad addiction, but not a new one. I've had other TV addictions: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Veronica Mars, Angel. I can't think of any others off the top of my head but I bet there are a couple more. I've liked Scrubs and Friends, Gilmore Girls and Gray's Anatomy, and now 30 Rock, but they aren't the shows that would cause me to be really pissed if the recorder didn't record them. But House, I get pissed when the recorder doesn't record one that I've already seen three times. And I'm really pissed that USA is skipping episodes and not going in order. You know who is about to be pissed though? Carter. When I use up all our Netflix orders on House DVDs. Hee. Hee.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
