Oh dear. I mean, I can already tell you that a medium that allows me to vent, in 140 characters or less, exactly what is on my mind at any given moment of the day - and with insane ease, no less - is probably not a good idea.
That said, I'm doing it anyway. Because I can. Leastways, until I get sick of the noises coming from my own brain.
So you can now continue to follow the minutiae of my deranged mind over at Twitter.
Caution: May cause sudden onset of narcolepsy. Not surprisingly, the little thoughts I have over the course of the day make for less-than-riveting entertainment. You have been warned.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
What a Day This Has Been, What A Rare Mood I'm In...
Honestly? As good days go, today was really... quite... epically great. Can I say that? Yeah. Epic Day.
We started the morning with Honeycombs and, really, what's not to love about a day that starts with sugar cereal in front of the cartoons?
Very quickly after breakfast we dressed ourselves, and the boys and I headed out to a playgroup where crafty alligator-fridge-clip-magnet things were made.
On a whim, we dragged some friends along with us to the park down the road that is new and fabulous and I have somehow never been to. The playground there is divided in two - the smaller-ish kid equipment is on one side of the basketball courts and the bigger (and more full of falling off places) equipment is on the other side, safely out of sight if you want your toddler to stay on the small monkey bars that look like a fire truck and not try the plastic-mock-rock-climbing wall of death. We started on the small area and then progressed to the bigger one, where Toby proceeded to laugh with impunity in the face of my irrational caution and made short work of said wall of death. Yes, my two-and-a-half-year-old is more able to engage in physical activity without injury than I am... and such is the injustice of the universe.
We went from the park to ye olde local Walmart where spades, trowels, rakes, and flowers were procured. Also I might have purchased a very large bouncy ball for no particular reason, as well as two very small folding lawn chairs.
On the way out we hit the drive-thru and scored some corn dog nuggets (yes, corn dog nuggets. I love the A&W with unholy love, I do) for the kids and one Coney Island Chili Cheese Dog for me. We took our booty home and had an impromptu picnic on the lawn.
After our picnic, and while the dog frolicked in the back yard, the boys and I planted bunches of pansies, daffodils and snapdragons along the front walkway. I also found the energy to prune the apple tree back and even remembered to spray the cut scars with tar-type sealant spray. This explains the odd-looking black freckles across my cheeks and neck. Because I am talented like that.
By the time we finished the yard, Toby was wandering pant-less and barefoot around the front yard in a wet diaper that hung down to his knees. His runny nose was really quite impressive, too. It was at this point - the point where I realized that we were living up to the stereotype of people who live in our neck of the woods - that I finally cleaned up the tools and carried my filthy little ragamuffins into the house and directly to the tub.
After their bath the boys got eagerly into their jammies (eagerly!) and snuggled into their new lawn chairs with some Chex mix and milk to watch Enchanted with me. Yes, I subjected my little boys to this movie and I will not apologize. We all loved it, especially Toby - who fell asleep half way through while laying across my lap and with one arm around the dog's butt. I gathered my babies to me and looked around in wonder.
It was one of those perfect moments - really one of those perfect days - when I realize that this motherhood gig is more than just something I have to do every day to keep The Small Humans from spontaneously combusting: It is a Joy.
I love these loud, obnoxious, messy, demanding small people who probably will never quite appreciate the distance between the girl who met their dad while she was handing out the pay stubs at work one day... and the woman who is learning how to care for and raise them. I love the way they give kisses without any awareness of their dirty faces, the way they each put their hands in mine as we walk along in our little human chain, and the way their mythically long lashes rest on their chubby cheeks as they sleep.
When the movie's closing credits finally rolled I scooted Jack up to bed, put Toby in the crib, gave everyone good night kisses and headed down to my computer to record all of this before the thought escaped me, like water vapor dissipating into the air.
We started the morning with Honeycombs and, really, what's not to love about a day that starts with sugar cereal in front of the cartoons?
Very quickly after breakfast we dressed ourselves, and the boys and I headed out to a playgroup where crafty alligator-fridge-clip-magnet things were made.
On a whim, we dragged some friends along with us to the park down the road that is new and fabulous and I have somehow never been to. The playground there is divided in two - the smaller-ish kid equipment is on one side of the basketball courts and the bigger (and more full of falling off places) equipment is on the other side, safely out of sight if you want your toddler to stay on the small monkey bars that look like a fire truck and not try the plastic-mock-rock-climbing wall of death. We started on the small area and then progressed to the bigger one, where Toby proceeded to laugh with impunity in the face of my irrational caution and made short work of said wall of death. Yes, my two-and-a-half-year-old is more able to engage in physical activity without injury than I am... and such is the injustice of the universe.
We went from the park to ye olde local Walmart where spades, trowels, rakes, and flowers were procured. Also I might have purchased a very large bouncy ball for no particular reason, as well as two very small folding lawn chairs.
On the way out we hit the drive-thru and scored some corn dog nuggets (yes, corn dog nuggets. I love the A&W with unholy love, I do) for the kids and one Coney Island Chili Cheese Dog for me. We took our booty home and had an impromptu picnic on the lawn.
After our picnic, and while the dog frolicked in the back yard, the boys and I planted bunches of pansies, daffodils and snapdragons along the front walkway. I also found the energy to prune the apple tree back and even remembered to spray the cut scars with tar-type sealant spray. This explains the odd-looking black freckles across my cheeks and neck. Because I am talented like that.
By the time we finished the yard, Toby was wandering pant-less and barefoot around the front yard in a wet diaper that hung down to his knees. His runny nose was really quite impressive, too. It was at this point - the point where I realized that we were living up to the stereotype of people who live in our neck of the woods - that I finally cleaned up the tools and carried my filthy little ragamuffins into the house and directly to the tub.
After their bath the boys got eagerly into their jammies (eagerly!) and snuggled into their new lawn chairs with some Chex mix and milk to watch Enchanted with me. Yes, I subjected my little boys to this movie and I will not apologize. We all loved it, especially Toby - who fell asleep half way through while laying across my lap and with one arm around the dog's butt. I gathered my babies to me and looked around in wonder.
It was one of those perfect moments - really one of those perfect days - when I realize that this motherhood gig is more than just something I have to do every day to keep The Small Humans from spontaneously combusting: It is a Joy.
I love these loud, obnoxious, messy, demanding small people who probably will never quite appreciate the distance between the girl who met their dad while she was handing out the pay stubs at work one day... and the woman who is learning how to care for and raise them. I love the way they give kisses without any awareness of their dirty faces, the way they each put their hands in mine as we walk along in our little human chain, and the way their mythically long lashes rest on their chubby cheeks as they sleep.
When the movie's closing credits finally rolled I scooted Jack up to bed, put Toby in the crib, gave everyone good night kisses and headed down to my computer to record all of this before the thought escaped me, like water vapor dissipating into the air.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
The Honeymooners
This morning started off, almost immediately, with an argument. It wasn't about anything important - even though he DID tell me he was coming back on Friday and it turns out he's coming back on Saturday. Just a matter of detail.
But this always seems to happen. Whenever T is getting ready to head off on a trip to someplace far away (or even near by) we both tense up. Our relationship is both heartily symbiotic and, at times, unhealthily codependent. But what can I say, we're two crazy kids in love. And so we celebrate that love by fighting whenever we face separation. Makes perfect sense, no? No. Yeah, we know.
The funny thing is, it usually greets in the same way on his return. We nearly always start on our way home from the airport and end up bickering in the car. The argument itself is never anything important, and I think of it more as a dispelling of the tension. The only way we both know how to let off some steam, because there aren't the right words to say "I missed you so much I thought my head would explode, and why is the rest of the world so annoying when you're not around?"
The last year has been particularly hard for our relationship. Between work, extensive travel, and full-time school, T has barely had enough time to inhale and exhale between chores - let alone spend any decent amount of quality time curled up with his wife. I'm sure it doesn't help that I've been - you know - me. (which is another way of saying "a big whiner who complains too much and tends to be grumpy for no particular reason").
But we are not usually like this. Our relationship has always given each of us a greater, deeper appreciation and zest for the joy of living. Just being alive together, experiencing a small few of the incredible possibilities, has given me the greatest memories of my life.
One of my favorites is, of course, our honeymoon. After all the stress and running around of getting married, once the deed was done we were in bliss. Married! Alone! On a cruise ship bound for Mexico's sparkling sands and crystal blue waters. We followed up our blissful cruise with a few golden days in New Orleans after docking at port there. That week is the most memorable of my life, to date. All that time together, uninterrupted, and we explored and tasted and breathed in everything around us. I've heard New Orleans is a different place now, and I can't imagine having missed the chance to see it as we did. The moment, though, that stands out the most in my mind - the one that will stick forever as a portrait of our carefree and exuberant youth together - is a moment from the cruise.
We stood on the rear deck of the giant ship, he in his best casual evening wear and me in my chiffon sundress. He held his tumbler of Jack Daniels in one hand, a finely rolled cigar in the other. I sipped my small glass of very good port wine and casually drew from a small brandy-dipped cigar. We stared over the rail, out into the vast darkness of the sea, the wind that whipped around us making my dress dance in the dim glow of the ship lights. We talked about the wedding, about our future, about how we would take many, many more trips like this one. It felt like a scene from an old Hollywood picture, one where the hero and heroine make grand plans that are sure to cut short by tragedy, only to be redeemed by the power of true love. It was a lovely cliche, and I relished the moment.
It has been more than five years since that night on the boat; two (and a half) children, two moves, and an infinite number of adventures (and, yes, tragedies) later, we have never quite recreated the blissfully naive optimism of that moment. What we have done, though, is go from the soft-focus dreaminess of that night to the gritty day-to-day of an actual life together... and kept that same sense of adventure, and found an even greater sense of wonder and joy in this other person we are each bound to for as long as we both live.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is... Sorry for being a royal pain in the arse, honey. Have a great trip, and go ahead and have a smack at a few Czech girls. When in Rome and all that. Just make sure you tell them you have a pregnant wife at home who has no qualms about flying half way across the globe to give a real whippin' to any woman who tries to get over-friendly with my man. I'll see you when you get back... and I'll even do my best not to pick a fight at the airport.
But this always seems to happen. Whenever T is getting ready to head off on a trip to someplace far away (or even near by) we both tense up. Our relationship is both heartily symbiotic and, at times, unhealthily codependent. But what can I say, we're two crazy kids in love. And so we celebrate that love by fighting whenever we face separation. Makes perfect sense, no? No. Yeah, we know.
The funny thing is, it usually greets in the same way on his return. We nearly always start on our way home from the airport and end up bickering in the car. The argument itself is never anything important, and I think of it more as a dispelling of the tension. The only way we both know how to let off some steam, because there aren't the right words to say "I missed you so much I thought my head would explode, and why is the rest of the world so annoying when you're not around?"
The last year has been particularly hard for our relationship. Between work, extensive travel, and full-time school, T has barely had enough time to inhale and exhale between chores - let alone spend any decent amount of quality time curled up with his wife. I'm sure it doesn't help that I've been - you know - me. (which is another way of saying "a big whiner who complains too much and tends to be grumpy for no particular reason").
But we are not usually like this. Our relationship has always given each of us a greater, deeper appreciation and zest for the joy of living. Just being alive together, experiencing a small few of the incredible possibilities, has given me the greatest memories of my life.
One of my favorites is, of course, our honeymoon. After all the stress and running around of getting married, once the deed was done we were in bliss. Married! Alone! On a cruise ship bound for Mexico's sparkling sands and crystal blue waters. We followed up our blissful cruise with a few golden days in New Orleans after docking at port there. That week is the most memorable of my life, to date. All that time together, uninterrupted, and we explored and tasted and breathed in everything around us. I've heard New Orleans is a different place now, and I can't imagine having missed the chance to see it as we did. The moment, though, that stands out the most in my mind - the one that will stick forever as a portrait of our carefree and exuberant youth together - is a moment from the cruise.
We stood on the rear deck of the giant ship, he in his best casual evening wear and me in my chiffon sundress. He held his tumbler of Jack Daniels in one hand, a finely rolled cigar in the other. I sipped my small glass of very good port wine and casually drew from a small brandy-dipped cigar. We stared over the rail, out into the vast darkness of the sea, the wind that whipped around us making my dress dance in the dim glow of the ship lights. We talked about the wedding, about our future, about how we would take many, many more trips like this one. It felt like a scene from an old Hollywood picture, one where the hero and heroine make grand plans that are sure to cut short by tragedy, only to be redeemed by the power of true love. It was a lovely cliche, and I relished the moment.
It has been more than five years since that night on the boat; two (and a half) children, two moves, and an infinite number of adventures (and, yes, tragedies) later, we have never quite recreated the blissfully naive optimism of that moment. What we have done, though, is go from the soft-focus dreaminess of that night to the gritty day-to-day of an actual life together... and kept that same sense of adventure, and found an even greater sense of wonder and joy in this other person we are each bound to for as long as we both live.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is... Sorry for being a royal pain in the arse, honey. Have a great trip, and go ahead and have a smack at a few Czech girls. When in Rome and all that. Just make sure you tell them you have a pregnant wife at home who has no qualms about flying half way across the globe to give a real whippin' to any woman who tries to get over-friendly with my man. I'll see you when you get back... and I'll even do my best not to pick a fight at the airport.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Still Standing
Or, more accurately, still sitting. Or laying down. Or schlepping my bulk from one room to the next, then to preschool and back again.
On the up side, I finally feel like there is light at the end of the tunnel. If I ever do this againslap me upside the head remind me that spending my first trimester in the darkest, coldest, gloomiest months of winter is not absolutely the brightest idea ever.
But, at last, the sun is creeping back out from its long winter nap, and yesterday the boys and I even sat out on the front lawn with some friends and had an impromptu picnic snack. The kids ran and giggled and fell down a lot, and generally behaved like you might expect from children who have been cooped up all winter and then suddenly released into the sunshine out in the Big Blue Room.
Other than that, though, there's not much new to report. We bought a new mattress for our bed! It's quite comfy, thank you. Definitely an improvement over the 20-year-old one we replaced. That mattress had grown so lumpy and awkward to sleep on that I would not have been surprised to find a body under it when I pulled it off to put the new one down. (Luckily, the only thing I found were several lonely socks.)
And before you go lecturing the pregnant woman on the idiocy of hauling a couple of queen-size mattresses around all by myself (with my herniated L5, 'natch), let me remind you that my idiocy has been long established on this site. You're not telling me anything I don't already know, or anything that my mother won't be telling me in a string of panicked emails as soon as she reads this. Hi Mom!
T has to head back to Ye Olde Czech Republic for a week or so, after which we will be celebrating my 29th birthday in style. Which is to say, in Amish Country. We try to take an annual trip to Lancaster County so that I can stock up on my yearly requirement of pepper jelly and handicrafts. We didn't make it last year, and the year before that we had only an abbreviated trip when we drove up to procure the devil demon dog, Gizmo. YOU know, "He who chews everything in sight, including my favorite black boots and several thousand toys and that one time he got ahold of one of the steaks before we got them on the grill and then I had to melt him with my heat vision." Yeah, him.
The time before that I happened to be pregnant with Tobin. I have the photos to prove it, as T took this photo of me outside a shop in our favorite shopping spot:
And, of course, now that the belly is burgeoning once again we'll likely take yet another opportunity to remind everyone that yes, we apparently enjoy The Sex, because here we are.. yet another bun in this here oven. I'll post the follow-up pic after our trip because - c'mon - we both know you're dying to see if I still look that smiley and happy-faced this time around, because - really? - THREE?
And yes, really, Three. And maybe another one if we are so inclined, but no decisions on that yet and definitely not beyond that because five is CRAZY territory, and it's another well-established fact that we have quite enough crazy around here already. Just ask any of the people I met at my sister's wedding. They were apparently forewarned that I am The Crazy Sister. True story.
(Also - on five being the crazy territory - Hi SB!! Love yer bunz!)
The other day one of the grand-dads who does drop-off duty at the preschool overheard that I was expecting once again. He looked at Jack yanking on my hand to hurry me to his class, and Toby clinging desperately to my leg and whimpering about "Choo Choo! And cookies, woman, COOKIES!" and said "And you haven't figured out yet how that happens?" and I smiled weakly and chuckled at his joke and then went home and ate a bag of M&M's - THE END.
On the up side, I finally feel like there is light at the end of the tunnel. If I ever do this again
But, at last, the sun is creeping back out from its long winter nap, and yesterday the boys and I even sat out on the front lawn with some friends and had an impromptu picnic snack. The kids ran and giggled and fell down a lot, and generally behaved like you might expect from children who have been cooped up all winter and then suddenly released into the sunshine out in the Big Blue Room.
Other than that, though, there's not much new to report. We bought a new mattress for our bed! It's quite comfy, thank you. Definitely an improvement over the 20-year-old one we replaced. That mattress had grown so lumpy and awkward to sleep on that I would not have been surprised to find a body under it when I pulled it off to put the new one down. (Luckily, the only thing I found were several lonely socks.)
And before you go lecturing the pregnant woman on the idiocy of hauling a couple of queen-size mattresses around all by myself (with my herniated L5, 'natch), let me remind you that my idiocy has been long established on this site. You're not telling me anything I don't already know, or anything that my mother won't be telling me in a string of panicked emails as soon as she reads this. Hi Mom!
T has to head back to Ye Olde Czech Republic for a week or so, after which we will be celebrating my 29th birthday in style. Which is to say, in Amish Country. We try to take an annual trip to Lancaster County so that I can stock up on my yearly requirement of pepper jelly and handicrafts. We didn't make it last year, and the year before that we had only an abbreviated trip when we drove up to procure the
The time before that I happened to be pregnant with Tobin. I have the photos to prove it, as T took this photo of me outside a shop in our favorite shopping spot:
And, of course, now that the belly is burgeoning once again we'll likely take yet another opportunity to remind everyone that yes, we apparently enjoy The Sex, because here we are.. yet another bun in this here oven. I'll post the follow-up pic after our trip because - c'mon - we both know you're dying to see if I still look that smiley and happy-faced this time around, because - really? - THREE? And yes, really, Three. And maybe another one if we are so inclined, but no decisions on that yet and definitely not beyond that because five is CRAZY territory, and it's another well-established fact that we have quite enough crazy around here already. Just ask any of the people I met at my sister's wedding. They were apparently forewarned that I am The Crazy Sister. True story.
(Also - on five being the crazy territory - Hi SB!! Love yer bunz!)
The other day one of the grand-dads who does drop-off duty at the preschool overheard that I was expecting once again. He looked at Jack yanking on my hand to hurry me to his class, and Toby clinging desperately to my leg and whimpering about "Choo Choo! And cookies, woman, COOKIES!" and said "And you haven't figured out yet how that happens?" and I smiled weakly and chuckled at his joke and then went home and ate a bag of M&M's - THE END.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Noto Photo and Feh-Brew-Airy
I know I have been extraordinarily slacking on the posting front lately, and I can only claim Seasonal Exhaustion as an excuse.
February is always a horrendous month for me - a month of moping around the house and generally feeling the gloom of the many, many days without warm sunshine. I checked the camera the other day and realized I haven't taken a decent photo of the kids since Christmas. CHRISTMAS, people!
It's as if, after the long January, by the time February stretches out into the longest-shortest month of the year, all my get-up-and-go of the holiday season finally got up and went. If you see it, please pass along the message that I'd like a little energy back.
The pregnancy is not helping.
Neither is Jack's cold virus, or his double eye infections. And you don't even want to hear about the relative armageddon of attempting to get antibiotic drops into his eyes to combat the green ooze that regularly trickles out of his sockets and down his cheeks.
Of course, it is March now. March! A new month. So why do I still feel so ... well... February?
My solution, of course, is a simple one. I made an appointment to get my hair cut. Also, I suspect a pedicure is in my near future. (Feet sticking to the sheets? Not a good sign, y'all.)
SO, after a few more days of rest and maybe a little pampering, I hope to return to you in all my wry glory. Also, hopefully there will be new photos before the kids go off to college.
Also, also... Friday is our first doctor's appointment with the new OB. I promise a full report once he's done poking and prodding at my lady bits. Cross your fingers there's a nice, steady heartbeat. Also, for my sake, hope that they don't try to tell me I'm less than 10 weeks along because I might have to drown my sorrows in chocolate. With wine and beer totally off the menu, I am left with only chocolate as recourse. Somehow, as good as a lindor truffle tastes, it just can't compete with a nice, soothing glass of good Cabernet Sauvignon.
That, and if I could make it through to October and gain less than 50 pounds? That would be lovely (and unprecedented). So, there goes the chocolate idea.
Any good ideas for other ways to spoil myself a little? Haircut, pedicure... night out with the girls on Thursday (to eat some good barbecue before the reflux and indigestion put the brakes on even remotely spicy foods). That's about all I have come up with. Suggestions? Treats? Invitations to make use of your Tuscan Villa for a weekend?
Ready, steady, GO!
February is always a horrendous month for me - a month of moping around the house and generally feeling the gloom of the many, many days without warm sunshine. I checked the camera the other day and realized I haven't taken a decent photo of the kids since Christmas. CHRISTMAS, people!
It's as if, after the long January, by the time February stretches out into the longest-shortest month of the year, all my get-up-and-go of the holiday season finally got up and went. If you see it, please pass along the message that I'd like a little energy back.
The pregnancy is not helping.
Neither is Jack's cold virus, or his double eye infections. And you don't even want to hear about the relative armageddon of attempting to get antibiotic drops into his eyes to combat the green ooze that regularly trickles out of his sockets and down his cheeks.
Of course, it is March now. March! A new month. So why do I still feel so ... well... February?
My solution, of course, is a simple one. I made an appointment to get my hair cut. Also, I suspect a pedicure is in my near future. (Feet sticking to the sheets? Not a good sign, y'all.)
SO, after a few more days of rest and maybe a little pampering, I hope to return to you in all my wry glory. Also, hopefully there will be new photos before the kids go off to college.
Also, also... Friday is our first doctor's appointment with the new OB. I promise a full report once he's done poking and prodding at my lady bits. Cross your fingers there's a nice, steady heartbeat. Also, for my sake, hope that they don't try to tell me I'm less than 10 weeks along because I might have to drown my sorrows in chocolate. With wine and beer totally off the menu, I am left with only chocolate as recourse. Somehow, as good as a lindor truffle tastes, it just can't compete with a nice, soothing glass of good Cabernet Sauvignon.
That, and if I could make it through to October and gain less than 50 pounds? That would be lovely (and unprecedented). So, there goes the chocolate idea.
Any good ideas for other ways to spoil myself a little? Haircut, pedicure... night out with the girls on Thursday (to eat some good barbecue before the reflux and indigestion put the brakes on even remotely spicy foods). That's about all I have come up with. Suggestions? Treats? Invitations to make use of your Tuscan Villa for a weekend?
Ready, steady, GO!
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