So I got my first ever phone call home from the teacher. Yikes. I was practically crying as I was talking to my boy's pre-school teacher.
You see, the problem is that he isn't so into circle time. While I know this is a necessary part of life, I can't say I blame him. He has perfectly good reasons why he isn't fond of circle time.
I don't get to talk when I want to.
The teacher doesn't always listen to and/or think my answer is right.
I'm not always the one in charge of circle time.
Circle time isn't all about him, so damn it, he doesn't like it. Sounds simple enough.
Now if only I had as many logical reasons for why I cry at any sort of confrontation, we'd be on to something.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
The inner voice
Usually listening to the little voice in my head isn't a good idea.
"you need cheese fries" it says.
"wear the heels even if they are uncomfortable" it advises.
"have another glass of wine" it suggests.
You can see how I should be skeptical of the advice my little inner voice gives me.
But when it comes to my children, my inner voice really knows what is going on.
"you should leave now." it hints.
"the kids should go to bed." it recommends.
"you really should avoid all public places" it implores.
How does it know? How does it know that 10 minutes later my child will fall on the floor screaming at the top of his lungs because his chicken finger fell on the ground? (while you are on the ground boy, just pick it up--5 second rule) How does it know that 10 minutes later he will hit his friend in the head with a plastic frying pan because he can't hear his tv show? (his explanation was that he wanted to make his friend be quiet...that's one way, I suppose) How does it know that 10 minutes later he will yell, "you are not my friend Mommy, you are poo poo eyeball forever" in front of a new group of mommy friends. (not terribly effective name calling, but creative to say the least)
I don't know how it knows, but it does.
Maybe I should start listening to it.
"you need cheese fries" it says.
"wear the heels even if they are uncomfortable" it advises.
"have another glass of wine" it suggests.
You can see how I should be skeptical of the advice my little inner voice gives me.
But when it comes to my children, my inner voice really knows what is going on.
"you should leave now." it hints.
"the kids should go to bed." it recommends.
"you really should avoid all public places" it implores.
How does it know? How does it know that 10 minutes later my child will fall on the floor screaming at the top of his lungs because his chicken finger fell on the ground? (while you are on the ground boy, just pick it up--5 second rule) How does it know that 10 minutes later he will hit his friend in the head with a plastic frying pan because he can't hear his tv show? (his explanation was that he wanted to make his friend be quiet...that's one way, I suppose) How does it know that 10 minutes later he will yell, "you are not my friend Mommy, you are poo poo eyeball forever" in front of a new group of mommy friends. (not terribly effective name calling, but creative to say the least)
I don't know how it knows, but it does.
Maybe I should start listening to it.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Food Recession at Robert Oliver Seafood
On Sunday night I had the pleasure of going to listen to David Sedaris speak in Baltimore. I don't know what it is about him, but he can really make me laugh. Something about his whiney voice, his ridiculous stories, and his penchant to make fun of North Carolina...he really gets me going.
On Sunday, though, the humor really started before we even made it to his show. You see, my parents, my sister, my husband and I all were going to go out to dinner. Without the kids. What's so funny about that, you ask? Well nothing. That is unless you "eat" at Robert Oliver's Seafood Restaurant.
I have never, ever, ever, had such an unbelieveable experience at a restaurant. When we first got there, the rather surly host mumbled something...in hindsight it was probably "you don't want to eat here ladies, this place is s*^t." But we rolled our eyes, followed him after he huffed and puffed at us, and we sat down behind a mosquito net away from all the other diners. It wasn't perfect, but trying to keep our spirits up my husband and I kept repeating "it doesn't matter for us, we're so happy to be out we would be happy at chic-fil-a."
But at least at chic-fil-a, there is chicken. The very first thing that our waiter said to us was.
"good evening, I just want you to know that there is no calamari, no cobb salad, no chicken breast, no cesaer salad, and no fish."
My sister, who was STARVING, had already staked her claim in the calamari and cobb salad...you can imagine the dissapointment.
We forge ahead and try to order some wine. The waiter's response, "I'll have to check if we have that" Super, you do that.
Good news, they do! But they only have 2 bottles, so as he opens the first bottle, the server slams down the second and last bottle right on to the table. Not that we weren't going to have another, but it seemed a little aggressive to say the least.
If you have gotten attached to out waiter in this story, don't, because that is the last we saw of him.
My family is nothing if not content with a good drink and good company, so it took us a while to realize that the waiter hadn't brought us our hummus platter. When we checked our watches, 45 minutes had passed. Hummus with pita chips...not that hard to prepare, not necessary to cook, and after all, I could have walked to the Whole Foods and prepared it for us in half the time.
Our waiter, at this point, had all but vanished. I saw him fly by our table a few times, wiping his brow from all that non-food serving, non-order taking, and non-responding to his tables he was doing...tough job. Eventually. my father got up to see if he could attract some attention to us, to get some help, from someone, anyone who would acknowledge our presence. Like getting tickets to a U2 concert, he should have gotten there early.
As he stood up and headed to the bar and he all but heard, "back of the line buddy." This was the first time that we looked up from our immaculate, untouched table with not even a crumb from a piece of bread (we asked, they said they were out), and saw that there was a line of about 8 people all wondering/demanding where their drinks/food/waiter were. It was not a good scene. We then pulled back our mosquito netting and saw that none of the other customers had food on their tables, few had drinks, and all had scowls on their faces.
We knew then that we were a little lucky because we had not one, but two bottles of wine. When my father returned to the table, all he had was a corkscrew in hand...something seen as a small victory for our family as we could now get that second bottle of wine open. But he also returned with the knowledge that there was no food in the whole restaurant. Hmmm...something of a predicament when you are trying to go out to eat.
Resigned to not eating, buzzed from drinking on an empty stomach, and a bit giddy from the whole debacle it was time to head out to see David Sedaris.
Not to be outdone by the rest of the restaurant, as we hit the restrooms on our way out we found the ultimate outage...toilet paper.
There wasn't even toilet paper in this piece of s^*t restaurant.
On Sunday, though, the humor really started before we even made it to his show. You see, my parents, my sister, my husband and I all were going to go out to dinner. Without the kids. What's so funny about that, you ask? Well nothing. That is unless you "eat" at Robert Oliver's Seafood Restaurant.
I have never, ever, ever, had such an unbelieveable experience at a restaurant. When we first got there, the rather surly host mumbled something...in hindsight it was probably "you don't want to eat here ladies, this place is s*^t." But we rolled our eyes, followed him after he huffed and puffed at us, and we sat down behind a mosquito net away from all the other diners. It wasn't perfect, but trying to keep our spirits up my husband and I kept repeating "it doesn't matter for us, we're so happy to be out we would be happy at chic-fil-a."
But at least at chic-fil-a, there is chicken. The very first thing that our waiter said to us was.
"good evening, I just want you to know that there is no calamari, no cobb salad, no chicken breast, no cesaer salad, and no fish."
My sister, who was STARVING, had already staked her claim in the calamari and cobb salad...you can imagine the dissapointment.
We forge ahead and try to order some wine. The waiter's response, "I'll have to check if we have that" Super, you do that.
Good news, they do! But they only have 2 bottles, so as he opens the first bottle, the server slams down the second and last bottle right on to the table. Not that we weren't going to have another, but it seemed a little aggressive to say the least.
If you have gotten attached to out waiter in this story, don't, because that is the last we saw of him.
My family is nothing if not content with a good drink and good company, so it took us a while to realize that the waiter hadn't brought us our hummus platter. When we checked our watches, 45 minutes had passed. Hummus with pita chips...not that hard to prepare, not necessary to cook, and after all, I could have walked to the Whole Foods and prepared it for us in half the time.
Our waiter, at this point, had all but vanished. I saw him fly by our table a few times, wiping his brow from all that non-food serving, non-order taking, and non-responding to his tables he was doing...tough job. Eventually. my father got up to see if he could attract some attention to us, to get some help, from someone, anyone who would acknowledge our presence. Like getting tickets to a U2 concert, he should have gotten there early.
As he stood up and headed to the bar and he all but heard, "back of the line buddy." This was the first time that we looked up from our immaculate, untouched table with not even a crumb from a piece of bread (we asked, they said they were out), and saw that there was a line of about 8 people all wondering/demanding where their drinks/food/waiter were. It was not a good scene. We then pulled back our mosquito netting and saw that none of the other customers had food on their tables, few had drinks, and all had scowls on their faces.
We knew then that we were a little lucky because we had not one, but two bottles of wine. When my father returned to the table, all he had was a corkscrew in hand...something seen as a small victory for our family as we could now get that second bottle of wine open. But he also returned with the knowledge that there was no food in the whole restaurant. Hmmm...something of a predicament when you are trying to go out to eat.
Resigned to not eating, buzzed from drinking on an empty stomach, and a bit giddy from the whole debacle it was time to head out to see David Sedaris.
Not to be outdone by the rest of the restaurant, as we hit the restrooms on our way out we found the ultimate outage...toilet paper.
There wasn't even toilet paper in this piece of s^*t restaurant.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Terrible Two's...My arse
When you have kids, you receive a lot of advice. Some of it you ask for, and well honestly, most of it is unsolicited. My mother, however, has really held back on giving me too much advice in any arena. In fact, she claims she doesn't remember anything about our childhood just so she doesn't have to admit that my 4 year old is WAY more of a handful than my sister and I ever were (if this is the case, I am REALLY in trouble come high school!). But one thing that she did say to me that I keep repeating to myself over and over and over and over again is, "whoever called it the terrible two's just didn't have a 4 year old yet."
She is really on to something here. We have recently entered the stage of "I am SO mad at you", "I don't like you anymore", "You are SO mean", "You are not my friend". This accompanied by a symphony of screaming in frustration, slamming doors, stomping feet...it is such a pleasure to be around here. Don't you want to come visit?
So now I am asking for some advice...or at least some sort of psychic reading...when does this end? When does my loveable, polite, even tempered boy make an appearance. When does he stop having the ability to make my blood pressure rise to unhealthy levels, when do I stop being embarassed by his actions, when am I sure that he will grow to be a stable adult?
You know what my mom said? "I'll let you know when it happens for me."
Fan-freakin-tastic.
She is really on to something here. We have recently entered the stage of "I am SO mad at you", "I don't like you anymore", "You are SO mean", "You are not my friend". This accompanied by a symphony of screaming in frustration, slamming doors, stomping feet...it is such a pleasure to be around here. Don't you want to come visit?
So now I am asking for some advice...or at least some sort of psychic reading...when does this end? When does my loveable, polite, even tempered boy make an appearance. When does he stop having the ability to make my blood pressure rise to unhealthy levels, when do I stop being embarassed by his actions, when am I sure that he will grow to be a stable adult?
You know what my mom said? "I'll let you know when it happens for me."
Fan-freakin-tastic.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
My secret fear
You know how you are always supposed to wear clean underwear in case you get in an accident or something...that's not really a fear I have. I hope I have underwear on at all, but other than that...not really worried about it.
You know what worries me...what if someone who I want to impress got ahold of my tivo list, my itunes, or my pandora stations? It would be like looking into my soul. And people, let me tell you, it would not be a pretty sight.
I fear the day when someone innocently enough scans the list of my recorded shows and sees the new 90210, Gossip Girl, ALL Bravo shows, and much much more that is slowly draining all of my brain cells.
And since I just confessed the TV part of my soul...I'm going to keep my bad music taste to myself.
You know what worries me...what if someone who I want to impress got ahold of my tivo list, my itunes, or my pandora stations? It would be like looking into my soul. And people, let me tell you, it would not be a pretty sight.
I fear the day when someone innocently enough scans the list of my recorded shows and sees the new 90210, Gossip Girl, ALL Bravo shows, and much much more that is slowly draining all of my brain cells.
And since I just confessed the TV part of my soul...I'm going to keep my bad music taste to myself.
Bribery or positive reinforcement...your choice
I have a friend of a friend, or maybe this mother is just an urban legend, but the story goes that she doesn't bribe her children...EVER. Not for nothing.
After I roll my eyes, laugh, close my wide open/fly catching mouth, and make sure the other mothers are reacting the same way, I shout, "no freakin' way, it's not possible."
But is it? Is it possible?
After hearing this story for the first time, I really tuned in to the amount of bribery that occurred in my house on a regular basis.
"boy eat your dinner"
"NO!"
"if you eat is I'll give you gummies"
"OK"
"Boy get dressed for school"
"NO!"
"if you get dressed we can go to the park after school"
"OK"
"Boy make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys"
"NO!"
"if you make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys, I'll buy you a firetruck"
"NO!" (Alright, for somethings even bribery doesn't work)
At the end of my highly extensive and reliable survey, I concluded that we bribe A LOT. In fact, I don't think that we could get anything done without a little mob boss bribery.
But last night I figured out that the urban legend mother does exist and it is possible to live a life with children without bribery. You just have to use positive reinforcement.
Today the scenes went like this
"boy eat your dinner"
"NO!"
"if you eat is I'll give you gummies"
"OK"
"Boy get dressed for school"
"NO!"
"if you get dressed we can go to the park after school"
"OK"
"Boy make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys"
"NO!""if you make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys, I'll buy you a firetruck"
"NO!" (Alright, for somethings even positive reinforcement doesn't work)
Ahhh the beauty of semantics.
After I roll my eyes, laugh, close my wide open/fly catching mouth, and make sure the other mothers are reacting the same way, I shout, "no freakin' way, it's not possible."
But is it? Is it possible?
After hearing this story for the first time, I really tuned in to the amount of bribery that occurred in my house on a regular basis.
"boy eat your dinner"
"NO!"
"if you eat is I'll give you gummies"
"OK"
"Boy get dressed for school"
"NO!"
"if you get dressed we can go to the park after school"
"OK"
"Boy make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys"
"NO!"
"if you make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys, I'll buy you a firetruck"
"NO!" (Alright, for somethings even bribery doesn't work)
At the end of my highly extensive and reliable survey, I concluded that we bribe A LOT. In fact, I don't think that we could get anything done without a little mob boss bribery.
But last night I figured out that the urban legend mother does exist and it is possible to live a life with children without bribery. You just have to use positive reinforcement.
Today the scenes went like this
"boy eat your dinner"
"NO!"
"if you eat is I'll give you gummies"
"OK"
"Boy get dressed for school"
"NO!"
"if you get dressed we can go to the park after school"
"OK"
"Boy make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys"
"NO!""if you make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys, I'll buy you a firetruck"
"NO!" (Alright, for somethings even positive reinforcement doesn't work)
Ahhh the beauty of semantics.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Cover yourself up...or not
So I went to the doctor. No worries people...the dermatologist...there will be no stirrups in this story. And, after 30 some odd years in the sun, many of them equipped with baby oil, a chaise lounge, an extension cord and a tv... I thought it was time I got a full body check. You know, make sure all these freckles really are just that, freckles.
As the nurse brings me into the room, she instructs me to leave my underwear on and then put on the robe. Sounds simple enough.
I picked up the robe, but in actuality is should be called a paper towel. Only that a paper towel is softer, more absorbent, and probably bigger. What the F? This robe had neither a front or a back, it was about 6 inches long, It scratched the bejesus out of my skin and I tried it on 10 different times. Were the holes for my arms, my head, my legs? Did it open in the front or the back? Was it a top or a bottom? Did they forget to leave the robe and I was actually struggling with toilet paper?
When I finally decided on the proper position/alignment of it, I settled down onto the table, looked down, and realized that my "robe" didn't even cover all of my bra, my stomach was completely exposed, and forget it about covering my underwear. (none of this was really an issue because after childbirth, modesty doesn't really exist around here).
At that point the Doctor walked in, smiled, and said, "Sorry about the robes, we're trying to cut back on costs."
Save your $.12 a patient lady. I would have been easier to stay in just my underwear.
As the nurse brings me into the room, she instructs me to leave my underwear on and then put on the robe. Sounds simple enough.
I picked up the robe, but in actuality is should be called a paper towel. Only that a paper towel is softer, more absorbent, and probably bigger. What the F? This robe had neither a front or a back, it was about 6 inches long, It scratched the bejesus out of my skin and I tried it on 10 different times. Were the holes for my arms, my head, my legs? Did it open in the front or the back? Was it a top or a bottom? Did they forget to leave the robe and I was actually struggling with toilet paper?
When I finally decided on the proper position/alignment of it, I settled down onto the table, looked down, and realized that my "robe" didn't even cover all of my bra, my stomach was completely exposed, and forget it about covering my underwear. (none of this was really an issue because after childbirth, modesty doesn't really exist around here).
At that point the Doctor walked in, smiled, and said, "Sorry about the robes, we're trying to cut back on costs."
Save your $.12 a patient lady. I would have been easier to stay in just my underwear.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
I'm not THAT mom!
Pre-kids I was a teacher. So let me tell you, I have more than my share of opinions of THAT mom. You know...the mom who wants you to change her child's grade, the mom who calls you at home to ask about her child's homework assignment, the mom who hangs around school ALL day watching what you do, the mom who believes her child's version of a story over yours...OMG the list could go on.
I swear to you, I am not nor will I ever be THAT mom. I won't let it happen.
BUT...pre-school started this week. And while my darling 4 year old loves it (in fact he gave me a high-five at dinner last night and when I asked him what it was for he said, "for letting me go to school") I can't help but worry. When I ask him in the car each day what he did he tells me "we played, we painted, we had so much fun." And as he is saying this I feel all the little hairs on my arm stand up straight.
No math, no writing, no reading???? What are they doing over there? Is he going to fall behind?
I follow up with thinking
He's 4, he's bright, he's doing great.
And then I repeat to myself.
Don't be THAT mom. Don't be THAT mom. Don't believe everything he tells you.
I know, I know but I can't help but worry about his academics...did I mention that he is only 4?
Maybe I should also mention that I apparently am totally crazy.
I swear to you, I am not nor will I ever be THAT mom. I won't let it happen.
BUT...pre-school started this week. And while my darling 4 year old loves it (in fact he gave me a high-five at dinner last night and when I asked him what it was for he said, "for letting me go to school") I can't help but worry. When I ask him in the car each day what he did he tells me "we played, we painted, we had so much fun." And as he is saying this I feel all the little hairs on my arm stand up straight.
No math, no writing, no reading???? What are they doing over there? Is he going to fall behind?
I follow up with thinking
He's 4, he's bright, he's doing great.
And then I repeat to myself.
Don't be THAT mom. Don't be THAT mom. Don't believe everything he tells you.
I know, I know but I can't help but worry about his academics...did I mention that he is only 4?
Maybe I should also mention that I apparently am totally crazy.
Friday, September 05, 2008
Weight Loss
I'm back on Weight Watchers.
Big freakin' surprise as I seem to ALWAYS be "on" something. On Adtkins, on Jenny Craig, on WW, on the wagon...whatever drastic measures I have to take to lose some weight.
And tonight, I think I deserve some seriously good weight loss karma.
We ordered pizza. Delicious, regular crust, pepperoni and sausage pizza. Hubby and big boy and little girl all devoured more than their share (actually I'm currently listening to hubby compain about his indulgence). And you know what I ate? No...not grilled fish, I'm not that good. But a Lean Cuisine pizza and a salad. I KNOW...I deserve a weight watching medal of some sort.
At the very least I think that calories should be calculated by not how much you ate, but by how much you resisted.
Today would go something like this:
Bagel and cream cheese with kids: -525
hot dog at lunch: -350
milkshake with son after teacher meeting: -425
lots and lots of pizza: -800
vodka with tonic: -1000 (it is Friday people!)
Total weight loss= -3100 calories...which should equal about one WHOLE pound for today.
Damn I'm good.
Big freakin' surprise as I seem to ALWAYS be "on" something. On Adtkins, on Jenny Craig, on WW, on the wagon...whatever drastic measures I have to take to lose some weight.
And tonight, I think I deserve some seriously good weight loss karma.
We ordered pizza. Delicious, regular crust, pepperoni and sausage pizza. Hubby and big boy and little girl all devoured more than their share (actually I'm currently listening to hubby compain about his indulgence). And you know what I ate? No...not grilled fish, I'm not that good. But a Lean Cuisine pizza and a salad. I KNOW...I deserve a weight watching medal of some sort.
At the very least I think that calories should be calculated by not how much you ate, but by how much you resisted.
Today would go something like this:
Bagel and cream cheese with kids: -525
hot dog at lunch: -350
milkshake with son after teacher meeting: -425
lots and lots of pizza: -800
vodka with tonic: -1000 (it is Friday people!)
Total weight loss= -3100 calories...which should equal about one WHOLE pound for today.
Damn I'm good.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Back handed victory
Rewind about 4 years ago. I head off to London to visit my parents with my then 8 month old. I leave my husband in our home alone for what I figure will be 7 days of beer, pizza, and freedom to sleep in an unmade bed. I expect to come home to a house with the toilet seats up, recycling not taken out and lots of dirty laundry. How wrong I was.
This is what I came home to:
Yes, doesn't every family with a new baby need a 1973 Bronco? One that "is such a good deal honey. We're going to make money on this, I swear."
Fast forward to present time. That great deal has sat in the garage for 4 years and has racked up only 400 miles (one trip from old house to new house)
So imagine my delight when last week my husband ON HIS OWN decided to sell the great deal in exchange for this:
why the little girl is wearing a helmet still remains a mystery!
I really thought that after 7 years I had made an impact. Our third car was going to be one that we both would enjoy, could take to the beach, to yoga, to the store...wherever. He was considering my desires, recognizing the immaturity of the purchase of a 1973 Ford Bronco that doesn't even work and just drips oil in the garage, and putting the safety of the kids before his juvenile joy ride. (again, the helmet is a mystery!)
Can I just say it again...How wrong I was!
Because...within one week, this is what I came home to:
Oh...did I mention that in order to pay for this lovely vessel, he has to sell the Bronco AND his car...so now there is no 3rd vehicle...just his car (see picture above) and mine.
So after seven years, the only thing that has happened is that his impulse purchases have gotten more expensive and he has gotten A LOT better at working things to his advantage. Damn.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
What are you watching?
I don't usually proclaim my political beliefs here on my blog...but I have to say:
But regardless of who you will vote for in November...you'll agree with me on this. At least, I think you will.
Tonight, at my in-laws, at the Jersey Shore, sequestered in the basement to watch the Democratic National Convention, I was horrified by what I saw/found. At 9:15, I turned on the TV (all by myself as the conservative members of the family watched the Phillies game) only to find that the 4 major networks on TV were more concerned with Super Nanny, America's Got Talent, Bones, and Whacked Out Videos than with Bill Clinton speaking. You know him right? Former president of the United States, husband to the runner-up, and headline maker for the past 100 days for his contentious relationship with the Obama's. Why can't I find him on TV?
Thank goodness for public television...otherwise I might have voted for Sharon Osbourne or David Hasselhoff for president. And thank goodness for them more for cutting to commercial during John Kerry!
I love me some TV...but this is ridiculous!
But regardless of who you will vote for in November...you'll agree with me on this. At least, I think you will.Tonight, at my in-laws, at the Jersey Shore, sequestered in the basement to watch the Democratic National Convention, I was horrified by what I saw/found. At 9:15, I turned on the TV (all by myself as the conservative members of the family watched the Phillies game) only to find that the 4 major networks on TV were more concerned with Super Nanny, America's Got Talent, Bones, and Whacked Out Videos than with Bill Clinton speaking. You know him right? Former president of the United States, husband to the runner-up, and headline maker for the past 100 days for his contentious relationship with the Obama's. Why can't I find him on TV?
Thank goodness for public television...otherwise I might have voted for Sharon Osbourne or David Hasselhoff for president. And thank goodness for them more for cutting to commercial during John Kerry!
I love me some TV...but this is ridiculous!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Farmer's Market
There is something so peaceful about going to the farmer's market on the weekends. I ususally get to go alone, I usually wander around for about 15 minutes drinking a coffee, and then I usually shell out obscene amounts of money for fresh grown produce, baked goods, and flowers. It is pure heaven. 
Monday, August 18, 2008
Happiness
Happiness for me:
A day on the boat followed by a crab feast and kids who sleep more than 12 hours
Happiness for husband: Playing skipper and skipping work
Happiness for son: Going super fast on the first boat to play pirate on the 2nd boat
Not so happiness for daughter: Being dragged around for all the activity and being stuffed like a sausage in her life preserver
I miss you summer camp
For the past four weeks the little boy has been going to summer camp. And while he was there the little girl and I have been enjoying our peace and quiet. Hitting the gym, taking naps, and just walking around the house without getting run over by a super spy or a growling dinosaur.
And while we relaxed, took deep breaths, and enjoyed our time together just mother and daughter, the little boy was having the time of his life.
I mean, what's not to love about hiking, songs, crafts, and learning about all sorts of interesting animals? It was a 4 year old boys dream come true. Covered in dirt with a smile as wide as the grand canyon each day, he never wanted to come home and was determined to go to camp even after I told him his counselors wouldn't be there on Saturdays and Sundays.
And camp, apparently, is the gift that keeps giving. Because not only was he out all morning tromping around in the woods and creeks, but he came home exhausted, quiet for quiet time and ready for bed by 7pm. To say we got our money's worth is an understatement.
So today I am a bit sad. Not because the little boy is home (I actually am looking forward to a few days with no need to rush out the door at 8am) but because it signals the end of summer. And next year at camp he'll be a little bit older, a little more jaded and a little less likely to sing his camp songs at full volume every time I ask him. So from now until then we'll be singing the songs and dancing the steps to keep up the feeling that summer camp left with us this year. Thanks Nature Tots!
And while we relaxed, took deep breaths, and enjoyed our time together just mother and daughter, the little boy was having the time of his life.
I mean, what's not to love about hiking, songs, crafts, and learning about all sorts of interesting animals? It was a 4 year old boys dream come true. Covered in dirt with a smile as wide as the grand canyon each day, he never wanted to come home and was determined to go to camp even after I told him his counselors wouldn't be there on Saturdays and Sundays.
And camp, apparently, is the gift that keeps giving. Because not only was he out all morning tromping around in the woods and creeks, but he came home exhausted, quiet for quiet time and ready for bed by 7pm. To say we got our money's worth is an understatement.
So today I am a bit sad. Not because the little boy is home (I actually am looking forward to a few days with no need to rush out the door at 8am) but because it signals the end of summer. And next year at camp he'll be a little bit older, a little more jaded and a little less likely to sing his camp songs at full volume every time I ask him. So from now until then we'll be singing the songs and dancing the steps to keep up the feeling that summer camp left with us this year. Thanks Nature Tots!
Friday, August 15, 2008
I'm back!
I really do wonder what people did before internet. Did they actually call their friends? Write them a little note , print out pictures and hand them out? Go to the grocery store? Or a mall? Call a doctor?
This past month I have a small exercise in what it must be like with out internet OR a home phone. And let me tell you...it wasn't pretty. I had to spend nap time doing things like sweep the floor, fold laundry, make dinner. What the F? I didn't sign up for this antiquated stay-at-home mom crap.
But breathe a huge sigh of relief. Procrastination, late night purchasing, and reading gossip are all back on the agenda.
Oh...and maybe I'll blog a little bit too. We've had a pretty good month since Mommy hasn't been handcuffed to Perez Hilton.
This past month I have a small exercise in what it must be like with out internet OR a home phone. And let me tell you...it wasn't pretty. I had to spend nap time doing things like sweep the floor, fold laundry, make dinner. What the F? I didn't sign up for this antiquated stay-at-home mom crap.
But breathe a huge sigh of relief. Procrastination, late night purchasing, and reading gossip are all back on the agenda.
Oh...and maybe I'll blog a little bit too. We've had a pretty good month since Mommy hasn't been handcuffed to Perez Hilton.
Friday, July 25, 2008
what makes me cranky...and more
You want to know makes me cranky? No internet service.
It isn't that I have had deep, profound things to say to you all. In fact, NOTHING has happened in the five days that I have gone without internet service...but you wouldn't know that would you...becuase I couldn't tell you.
What kills me is that our interent goes out and I think that I am missing the world. Who is emailing me? Who wants to be my facebook friend? What new blog posts are there? What's my bank balance? AND...does Brittany have custody of her kids yet?
But without internet service, I am totally at a loss. I know nothing, yet I think that SO much is happening. And it kills me.
So today, I drive 4 hours to get to my in-laws (not just to get internet, but it did make me drive a bit faster) and I found that I had only 10 e-mails (3 of which mattered AT ALL), there was only 1 new blog post of interest, and NO ONE wanted to be my friend.
So all that anxiety for the past 3 days was for nothing.
But how else am I supposed to pass nap time each day if I don't have service?
It isn't that I have had deep, profound things to say to you all. In fact, NOTHING has happened in the five days that I have gone without internet service...but you wouldn't know that would you...becuase I couldn't tell you.
What kills me is that our interent goes out and I think that I am missing the world. Who is emailing me? Who wants to be my facebook friend? What new blog posts are there? What's my bank balance? AND...does Brittany have custody of her kids yet?
But without internet service, I am totally at a loss. I know nothing, yet I think that SO much is happening. And it kills me.
So today, I drive 4 hours to get to my in-laws (not just to get internet, but it did make me drive a bit faster) and I found that I had only 10 e-mails (3 of which mattered AT ALL), there was only 1 new blog post of interest, and NO ONE wanted to be my friend.
So all that anxiety for the past 3 days was for nothing.
But how else am I supposed to pass nap time each day if I don't have service?
Friday, July 11, 2008
Thighs and other parts
I recently was able to visit a very good friend of mine and there are 1 million reasons why I love her, but today the reason is that she has made me 100% embrace my girl's thighs. When I saw her, she and her sister couldn't get enough of the thighs and the overall squishiness of my daughter. They were squealing and drooling over her baby fat like I do when I pass Cinnabon in the mall. And after just a few hours I realized that I, too, am in awe of all her rolls, skin, and generous padding.
And I also love this friend because for my daughter's birthday she sent her a string bikini. No, not with any intention that she would wear it in public, but just with the simple request that I try it on, take pictures and send them to her. And when I did, she asked that I resend them in a higher resolution (what she is going to do with these pictures, I don't know) So below are the pictures just to hammer in that last nail when my girl is 13 and has a list of 100 things why she hates me. Don't forget honey that I posted these pictures of you on my blog. I would hate me too.
Please enjoy the only picture of any of my family in a bikini this year (I hold hope that I will strut Heidi Klum style one day!)
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Who's looking at my Facebook?
OK..I may be 33, with 2 kids, a bathing suit from Lands End, and a volvo wagon...but does that stop me from social networking? I think not.
I joined Facebook. Really I joined it because my hip, NYC based, cutting edge, MBA student, best friend told me that I should. And let's be honest...when she told me I should wax, I did...so why wouldn't I listen to her this time?
I enjoy facebook. I like reading the little blurbs of what people are up to. Some of these people I haven't laid eyes on in nearly 20 years, but I still like knowing what they doing. I am a voyeur...not doubt about that, so facebook is perfect in that sense. I check out people's photos, read their updates and then move on to people.com
But facebook also kind of wierds me out. On one side of the page, it continually suggests more friends for you. Yes, yes, facebook, I know these people. Enough already. As many times as you float his/her picture out there I am not going to be friends with them (exposing your profile page to them and vice versa). Honestly, we weren't friends when you programmed with Lotus in computer class, so why would be friends now? And after thinking about all the people who are seeing my picture on a daily basis saying the same thing, I updated my profile picture to uber-hot, sexy, skinny photo rather than ski hat and baby bjorn picture.
I joined Facebook. Really I joined it because my hip, NYC based, cutting edge, MBA student, best friend told me that I should. And let's be honest...when she told me I should wax, I did...so why wouldn't I listen to her this time?
I enjoy facebook. I like reading the little blurbs of what people are up to. Some of these people I haven't laid eyes on in nearly 20 years, but I still like knowing what they doing. I am a voyeur...not doubt about that, so facebook is perfect in that sense. I check out people's photos, read their updates and then move on to people.com
But facebook also kind of wierds me out. On one side of the page, it continually suggests more friends for you. Yes, yes, facebook, I know these people. Enough already. As many times as you float his/her picture out there I am not going to be friends with them (exposing your profile page to them and vice versa). Honestly, we weren't friends when you programmed with Lotus in computer class, so why would be friends now? And after thinking about all the people who are seeing my picture on a daily basis saying the same thing, I updated my profile picture to uber-hot, sexy, skinny photo rather than ski hat and baby bjorn picture.
Old profile picture:
New profile picture
But do you want to know what really gets me? The targeted ads from facebook sponsors. Most recently it keeps flashing, "28-35 and overweight?" Uh....f-you facebook, I'm working on it ok? Two kids, busy life...not as fit as I would like to be...but I'm wokring on it already! And after multiple days of calling me fat today it said, "married and need more sex life?" Damnit facebook...leave me alone. You are maing me cranky and by the way...have you not seen my new profile picture? I'm not fat...and by the looks of it, I'm not hard up either. Keep your opinions to yourself as I voyeur on all my friends.
Friday, July 04, 2008
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Modesty
I used to be modest. I was covered up, never over-exposed and running to the nearest closet, bathroom, port-a-potty, whatever to change my clothes, brush my hair, or even just readjust. SO much has changed.
I suppose it may be the two times that I have sat nearly half naked with at least 15 people coming in and out of my room for hours upon hours upon hours. Childbirth really does shoot a hole in your modesty. OK...more like a meteor in my modesty.
But I didn't realize that I had lost all modesty until this week. See this week we went to the in-laws to go to the beach and withing 24 hours I was peeing with the door open, changing my bathing suit top at the beach (I got dressed in the dark and it was inside out when I got there), and worst of all I was running around the beach, I mean full sprint/ball chasing/4 year old catching/not good for my jiggling thighs/ running in just a bathing suit.
You certainly never would have caught me doing that 5 years ago. And I am sorry if you caught me doing that this year.
I suppose it may be the two times that I have sat nearly half naked with at least 15 people coming in and out of my room for hours upon hours upon hours. Childbirth really does shoot a hole in your modesty. OK...more like a meteor in my modesty.
But I didn't realize that I had lost all modesty until this week. See this week we went to the in-laws to go to the beach and withing 24 hours I was peeing with the door open, changing my bathing suit top at the beach (I got dressed in the dark and it was inside out when I got there), and worst of all I was running around the beach, I mean full sprint/ball chasing/4 year old catching/not good for my jiggling thighs/ running in just a bathing suit.
You certainly never would have caught me doing that 5 years ago. And I am sorry if you caught me doing that this year.
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