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Kim has posted a poll over at With and Without Creative Inspiration. We're thinking about doing another swap. If you want in, or want to torture us with our least favorite pick, you know - whatever, go over and vote.
(You'll notice I've been very, very absent from that site for a very, very long time. I suck, what more can I say? I need to get back to crafty, I know. I'll be back over there as soon as I get off my lazy butt and do something worth bragging about, pinky swear.)
(I'm probably going to regret asking, but... )
No, we’re not actually started this yet. (Could you IMAGINE? Gasp! Choke! Hyperventilate!) But…. Li’l Miss M has taken serious interest in “potty” and “going potty” and attempting to tell me when she somehow thinks she might, maybe, probably not wants/needs to go potty. So obviously I don’t have a lot of time left (before I want to just DIE already!). When it comes to the process of, I’ll rely on books and tips and tricks from those I know and whatever – pretty much like I do everything else. But right now my concern is – what kind of “potty” is better to start out with? The kind that sits on the toilet seat itself? The kind that sits on the floor? Pros? Cons? Ideas? Suggestions? Recommendation? Any advice at all? I need to start shopping for one I think but don’t want to buy one just to find out later I should have bought the other one. But… if it’s anything else like “kid gear” each kid is so picky and individual I’m going to end up buying them both. What did you do? Or, what are you planning to do? What worked best for you?
I think we had a pretty good weekend.
Instead of making two separate posts I am just throwing two completely unrelated items together. I’m lazy like that.
A list of what my child ate today:
9 (Yes, NINE) medallion pancakes
3 cookies
Some pasta
A cup of peaches
Some chunks of chicken
A piece of chocolate
1 pack of fruit snacks
Bite of an apple
A few bites of spaghetti
2 bananas
½ Southwestern Eggroll
¼ Cheese Quesadilla
My child who barely weighs 22 lbs. Ate all of that. In one day. And was still begging for food when I finally put her to bed. This cannot be another growth spurt. She just went through one and we had to get rid of most of her clothes. I can’t afford to get rid of the rest of them! She needs to slow way the hell down.
And on to much more fun for me stuff…
I participated in the Pink and Brown Color Me Happy Swaparooni this month. I put together what I thought would be a really great package for my swap partner (don’t wanna post the details here just in case she stumbles across this post). It was so cute. Even included stuff for her kids. It’s my favorite color combination so of course I had a ball. But… Then… I put it in the mail and…. It got lost. I sent it two weeks ago and she still doesn’t have it. I am sooooo angry, frustrated, sad, everything. Ugh! Anyway, my swap partner sent me the coolest loot so I thought I’d share. She even included stuff for Li’l Miss M. Disney stuff nonetheless. I love it all.
We'll call this "Many Faces of Baby"
Here is Classical Pianist Baby:
Gamer Baby:
Dancer Baby:
And, Socialite Baby:
There. I feel much better now. Whew. It was so serious around here!
I generously invited my sister to play along with us in Project Say Something. She generously made me look like a fool her first time out. She always has to out-do me and be better.* Geeze - no wonder I didn’t let her play with me when we were kids!
Other than having/raising children, what is one thing you can say you have done (or are doing) that will make the world a better place?
Well let me just start by saying let’s hope I *do* that in raising my child. I fear what might come in the teenage years. So let’s all keep our fingers crossed, ‘mkay?
This is where I almost regret asking my sister to play. She comes in and calls me out on the slacker/horrible person that I am. But if anyone is going to do that, it better be my sister!
I really don’t have an answer for this question. Or, rather, the answer is “nothing.” I’m making no gigantic gestures to change anything. I’m taking no steps to improve the world. Hell, I still let the grocery store put my groceries in plastic bags. (That one I am hoping to correct ASAP, by the way.) I’m not involved in any great, amazing cause or charity.
“Think smaller.” Is there anything I do on a small scale to make the world better? “The world?” No. The worlds' of those I know? I try. I hope to make my daughter’s world a good, happy, healthy place. I know I very often make my husband’s world miserable. (And sometimes do a happy dance for it.) I’ve actually been thinking about these things a lot lately. What can I do that’s good? I know there are people out there who don’t give a rat’s ass how they treat people or how they make others feel. I try very, very hard to not be one of those people. I think more people in the world caring about that would make everyone’s world a better place.
“I don’t do bad” does not mean “I do good.” And that’s what I need to work on. On doing more good. I’m not sure how but it’s been one of those things at the forefront of my mind since having a child. What kind of example do I want to set? What do I want to teach her and have her learn from me as a person? I want her to do good and to be good. So I need to get on the ball and start doing it myself. One step at a time. I am a nice person who loves to do good by those I love, who loves to make people smile and feel good. I can do more. So much more.
So thanks a lot, little sister. You forced me to out myself as the slacker I am. But given that it’s something I already knew, I’ll still let you play with me and my friends. See? Being nice. And forgiving. That? I can do well.
You want to hear about someone who is doing something to make the world a better place? Actively and on a large scale? Go check her out. Simply awesome. She can definitely answer this question well.
*She doesn't have to. She just is. Kinda hate her for that.
I’m sure everyone has heard all about the photo shoot Lindsay Lohan (you'll wanna wait til you're not at work for that one) did recreating the last photo shoot of Marilyn Monroe. Oh? You haven’t? Which rock are you living under these days?
I’m not here to discuss the nakedness (or the nudeness) or talk about the morality or the Lindsay-drama or any of that. No, I simply want to address something it made me realize. Looking at a few of the pictures, I thought, “Huh. You know, that just doesn’t do anything for me. There’s something just not right. They’re actually kind of ew.” But then I realized that I *liked* the pictures of Marilyn. So what’s the difference? A few dress sizes.
Apparently Marilyn Monroe was a size 12. I’m sure Lindsay Lohan is a size 4, maybe a 6 TOPS (after downing about 10 cheeseburgers). Lindsay was too skinny. That’s why the pictures weren’t attractive to me. That's why they seemed "off." To have a contrast like that really opened my eyes. To see someone with a fuller firgure in direct contrast with one of the teeny-tiny starts of now. And the teeny-tiny was just wrong. That makes no sense. I’m not a gigantic person, I’m certainly not a small person. I don’t find the Nicole Richie, Calista Flockheart bone-thin grossly-skinny even remotely attractive. But slender, thin, truly healthy, sure. Would I think a size 12 would be just that? Not really. I sure didn’t when I was a size 12. And it’s not that Lindsay looks unhealthily thin in her pictures. There’s just something about Marilyn’s full figure that worked. Much more so, apparently, than the size 2 we’re being force-fed these days. I may be alone in that thought. I’m okay with that. It just caught me by surprise that I, the one who would love to be a size 6, found the size 12 much more appealing than the size 4 or 6 or however freaking too-small she is. That’s all.
Today is the kind of day that makes me want to give in and commit to taking a pill a day. Just to be a little stable, a little tolerant tolerable. It’s not like I have anything against medication – or taking it – I don’t really know why I haven’t already decided to take that step to make my life (as well as everyone else’s around me) a little better. Except for the fact that I can’t commit to doing anything – let alone daily. But I digress… The day… I’m in a colossally shitty mood and I guess, technically, it started yesterday. Remember how much I love Mondays? Yeah. Yesterday was no different. Here’s the rundown for you:
The third Monday of every month is Cleaning-Lady day. I worked my ass off all weekend to get everything picked up and put away so she could do her thing. It was also a holiday so I was off work and Twerp-Baby was out of day care. So we got up extra early and got dressed and out of the house so we wouldn’t be in Cleaning Lady’s way. Twerp-Baby (as she will be known in this post because GRRRR Twerp!) hadn’t slept the night before which meant I hadn’t slept the night before so I was pretty sure it was going to be a long day from the get-go.
We dropped off the dry-cleaning. Hey, that went smoothly. Woo!
We went to breakfast. Stupid. Here’s where everything turns on its head and the Monday-Monsters come out to play. Twerp-Baby did not want to stay in her high chair. She wanted to get down and run and she was not afraid of very vocally letting me know about it. I did win that battle, slowly. Then the bill came and what I expected to be a $10-15 meal (on the high side even!) was a $20 meal. Whatever. (Buying kids’ meals that don’t even get touched has become my favorite pastime apparently. Seriously – I can’t win. I don’t buy her her own and she steals all of mine, I do – she won’t even look at it. Again – Whatever.)
She’s already crabby and tired because she hadn’t slept all night. But, it was only 10:00 and no way would Cleaning Lady be finished yet. So off to Target to return a humidifier I bought over the weekend. One that leaked all over the bedroom floor. Woo. And, of course, grab a few other things I had forgotten the last time I was there. Gave Broken Humidifier to nice Target-Lady and went to get a new one. A not cute one. Fine. And instead of getting the few other things I needed, I was so frazzled by whining, crabby, Twerp-Baby, we just exchanged the humidifier and got outta there.
Then it was on to the grocery store to grab a few items we were out of and the list of crap the kid needs at day care. (What’s with running out of everything all at once? I don’t have enough hands to carry all that in PLUS you! In the future, child, please plan better.) Survived that to have spent way too much money on a whole lot of nothing.
Stop off on the way home, just to give Cleaning Lady a little longer if she needs it, to FINALLY wash my filthy car. Freeze my butt off in the insane wind with the freezing cold water washing all the dirt and sand and gunk off the car. Just to finish and take a look at it and realize, “Huh. It doesn’t look a bit better than it did BEFORE I washed it.”
So we head home. Expecting to walk in to a freshly-cleaned, sparkling house. Uhhh… Where the hell’s the cleaning lady? NO FREAKING CLEANING-LADY! After all that! AND I’d had to pee for about two hours but didn’t want to go home and interrupt the ABSENT Cleaning-Lady. Bah. Whatever.*
I stupidly tell Grumpy-Husband about a scratch I noticed on my car door. (I think it was a scratch. I don’t know. I had a screaming, whining baby wanting out of the car so I didn’t get to get down and thoroughly examine it. Next time I will do that. To avoid the screaming, whining husband at least.) (He didn’t really. Really. Just made me feel guilty is all.) He says it’s my fault for parking next to people. Shutup.
After spending some time at home, we’re going stir-crazy and I’m about ready to lop off the head of a certain Twerp-Baby. The one that demands watching Mickey Mouse. No! Elmo. No! Mouse! No!.... So we ran another errand and in the process of putting Twerp-Baby back in the car, the wind SLAMS the door shut on my leg. I feel my knee bend forward (instead of backward like knees are supposed to do) and the bottom edge of the door hits right in the middle of my knee. At this point I’d had it. My mood quickly started matching my day.
We go home and after just a little while, a miracle happened. I’m not kidding. I will forever remember this awful day because one of the coolest things ever happened. Madeleine was watching a silly, little show while sitting on the couch. I looked over and out of the blue, completely on her own, just shortly before I was going to take her to her bed and let her scream her lungs out because I AM SO TIRED HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME NAP!? She had fallen asleep on the couch. By herself. Holy crap. Such a craptastic day and she goes and does this. She will always keep me guessing.
So skip ahead to last night… To the part where I am so tired I could just die. Having not slept the night before and the day I’d had, I was not a happy camper. I get Twerp-Baby ready for bed and as we sit down to rock and read her story, I burst in to tears. Because I don’t get to raise my child. Because I don’t get to just be the Mom. Because I am too selfish and all too financially irresponsible to be able to do so – now or anytime in the next, oh ten years. So as I sob through Goodnight Moon for the EIGHTmillionth time and put her to bed. She goes down without a peep. Hallelujah! It’s my turn!
…Like I said… Twerp-Baby. She wakes up RIGHT as I am falling asleep, screaming like a mad-woman. Wanting Daddy then Mommy then Milk then Daddy then NONONONONONO. So I take her down, plop her on the floor with her dad and head back upstairs to cry again. I tell myself it’s just because I am so freaking exhausted. It is.
So is today. Since she ended up in our bed hogging the bed and the pillows and randomly waking up screaming for no reason every now and again. And the migraine on top of the tired is only adding to it all. So Monday has run in to Tuesday. I know I need to deal with my mood and how I react to days like these. If days like this were rare, I’d chock it up to me being a wussy and just needing a nap. But they’re not. So instead, I’ll chock it up to me being a wussy who’s in desperate need of some prozac already! And a nap. Just a little one. Someday.
*Cleaning-Lady forgot that it was the third Monday until it was almost 5 PM. Grumble. Grumble. Oh well. Bygones.
Yesterday on my way to work, I spent half the time cursing the fact that I had to drive myself. Unlike every other morning where the cursing is because I'm tired or lazy or whiney or whatever, it was because I would have loved to have been able to just pull out the camera and start clicking away. We had a pretty crazy ice storm on Wednesday and driving through the remnants Thursday morning was pretty much unbelievable. I drive over a mountain to get to and from work every day and starting just before the mountain, all the way up and then down the other side, it was as if the world had been coated in diamonds. The shimmering, sparkling, dazzling light off the ice was easily one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. And it would probably be the only time I would ever see anything like that. One shot. And I couldn't get a picture. I was so disappointed. Afterall, it would be melted and dark by the time I headed home. And I'd still be driving myself. Dammit. So, instead, I took it all in. Looked at as much of it as I could and just sat in amazement of the serene, glimmering glass that was once trees, or powerlines, or street signs, or grass, or in one case, a truck.
But I got lucky. This morning on my way in, it was still there. Well, some of it. Kind of. And as I was gawking in amazement yet again, I about plowed into the back of a semi-truck going up the mountain (okay, not really but it was still a lot closer than I would have liked). So instead of pulling around the semi and hurrying in to work, I stayed behind him up the mountain. Going ten-fifteen miles an hour, I grabbed my camera and just started blindly clicking out the windshield. Granted, the majority of the pictures were of my dash or rear-view mirror, but I did manage to snap a few decent pictures. Sure, it wasn't nearly as sparkly and thick as it was yesterday but it was still terrible impressive.
We added a new member to our little group this week. Amy from Enigma Wrapped Mystery has joined us to ask and answer our weekly questions. Since we’re all about trial by fire, she gave the topic for this week:
What is one thing that you have and should throw away, but can't? Why or Why not?
Hi. I’m Kim. I’m a pack rat.
In other words, probably a good 60% of everything I own! Time and time again, I have thrown things out only to wish, down the road however far, that I would have kept whatever it was. So I go in cycles. I keep and then every so often, I purge. But ultimately, I keep. A lot.
I keep every card and every letter or note I am ever sent/given. I have every one since high school, some from my childhood. I probably shouldn’t keep every single one. I’ve even printed out some emails I’ve been sent through time. They’re organized, they’re sorted, they’re in specific binders and books. (I have never once denied that I am a freak.) I have no real reason to hold on to all of them.
Or my tassles from high school and college graduations. Why in the world do people keep those? Really? I have no idea why I do. But the idea of throwing them out just seems wrong.
An old Disney sweatshirt I was given right after high school. It hasn’t fit in a million years. But I’m sentimental and I can’t throw things out I’ve been given. I’ve only recently learned to get rid of things I’ve been given, that sometimes it really is okay to do so.
Yeah, the Disney sweatshirt is my answer. I should finally part with it. But I can’t.
I am behind again. Surprise surprise. Last week’s question was “If you could meet anyone – Who and Why?” Given that it was my question, you’d think I’d have a good answer – or an answer nonetheless. I don’t. One of my biggest pet peeves is meeting someone over and over again and them never remembering they’ve ever met me before. I remember everyone I meet, maybe not by name but by face at least. So I hate casual “meetings” that mean nothing. Working for executives, you get a lot of that. We’re the peons, the unimportant ones, the little people. So I don’t care to meet people who have no interest, desire or need to remember the fact that they’ve met me. Eight times already. (Really, I’m not bitter.)
Would Walt Disney remember me if I gave him a big hug and said “Thank you” through teary eyes? Not likely. Would Hillary Clinton remember yet another woman excited about and proud of what she’s doing? Ummm... probably not. Would David Duchovny remember me if I asked him, “Why won’t you love me?” Not a chance in hell. I could go on and on but you get the point.
If I were to meet anyone, I would want it to be more than a “meeting,” more than, “Hi, nice to meet you. Love your work.” I enjoy getting to know people, learning what makes them tick, how they’ve become who they are, and then milking them for all their life tips and tricks and how they get through the day to day. Yes, I love to learn from people.
Today I would love meeting spending some time with and getting to know any of these people:
Sarah from Whoorl
Heather from Dooce
Heather from OMSH
Brenda from Secret Agent Josephine
These are all women whose lives I get to spy on and see in to their personalities, their lives, their opinions and choices. And would still care to know. Each of them has personality traits, habits, ideals that I can completely relate to. But more importantly, they each have skills and qualities I admire. Things that I would love to sit and pick their brains about for hours and hours. I don’t know if it’s selfish, or natural, or what it is, but I like having people around who help me be a better person, who help me be better at what I do, who can teach me new things and help me develop new qualities/talents/skills/perspectives. And could totally help me be a better mother! I’ve been reading (too) many blogs for years and these four women are my four favorite. So if I could meet anyone in the world, they would certainly be on the top of that list. Yes, even above David Boreanaz or Dave Grohl or Ayn Rand or Nicole Kidman or Barbara Walters. Seriously.
But only barely above David Duchovny. (What? A girl's gotta have an obsession.)
- The flight from Chicago was a full one. A man went to sit down in the seat next to me. Madeleine screamed, "NO!" and then pointed and started crying hysterically. Oh how I wanted to climb under the seat and claim she was NOT mine.
- The other night we were hanging out on the couch and she was drinking her milk. After a few minutes, she handed it to me, curled herself up into her "sleeping ball" and started pretend snoring. Where'd that come from??
- Dropping her off at day care today was the hardest day since the day I came back from maternity leave. Well, that day wasn't even THAT bad, that one was pretty easy really. But this one? This one ripped my heart out, stomped on it and then proceeded to laugh at it and mock it for a good, long time.
Question: What was your neighborhood like growing up?
I’m a little afraid of answering this question. I think I’ll get grounded just for remembering my neighborhood. Which, I think, a good way to start is by saying that one summer, I spent the entire summer grounded. Not like, “You’re grounded for the whole summer” grounded but the every time I turned around it was a couple of days here, a week there as the summer days were wooshing by.
There were a lot of kids my age in my neighborhood. Girls, boys, with lots of other friends our ages that spent a lot of time in our neighborhood. A bunch of young teenagers always hanging out together is not a good thing. Not when it consisted of sleep-outs night after night, running around town (on foot, of course) at all hours of the night, the ages being jr. high to high school and even some college and none of us having any sense of well… sense. Winters may have been lacking the sleep-outs on some random person’s lawn but it didn’t limit the nights spent watching movies or playing games or getting in to some sort of trouble in someone else’s house.
It was a very fun neighborhood, even with all the trouble we would get in to and despite the fights that would start because we were such a mixed (and mixed up) group. My favorite memories of growing up are all things from that neighborhood, with those neighbors. But so are some of my worst memories. I learned a lot there though. About life, about people and about myself. I thought the world rotated for the friends there and yet, I don’t have one of them left and haven’t for ages. Well, that’s not entirely true. The one friend I had who didn’t get in to trouble with the rest of us, who kept me grounded and endlessly listened to me go on and on and on about the most recent crush while I’m sure just wanted to roll her eyes back into her head is still in touch off and on. And I’m okay with that. I can’t imagine where my life would have turned out had I stayed in with the rest of them. It wouldn’t have been good, that’s for damn sure. And I am sure my parents are breathing a sigh of relief that I realize that. And yet still wanting to bop me upside the head for those many years of torture and torment that I lovingly gave them.