I just found a Cheerio in my bra.
I've officially crossed the line over into More-Mom-Than-Woman land.
I probably have a rice cake matted in the back of my hair and don't even know it. With the minivan coming soon, I might as well carry Cheerios in my bra and sippy cups in a secret pocket of my sensible underwear.
I give up, I'm not even going to try to change out of my sweat pants today. On a brighter note, think of all the money will save on water from my would-be showers.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Beautiful Blunder
Disclaimer, if you are easily shocked or outraged, you may want to stop reading.
Today I told Eli I was thinking of entering Marina into a Beautiful Baby contest (yes, I plan to exploit her) so she can win college tuition and a year's worth of free food. He told me that was not a good idea. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Eli, should we enter Marina into the Beautiful Baby contest?
Eli: NO!
Me: Why not?
Eli: Because she is not beautiful!
Me: Really? You don't think she's beautiful?
Eli: No! Because she's got no long hair or boobies.
Meet my son. He's four, going on fourteen. I honestly don't know where he got this idea. Usually I can trace most of his shocking behavior back to myself (though I rarely admit it) but this was over the line. Since I was so surprised by his comment, I didn't really correct him. I just turned away so I could laugh. I think his dad is going to have to sit him down for a man-to-man conversation about his shallow regard for females with certain assets.
Today I told Eli I was thinking of entering Marina into a Beautiful Baby contest (yes, I plan to exploit her) so she can win college tuition and a year's worth of free food. He told me that was not a good idea. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Eli, should we enter Marina into the Beautiful Baby contest?
Eli: NO!
Me: Why not?
Eli: Because she is not beautiful!
Me: Really? You don't think she's beautiful?
Eli: No! Because she's got no long hair or boobies.
Meet my son. He's four, going on fourteen. I honestly don't know where he got this idea. Usually I can trace most of his shocking behavior back to myself (though I rarely admit it) but this was over the line. Since I was so surprised by his comment, I didn't really correct him. I just turned away so I could laugh. I think his dad is going to have to sit him down for a man-to-man conversation about his shallow regard for females with certain assets.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Pharaoh, Pharaoh!
Sometimes I see my kids and I think they look so cute that I have to run for my camera. Then I snap away and for whatever reason none of the pictures turn out. Today Eli looked so funny with his pilgrim hat on but what I saw with my eyes and what my camera captured did not coincide.
Eli told me that he looked like Pharaoh in his hat and that he was making his lobster face. I am sharing these photos in case you have any curiosity about what a lobster-face Pharaoh looks like.
Eli told me that he looked like Pharaoh in his hat and that he was making his lobster face. I am sharing these photos in case you have any curiosity about what a lobster-face Pharaoh looks like.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Unraveling Undies
Dear Eli,
If you are looking for the other three-quarters of your Diego underwear, it was busy hog-tying the clothes in my dryer. It took me a full 8 minutes to undo it all.
This brings to mind all the days of the past where my elastic-banded underwear would unravel and long strings would hang out of the top of my pants. I would find it and try to inconspicuously pull and pull until the string would be 17 feet long and my underwear would no longer stay up on their own (this may or may not have happened to me last week).
While I should just throw out the offending Diego underwear, I will likely not and you will be receiving another of these messages next week when the remaining quarter of your undies will be wrapped around my dish towels.
Love,
Your Housekeeper
P.S. I'm including a picture as evidence
If you are looking for the other three-quarters of your Diego underwear, it was busy hog-tying the clothes in my dryer. It took me a full 8 minutes to undo it all.
This brings to mind all the days of the past where my elastic-banded underwear would unravel and long strings would hang out of the top of my pants. I would find it and try to inconspicuously pull and pull until the string would be 17 feet long and my underwear would no longer stay up on their own (this may or may not have happened to me last week).
While I should just throw out the offending Diego underwear, I will likely not and you will be receiving another of these messages next week when the remaining quarter of your undies will be wrapped around my dish towels.
Love,
Your Housekeeper
P.S. I'm including a picture as evidence
Rush Hour
I feel like I am constantly rushing. I rush around every day because we have to follow a well-orchestrated schedule or no one gets anywhere on time. I rush the kids through breakfast, then we have a minute of semi-calm where Marina and Eli try to destroy the house until Marina's nap. Then Eli tries to wake her up after she goes to sleep. We have to start lunch at 11, which I rush so we can get dressed with teeth brushed and ready to walk out of the house at 12:10. Then we quickly rush to Eli's school so I can be on time to drop off Marina at the babysitter. I then have to rush all the way to work then run through the parking lot so I am not late for the start of my shift. Then for fifteen minutes there is a terrible rush because the commodities markets are about to close and everyone is in a yelling hurry. Starting at 1:15 and on, there is a slower pace until I rush around before the night market opens. When it is time to go home, I rush to my car so I don't get killed in the parking lot, then drive quickly home so I can put my kids to bed. I hurry them into bed so they don't get overly tired. When they are finally asleep, I am not rushing anymore. I am casually folding laundry and doing various craft projects. Each night, I am struck with the odd feeling that comes when I am not rushing. What should I do with my time? I am never short of a To-Do list, only on the motivation to complete it.
This feeling of needing to hurry through everything extends to more than just my day. Sometimes I feel like it is defining me. With my kids, I feel like I have been constantly trying to get to the next stage. When I was pregnant, I couldn't wait to not be pregnant anymore. Then I had a newborn and all I wanted was him/her to sleep through the night. Then I was trying to hurry him and her into sitting up, crawling, standing, and walking. I couldn't wait to stop nursing, to stop buying diapers, till Eli could feed and dress himself. Now I want the kids to be old enough where they don't get every sickness that walks by them and where they can take themselves to the toilet to throw up. We are in a constant rush to get to the next stage when we will have a bigger house where the kids can run around and all of our belongings will not be stacked in the corner (though we are not delusional enough to think we will suddenly be cleaner if we live in a new house).
But with all of this rushing, I think I might be missing the details that make life so beautiful. I have been told dozens of time to enjoy the time I have with these kids because it goes entirely too quickly. This seems like ridiculous advice when I am staring at the clock at 4 am while holding a teething baby, but in the morning, the furious pace starts again.
I look at Eli and can't believe he is going to be five in a few short months. There will be a time where he won't want to lie under a blanket with me and pretend to sleep. It won't be all that long before Marina thinks I am the most nerdy, ridiculous mom and she won't want to be seen with me (in her defense, I don't even want to be seen with me).
I don't want to be standing at my daughter's wedding and realize I missed most of her life and her brother's because I was busy yelling at them to finish their dinner. So somehow, today, I want to take a minute and just enjoy life; enjoy the mess, enjoy the tardiness, and enjoy the chaos that accompanies raising children. I am blessed to be a mom and I don't want to squander that.
Maybe I should take out the finger paints today...
This feeling of needing to hurry through everything extends to more than just my day. Sometimes I feel like it is defining me. With my kids, I feel like I have been constantly trying to get to the next stage. When I was pregnant, I couldn't wait to not be pregnant anymore. Then I had a newborn and all I wanted was him/her to sleep through the night. Then I was trying to hurry him and her into sitting up, crawling, standing, and walking. I couldn't wait to stop nursing, to stop buying diapers, till Eli could feed and dress himself. Now I want the kids to be old enough where they don't get every sickness that walks by them and where they can take themselves to the toilet to throw up. We are in a constant rush to get to the next stage when we will have a bigger house where the kids can run around and all of our belongings will not be stacked in the corner (though we are not delusional enough to think we will suddenly be cleaner if we live in a new house).
But with all of this rushing, I think I might be missing the details that make life so beautiful. I have been told dozens of time to enjoy the time I have with these kids because it goes entirely too quickly. This seems like ridiculous advice when I am staring at the clock at 4 am while holding a teething baby, but in the morning, the furious pace starts again.
I look at Eli and can't believe he is going to be five in a few short months. There will be a time where he won't want to lie under a blanket with me and pretend to sleep. It won't be all that long before Marina thinks I am the most nerdy, ridiculous mom and she won't want to be seen with me (in her defense, I don't even want to be seen with me).
I don't want to be standing at my daughter's wedding and realize I missed most of her life and her brother's because I was busy yelling at them to finish their dinner. So somehow, today, I want to take a minute and just enjoy life; enjoy the mess, enjoy the tardiness, and enjoy the chaos that accompanies raising children. I am blessed to be a mom and I don't want to squander that.
Maybe I should take out the finger paints today...
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Have-ta Laugh-ta
For me, one thing that help keep the wheels moving is laughter. In our house, there are plenty of laughs and for that I am very grateful. Most of what Eli says and what Marina does is funny.
Here are a couple of quotes from the last two days that I thought I would share.
In my immediate family, we have an interesting way to show our affection; we call each other names. Outside observers are often appalled at the casual way we sling "butthead" around or drop a "fart face" here and there. To us, there is no sting in the words. In all the years of dating and being married to me, Mark has grown accustomed to this foolishness, though he rarely participates in the barbs.
The other night, we were putting the kids to bed and Eli was having a little trouble winding down. So I said, "Hey, Stink Butt, calm down!" Eli immediately responded, "I am calm, tiny boobies!" I was stunned. I had to try not to laugh in his face.
This morning, Marina was walking around and grabbed a piece of clothing from my laundry pile and pretended she was blowing her nose on it (this is what she does with everything - toilet paper, baby wipes, etc). Eli noticed that the article of clothing was a pair of his underwear. He yelled, "Look Mommy! Marina is smelling my underwear and she thinks it smells decaved!" (This in Eli language means decayed.) Eli started laughing which caused Marina to start with her giggles. Then they both ran in circles while Eli chanted, "Decaved Underwear, Decaved Underwear!"
The joys of children are endless, especially when they wake up at a semi-decent hour and don't give you the business all day. I love my life, even though our house is small and messy and my personal hygiene has fallen by the wayside. At least we still laugh every day.
Here are a couple of quotes from the last two days that I thought I would share.
In my immediate family, we have an interesting way to show our affection; we call each other names. Outside observers are often appalled at the casual way we sling "butthead" around or drop a "fart face" here and there. To us, there is no sting in the words. In all the years of dating and being married to me, Mark has grown accustomed to this foolishness, though he rarely participates in the barbs.
The other night, we were putting the kids to bed and Eli was having a little trouble winding down. So I said, "Hey, Stink Butt, calm down!" Eli immediately responded, "I am calm, tiny boobies!" I was stunned. I had to try not to laugh in his face.
This morning, Marina was walking around and grabbed a piece of clothing from my laundry pile and pretended she was blowing her nose on it (this is what she does with everything - toilet paper, baby wipes, etc). Eli noticed that the article of clothing was a pair of his underwear. He yelled, "Look Mommy! Marina is smelling my underwear and she thinks it smells decaved!" (This in Eli language means decayed.) Eli started laughing which caused Marina to start with her giggles. Then they both ran in circles while Eli chanted, "Decaved Underwear, Decaved Underwear!"
The joys of children are endless, especially when they wake up at a semi-decent hour and don't give you the business all day. I love my life, even though our house is small and messy and my personal hygiene has fallen by the wayside. At least we still laugh every day.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
This is the Stuff of Life
Here are a few disjointed thoughts:
Eli has recently informed me that gasoline is the most beautiful of all smells. He has brought this up several times. I think we may have some problems coming in the future.
The combination of daylight savings time change plus molars erupting in a toddler is a lethal one. This morning started at 3:55 am.
On being tired...
I never realize that I have issues with being overtired and crabby until one of my detestable cats do something to irritate me. Then my reaction is disproportionately irate. This morning at 6:20 am, while I was trying to put my contacts in eyes that were only partially opened, Fat Linda decided to perform her usual "all up in my business trick" on the bathroom counter, walking around knocking everything over with her rotund, clumsy body. When my open contacts case hit the floor, something inside me cracked and I lost it. I screamed, "Stinking Linda! You fat piece of crap!" (I might have used another word, but it was early and my mind is still foggy, I'll know when I hear one of my kids walking around saying it today). She narrowly escaped being thrown outside.
On exercise...
I've heard that exercise can decrease stress and your pants size (and bolster a flat butt) so every day, I have been running in place in my living room for 4 hours. There is a hole in my carpet and my children, who have been left unattended, have repainted my kitchen. I think I am ready to sign up for the next Chicago marathon. I could literally give those Kenyans a run for their money.
On my vehicle...
You may recall that I am stubbornly opposed to driving a minivan. Yes, it may make sense when you have two kids and are at a certain stage in life but I can't seem to shake this feeling. The reason I bring this up again is that Mark and I have the opportunity to acquire a minivan (we are not going to steal it). Mark is all for it and I am dragging my feet. He has offered to make it his main vehicle so I can continue to drive my beloved Honda Civic. This is the length my pride will take me (but maybe any potential vixens who are eyeing my husband will be dissuaded by his 'family vehicle'). Where does this all come from? I have an idea... When I was 17, my mom told me I could have a car to take to college with me. I was thrilled. Then she gave me her old blue Astro minivan. As a freshman in college, I drove this van all over the place, though only by necessity. Once, I drove it from Chicago to visit my sister in Indiana. When I arrived, I opened the driver side door, only to have it fall off. Oops. Ariana, in a moment of pure genius, came outside to rescue me with a roll of duct tape. Shortly after that, the sliding side door came off the hinges and had to be locked closed and therefore never used. So, the only access to the van was through the passenger side door. To top it all off, the exhaust system fell off at some point so it always sounded like a lawn mower. Perhaps it is this experience that haunts my subconscious and begs me not to drive a van again. Unfortunately, I am losing the battle and you will likely see my husband driving our new (to us) family vehicle around soon. I'm old; time to deal with it. Maybe I should start wearing leather mini skirts to compensate (it's a good thing I have been running a marathon every day).
On with my life...
Eli has recently informed me that gasoline is the most beautiful of all smells. He has brought this up several times. I think we may have some problems coming in the future.
The combination of daylight savings time change plus molars erupting in a toddler is a lethal one. This morning started at 3:55 am.
On being tired...
I never realize that I have issues with being overtired and crabby until one of my detestable cats do something to irritate me. Then my reaction is disproportionately irate. This morning at 6:20 am, while I was trying to put my contacts in eyes that were only partially opened, Fat Linda decided to perform her usual "all up in my business trick" on the bathroom counter, walking around knocking everything over with her rotund, clumsy body. When my open contacts case hit the floor, something inside me cracked and I lost it. I screamed, "Stinking Linda! You fat piece of crap!" (I might have used another word, but it was early and my mind is still foggy, I'll know when I hear one of my kids walking around saying it today). She narrowly escaped being thrown outside.
On exercise...
I've heard that exercise can decrease stress and your pants size (and bolster a flat butt) so every day, I have been running in place in my living room for 4 hours. There is a hole in my carpet and my children, who have been left unattended, have repainted my kitchen. I think I am ready to sign up for the next Chicago marathon. I could literally give those Kenyans a run for their money.
On my vehicle...
You may recall that I am stubbornly opposed to driving a minivan. Yes, it may make sense when you have two kids and are at a certain stage in life but I can't seem to shake this feeling. The reason I bring this up again is that Mark and I have the opportunity to acquire a minivan (we are not going to steal it). Mark is all for it and I am dragging my feet. He has offered to make it his main vehicle so I can continue to drive my beloved Honda Civic. This is the length my pride will take me (but maybe any potential vixens who are eyeing my husband will be dissuaded by his 'family vehicle'). Where does this all come from? I have an idea... When I was 17, my mom told me I could have a car to take to college with me. I was thrilled. Then she gave me her old blue Astro minivan. As a freshman in college, I drove this van all over the place, though only by necessity. Once, I drove it from Chicago to visit my sister in Indiana. When I arrived, I opened the driver side door, only to have it fall off. Oops. Ariana, in a moment of pure genius, came outside to rescue me with a roll of duct tape. Shortly after that, the sliding side door came off the hinges and had to be locked closed and therefore never used. So, the only access to the van was through the passenger side door. To top it all off, the exhaust system fell off at some point so it always sounded like a lawn mower. Perhaps it is this experience that haunts my subconscious and begs me not to drive a van again. Unfortunately, I am losing the battle and you will likely see my husband driving our new (to us) family vehicle around soon. I'm old; time to deal with it. Maybe I should start wearing leather mini skirts to compensate (it's a good thing I have been running a marathon every day).
On with my life...
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