It was almost a year ago that I wrote this. The time between 18 months and two years was tough for me, as I was unprepared for exactly how attached (I prefer to say clingy) kids get at that age...and Toast was no exception. It was hard for me.
Imagine my surprise, then, at the day we had yesterday.
We left the house to go and have lunch with our friends, as we do once a week. I stopped at a certain national chain coffee shop first to get some coffee, and as we were walking in a man with a dog was sitting outside. I always tell Toast that we don't talk to dogs we don't know, but I also know he LOVES dogs. What is it about kids and dogs? Anyway, I asked the man if we could pet his dog, and he said sure. The dog was sweet and friendly and Toast dove in immediately. After a short break to go in and get a drink, we returned to the dog, and I had a conversation with the man. He looked at me in the middle and said "your kid is fearless!" To me, this is a huge complement.
I want my kid to be independent. I want him to be cautious, and smart, and careful, yes, but I want him to be decisive and brave and independent as well. One of the things I love most about Toast at this age is that he is walking the line between these two sides so very well. He loves to be outside, and explore, and I love it when he runs back to me (or hubby) every few minutes to tell us what he's doing, or show me something, or tell me he loves me...then it's off again to whatever he's up to.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head a few weeks ago when we went to the play area at the mall and he actually PLAYED...ran around like a little maniac, instead of sitting by my side saying "mama, you want to go?" and pulling at my hand because he didn't want to go alone.
After leaving the dog, we continued on to the park for lunch. The park we visited has a large wood play structure, one of the very fancy ones with things to climb, crawl through, slide down, investigate, and play on. There are only two entrances, and much of the seating is placed so you can watch both at once. It's marvelous...and Toast was in his element. He took off and explored every last nook and cranny of the place. Every few minutes, I'd just get up and go make sure I could spot him. Invariably he had a huge smile on his face and was either trying to talk up another kid or just walking around happily. I loved seeing him explore everything.
But this post isn't about his changes and his independence. It's about how, as Toast has become MORE independent, I've become more attached.
It was surprisingly hard to let him go yesterday. I knew he was having a great time, but if he was out of eyesight it made me crazy.
Then......
He had climbed to the top of a tower and was looking out, as he turned to leave he had two options: walk forward to the stairs and climb down, or walk left, where a fireman's pole was waiting. The decking opened out into nothing so the kids could grab the pole and slide down.
Oh yes, he did. He walked right out into nothing.
I've never moved so fast in my life, watching him drop almost eight feet to the ground. When I got there he had a look on his face like "What the HELL just happened". As I picked him up, he started to cry. It was all I could do not to cry myself. He was fine, not screaming in pain, no blood, no bumps or bruises...just a very scared cry and two little arms that went around my neck and held on tighter than they have before.
If this is parenting, I'm not sure why it doesn't come with a warning label.
We had a cuddle, and some water, and a banana. Then he said "Time to go" and went off to play again. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't stop thinking about this all night last night, and as I went to sleep it dawned on me that he can still wrap his tiny chubby arms around my neck and cry right now. At least we have that. One day he's going to get hurt and that won't be possible....some stupid girl will break his heart, or he won't get something he really wants. He'll fail at something he tries really hard to do well. We all do these things. And then, when I'm not able to hug him tight and soothe him, THEN what am I supposed to do?
This parenting thing? It's hard.
Showing posts with label life at home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life at home. Show all posts
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
It happened in the yogurt aisle
Recently there have been a few incidents that have me reconsidering that whole "boys are easier than girls when it comes to dating" wisdom that seems to float around. Today was another example.
Toast is really excited about going to the grocery store now, because two stores near us feature "little" shopping carts. They are just his size, and he LOVES to push his own cart around the store. It's a little hair-raising for me, but he's getting better over time. The first time we tried this he nearly ran down two old ladies in frozen foods....I had to physically run after the cart (bent over, of course, because the cart is two feet tall) and restrain him as he tried to madly push it into their galoshes in front of the ice cream. It's a wonder I let him at the things after that.
Before I continue this story I have to tell you that one of my pet peeves when grocery shopping is someone who leaves their cart in the aisle as they go to look for other things. I don't mean parked discreetly at the side of the aisle, I mean DIRECTLY in the middle so that no one can get around them. It's one of the things I hate most in this life.
So today when my son abandoned his cart in one of the main aisles in the supermarket to go pick up a girl, you'll understand that I was duly shocked.
To be fair, she was cute. His age, golden locks, pink jacket, Elmo in the shopping basket. Toast must have noticed the basket first because his pickup line was "I like your Elmo"...she was instantly smitten. They held hands. He asked her to go home with him. She said he needed to go home with her mommy. After some prolonged smiling and flirting in the checkout lane, they had to part ways. It was a little tragic.
I was laughing to hard to be worried, but I should note that this is the SECOND time he has attempted to use his powers of persuasion on young women while out in public. The first time had him holding hands and asking a SEVEN YEAR OLD to go home with him in his mama's car.
Mothers, lock up your daughters. Toast is on the prowl.
Toast is really excited about going to the grocery store now, because two stores near us feature "little" shopping carts. They are just his size, and he LOVES to push his own cart around the store. It's a little hair-raising for me, but he's getting better over time. The first time we tried this he nearly ran down two old ladies in frozen foods....I had to physically run after the cart (bent over, of course, because the cart is two feet tall) and restrain him as he tried to madly push it into their galoshes in front of the ice cream. It's a wonder I let him at the things after that.
Before I continue this story I have to tell you that one of my pet peeves when grocery shopping is someone who leaves their cart in the aisle as they go to look for other things. I don't mean parked discreetly at the side of the aisle, I mean DIRECTLY in the middle so that no one can get around them. It's one of the things I hate most in this life.
So today when my son abandoned his cart in one of the main aisles in the supermarket to go pick up a girl, you'll understand that I was duly shocked.
To be fair, she was cute. His age, golden locks, pink jacket, Elmo in the shopping basket. Toast must have noticed the basket first because his pickup line was "I like your Elmo"...she was instantly smitten. They held hands. He asked her to go home with him. She said he needed to go home with her mommy. After some prolonged smiling and flirting in the checkout lane, they had to part ways. It was a little tragic.
I was laughing to hard to be worried, but I should note that this is the SECOND time he has attempted to use his powers of persuasion on young women while out in public. The first time had him holding hands and asking a SEVEN YEAR OLD to go home with him in his mama's car.
Mothers, lock up your daughters. Toast is on the prowl.
Monday, November 9, 2009
More thinking
...a continuation from yesterday.
"Where are you going?"
THIS. This is a question I'm struggling with right now.
I started college thinking I wanted to be a Veterinarian. I thought I had it figured out...I had spent time around animals, I had worked at an animal hospital in High School...I really thought I was going in with my eyes open. At the end of my Freshman year, I decided that being a Vet was not going to be for me. To this day, I have no idea why I made that choice.
I explored a lot of other things. I knew I wanted to stay in the Sciences, but didn't know what that meant. Thought about Forestry and Natural Resources really hard. In the end, I majored in Biology, minored in Chemistry and History, and went into Teaching.
Now, I'm not going to tell you that the very first day I walked into a classroom I knew it was for me, but that was very close to what happened. I fell in love with teaching...I really really enjoyed it. I was lucky enough to get a job right out of school, and spent the next nine years loving every second of my job.
Once I got married, though, things started to feel strange. I still loved it, and I think I was pretty good at it...but the work, the constant paperwork, the long hours, the fact that there is ALWAYS more to do and NEVER enough time to do it...that really started to get to me.
I realize now that I am home that I would never have been able to be the teacher I wanted to be (the teacher I was) and the mom I want to be had I kept teaching. It makes me a little sad, but it's true. The question I am asking myself is this: will it always be true? I plan to go back to work when Toast starts Kindergarten, and I worry about that time commitment. I am excited by other options, I am seeing that although I love teaching, it might not always be my only love.
Does it make me a failure if I change my career in the middle of the stream? What does it mean when you are 36 and you still don't know what to do? I have always looked with distain on people who never "figure it out"...people who go from one thing to another like bees in a flower garden. Now I kind of wonder if I'm missing something by not allowing myself to look at the world that way.
My parents (and their parents) did what most people in those generations did: they got a job, and worked at it, then retired. I know that this is often not the way things go now, but it still doesn't feel like the responsible, adult thing to do to be reconsidering my career options now that I have a family. Aren't I supposed to be settling down and working, saving, getting to retirement?
Won't I get there anyway?
This has been on my mind a lot lately, often to the exclusion of other things. Hubby and I have had a few discussions about it, but not nearly the length and breadth of discussion that would be involved if I decided to pursue something else. It's something I'm still figuring out, and talking about it makes me, well, a little scared.
I don't want to do anything that makes me feel like I'm missing out on what I could experience. Sometimes that thought seems so immature, though. I struggle with this process, these thoughts.
"Where are you going?"
THIS. This is a question I'm struggling with right now.
I started college thinking I wanted to be a Veterinarian. I thought I had it figured out...I had spent time around animals, I had worked at an animal hospital in High School...I really thought I was going in with my eyes open. At the end of my Freshman year, I decided that being a Vet was not going to be for me. To this day, I have no idea why I made that choice.
I explored a lot of other things. I knew I wanted to stay in the Sciences, but didn't know what that meant. Thought about Forestry and Natural Resources really hard. In the end, I majored in Biology, minored in Chemistry and History, and went into Teaching.
Now, I'm not going to tell you that the very first day I walked into a classroom I knew it was for me, but that was very close to what happened. I fell in love with teaching...I really really enjoyed it. I was lucky enough to get a job right out of school, and spent the next nine years loving every second of my job.
Once I got married, though, things started to feel strange. I still loved it, and I think I was pretty good at it...but the work, the constant paperwork, the long hours, the fact that there is ALWAYS more to do and NEVER enough time to do it...that really started to get to me.
I realize now that I am home that I would never have been able to be the teacher I wanted to be (the teacher I was) and the mom I want to be had I kept teaching. It makes me a little sad, but it's true. The question I am asking myself is this: will it always be true? I plan to go back to work when Toast starts Kindergarten, and I worry about that time commitment. I am excited by other options, I am seeing that although I love teaching, it might not always be my only love.
Does it make me a failure if I change my career in the middle of the stream? What does it mean when you are 36 and you still don't know what to do? I have always looked with distain on people who never "figure it out"...people who go from one thing to another like bees in a flower garden. Now I kind of wonder if I'm missing something by not allowing myself to look at the world that way.
My parents (and their parents) did what most people in those generations did: they got a job, and worked at it, then retired. I know that this is often not the way things go now, but it still doesn't feel like the responsible, adult thing to do to be reconsidering my career options now that I have a family. Aren't I supposed to be settling down and working, saving, getting to retirement?
Won't I get there anyway?
This has been on my mind a lot lately, often to the exclusion of other things. Hubby and I have had a few discussions about it, but not nearly the length and breadth of discussion that would be involved if I decided to pursue something else. It's something I'm still figuring out, and talking about it makes me, well, a little scared.
I don't want to do anything that makes me feel like I'm missing out on what I could experience. Sometimes that thought seems so immature, though. I struggle with this process, these thoughts.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Responsibilities
Something odd and heartbreaking happened in our house about a month ago...
Years ago, I was "not living" with a boyfriend (yes, that means what you think it does....but that's another story) and we acquired a cat. "We" being a very loose term meaning I didn't want one and he did and it lived at my apartment and then moved with me and became mine. So for the past thirteen years I've had this cat. He saw me through some really tough times...my first real job, tailspin of depression as I learned to adjust to life and work and being on my own. The demise of relationship with abovementioned boyfriend.
When we had Tiny Man, we had some issues with the cat....it was to be expected. Someone coming in on his turf and all. There was some peeing. There was some crankiness. Ultimately we wound up spending a little more time with him and it solved the problem.
The past two years have been tough, though. Tas (the cat) got older, slower, and a little more antisocial. Toast came into our lives. Tiny Man went out of our lives. Then the inappropriate peeing began, and I started to slowly lose my mind.
We tried everything. We cleaned, we spent more time with him. We changed his diet. One day he actually peed ON hubby (you can laugh...we're at a point where we can laugh about it now). In short, it got ugly. We took him to the vet to find out that there was nothing "wrong" with him, it was all behavioral. We blocked off areas....then the new areas, then more areas. We put him on Valium.
Nothing worked.
In the end, yes, we had him put down. The issue here is not that I believe it wasn't necessary (it was), or that he didn't have a good life (he did, and was 16 when we made this decision). It's the immense guilt I feel over making the decision, knowing that he was still functional, moving, eating, living. His life became my choice. I feel as if I turned into one of those people who rushes to get a pet as they get married, then the kid comes and WHOOPS...that pet was a bad idea after all, lets get rid of it. People who do not understand the consequences of adopting a pet really REALLY bother me.
On the other hand, the fact that he was using our house as a litterbox tells me that something wasn't quite right after all. It is also immensely unsanitary for Toast to be playing around all this. So while I know the decision was the right one, it doesn't change the fact that the guilt persists.
Years ago, I was "not living" with a boyfriend (yes, that means what you think it does....but that's another story) and we acquired a cat. "We" being a very loose term meaning I didn't want one and he did and it lived at my apartment and then moved with me and became mine. So for the past thirteen years I've had this cat. He saw me through some really tough times...my first real job, tailspin of depression as I learned to adjust to life and work and being on my own. The demise of relationship with abovementioned boyfriend.
When we had Tiny Man, we had some issues with the cat....it was to be expected. Someone coming in on his turf and all. There was some peeing. There was some crankiness. Ultimately we wound up spending a little more time with him and it solved the problem.
The past two years have been tough, though. Tas (the cat) got older, slower, and a little more antisocial. Toast came into our lives. Tiny Man went out of our lives. Then the inappropriate peeing began, and I started to slowly lose my mind.
We tried everything. We cleaned, we spent more time with him. We changed his diet. One day he actually peed ON hubby (you can laugh...we're at a point where we can laugh about it now). In short, it got ugly. We took him to the vet to find out that there was nothing "wrong" with him, it was all behavioral. We blocked off areas....then the new areas, then more areas. We put him on Valium.
Nothing worked.
In the end, yes, we had him put down. The issue here is not that I believe it wasn't necessary (it was), or that he didn't have a good life (he did, and was 16 when we made this decision). It's the immense guilt I feel over making the decision, knowing that he was still functional, moving, eating, living. His life became my choice. I feel as if I turned into one of those people who rushes to get a pet as they get married, then the kid comes and WHOOPS...that pet was a bad idea after all, lets get rid of it. People who do not understand the consequences of adopting a pet really REALLY bother me.
On the other hand, the fact that he was using our house as a litterbox tells me that something wasn't quite right after all. It is also immensely unsanitary for Toast to be playing around all this. So while I know the decision was the right one, it doesn't change the fact that the guilt persists.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Face this
A few thoughts on Facebook have been rolling around in my attic lately.
Before I begin, let me tell you two things that I believe with my whole heart: Facebook is the new Myspace, and the internet is what you make of it. Number two is far more important than number one.
I spend a vast amount of time on the internet. I love all the different input I can gather just by surfing around. I love all the different viewpoints I have access to. The first 45 minutes to an hour of naptime every day is my internet time. I don't spend a whole lot of time on Facebook (though it might seem that way...I use twitter and it automatically updates my FB status). I love that I can check in and hear something about the day to day of other people. I love that I can have a little off hand conversation with them via comments and posts. I don't typically take the quizzes (though sometimes I'm bored enough to) and I'm not really into all the gaming stuff that's going on. I'm not going to join your mob war.
But, you see, I'm terrible with the telephone. I really don't like talking on the phone. When I was a teenager, sure, I talked on the phone a lot, but as I've gotten older I realize I just don't like it all that much. I would much rather meet a friend at the park or over a cup of coffee. I have several friendships that would be much closer if I were "good" at the phone, but I'm just not. I hate silence when I can't see what the other person is doing, and I tend to talk too much, interrupt someone else on the other end of the line, and feel all awkward. Facebook gives me the chance to have that back and forth with people I don't see that often. I really like that.
I have been able to get back in touch or stay in touch with lots of people via FB...former students, friends from High School...people I didn't really know well in High School. The weird thing about all of it is that I am "friends" with people I didn't really talk to much before, but have found online. This is kind of odd. I call FB the place to be "friends" with people I would much rather ignore. I have an acquaintance that I used to be very close to, had a HUGE falling out with, and now do not speak to. I feel awkward and bitter around her in real life, on the occasion we have to be together. Yet here we are, friends on Facebook.
One of the major things that gets tiring, stressful, and old; but is completely necessary, is this: Facebook is a pretty public forum. When you get back in touch with someone, you can post on their wall...which is okay....but then the question comes up. You know where I'm going with this: "Your boys are so cute! How are you? How old are they? What are you doing?" Then there is the obligatory private message with the explanation...the info about Tiny Man.
I don't really MIND so much...It's not that I think he shouldn't be talked about. It's not that I don't want to share. But it all feels kind of....well, oookey. "Hi, I haven't seen you in X number of years, and by the way my son died". Weird.
Easy solution? Delete the pictures of T.M. off my Facebook page. Dont' bother with the explanation. Focus on Toast. But that's not right for me right now. So I guess I have to live with the possibility that I'm making others feel awkward. I'm okay with that for now.
I don't know if I love the entirety of the Facebook idea, or hate it...but for now it's a tool that works for me, allows me to be a little more interactive and a little less alone when I'm home all day with Toast. There is a whole other post here about how our interactions with people have changed due to the presence of the internet in our lives, and I'm not ready for that yet. For now, the simple answer is the internet is good for me, and I try very very hard to keep it a minor but important presence in my life.
Before I begin, let me tell you two things that I believe with my whole heart: Facebook is the new Myspace, and the internet is what you make of it. Number two is far more important than number one.
I spend a vast amount of time on the internet. I love all the different input I can gather just by surfing around. I love all the different viewpoints I have access to. The first 45 minutes to an hour of naptime every day is my internet time. I don't spend a whole lot of time on Facebook (though it might seem that way...I use twitter and it automatically updates my FB status). I love that I can check in and hear something about the day to day of other people. I love that I can have a little off hand conversation with them via comments and posts. I don't typically take the quizzes (though sometimes I'm bored enough to) and I'm not really into all the gaming stuff that's going on. I'm not going to join your mob war.
But, you see, I'm terrible with the telephone. I really don't like talking on the phone. When I was a teenager, sure, I talked on the phone a lot, but as I've gotten older I realize I just don't like it all that much. I would much rather meet a friend at the park or over a cup of coffee. I have several friendships that would be much closer if I were "good" at the phone, but I'm just not. I hate silence when I can't see what the other person is doing, and I tend to talk too much, interrupt someone else on the other end of the line, and feel all awkward. Facebook gives me the chance to have that back and forth with people I don't see that often. I really like that.
I have been able to get back in touch or stay in touch with lots of people via FB...former students, friends from High School...people I didn't really know well in High School. The weird thing about all of it is that I am "friends" with people I didn't really talk to much before, but have found online. This is kind of odd. I call FB the place to be "friends" with people I would much rather ignore. I have an acquaintance that I used to be very close to, had a HUGE falling out with, and now do not speak to. I feel awkward and bitter around her in real life, on the occasion we have to be together. Yet here we are, friends on Facebook.
One of the major things that gets tiring, stressful, and old; but is completely necessary, is this: Facebook is a pretty public forum. When you get back in touch with someone, you can post on their wall...which is okay....but then the question comes up. You know where I'm going with this: "Your boys are so cute! How are you? How old are they? What are you doing?" Then there is the obligatory private message with the explanation...the info about Tiny Man.
I don't really MIND so much...It's not that I think he shouldn't be talked about. It's not that I don't want to share. But it all feels kind of....well, oookey. "Hi, I haven't seen you in X number of years, and by the way my son died". Weird.
Easy solution? Delete the pictures of T.M. off my Facebook page. Dont' bother with the explanation. Focus on Toast. But that's not right for me right now. So I guess I have to live with the possibility that I'm making others feel awkward. I'm okay with that for now.
I don't know if I love the entirety of the Facebook idea, or hate it...but for now it's a tool that works for me, allows me to be a little more interactive and a little less alone when I'm home all day with Toast. There is a whole other post here about how our interactions with people have changed due to the presence of the internet in our lives, and I'm not ready for that yet. For now, the simple answer is the internet is good for me, and I try very very hard to keep it a minor but important presence in my life.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Too long for a tweet
iPod: Check
Coffee: Check
Unfinished Lace that needs to be done in two weeks: check
Hubby and Toast out of the house: check.
WHY am I vacuuming? Not to mention blogging, tweeting....
Coffee: Check
Unfinished Lace that needs to be done in two weeks: check
Hubby and Toast out of the house: check.
WHY am I vacuuming? Not to mention blogging, tweeting....
Thursday, April 23, 2009
End of the bi-month
No, this is not a post about THAT kind of bi-month...I'm talking every two months. Just so we're clear.
See, I haven't actually looked at my posts to figure this out, but I'm pretty sure that I tend to post more in certain months, and the reason is clear...the end of every other month seems to always be crazy. I do this volunteer gig...writing a newsletter for our DS parent support group. I've been doing it for about a year now, and I love it. I really do. Those of you who are reading this and recalling all the complaining..no, strike that..talking..I do about this project need to know: I really do love doing this. It keeps me in touch with our group and the friends I've made there. It gives me an outlet. It's allowing me to figure out a few things about publishing documents and design and typesetting that I never knew. It gives me a massive sense of accomplishment when I see the final project in our mailbox and I think "See those 15 - 20 pages of content? I did that!" I really do love it.
But I will admit, sometimes it makes me crazy. The last three weeks of every other month mean I will be in front of the computer most nights. And naptimes. And sometimes stolen moments during the day. Sometimes I get all done and one more thing to add comes over my email and it makes me scream. There are a lot of people and a lot of back and forth involved. It gets to be a bit much.
Mostly what I don't like is it takes me away from other things I want to do, like knitting, scrapbooking, surfing the web...things I do to take myself down a notch and relax. This month is especially crazy because I have a knitting project I'm striving to finish, both because I am gifting it at the end of May, and because I have some other things I want to do. This leads me to my next point.
I am NOT a deadline knitter. I love the current project, but I hate that I have to "GET IT DONE". It will be lovely, and amazing, and I'm so proud of it, but I would really like to shove it in a bag and go do something else right now, and I can't. I want to write a blog regarding what we are doing to green up our lives right now, but instead I'm relieving my stress writing about what is stressing me out. I want to scrapbook a few pictures and ideas that are bouncing around in my head, but I can't concentrate on being creative and getting that done.
It kind of stresses me out, hear me?
My time to myself is limited. Like most mothers, I get very little time to myself. That's okay. It's part of the job. I knew this when I signed up. I do, however, cherish that time and try to use it for things I really really love (see above) instead of wasting it watching TV. During the end of the bi-month, though, when I get "sitting" time, I tend to veg in front of said TV. Not productive. Not interesting. Not stimulating.
So here's to finishing up some projects and getting back to fun that feels less like work and more like fun.
See, I haven't actually looked at my posts to figure this out, but I'm pretty sure that I tend to post more in certain months, and the reason is clear...the end of every other month seems to always be crazy. I do this volunteer gig...writing a newsletter for our DS parent support group. I've been doing it for about a year now, and I love it. I really do. Those of you who are reading this and recalling all the complaining..no, strike that..talking..I do about this project need to know: I really do love doing this. It keeps me in touch with our group and the friends I've made there. It gives me an outlet. It's allowing me to figure out a few things about publishing documents and design and typesetting that I never knew. It gives me a massive sense of accomplishment when I see the final project in our mailbox and I think "See those 15 - 20 pages of content? I did that!" I really do love it.
But I will admit, sometimes it makes me crazy. The last three weeks of every other month mean I will be in front of the computer most nights. And naptimes. And sometimes stolen moments during the day. Sometimes I get all done and one more thing to add comes over my email and it makes me scream. There are a lot of people and a lot of back and forth involved. It gets to be a bit much.
Mostly what I don't like is it takes me away from other things I want to do, like knitting, scrapbooking, surfing the web...things I do to take myself down a notch and relax. This month is especially crazy because I have a knitting project I'm striving to finish, both because I am gifting it at the end of May, and because I have some other things I want to do. This leads me to my next point.
I am NOT a deadline knitter. I love the current project, but I hate that I have to "GET IT DONE". It will be lovely, and amazing, and I'm so proud of it, but I would really like to shove it in a bag and go do something else right now, and I can't. I want to write a blog regarding what we are doing to green up our lives right now, but instead I'm relieving my stress writing about what is stressing me out. I want to scrapbook a few pictures and ideas that are bouncing around in my head, but I can't concentrate on being creative and getting that done.
It kind of stresses me out, hear me?
My time to myself is limited. Like most mothers, I get very little time to myself. That's okay. It's part of the job. I knew this when I signed up. I do, however, cherish that time and try to use it for things I really really love (see above) instead of wasting it watching TV. During the end of the bi-month, though, when I get "sitting" time, I tend to veg in front of said TV. Not productive. Not interesting. Not stimulating.
So here's to finishing up some projects and getting back to fun that feels less like work and more like fun.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
A cautionary tale
Since it's St. Patrick's Day, and since St. Patty is the patron saint of Ireland and all, I thought I would give you a little parable. I'm not sure what St. Patrick did, I think it had something to do with snakes and all. Okay, okay, so sue me. I'm Polish, not Irish. St. Casimir* I know, St. Patrick not so much. But I digress.
Back when I was teaching, I used to try and do a lot of activities in my classroom. Part of it is that I myself am a bit ADD, and sitting makes me stir crazy. I hated to inflict that same torture on my students. Another part of this is that when you are learning, activity is fun and interactive and just better in all ways. So anyway. We're learning about Acids and Bases (I taught High School Chemistry. I'll give you a moment to recover your swoon ...) and a big part of that is indicators....how do we know when something is an acid or a base... Many many plants have pigments in them that act as indicators, one of the better known is red cabbage. So I'm all about boiling a cabbage in my house to make indicator.
The procedure is simple...you boil the cabbage for, oh, awhile. Timing is not important. When you get done, the water is this lovely purple color. You pour the water into a container, and use it on all matters and sorts of things to watch it change color and "indicate" (hence the name) the presence of acidic or basic properties. You can do this at home...it's an easy thing to do and lots of fun.
I get done with the boiling and pouring, and I have this cabbage now. I don't mind cabbage, so I butter and salt a little of it and eat it. But I cannot eat a whole cabbage. You may be able to eat a whole cabbage. You are more of a man than I...and you are someone I don't want to spend a lot of time around post-cabbage, if you get my drift. I had to get rid of this cabbage, and so I put it down the garbage disposal.
Now, I WAS thinking...despite all the evidence to the contrary. I thought to myself "yeah, I know I'm not supposed to put fibrous stuff down the disposal, but this is cooked, so I'm all good, right?" Grind away. I don't know why I didn't just throw it in the garbage. Silly question. Obvious, but silly.
The next morning I awake and the first thought in my head is WHAT IS THAT STENCH? I look over at hubby, make a face, mentally note to have a speak at him later about his diet, grab my bookbag and container of red cabbage juice, and trot off to work. When I get home that day, however, the stench is still there. It is worse, if that is possible. That's when I get the idea to look in the basement.
Coming out of the drain in our basement floor is this amazingly beautiful little fiber sculpture made of cabbage....okay, not quite cabbage, more like what is LEFT of the cabbage. It's a pretty lavender color because the cabbage was once red. The rest of my basement floor is COVERED in some unspeakable black goo which has backed up out of the drain (the sewer drain, that is).
24 Hours and $50 spent on a power snake later, I had learned a valuable lesson. One I am sharing with you now. One that comes back to me every St. Patrick's day when I make Corned Beef and Cabbage dinner. A lesson that we all should hold dear to our hearts and never forget.
Never, NEVER, put cabbage down your garbage disposal. If you feel the urge to learn how to play with dangerous and exciting power tools (see above, re: power snake), rent one and play with it. Do not feel as if you must create a situation which requires said tool in order to justify the rental. Just rent it. You don't need a reason.
*St Casimir is the patron saint of Poland and Lithuania. He refused his father's order to lead an army to overthrow the Hungarian empire, and was imprisoned. He died of consumption and his tomb has been the site of miracles.
**Want to look up your favorite saint? www.catholic.org. I kid you not....
Back when I was teaching, I used to try and do a lot of activities in my classroom. Part of it is that I myself am a bit ADD, and sitting makes me stir crazy. I hated to inflict that same torture on my students. Another part of this is that when you are learning, activity is fun and interactive and just better in all ways. So anyway. We're learning about Acids and Bases (I taught High School Chemistry. I'll give you a moment to recover your swoon ...) and a big part of that is indicators....how do we know when something is an acid or a base... Many many plants have pigments in them that act as indicators, one of the better known is red cabbage. So I'm all about boiling a cabbage in my house to make indicator.
The procedure is simple...you boil the cabbage for, oh, awhile. Timing is not important. When you get done, the water is this lovely purple color. You pour the water into a container, and use it on all matters and sorts of things to watch it change color and "indicate" (hence the name) the presence of acidic or basic properties. You can do this at home...it's an easy thing to do and lots of fun.
I get done with the boiling and pouring, and I have this cabbage now. I don't mind cabbage, so I butter and salt a little of it and eat it. But I cannot eat a whole cabbage. You may be able to eat a whole cabbage. You are more of a man than I...and you are someone I don't want to spend a lot of time around post-cabbage, if you get my drift. I had to get rid of this cabbage, and so I put it down the garbage disposal.
Now, I WAS thinking...despite all the evidence to the contrary. I thought to myself "yeah, I know I'm not supposed to put fibrous stuff down the disposal, but this is cooked, so I'm all good, right?" Grind away. I don't know why I didn't just throw it in the garbage. Silly question. Obvious, but silly.
The next morning I awake and the first thought in my head is WHAT IS THAT STENCH? I look over at hubby, make a face, mentally note to have a speak at him later about his diet, grab my bookbag and container of red cabbage juice, and trot off to work. When I get home that day, however, the stench is still there. It is worse, if that is possible. That's when I get the idea to look in the basement.
Coming out of the drain in our basement floor is this amazingly beautiful little fiber sculpture made of cabbage....okay, not quite cabbage, more like what is LEFT of the cabbage. It's a pretty lavender color because the cabbage was once red. The rest of my basement floor is COVERED in some unspeakable black goo which has backed up out of the drain (the sewer drain, that is).
24 Hours and $50 spent on a power snake later, I had learned a valuable lesson. One I am sharing with you now. One that comes back to me every St. Patrick's day when I make Corned Beef and Cabbage dinner. A lesson that we all should hold dear to our hearts and never forget.
Never, NEVER, put cabbage down your garbage disposal. If you feel the urge to learn how to play with dangerous and exciting power tools (see above, re: power snake), rent one and play with it. Do not feel as if you must create a situation which requires said tool in order to justify the rental. Just rent it. You don't need a reason.
*St Casimir is the patron saint of Poland and Lithuania. He refused his father's order to lead an army to overthrow the Hungarian empire, and was imprisoned. He died of consumption and his tomb has been the site of miracles.
**Want to look up your favorite saint? www.catholic.org. I kid you not....
Monday, March 9, 2009
On the street where I live
Hubby and I are extremely lucky, on the whole. We live on a street populated with really nice people. Sure, we aren't BFFs with all of them, but we socialize, we talk over the fence, and I have playdates with our neighbors across the street. Sometimes we have dinner. There are two lovely teenage girls I would trust to watch Toast, should the occasion arise. Then there's the guy who lives just to the North of us.
Okay, yeah, we talk over the fence, and he's nice enough. But he's also kind of a jerk...in that whole "bachelor, not interested in anyone but himself" kind of way. We know he has had, on occasion...many occasions...drugs in his house. Because he's told us. And weapons...there are the weapons. He didn't elaborate on that one. We sometimes see him drinking lots with some other people on his deck (but you know, we've been known to do that too)...and more than once we've smelled the exotic "tobacco" he and his buddies take part in.
Okay, so he's a little wild. None of that is my business. And there is the "ookey" factor...he had a high "ookey" factor..just creeped me out. But still, for the most part he was pretty quiet and never caused us any harm.
There were the fireworks, which he would usually set off in the middle of the night, in a HEAVILY treed neighborhood. Bottle rockets. Illegal "free flying" fireworks. Now, this is just stupid. Lots of trees and closely spaced houses + flying fire? Yeah, that makes me really irritated with you and causes me to use some very unseemly language when I speak of you.
So we've noticed that this winter he's been gone....really gone. I figured he was wintering in Florida...seems like the type. And he's self-employed, so you know, it was logical. Last week I was driving past his house (the rear of his house faces the north side of our house, so unless we drive or walk around the block we don't see the front of his house) and there is a for sale sign in the front yard. I think to myself "Let's throw a party, the weird neighbor is moving out!" I was pretty excited.
Tonight Hubby and I were talking to our "corner neighbors" (they live on the corner) and I mentioned that it looked like he had moved. She informed me that he DIED. Huh? Yeah. I had this weird feeling. You know, I didn't know him, I didn't really like him or dislike him, I said some mean things about him and ignored him the rest of the time. But still, it's kind of weird to get news like this. Apparently his family spoke to the corner neighbors and said they'd rather keep it quiet, that he had "not been doing well, and didn't know how poorly he was doing". That can mean a lot of things, but none of them are cheery.
I don't really have a point to this story, but it's worth writing about, because it caught me by surprise and is just such a surreal situation. Yes, people die. But when someone who is apparently pretty young and (from the outside) in fairly good health, it's always kind of a shock. Moreover when you have mixed feelings about that person.
What a random thing to find out.
Okay, yeah, we talk over the fence, and he's nice enough. But he's also kind of a jerk...in that whole "bachelor, not interested in anyone but himself" kind of way. We know he has had, on occasion...many occasions...drugs in his house. Because he's told us. And weapons...there are the weapons. He didn't elaborate on that one. We sometimes see him drinking lots with some other people on his deck (but you know, we've been known to do that too)...and more than once we've smelled the exotic "tobacco" he and his buddies take part in.
Okay, so he's a little wild. None of that is my business. And there is the "ookey" factor...he had a high "ookey" factor..just creeped me out. But still, for the most part he was pretty quiet and never caused us any harm.
There were the fireworks, which he would usually set off in the middle of the night, in a HEAVILY treed neighborhood. Bottle rockets. Illegal "free flying" fireworks. Now, this is just stupid. Lots of trees and closely spaced houses + flying fire? Yeah, that makes me really irritated with you and causes me to use some very unseemly language when I speak of you.
So we've noticed that this winter he's been gone....really gone. I figured he was wintering in Florida...seems like the type. And he's self-employed, so you know, it was logical. Last week I was driving past his house (the rear of his house faces the north side of our house, so unless we drive or walk around the block we don't see the front of his house) and there is a for sale sign in the front yard. I think to myself "Let's throw a party, the weird neighbor is moving out!" I was pretty excited.
Tonight Hubby and I were talking to our "corner neighbors" (they live on the corner) and I mentioned that it looked like he had moved. She informed me that he DIED. Huh? Yeah. I had this weird feeling. You know, I didn't know him, I didn't really like him or dislike him, I said some mean things about him and ignored him the rest of the time. But still, it's kind of weird to get news like this. Apparently his family spoke to the corner neighbors and said they'd rather keep it quiet, that he had "not been doing well, and didn't know how poorly he was doing". That can mean a lot of things, but none of them are cheery.
I don't really have a point to this story, but it's worth writing about, because it caught me by surprise and is just such a surreal situation. Yes, people die. But when someone who is apparently pretty young and (from the outside) in fairly good health, it's always kind of a shock. Moreover when you have mixed feelings about that person.
What a random thing to find out.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
I HATE mornings like this.
Preface: Wednesday and Thursday night, Toast was waking up frequently crying. Thursday it was every hour on the hour. Hubby and I have an "agreement" that unless T is really sick, I get up during the week because Hubby has to work. Toast really doesn't wake up at night any more, and this works out fine...except I ALWAYS hear Toast when he gets up, and Hubby rarely does.
7:00 AM, Saturday 2/28: *wail* silence *wail* silence
7:00:30: I furiously poke hubby. "will you get up with him?" (this happens a lot. I'm always afraid Toast will wake up Hubby and so spring from bed fully loaded to go and get him. I didn't say I was happy about it, or graceful in doing it, just that I do. Hubby always requires poking.)
7:00:35 "yes," my dear sweet husband groans.
Hubby gets up, gets the toast. I try to go back to bed. Then this happens.
7:45
Brain: there's no milk.
me: shut up, they can eat eggs.
Brain: there's no milk
me: shut up, you don't need milk to make eggs, it's just a bonus. Like sour cream. You don't need sour cream to make any food at all, but it makes everything better.
Brain: There's only one egg.
me: They can make oatmeal. Hubby can figure that out.
Brain: there's only a half a cup of Oatmeal left.
me: they can eat INSTANT...shut up shut up shut up *pounds pillow and pulls blanket over head*
Brain: There's no instant. You insist on the real thing now because "It's not that hard to make and surely real oatmeal and brown sugar is better than instant dehydrated sweetner and fake oats"
Me: Shut up.
Brain: There's no milk.
I get out of bed. I go downstairs. Toast is eating cheerios and hubby is thinking about breakfast. He looks at me, I know he's thinking about how to phrase this.
I suggest going out for breakfast, he happily agrees. Marital bliss is restored.
But then my brain starts in again:
brain: we have to go to drop hubby's car off at the dealership for some work...and we were going to go to IKEA. These things cannot be accomplished in the alloted time without at least a half hour of wait time...too long to wait, too short to come home.
Me: shut up.
So that's how I was up, dressed, packed for a trip to Ikea, grocery list made (to kill that half hour), things measured so we could look for counterparts at IKEA, planned and everything written down, all before eight AM.
All before Coffee.
Sometimes I'm amazed at my own strength.
7:00 AM, Saturday 2/28: *wail* silence *wail* silence
7:00:30: I furiously poke hubby. "will you get up with him?" (this happens a lot. I'm always afraid Toast will wake up Hubby and so spring from bed fully loaded to go and get him. I didn't say I was happy about it, or graceful in doing it, just that I do. Hubby always requires poking.)
7:00:35 "yes," my dear sweet husband groans.
Hubby gets up, gets the toast. I try to go back to bed. Then this happens.
7:45
Brain: there's no milk.
me: shut up, they can eat eggs.
Brain: there's no milk
me: shut up, you don't need milk to make eggs, it's just a bonus. Like sour cream. You don't need sour cream to make any food at all, but it makes everything better.
Brain: There's only one egg.
me: They can make oatmeal. Hubby can figure that out.
Brain: there's only a half a cup of Oatmeal left.
me: they can eat INSTANT...shut up shut up shut up *pounds pillow and pulls blanket over head*
Brain: There's no instant. You insist on the real thing now because "It's not that hard to make and surely real oatmeal and brown sugar is better than instant dehydrated sweetner and fake oats"
Me: Shut up.
Brain: There's no milk.
I get out of bed. I go downstairs. Toast is eating cheerios and hubby is thinking about breakfast. He looks at me, I know he's thinking about how to phrase this.
I suggest going out for breakfast, he happily agrees. Marital bliss is restored.
But then my brain starts in again:
brain: we have to go to drop hubby's car off at the dealership for some work...and we were going to go to IKEA. These things cannot be accomplished in the alloted time without at least a half hour of wait time...too long to wait, too short to come home.
Me: shut up.
So that's how I was up, dressed, packed for a trip to Ikea, grocery list made (to kill that half hour), things measured so we could look for counterparts at IKEA, planned and everything written down, all before eight AM.
All before Coffee.
Sometimes I'm amazed at my own strength.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
C'mon spring!
Now that all the snow is gone, I find that I"m just completely disenchanted with this whole winter thing. I mean, I live where I do because I like winter...okay, it's not my FAVORITE season, but being a homebody and all, I love being able to curl up in my house and putter all day while the wind and snow and cold rage outside. I love cooking comfort food and feeding Hubby with it. I love knitting in front of a good DVD. I feel guilty doing any of this in the middle of the day when it's "nice" outside and I should be out soaking up the sun. But this week? yeah. The snow is gone and so is the love. Let's get a move on, spring.
We've been in the house completely too much lately...most of the week, actually. The plus side of this is that I've been a bit...well...compulsive this week, so the house is clean and pretty. The down side is that the house is now clean and pretty and I'm STILL IN IT. I need to get out. I sense a trip to...well, somewhere this afternoon to get out of this place. Toast and I did go for a lovely long walk on monday (that coupled with the cleaning earned me more than a few activity points for my weekly Weight Watchers total, let me tell you), and that did help.
I think part of this whole cabin fever thing is the aforementioned weather, part of it is the timing...this week marking the one year anniversary of Tiny Man's death. It's been a rough time. We were supposed to go to a memorial service last saturday, but did not due to the extreme migraine I had all day. To answer the question, maybe it was caused by tension and subconscious...I don't know. I do know that I have very mixed feelings about missing the memorial. On one hand I really would have liked to have gone....but our hospice team is still making visits, so we see them regularly anyway. And the timing for us, the weekend before the one year mark, was very poor. So maybe next year we'll try again.
I spoke to a friend this week about anniversaries like the sort I'm experiencing now. She asked if I was remembering everything from this week last year, and the answer is yes. I remember what I was doing with Tiny Man each and every day of this week last year. It's so vivid it almost scares me. We have made plans for this weekend and next to be out of the house and with family, and I think that this is a wise decision. I"m looking forward to it.
Perhaps some thrifting at salvation army this afternoon.....
We've been in the house completely too much lately...most of the week, actually. The plus side of this is that I've been a bit...well...compulsive this week, so the house is clean and pretty. The down side is that the house is now clean and pretty and I'm STILL IN IT. I need to get out. I sense a trip to...well, somewhere this afternoon to get out of this place. Toast and I did go for a lovely long walk on monday (that coupled with the cleaning earned me more than a few activity points for my weekly Weight Watchers total, let me tell you), and that did help.
I think part of this whole cabin fever thing is the aforementioned weather, part of it is the timing...this week marking the one year anniversary of Tiny Man's death. It's been a rough time. We were supposed to go to a memorial service last saturday, but did not due to the extreme migraine I had all day. To answer the question, maybe it was caused by tension and subconscious...I don't know. I do know that I have very mixed feelings about missing the memorial. On one hand I really would have liked to have gone....but our hospice team is still making visits, so we see them regularly anyway. And the timing for us, the weekend before the one year mark, was very poor. So maybe next year we'll try again.
I spoke to a friend this week about anniversaries like the sort I'm experiencing now. She asked if I was remembering everything from this week last year, and the answer is yes. I remember what I was doing with Tiny Man each and every day of this week last year. It's so vivid it almost scares me. We have made plans for this weekend and next to be out of the house and with family, and I think that this is a wise decision. I"m looking forward to it.
Perhaps some thrifting at salvation army this afternoon.....
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Why 2009 is important.
I've already said I don't make resolutions. Because I break them. But I have made a commitment to myself for this year: get happy. This entails a lot of things, but mostly it's about balance. Balance between being a good mom and being a happy person. So there are some things I'm doing to try and make sure I take care of myself.
First, I mentioned in an earlier post that I'm going to try and craft every day. I love a lot of crafts, knitting is like breathing for me, I have to do it every day. I'm also passionate about scrapbooking, I like embroidery, I like to make things from old objects, to reuse things in new ways. Before Toast was born, we had his room set up as a library/craft area....all of our books and my craft stuff were there. When we were getting ready for his arrival, I boxed everything up, we moved the books to the living room, and I didn't make anything for a long time. When he was born I also stopped knitting, because I had no time. Then I began to slowly come unglued. I was very unhappy. It is difficult to adjust to two children, and I had no outlet for myself.
When Tiny Man died, we didn't do anything with his room for a long time. Slowly we began to change that, and after a few months I set my craft things up in there again. It felt okay, and I like being in there with the "Little Prince" murals on the wall to remind me of him. But It didn't feel like my space...and slowly it began to feel less like his, too. But I thought, I don't want to get to comfy...we don't know what we are going to do in terms of having another child, and if we do we will need that room. (No, I refuse to make my kids share a room because I have too much stuff or need my space. it's not an option). But then I thought of something. We do have a basement. It's not pretty and it's not finished, but we could carve out a little space down there for me, should another Coffeemamma offspring come along. So in the meantime, I could work on creating a space for myself, knowing I can move it should the need arise.
So that's what I did this weekend. I had some storage, but it wasn't working the way I wanted so I moved things around. I purchased a desktop drawer unit from Ikea for pens and things, and painted some tins with chalkboard paint for more storage. I used what I had and this is what happened:
Everything is old, with the exception of the black and tan drawer unit you see in the corner (the black is chalkboard paint). I also bought a new holder for scrapbooking embilishments that you can't see well. It's on top of the middle drawer unit. The table next to my drafting table is Hubby's kitchen table from when he was single. The drafting table is something I bought when I was single, and the nightstand in the back has been mine forever. I like the way the drawers and that small nightstand work for storage.
Next to the desk is a crate with some storage for stamps. On top of that is a sticker/embelishment binder and some baskets of things that don't fit anywhere else...chipboard letters and the like. These are pretty, but they will have to be moved because I'm sure Toast will get into them lickety-split!
The dresser was Tiny man's, and we aren't sure we won't need it, so it stays.
It's holding sewing supplies, my yarn stash (one drawer, I'm not a yarn stasher...but my scrapbook supplies make up for that). On top are some jars with supplies, as well as the tins I painted. These are NOT very visible, but trust me they are cute. The table will hold my sewing machine, when I get it out of storage in the closet.
So there it is. I'm not a creative genius, but I like having my space here. I like that there is a box of toys tucked in there for Toast (even if he prefers raiding my craft drawers instead). I LOVE that I can be in there with the memory of my Tiny man and work on his scrapbooks. It's a peaceful little place for me.
First, I mentioned in an earlier post that I'm going to try and craft every day. I love a lot of crafts, knitting is like breathing for me, I have to do it every day. I'm also passionate about scrapbooking, I like embroidery, I like to make things from old objects, to reuse things in new ways. Before Toast was born, we had his room set up as a library/craft area....all of our books and my craft stuff were there. When we were getting ready for his arrival, I boxed everything up, we moved the books to the living room, and I didn't make anything for a long time. When he was born I also stopped knitting, because I had no time. Then I began to slowly come unglued. I was very unhappy. It is difficult to adjust to two children, and I had no outlet for myself.
When Tiny Man died, we didn't do anything with his room for a long time. Slowly we began to change that, and after a few months I set my craft things up in there again. It felt okay, and I like being in there with the "Little Prince" murals on the wall to remind me of him. But It didn't feel like my space...and slowly it began to feel less like his, too. But I thought, I don't want to get to comfy...we don't know what we are going to do in terms of having another child, and if we do we will need that room. (No, I refuse to make my kids share a room because I have too much stuff or need my space. it's not an option). But then I thought of something. We do have a basement. It's not pretty and it's not finished, but we could carve out a little space down there for me, should another Coffeemamma offspring come along. So in the meantime, I could work on creating a space for myself, knowing I can move it should the need arise.
So that's what I did this weekend. I had some storage, but it wasn't working the way I wanted so I moved things around. I purchased a desktop drawer unit from Ikea for pens and things, and painted some tins with chalkboard paint for more storage. I used what I had and this is what happened:
Everything is old, with the exception of the black and tan drawer unit you see in the corner (the black is chalkboard paint). I also bought a new holder for scrapbooking embilishments that you can't see well. It's on top of the middle drawer unit. The table next to my drafting table is Hubby's kitchen table from when he was single. The drafting table is something I bought when I was single, and the nightstand in the back has been mine forever. I like the way the drawers and that small nightstand work for storage.
Next to the desk is a crate with some storage for stamps. On top of that is a sticker/embelishment binder and some baskets of things that don't fit anywhere else...chipboard letters and the like. These are pretty, but they will have to be moved because I'm sure Toast will get into them lickety-split!The dresser was Tiny man's, and we aren't sure we won't need it, so it stays.
It's holding sewing supplies, my yarn stash (one drawer, I'm not a yarn stasher...but my scrapbook supplies make up for that). On top are some jars with supplies, as well as the tins I painted. These are NOT very visible, but trust me they are cute. The table will hold my sewing machine, when I get it out of storage in the closet.So there it is. I'm not a creative genius, but I like having my space here. I like that there is a box of toys tucked in there for Toast (even if he prefers raiding my craft drawers instead). I LOVE that I can be in there with the memory of my Tiny man and work on his scrapbooks. It's a peaceful little place for me.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Breathing, again
I looked at the date of my last post and thought "wow"...but in a good way. I can't believe so much time has gone by without posting...but I haven't been a bad blog-mama, I've been a good Coffeemomma by taking care of myself, hubby and Toast. :) You see, we have been going along just fine...taking the days as they come. And the days are getting easier. Then (as some of my pre-christmas posts may indicate), we put up the Christmas tree and it was so hard. I didn't know it was coming...at least not that bad. I didn't realize that our first Christmas without the Tiny man would be full of little landmines and triggers of good memories that would make me sad and purge me of all christmas spirit.
So we went on vacation.
Okay, we didn't go because things were difficult, but as it turned out, the change in scenery was EXACTLY what we needed for this first Christmas without our Tiny man. Hubby's family has been doing the holidays in Florida for years and years, and when our dating became serious, we started alternating...one year in Fla. and one here in Michigan. We missed 2006 because we didn't want to travel that far with Tiny Man, so it has been awhile since we worked on our Christmas tans. It was nice to be away from home, but still be with family. The sunshine did wonders for all of us, especially me. Let it never be said that the winter blues have nothing do to with lack of light...for me, at least, they really do. It was a noticeable difference.
So in a nutshell: We flew there and back, and Toast was great on the plane. I was so happy about that! We did two Disney parks: Epcot (which included the fine tradition of eating our way around the world) and Animal Kingdom (if you haven't gone here because you think it will be lame, really: check it out, it's very cool). We looked for Hidden Mickeys. We did lots of shopping (I LOVE after christmas deals) and swimming, and reading, and playing and walking and relaxing.
So for the new year? Well, I don't make resolutions. They are too easy to break. There's all this pressure to tell people about them, then you feel guilty when you don't keep them up. I never keep them up. Maybe that says something about me. Anyway. I do have a few goals for the new year. One is to do something crafty every day. Crafting makes me happy. I love the knitting, of course, but I really want to do more scrapbooking in the new year. I didn't do a whole lot last year, and I miss it. To that end, I'm trying to take a picture every day and create a weekly spread. I got the idea from the Creating Keepsakes kit "365", which encourages you to scrap every day. I just want to take a picture every day, mostly to document what life is like...not the big events, but everyday life. Someday I will look back on this time and love that I was so fortunate to be able to spend time at home with Toast. I will want to see how he changed over a year. I will want to remember what we did every day. I don't think I will be able to scrapbook every single day. But I want to have a record of what life was really like, not what big events happened in our year. Because you always remember the big stuff!
So I also have a new crafty obsession: embroidery. I know, it's not 1863, get with the program. But have you seen this website? I got one of her kits for christmas, and I'm obsessed with the designs! I'll have pictures later of my first few creations.
So that's it! I'm recovered from the holidays...I've returned home, cleaned up the house a little, dug through all the mail, returned the phone calls, written the thank-yous. I've caught up on the web stuff, the email, loaded up the pictures and posted some to flickr. With this blog post I'm officially not on vacation any more. Now to finish the laundry.
So we went on vacation.
Okay, we didn't go because things were difficult, but as it turned out, the change in scenery was EXACTLY what we needed for this first Christmas without our Tiny man. Hubby's family has been doing the holidays in Florida for years and years, and when our dating became serious, we started alternating...one year in Fla. and one here in Michigan. We missed 2006 because we didn't want to travel that far with Tiny Man, so it has been awhile since we worked on our Christmas tans. It was nice to be away from home, but still be with family. The sunshine did wonders for all of us, especially me. Let it never be said that the winter blues have nothing do to with lack of light...for me, at least, they really do. It was a noticeable difference.
So in a nutshell: We flew there and back, and Toast was great on the plane. I was so happy about that! We did two Disney parks: Epcot (which included the fine tradition of eating our way around the world) and Animal Kingdom (if you haven't gone here because you think it will be lame, really: check it out, it's very cool). We looked for Hidden Mickeys. We did lots of shopping (I LOVE after christmas deals) and swimming, and reading, and playing and walking and relaxing.
So for the new year? Well, I don't make resolutions. They are too easy to break. There's all this pressure to tell people about them, then you feel guilty when you don't keep them up. I never keep them up. Maybe that says something about me. Anyway. I do have a few goals for the new year. One is to do something crafty every day. Crafting makes me happy. I love the knitting, of course, but I really want to do more scrapbooking in the new year. I didn't do a whole lot last year, and I miss it. To that end, I'm trying to take a picture every day and create a weekly spread. I got the idea from the Creating Keepsakes kit "365", which encourages you to scrap every day. I just want to take a picture every day, mostly to document what life is like...not the big events, but everyday life. Someday I will look back on this time and love that I was so fortunate to be able to spend time at home with Toast. I will want to see how he changed over a year. I will want to remember what we did every day. I don't think I will be able to scrapbook every single day. But I want to have a record of what life was really like, not what big events happened in our year. Because you always remember the big stuff!
So I also have a new crafty obsession: embroidery. I know, it's not 1863, get with the program. But have you seen this website? I got one of her kits for christmas, and I'm obsessed with the designs! I'll have pictures later of my first few creations.
So that's it! I'm recovered from the holidays...I've returned home, cleaned up the house a little, dug through all the mail, returned the phone calls, written the thank-yous. I've caught up on the web stuff, the email, loaded up the pictures and posted some to flickr. With this blog post I'm officially not on vacation any more. Now to finish the laundry.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Blah Blah Blah
Oh, NaBloPoMo, you had me at hello. Then I missed two days of posts and cursed your name. :)
Really, this is a day I would not ordinarily blog. I mean, nothing really happened. I didn't have any deep thoughts. I didn't hear anything terribly fascinating (Sorry, C and M...it doesn't mean we didn't have a good time at playdate!)...Toast and I played, did laundry, went to our Tuesday playdate/lunch, came home and played/made dinner. Then I crafted for an hour, did the bath thing, and here I am. Not much.
I did make a killer dinner, though, so that's what I'll write about today. Pork chops, sweet potato fries, brussels sprouts. I love sprouts, hubby can take them or leave them...but once a year, when they are in season, I have to have them. I love them that much. Tonight I fried up some bacon (see, I had him at bacon...that's the way it works in this house), then drained the pan and used the "sticky parts" left to carmalize some onion. Added some steamed sprouts, and put the bacon back in, well chopped. Sauteed until everything was nice and golden. They were killer.
We're trying to get Toast to feed himself more...like with utensils other than his porky little hands. Tonight I handed him a sweet potato fry, and he shoved the whole thing in his mouth. It made his eyes water and his face turn red. Apparently we still have a ways to go.
Really, this is a day I would not ordinarily blog. I mean, nothing really happened. I didn't have any deep thoughts. I didn't hear anything terribly fascinating (Sorry, C and M...it doesn't mean we didn't have a good time at playdate!)...Toast and I played, did laundry, went to our Tuesday playdate/lunch, came home and played/made dinner. Then I crafted for an hour, did the bath thing, and here I am. Not much.
I did make a killer dinner, though, so that's what I'll write about today. Pork chops, sweet potato fries, brussels sprouts. I love sprouts, hubby can take them or leave them...but once a year, when they are in season, I have to have them. I love them that much. Tonight I fried up some bacon (see, I had him at bacon...that's the way it works in this house), then drained the pan and used the "sticky parts" left to carmalize some onion. Added some steamed sprouts, and put the bacon back in, well chopped. Sauteed until everything was nice and golden. They were killer.
We're trying to get Toast to feed himself more...like with utensils other than his porky little hands. Tonight I handed him a sweet potato fry, and he shoved the whole thing in his mouth. It made his eyes water and his face turn red. Apparently we still have a ways to go.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Fall
I have always loved autumn. It's one of the reasons I like living in Michigan, because the colors here are spectacular. Sure, it's no eastern Seaboard, no tiny town in Vermont surrounded by mountains, but it's what I love. I love the light that comes with autumn...the sky looks different, it's bluer somehow. The sunlight is different than in the middle of summer. I know the scientific reasons for this, but still it never ceases to amaze me to look outside my window and see that perfect golden day that happens every October or so...the one that makes you think "I'd like to wear corduroys and go to the cider mill today".
The house we live in now has an added advantage. This tree, above, is just magnificent in the fall. Seriously, on a cloudy, rainy day the thing practically creates it's own light. It's a Japanese Maple that was here when we moved in...and given the landscaping disasters the previous homeowners left us with, I seriously doubt it was their doing.
Living in our neighborhood presents a sort of game with Mother Nature every fall. We are surrounded by trees here. Lots of them. Our yard consists mainly of Oaks, which are beautiful and provide a lot of shade. They also hang on to their leaves like noting I've ever seen. So every year about this time we start to wonder...should we rake? If we rake too early, more leaves fall and the leaves in the yard to the north of us always blow onto our lawn...meaning more work. If we wait too long everything gets wet then snowed on and the job in the spring is tantrum-worthy. After four years, I'm starting to learn how things go. Trees start to turn. Then the Japanese maple turns and is a brilliant red-orange for about three days, then some big windstorm comes along and it loses all it's leaves. Then this will happen:
These are our burning bushes. They are just starting to "burn" right now. I've learned that if we wait until they are totally red before starting to rake, we're pretty safe. If they've dropped their leaves, even better.
That is, of course, if it doesn't rain....which is another problem entirely.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Stalker boy non-update
I just wanted to thank people for comments on and off about my dilemma. I think I will talk to the mother next time I see her out (about once a week or so) and let her know what is going on. I know that may make me look like a freak, but you are right, if it was my daughter I would want to know.
No other new news, except that I put the purple sock back on the needles, and it looks pretty (I know, that's so descriptive!). It's a k4 p2 rib which really is turning out nicely. Plain, but the yarn is so soft and it is so stretchy I really like it. I went through my yarn today, which until now has occupied two wicker baskets in our living room. Due to the abnormally high number of spiders in our house, I wanted to get it sorted into ziplock bags. Upon doing so I discovered that there is NO WAY I can deny having a stash any more. I always used to say I have no stash...or that I had a small stash, made up of leftovers from what I had made. No, I can't deny it any longer. I have a stash. But it's an organized stash, dammit.
We here at Casa de coffeemomma look forward to Easter every year. We go out for brunch with Hubby's grandma. It's always a big spread with the whole fam and we eat ourselves silly. I love to dress the tiny man up and show him off. It should be a fun day for all. :) I know lots of people will be off for the weekend for some reason or another, so I hope you all have a restful time of it.
No other new news, except that I put the purple sock back on the needles, and it looks pretty (I know, that's so descriptive!). It's a k4 p2 rib which really is turning out nicely. Plain, but the yarn is so soft and it is so stretchy I really like it. I went through my yarn today, which until now has occupied two wicker baskets in our living room. Due to the abnormally high number of spiders in our house, I wanted to get it sorted into ziplock bags. Upon doing so I discovered that there is NO WAY I can deny having a stash any more. I always used to say I have no stash...or that I had a small stash, made up of leftovers from what I had made. No, I can't deny it any longer. I have a stash. But it's an organized stash, dammit.
We here at Casa de coffeemomma look forward to Easter every year. We go out for brunch with Hubby's grandma. It's always a big spread with the whole fam and we eat ourselves silly. I love to dress the tiny man up and show him off. It should be a fun day for all. :) I know lots of people will be off for the weekend for some reason or another, so I hope you all have a restful time of it.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
The adventures of Stalker boy
Let me set the scene. My house is on one side of the road. Across the street live neighbors we really like...we'll call them house 2. Kitty-corner to us, next to house 2, is the neighbors we don't know, but seem okay. I mean, they don't seem to have any weird habits or anything. We'll call them house 1.
I have noticed some unusual behavior, it gives me the creeps, and I don't know what to do about it. House 1 has three children, the oldest being a teenage girl. I would guess she is a junior or senior in high school. About a month ago, I was looking outside. It was a really dreary day in February, rainy, cold, miserable. A car was parked outside their house, and a boy was sitting in a lawn chair at the end of the driveway. Bundled up, blanket over his lap, reading or staring into space alternately. He was there for two hours. I had seen this car in their driveway before, and I had seen the girl come and go with this boy several times. But now he was just there on his own. I thought he was a bit touched, and didn't think of it again.
About a week ago, I see this boy standing between house 1 and house 2, out of site of the front door or the open garage door, which faces the street. He is just standing there. His car is not in the driveway, in fact there is another car in the drive. Occasionally he listens at the wall of the garage next to him. I see the girl come out of the house with another boy, they talk in the garage for a minute, she leaning in close to him, then they each get in their cars. The strange car pulls out and away. Girl pulls out, and boy by garage runs to her car. They talk...he animatedly, jumping up and down at one point. Then she drives away, and he runs up the street and out of sight.
Today, I notice the same thing, only this time the boy is standing next to house 2, on the other side...way out of sight. After a minute he runs across the front of it to stand next to the garage again. Same car in the driveway. Same boy 2 comes out of house, gets into car, drives away. When he does, the stalker boy walks around the side of the house so as not to be seen. Okay, he RUNS so as not to be seen. Then I see him come out, speaking into something in his hand (not like a cell phone...like a small tape recorder?) and run away again. Girl's car is still in the garage, and she has not come out of the house.
Now, call me a nosey neighbor, I am. I get that. But this is not right to me. Problem is, I don't know these people. Part of me wants to call the cops on this kid, part of me wants to walk out of the house and right up to him to ask him what the hell he's doing. Part of me tells me to mind my own business. Part of me wants to introduce myself to the mom next time she is out and tell her what is going on.
I know teenage drama, I know a lot about it. Not only did I experience my share of it, I watched it unfold in front of me for nine years. But I have also seen some scary things that boys and girls can do to each other. What I'm trying to decide is if I'm freaked out because I think that something is going on that can be harmful to this girl, or if I'm just weirded out and shouldn't worry about it.
Any advice?
I have noticed some unusual behavior, it gives me the creeps, and I don't know what to do about it. House 1 has three children, the oldest being a teenage girl. I would guess she is a junior or senior in high school. About a month ago, I was looking outside. It was a really dreary day in February, rainy, cold, miserable. A car was parked outside their house, and a boy was sitting in a lawn chair at the end of the driveway. Bundled up, blanket over his lap, reading or staring into space alternately. He was there for two hours. I had seen this car in their driveway before, and I had seen the girl come and go with this boy several times. But now he was just there on his own. I thought he was a bit touched, and didn't think of it again.
About a week ago, I see this boy standing between house 1 and house 2, out of site of the front door or the open garage door, which faces the street. He is just standing there. His car is not in the driveway, in fact there is another car in the drive. Occasionally he listens at the wall of the garage next to him. I see the girl come out of the house with another boy, they talk in the garage for a minute, she leaning in close to him, then they each get in their cars. The strange car pulls out and away. Girl pulls out, and boy by garage runs to her car. They talk...he animatedly, jumping up and down at one point. Then she drives away, and he runs up the street and out of sight.
Today, I notice the same thing, only this time the boy is standing next to house 2, on the other side...way out of sight. After a minute he runs across the front of it to stand next to the garage again. Same car in the driveway. Same boy 2 comes out of house, gets into car, drives away. When he does, the stalker boy walks around the side of the house so as not to be seen. Okay, he RUNS so as not to be seen. Then I see him come out, speaking into something in his hand (not like a cell phone...like a small tape recorder?) and run away again. Girl's car is still in the garage, and she has not come out of the house.
Now, call me a nosey neighbor, I am. I get that. But this is not right to me. Problem is, I don't know these people. Part of me wants to call the cops on this kid, part of me wants to walk out of the house and right up to him to ask him what the hell he's doing. Part of me tells me to mind my own business. Part of me wants to introduce myself to the mom next time she is out and tell her what is going on.
I know teenage drama, I know a lot about it. Not only did I experience my share of it, I watched it unfold in front of me for nine years. But I have also seen some scary things that boys and girls can do to each other. What I'm trying to decide is if I'm freaked out because I think that something is going on that can be harmful to this girl, or if I'm just weirded out and shouldn't worry about it.
Any advice?
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