Monday, May 17, 2010
I have told them lately.
There are lots of things I do "wrong" as a parent. Nitpicking. Yelling. Fretting. Sweets giving. Movie allowing. Etc. But, there is one thing I definitely do right. I tell my kids I love them randomly about 100 times a day (about half the number of times I have to reprimand them). Sometimes I know this is irritating and smothering. So, well, that's not "right." But, I can tell my kids are secure in themselves. They are quick to randomly drop an "I love you" back on me. And sometimes on other people. They love to meet people. They are trusting to a fault. Their confidence tells me they know I love them unconditionally. That's it for now. I love those girls.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
This must mean I'm awesome. Or that Charlotte knows I like surveys.
Either way, this is an award for me! And, of course, normally I might resent an award that carries an assignment. Not in this case. Because the scrappy little project here is to divulge to the web at large ten pieces of afore-un-mentioned information about myself. And as I should be working on two finals totaling 25 pages, this is the perfect way to spent the girls' rest time. (Update: I've now finished 12 of 25 pages - this list has turned out to be more work than that - amazing.) Here goes.
1) I sleep with a full-sized, blue body pillow. Every night for the past five and a half years. All through my pregnancy with Sophie, then with Eleanor, and finally with Josephine. With each baby, I swore to Bill that once I gave birth, I'd put the pillow away. But then came the newborn days, and pillow was my boppy, my bouncy seat, my sleep positioner, my breastmilk-poop-drool-and-vomit-covered buddy. And now I don't know how to sleep without it. In fact, I swear on its potency so vehemently that when Bill starting developing a neck ache in the mornings, I gave him my precious body pillow. (That's real love.) But, if I'm being honest, I've not exactly had the best nights' sleeps. I'm not thrilled at the prospect of two body pillows and two bodies in one queen sized bed. So I either need to get Bill hooked on muscle relaxers, get used to trading off, or schedule him a visit to the chiropractor. We shall see, but as I am cheap and greedy, I'm firmly in the muscle relaxer camp. (But, really, if he feels better, he can have the body pillow every night.) Update: I've got my pillow back. :o)
2) In my (not so) humble opinion, I think there is nothing more bad ass than a barber shop quartet. Every time I hear one, I get chills up my spine. Here is a new favorite of mine, who I recently fell in love with via my Folklore and Folklife class. Could anything be more fly? Nope.
3) Speaking of music, I want to hate Sam Cooke. I do. Because a Sam Cooke cd got jammed in my cd player and began a series of events that culminated in the destruction of the stereo. But, how can you hate someone who makes you want to melt through the floor? Something like this could almost make an atheist believe in Jesus. And if Jesus really is all about real, good love, nothing beats this. Or this. Or I get too siced and can't hate him for a single solitary moment.
4) Speaking of Sam Cooke, I used to be a competitive horseback rider. I know, stay with me. But, as I am with all things, I was a nervous rider. Riding in general gave me those nervous thrills that make life worthwhile. But, horseshows took it to the next level. Until I found a Sam Cooke song that fit the rhythm of a horse's canter. So every time I cantered, particularly on a green horse that needed a serious seat, active leg support, plenty of halfhalts, etc., I sang, Another Saturday Night. If you've ever cantered a horse, try and tell me this doesn't mimic the rhythm perfectly. I dare you. If you've never cantered a horse, you should try it some time. It can really be heavenly. But, just so you can see how perfectly the beat fits, here's a video I found on the net. If you care to, play these two side by side.
5) Moving on, ahem, to something entirely unrelated. I am a movie re-watcher. I have seen The Devil Wears Prada approximately 75 times. I don't think that's any exaggeration. At this very moment, Eleanor and I are watching Babe. Which I've seen 50 times or me. I've also watched The Little Rascals, As Good As It Gets, Save the Last Dance. And so many more I can't think of now. If it's good (or not, apparently), it gets a lot of play around here. Anyway, right now I am onto my other guilty viewing pleasure, which is Weeds. The glorious Maura Bayly has provided me with the first four seasons so far. I've watched two-and-a-half seasons, over the last week. Yikes.
6) Continuing this trend of admitting my weird obsession with rhythms, repetitions, and patterns, I'll admit something about baking. For the last few months, I've been making banana bread three times a week. One week in April, I baked banana bread every day. I wish I had some right now, because as I mentioned above, it's finals time. Which brings me to number seven.
7) Some people are stress eaters. But, for better or worse, I am a stress non-eater. Generally this works out ok, because a few weeks of stress round out with a few more weeks of a very healthy appetite. But when finals come around, my tendency is to retreat to coffee and carrots. And, so that brings me back to number six. So that I won't totally fall apart, I need to bake some banana bread. It is one of two foods that is always always always appealing.
8) Now for the other food that hits the spot 95% of the time - Hunan House. The Double H has been in my life for 15 years. There were definitely times in my life when I was getting their amazing vegetarian Chinese food upwards of three times a week. (Now, I'm down to once a month, because they're up to $25 for me and Bill to get take out). But, I'd eat Vegetarian Boneless Chicken in the Chef's Spicy Sauce and Vegetarian General Tso's Chicken in any instant any day. In fact, I have some of my fix in my fridge right now. Delightful.
9) This one is sad and a little graphic. Once I crushed my own gerbil with my knee. At age ten. We were doing a gerbil and hamster derby at my house. This meant vhs tapes stacked to create a maze, and rodents running wild. At one point, I lost track of the ironically-named Limbo. I was squatting on the floor. And just as I asked "Where's Limbo?" I dropped to my knees to stabilize. And crunched Limbo's tiny skull. It was one of the worst moments of my life. As a preteen, my father held me as I trembled and wept. I was definitely traumatized, but it was only one of the horrific deaths suffered by our critter friends. Pappy flew into a pot of soup. Houdini got a pellet stuck in his nether regions and exploded. Baby Blue was stepped on by my mom during a fit of rage thrown by my sister - he lived with a broken foot until I might have forgotten to feed him. My precious guinea pigs, Betsy, Pluto, and Star Trek, died in my arms of a communicative respiratory virus. Hamhead lived to very old age, but ended her life bloated, bald, and hideous.
10) Every time I am trying to think of a word or recall a thought, my default word is "spaghetti." During this survey, as I've gotten distracted 756 times, I've thought spaghetti about as many times. Spaghetti. Spaghetti. Spaghetti.
*Apology owed to Charlotte who linked me at my own request. This took way longer than I expected.
1) I sleep with a full-sized, blue body pillow. Every night for the past five and a half years. All through my pregnancy with Sophie, then with Eleanor, and finally with Josephine. With each baby, I swore to Bill that once I gave birth, I'd put the pillow away. But then came the newborn days, and pillow was my boppy, my bouncy seat, my sleep positioner, my breastmilk-poop-drool-and-vomit-covered buddy. And now I don't know how to sleep without it. In fact, I swear on its potency so vehemently that when Bill starting developing a neck ache in the mornings, I gave him my precious body pillow. (That's real love.) But, if I'm being honest, I've not exactly had the best nights' sleeps. I'm not thrilled at the prospect of two body pillows and two bodies in one queen sized bed. So I either need to get Bill hooked on muscle relaxers, get used to trading off, or schedule him a visit to the chiropractor. We shall see, but as I am cheap and greedy, I'm firmly in the muscle relaxer camp. (But, really, if he feels better, he can have the body pillow every night.) Update: I've got my pillow back. :o)
2) In my (not so) humble opinion, I think there is nothing more bad ass than a barber shop quartet. Every time I hear one, I get chills up my spine. Here is a new favorite of mine, who I recently fell in love with via my Folklore and Folklife class. Could anything be more fly? Nope.
3) Speaking of music, I want to hate Sam Cooke. I do. Because a Sam Cooke cd got jammed in my cd player and began a series of events that culminated in the destruction of the stereo. But, how can you hate someone who makes you want to melt through the floor? Something like this could almost make an atheist believe in Jesus. And if Jesus really is all about real, good love, nothing beats this. Or this. Or I get too siced and can't hate him for a single solitary moment.
4) Speaking of Sam Cooke, I used to be a competitive horseback rider. I know, stay with me. But, as I am with all things, I was a nervous rider. Riding in general gave me those nervous thrills that make life worthwhile. But, horseshows took it to the next level. Until I found a Sam Cooke song that fit the rhythm of a horse's canter. So every time I cantered, particularly on a green horse that needed a serious seat, active leg support, plenty of halfhalts, etc., I sang, Another Saturday Night. If you've ever cantered a horse, try and tell me this doesn't mimic the rhythm perfectly. I dare you. If you've never cantered a horse, you should try it some time. It can really be heavenly. But, just so you can see how perfectly the beat fits, here's a video I found on the net. If you care to, play these two side by side.
5) Moving on, ahem, to something entirely unrelated. I am a movie re-watcher. I have seen The Devil Wears Prada approximately 75 times. I don't think that's any exaggeration. At this very moment, Eleanor and I are watching Babe. Which I've seen 50 times or me. I've also watched The Little Rascals, As Good As It Gets, Save the Last Dance. And so many more I can't think of now. If it's good (or not, apparently), it gets a lot of play around here. Anyway, right now I am onto my other guilty viewing pleasure, which is Weeds. The glorious Maura Bayly has provided me with the first four seasons so far. I've watched two-and-a-half seasons, over the last week. Yikes.
6) Continuing this trend of admitting my weird obsession with rhythms, repetitions, and patterns, I'll admit something about baking. For the last few months, I've been making banana bread three times a week. One week in April, I baked banana bread every day. I wish I had some right now, because as I mentioned above, it's finals time. Which brings me to number seven.
7) Some people are stress eaters. But, for better or worse, I am a stress non-eater. Generally this works out ok, because a few weeks of stress round out with a few more weeks of a very healthy appetite. But when finals come around, my tendency is to retreat to coffee and carrots. And, so that brings me back to number six. So that I won't totally fall apart, I need to bake some banana bread. It is one of two foods that is always always always appealing.
8) Now for the other food that hits the spot 95% of the time - Hunan House. The Double H has been in my life for 15 years. There were definitely times in my life when I was getting their amazing vegetarian Chinese food upwards of three times a week. (Now, I'm down to once a month, because they're up to $25 for me and Bill to get take out). But, I'd eat Vegetarian Boneless Chicken in the Chef's Spicy Sauce and Vegetarian General Tso's Chicken in any instant any day. In fact, I have some of my fix in my fridge right now. Delightful.
9) This one is sad and a little graphic. Once I crushed my own gerbil with my knee. At age ten. We were doing a gerbil and hamster derby at my house. This meant vhs tapes stacked to create a maze, and rodents running wild. At one point, I lost track of the ironically-named Limbo. I was squatting on the floor. And just as I asked "Where's Limbo?" I dropped to my knees to stabilize. And crunched Limbo's tiny skull. It was one of the worst moments of my life. As a preteen, my father held me as I trembled and wept. I was definitely traumatized, but it was only one of the horrific deaths suffered by our critter friends. Pappy flew into a pot of soup. Houdini got a pellet stuck in his nether regions and exploded. Baby Blue was stepped on by my mom during a fit of rage thrown by my sister - he lived with a broken foot until I might have forgotten to feed him. My precious guinea pigs, Betsy, Pluto, and Star Trek, died in my arms of a communicative respiratory virus. Hamhead lived to very old age, but ended her life bloated, bald, and hideous.
10) Every time I am trying to think of a word or recall a thought, my default word is "spaghetti." During this survey, as I've gotten distracted 756 times, I've thought spaghetti about as many times. Spaghetti. Spaghetti. Spaghetti.
*Apology owed to Charlotte who linked me at my own request. This took way longer than I expected.
Monday, May 03, 2010
A New Target for my Hate.
And, I don't mean "hate" really. In this case, I mean an odd melange of anger, disdain, and confusion. But, my goodness, what am I to make of MckDaddy?
I have been trying to stop reading My Charming Kids for a full year. I don't agree with anything she says. And, her followers agitate the crap out of my already bleeding heart. But, one, it's like watching a train wreck. And, two, the first two letters of her blog URL happen to be shared by one of my real favorite blogs. So, it's a natural progression from a family of six I love, eat crabs with on the weekends, and communicate with daily to a family of six I feel questionably about, never hope to meet, and promise never to ever e-comment to again.
Anyway...I don't really hate MckMama. I don't agree with her very public take...on anything. But, whatever. But, MckDaddy? All I can think when I occasionally read his posts is that he must be of low IQ. How does the author of this function in society? Oh wait, he doesn't care about functioning in society, because that would be...wait for it...socialism.
I am sorry. For myself. For my five readers. For MckMama. For the world.
I have been trying to stop reading My Charming Kids for a full year. I don't agree with anything she says. And, her followers agitate the crap out of my already bleeding heart. But, one, it's like watching a train wreck. And, two, the first two letters of her blog URL happen to be shared by one of my real favorite blogs. So, it's a natural progression from a family of six I love, eat crabs with on the weekends, and communicate with daily to a family of six I feel questionably about, never hope to meet, and promise never to ever e-comment to again.
Anyway...I don't really hate MckMama. I don't agree with her very public take...on anything. But, whatever. But, MckDaddy? All I can think when I occasionally read his posts is that he must be of low IQ. How does the author of this function in society? Oh wait, he doesn't care about functioning in society, because that would be...wait for it...socialism.
I am sorry. For myself. For my five readers. For MckMama. For the world.
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