tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283677062024-03-14T04:10:34.793-04:00tragically unhipI'm so badass in my minivan!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.comBlogger89125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-7957327414108722072009-08-17T07:07:00.003-04:002009-08-17T07:27:51.145-04:00i don't wanna you can't make me, or, the one where I make way too many TV references.Can it really be back-to-school time?<br /><br />I'm not ready!!!<br /><br />I don't want my babies to go back to school. I'll miss them! I want more summer! For crying out loud, summer just freaking started, like, last week!<br /><br />Not cool not cool not cool. I'm not ready.<br /><br />I want to, like, hide under a rock in the hopes that if I'm not paying attention to summer, it will stick around until I finally come out. Or something.<br /><br />I'm just not ready.<br /><br />You know that <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFsTPx5UrbA">commercial</a>? The one where the dad is jubilantly riding the shopping cart through Staples and in the background is that song, "It's the most wonderful time of the year!" and then the kids come drudging down the aisle behind him?<br /><br />That's so not me.<br /><br />And I do love shopping for school supplies. Dork.<br /><br />I just feel like, "OMG!!! We have to <em>do stuff</em>! and we have to <em>go places</em>!" I'm channelling Sandy from Spongebob Squarepants when she's about to go into <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxEtGBrj6Gk">hibernation </a>and she's all, "Hi-ber-<em>nay</em>-shunnn!"<br /><br />So. Today: beach with friends. Tomorrow: well, tomorrow's kinda cut because we've got two Zumba classes in the morning and one at night...so...Wednesday if it's not too hot we'll go hiking. Thursday...well, three classes on Thursday too so that's out. Then Friday we'll hit the playground that the kids have been begging to go to all summer but that is way the heck far away and maybe meet up with my sister. Then next week we'll swim at Papa's house. And then...and then...and then we'll have to go <em>school shopping!!!</em><br /><br />*sniffle*snort*<br /><br />Effing school. It's this time of year that makes me think I could actually homeschool. Except what I'd really mean is, "I could actually <em>keep the kids home and do whatever we want all day and maybe open a book once or twice</em>".Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-58775610494688381012008-12-17T13:41:00.002-05:002008-12-17T13:45:06.564-05:00that's it. i'm officially a grown-up.We bought a house!!!<br /><br />We just closed on it!<br /><br />I can go over and visit anytime I want!!<br /><br />OK, I just used the word "visit" to describe what happens when I go to the house we just bought, so obviously it hasn't quite sunk in yet. I actually called my husband from work the other night:<br /><br />Me: "So...I can just take the key? and go over? any time?"<br /><br />Him: "Uh...<em>yeah</em>."<br /><br />Me: "OK. Just checking." *hanging up, doing the happy dance*<br /><br />So we don't have to move until next week, which is good because there are other important things to do in the meantime like pack and get the hot water turned on and Oh yeah!! Open presents!! Woo hoo!<br /><br />And then PACK THEM ALL! <em>YES</em>!!!<br /><br />Exciting things are in the works for once we're settled.<br /><br />Like...a puppy.<br /><br />And...me quitting my job. Maybe.<br /><br />So...YAY! Happy 2009! ;)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-33487925937572794672008-11-11T18:41:00.002-05:002008-11-11T18:44:09.685-05:00thanksKinda busy...but couldn't let today go by without thanking our vets.<br /><br />I don't like war. I hate it, actually. It's unhealthy. It sucks.<br /><br />But it's real life, and if there has to be war, then I'm eternally thankful that there are men and women brave enough to fight in it. Because otherwise? We'd have to reinstate the draft, and probably for guys <em>and</em> girls, and trust me--you don't want <em>me</em> over there. I freeze under pressure.<br /><br />So thank you to anyone who is or was a part of our armed forces. You're the bravest people there are.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-5819384831141171452008-10-28T13:36:00.009-04:002008-10-28T14:04:22.588-04:00Halloween and, oh yeah, I'm outta here!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMs801f5RT8PCqDhRfIWl05FV-IRNho6ugAiXQTLmdSOqrKnKVjMq2m45qu8kHxSvjIgN0BszuNMzjUrhQkSIQAgbm-qtR_c3KFIw68mMHoKfLzonnlDsL83jqO1hVxHihoIfSbQ/s1600-h/halloween+2008_5.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMs801f5RT8PCqDhRfIWl05FV-IRNho6ugAiXQTLmdSOqrKnKVjMq2m45qu8kHxSvjIgN0BszuNMzjUrhQkSIQAgbm-qtR_c3KFIw68mMHoKfLzonnlDsL83jqO1hVxHihoIfSbQ/s320/halloween+2008_5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262263954235095362" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Thought I'd show you some pictures of the Halloween costume. I got to test-run it at a Halloween-themed class the other day which, by the way, was some of the best fun I've had as an instructor. I got to teach with two other great girls, and we had a blast!<br /><br />Didja notice the excellent purple dreads?<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRlTemALr19bhyphenhyphenIRjQjV4BroJC6AIwDGdNiVlSeXHieU9MZpUMs77nDXfe5DjZsPd1gimkZMZe1S7Gqq5YHFy5mXDmV8HhVgsUKZgnWfho9rqSNXdUVelH385rjbdZOcfXU6cpQA/s1600-h/halloween+2008_8.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRlTemALr19bhyphenhyphenIRjQjV4BroJC6AIwDGdNiVlSeXHieU9MZpUMs77nDXfe5DjZsPd1gimkZMZe1S7Gqq5YHFy5mXDmV8HhVgsUKZgnWfho9rqSNXdUVelH385rjbdZOcfXU6cpQA/s320/halloween+2008_8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262263950239864770" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Leg warmers!!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKBwTEeETAUy2hPAqzh7yo-GCLrw9gqF0-LsUGOh4-PqZ5WkQk302RKbs8ZFrv8csB7m-MuqRD7dO7fbwnquIVyvq1TAdbuHVyatG9c2JYcdQIKfl-FcNrFbkJYsKndPSto7FGA/s1600-h/halloween+2008_7.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKBwTEeETAUy2hPAqzh7yo-GCLrw9gqF0-LsUGOh4-PqZ5WkQk302RKbs8ZFrv8csB7m-MuqRD7dO7fbwnquIVyvq1TAdbuHVyatG9c2JYcdQIKfl-FcNrFbkJYsKndPSto7FGA/s320/halloween+2008_7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262263944531180610" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Spider ring! Actually, this I don't have anymore; it looked better on my sister so I gave it to her. Forgot to mention it might turn her finger green...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-UnrK1L-sqSS59LgXlYGMwaIPtTK6SnWoHWj49fHz3ZlTT6ZVFTh38R1dYybbl_Qc1eXegxBH6kv31sRKgx4Wbh7XUP4YT_ff-GSSNYV4sfunax8L6fx-ywxz5VuXUF29PuxY8A/s1600-h/halloween+2008_6.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-UnrK1L-sqSS59LgXlYGMwaIPtTK6SnWoHWj49fHz3ZlTT6ZVFTh38R1dYybbl_Qc1eXegxBH6kv31sRKgx4Wbh7XUP4YT_ff-GSSNYV4sfunax8L6fx-ywxz5VuXUF29PuxY8A/s320/halloween+2008_6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262263937572411458" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Too much makeup. Cuz, y'know, what's Halloween without makeup?!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOo4Pwtmm2S6koWTGChf9lMF_12JrGD1lDGA_1RLL08VzGL5N0EN9qf75bCI8yaOg28LIBq0t9sAx8tasv5S9taqC7jlp-moLycogOt5wiWQspc9hBMRHi78i_YY4BvPUysvMuw/s1600-h/halloween+2008.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOo4Pwtmm2S6koWTGChf9lMF_12JrGD1lDGA_1RLL08VzGL5N0EN9qf75bCI8yaOg28LIBq0t9sAx8tasv5S9taqC7jlp-moLycogOt5wiWQspc9hBMRHi78i_YY4BvPUysvMuw/s320/halloween+2008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262263932545874978" border="0" /></a><br /><br />LOVE my armwarmers, and the funky bracelets. The big joke that day was whether this was really a Halloween costume, since I'm frequently seen wearing this stuff anyway...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIbOXu4nYol3qTz-F7mBrffIcOUqfO04VepI5R5whtj4W4CDqZeRq7-A7-b_htPV4cq9avd1u3EZnfGCOiXCeB8wkha9Dm6h-dZZgwNskeOeKRAg8-ftUDGAw5z4LxD0N6DKvYtw/s1600-h/halloween+2008_10.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIbOXu4nYol3qTz-F7mBrffIcOUqfO04VepI5R5whtj4W4CDqZeRq7-A7-b_htPV4cq9avd1u3EZnfGCOiXCeB8wkha9Dm6h-dZZgwNskeOeKRAg8-ftUDGAw5z4LxD0N6DKvYtw/s320/halloween+2008_10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262265835490484658" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Another shot of the armwarmers, just so you could see my skirt. That skirt! Got me in a lot of trouble with the hubby, what with how much I spent on it...and the frilly purple hotpants underneath--Darn you, Hot Topic!--but I have a feeling he'll get over it the next time we go out and I wear it for him, with fishnets, as opposed to more-Zumba-appropriate leggings. :)<br /><br />So I'm sorry I haven't been in but what with convention coming, and throwing the girls a Halloween party and reading the Twilight series (I just need the last one! kind of like an alkie needs a drink...I <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> it's so bad but it's so good! LOL) and trying to <span style="font-style: italic;">buy a house</span> which? OMG! is totally nerve-wracking...I just haven't been here.<br /><br />But! I'll have lots to talk about after Convention, maybe even, like, the bank accepted our offer while I was in Florida...? maybe?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-3175321555096356192008-10-16T00:52:00.000-04:002008-10-16T00:53:33.549-04:00So, I got my review from my boss at the Y, where I teach <a href="http://www.zumba.com">Zumba</a>.<br /><br /> Hee!<br /><br /> I won't go into details--because, really, do you care?--but let's just say there were words used that I never hear in reviews for my <span style="font-style: italic;">other</span> job. Words like "outstanding". And "excellent".<br /><br /> I almost cried. But um, I think that would have scared my boss.<br /><br />See, I am so excited to teach Zumba--not that I need to tell <span style="font-style: italic;">you </span>that, if you've been reading for any time <span style="font-style: italic;">at all</span>--that I usually forget that it's my <span style="font-style: italic;">job</span>, that it's "work", which, really, is a pretty good way to work, right? And when I stop to think about it, and realize that I finally have a job that:<br /><ol><li>I'm good at</li><li>I love</li><li>I never want to stop doing</li><li>Actually pays me</li></ol> I can't help but get all misty-eyed. I mean, I've had lots of things that met one or maybe two of those requirements.<br /><br />There was the time I wrote for the school paper, but that didn't pay.<br /><br />There was the two seasons of working at the rennaisance faire. I played a pirate. It fulfilled numbers 2 and 3, anyway, but I don't know how good I really was--I was too busy playing around (and, um, flirting with cute rennie boys) to interact much with the patrons--and it sure didn't pay; I just did it for the fun.<br /><br />I miss that job!<br /><br />There have been all the crappy little jobs I've had since high school, which pay OK--and the crappy little job I have now that pays really quite well--but which totally suck and, for my current job, anyway, which I am not even any good at. I'm late all the time, I can't push a credit card application on someone to save my life, and I really don't give a flying crap about why you're returning it, just shut up and let me give you your money back already.<br /><br />There was the brief stint as a PR peon, but every time a press contact rebuffed my advances I'd take it personally and have to take a break outside to collect myself. Too bad; there were other parts of the job that were most excellent, including my lovely, gracious boss and all the event planning stuff, which I totally have to delve into one day...<br /><br />So anyway...here I am, completely <span style="font-style: italic;">stumbling</span> into this Zumba instructor gig via a desperate attempt to shrink my ginormous...assets...and look!<br /><br />I'm good!<br /><br />People come to my classes!<br /><br />We have fun!<br /><br />I get asked to do parties!<br /><br />I forget I'm working! <span style="font-style: italic;">That</span>'s certainly never happened before!<br /><br />I'm--dare I say it, and risk sounding seriously stuck up--sought after!<br /><br />I still can't believe it.<br /><br />I knew back from the very first Zumba class I took that this would be a blessing. I just never knew how huge a blessing it would be. To have something in which I am <span style="font-style: italic;">competent</span>...I can't even get into how big that is to me. I struggle a lot with being "just" a mom, which sucks--I want to be content because being a mom is awesome, a job in itself. I <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span> being a mom, which is a large part of why I don't have a "real" job and why I was able to get into teaching in the first place--but having Zumba allows me to be a mom <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> still quiet that part of me that needs to feel important and smart and good at something.<br /><br />'Cuz let's face it. Love it or not, I'm not so good at the mom thing. If you don't believe me, I'll tell you what I said just earlier today, when my husband told me there was a case of head lice reported at one of the Y's childwatch rooms:<br /><br />"That's OK--lice like <span style="font-style: italic;">clean </span>heads, so our kids should be all set." Which, incidentally, is just about the same thing I said when I found out that allergies are more prevalent in children living in very clean homes.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-25813410264859232152008-10-07T23:01:00.002-04:002008-10-07T23:15:47.754-04:00miss independentSo...more about miss Bek and her little independent streak.<br /><br />I've been sick. Did I mention that? Nasty-sick, complete with the expelling of large wads of green phlem.<br /><br />You're welcome.<br /><br />So, when I'm sick, I take lots of naps, partly because I'm convinced they'll help me feel better sooner, and partly because I love naps.<br /><br />So the other day, I put Bek in for a nap, and then, after checking to make sure she was asleep, headed to bed myself.<br /><br />Two hours later I crawled out of bed, thinking I would go in and get her from her crib.<br /><br />Haha!<br /><br />Bek was already downstairs, sitting quietly at the craft table--apparently her favorite I'm-not-sleeping place--talking to herself and playing quietly.<br /><br />And this morning! She was sitting at that same table again, regardless of the fact that no one else in the house was up.<br /><br />If this were either of my other children, they would--well, they wouldn't be able to get out of their crib; they would jump up and down yelling for me until I got them--but if they <span style="font-style: italic;">could</span> have climbed out of their crib, they would have come in my room to get me so I could love on them and get them breakfast. They never would have just doen it all themselves.<br /><br />There's a reason I have to think about it when someone asks me how old my kids are--my youngest is two but thinks she's five!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-9894219252852235592008-09-28T19:25:00.003-04:002008-09-28T19:27:44.259-04:00now that's attractive.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAKDva1xMCoTqmyOX0oTJTH3kCOT4E6lQUiWeAeytk7HRYZmePDtn4PUtKxI0sqCLlpAtgAQAelhqepk2k8swUW1oPGWLBGONIuhF9uMOZnkRcjsyYWctP2kod8FdWyNBL6WQ4g/s1600-h/100_0008.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAKDva1xMCoTqmyOX0oTJTH3kCOT4E6lQUiWeAeytk7HRYZmePDtn4PUtKxI0sqCLlpAtgAQAelhqepk2k8swUW1oPGWLBGONIuhF9uMOZnkRcjsyYWctP2kod8FdWyNBL6WQ4g/s320/100_0008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251217649325889442" border="0" /></a><br />I'm sick.<br /><br />I'll be back to write some stuff later on.<br /><br />Once the drugs kick in.<br /><br />Now don't step on my pile of snot-filled tissues on the way out.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-29101998303719588092008-09-25T13:55:00.004-04:002008-09-25T14:18:38.705-04:00I could handle being UNDERwhelmed once in a while. Just for a change of pace.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5pXofXA6N13fAqLsmZNh-GJCZ2JuhJAOpHnFB0piAXf98c3NHlfakXApKcdhonAtArPMNrvZShf3mcwuaL1EZNyphd5xw1gziC2CDfgzH4mAxzp3SkYBsZ7hqdG-WkBLFpUdK-Q/s1600-h/dancing.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5pXofXA6N13fAqLsmZNh-GJCZ2JuhJAOpHnFB0piAXf98c3NHlfakXApKcdhonAtArPMNrvZShf3mcwuaL1EZNyphd5xw1gziC2CDfgzH4mAxzp3SkYBsZ7hqdG-WkBLFpUdK-Q/s320/dancing.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250025018428354610" border="0" /></a><br />In approximately 24 hours I am leaving my family and driving three hours up to NH for a blessed, blissful weekend away.<br /><br />Aaaaaaaaaaaaah.<br /><br />From Friday night through Sunday lunchtime I will not have to pick up anyone's dirty underwear.<br /><br />I will not have to figure out what to feed anyone.<br /><br />I will not have to entertain anyone. Well, my friends are expecting me to bring Zumba stuff, but I can handle that.*<br /><br />I will not have to work.<br /><br />I will not have to work <span style="font-style: italic;">out</span>.<br /><br />I will not have to convince anyone that bedtime is a good thing.<br /><br />I will not have to shower. Although I will.<br /><br />I will not have to convince anyone to let me please sleep just another two and a half minutes. As a matter of fact, I can do exactly what I like to do: stay up super late playing volleyball, get up super early before the sun for some coffee and reading, and take a two-hour afternoon nap, if that's what I wanna do.<br /><br />Now, in order to prepare, I should be packing. I should be cleaning, so I can come home to a tidy-ish house. HAHA! like the kids aren't going to destroy it while I'm gone.<br /><br />Anyway, I am neither packing nor cleaning. I'm simultaneously blogging, chatting on facebook, and checking out the new <a href="http://www.ladyfootlocker.com/catalog/productdetail/model--94839%7E33485001/supercat--shoes/cm--54436/mvpid--prod_tp%7E54436/sport--all/">Zumba sneakers </a>I want. I tried them on today. They're <span style="font-style: italic;">wonderful</span>. And super-freakin cute.<br /><br />Anyway, I'm off tonight, so I have plenty of time to do that other stuff after I teach Zumba.<br /><br />Which reminds me--it's "Family Zumba" night tonight, so I have to go burn a CD of songs that don't involve quite so much hip thrusting and pony riding. Hm...<br /><br />The list, it is never ending.<br /><br />Thankfully, I have coffee. And two flavors of International Delight creamer. Which means I'm totally prepared.<br /><br />*I wasn't really <span style="font-style: italic;">planning</span> on bringing it all--I was <span style="font-style: italic;">planning </span>on being a total lazy-ass all weekend, not even planning to dress up for the Saturday Night Fun. Me! The queen of OOH! Let ME dress up for EVERYTHING! Lazy lazy lazy ass.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-14696889526187725802008-09-14T11:09:00.003-04:002008-09-14T11:30:44.854-04:00i love the rain<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCKcFP5-pJg-2bTu4IZbfH9v0f8DBwOtL4qJjfivtt9oknDpgcNRFlipHJ94AQQubRaNzD6fA_4yU8fadoAwxLAs9LfQfW_M_AkSuI0rEreCqrySGhYWolo88rwekIaepLqrXILw/s1600-h/bekskirt.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCKcFP5-pJg-2bTu4IZbfH9v0f8DBwOtL4qJjfivtt9oknDpgcNRFlipHJ94AQQubRaNzD6fA_4yU8fadoAwxLAs9LfQfW_M_AkSuI0rEreCqrySGhYWolo88rwekIaepLqrXILw/s320/bekskirt.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245899813491571090" border="0" /></a><br />Oh man, I am lovin this day!<br /><br />It's Sunday. I taught Sunday school to some cutie pie kids, then the hubby and our three girls went to soccer. So I skipped church service, came home, made myself some coffee (with dulce de leche international delight creamer, thank you God for <span style="font-style: italic;">that </span>little invention) lit my favorite candle, took my laptop over to the girls' desk for a little change of scenery, and now I'm just sitting here, typing and enjoying the sound of the rain.<br /><br />Anyway, on to what I came to write about...<br /><br />Bek. She's our two-and-a-half year old.<br /><br />She's going to drive me to <span style="font-style: italic;">drink</span>.<br /><br />Well, I mean, drink <span style="font-style: italic;">more</span>. Cuz, y'know, I do enjoy a margarita.<br /><br />OK so my little Bek, my little <span style="font-style: italic;">Bekster</span>, all of a sudden refuses to stay in her crib.<br /><br />I know, all you parents are out there saying, "Yeah? And? Is that it?"<br /><br />I know! I know you all have probably dealt with this with every one of your kids and now you're all pros at picking them up, calmly putting them back into bed, and leaving. Repeatedly. Until they finally get the message. Or rather, til they collapse from exhaustion.<br /><br />But [whining] I never had to <span style="font-style: italic;">deal </span>with this with my <span style="font-style: italic;">other</span> two girls!! They were so <span style="font-style: italic;">good</span>! They never climbed out of their crib. Fifty. times. a night! They never climbed out, saw me coming, whirled around, went back to bed, only to come <span style="font-style: italic;">right the hell back out</span> as soon as their bedroom door was closed and mommy was back downstairs! [/whining]<br /><br />Grr. I swear, she waits until she hears my rear end hit the couch. Then she swings her leg over the rail--the rail that is <span style="font-style: italic;">as high as her neck, </span>I don't know how the hell she does it--and drops down like a little ninja baby.<br /><br />OK, so what's a parent to do? We took the mattress out of the crib and set her up on the floor, figuring since she's so adept at climbing and we are powerless to stop her (short of tying her down--I swear last night my husband was about to pull out the bungee cords), we might as well keep her from breaking her dang neck. So <span style="font-style: italic;">of course</span> she just gets up and opens the door as soon as our backs are turned.<br /><br />Last night I was on the couch, watching <span style="font-style: italic;">The Mummy Returns</span> (what is it about Brendan Fraser and those movies? I stinkin love them!) and I <span style="font-style: italic;">thought</span> I heard something...something about three feet tall, about 30 pounds...so I went to investigate. I didn't see anything. I went through the kitchen and thought I smelled...a smell that's, um, unique to babies and some old people...but didn't see anything so I continued upstairs.<br /><br />Looked in Bek's room.<br /><br />No Bek.<br /><br />Big surprise there.<br /><br />Looked in the sisters' room, where she likes to go wake up her sisters, to much protestation. No Bek. Just snoring sisters.<br /><br />Now I'm all, <span style="font-style: italic;">what the hell?</span><br /><br />Then I remembered <span style="font-style: italic;">the smell</span>. So I backtracked through the kitchen to discover the culprit quietly playing with craft supplies at the art table.<br /><br />And stinking up the place.<br /><br />So we took care of the smell and headed for bed.<br /><br />And darn the little manipulative creature! I'm trying to do like all the experts say, and show no emotion as I carry her up to bed and staidly put her down and leave. But she wants to <span style="font-style: italic;">cuddle </span>me and <span style="font-style: italic;">hug </span>me and I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">pretty sure</span> she said "I love you," which she would <span style="font-style: italic;">have </span>to do <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">for the first time EVER</span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>while I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">trying</span> to be all collected and cool.<br /><br />Little stinker.<br /><br />Anyway, she kept coming down. Going straight for the art table, ever so stealthily. And I kept putting her back upstairs. Until <span style="font-style: italic;">finally</span>, at almost 10 o'clock, it occurred to me that I hadn't heard from her for a while. So I snuck up for a look, pretty sure that I'd open the door to her standing right on the other side.<br /><br />But all was well. She was finally asleep, looking deceptively sweet in repose.<br /><br />It's so evil, the way they make you love them so much. I left her room feeling all gushy with affection.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">That </span>lasted until 5 this morning, when she decided it was time to get up.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-90748278102672508832008-08-19T01:06:00.002-04:002008-08-19T01:08:42.839-04:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBXPMroSp-wwJbhJOJRVigHAm7Jj1_VLqoGp0afMUPVZY_SBJtJHvordT9lHuYPKjjJ3TBPPqnmdvsHOo1H4jSFPuY3IDDlHGvszMlw_wJiffcXP3i8zBRiDFGRZN3yFDGUOBU1A/s1600-h/100_0022.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBXPMroSp-wwJbhJOJRVigHAm7Jj1_VLqoGp0afMUPVZY_SBJtJHvordT9lHuYPKjjJ3TBPPqnmdvsHOo1H4jSFPuY3IDDlHGvszMlw_wJiffcXP3i8zBRiDFGRZN3yFDGUOBU1A/s400/100_0022.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236091083220194258" border="0" /></a>This is my shiner. 30 years old, and I finally get my first one. I'm so proud. :)<br /><br />The fabulous black eye you see here is courtesy of my two-year-old, who hit me with her head while we were playing. (I tried telling people I got in a fight, but no one freakin believes me! So much for upping my street cred...)<br /><br />She was lying next to me in bed, when she sat up. I thought (silly me!) that she was done playing so I moved my head to where she was, when KA-BLAMMMM!! she threw herself backward with a force wielded exclusively by fearless two-year-olds, leaving her mother seeing stars, for <span style="font-style: italic;">realz</span>.<br /><br />In this pic it's a day old. You should have seen me yesterday. And I can't wait till it starts turning green! I'll have to wear matching eye shadow or something. It'll be a "look". :)<br /><br />Aaaannyway, I wanted to come say hi, because I've been neglecting you. I know I've been neglecting you because my internet browser doesn't even prompt me with the blogger website address anymore. It has forgotten you. :( But no more!<br /><br />OK, well, not for today, anyway. I'm still in summertime blog slump mode.<br /><br />(Not for long though...two weeks til school starts! I can't decide whether to laugh or cry. Kind of a disappointing summer, this. It better not rain between now and school...)<br /><br />SO hi. That's it; nothing much more to say for now. I'm supposed to be studying new Zumba choreography, so that's what I'm going to do. ;)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-22319707879867631722008-08-07T10:16:00.005-04:002008-08-07T11:18:38.348-04:00overwhelmed<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5ZxMsdJ-ofE1P4giZtT_HECpAlMZAGUsQoZBTHV1Y8zvNtaH7mAcm6GUP_3xYMhn1bMZ0Dyi3lDeplHprLiuGl3O5KJGR8m5aK6PJOrbjf-uFtfpCqw7fqc3NU3sM7bUtUanCg/s1600-h/overwhelmed.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231795150078475266" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5ZxMsdJ-ofE1P4giZtT_HECpAlMZAGUsQoZBTHV1Y8zvNtaH7mAcm6GUP_3xYMhn1bMZ0Dyi3lDeplHprLiuGl3O5KJGR8m5aK6PJOrbjf-uFtfpCqw7fqc3NU3sM7bUtUanCg/s400/overwhelmed.bmp" border="0" /></a>Wow, haven't been <em>here</em> in a while, huh?!<br /><div><div></div><div>Well, I came here to vent, kind of.</div><div></div><div> </div><div>I am so, <em>so</em>, overwhelmed.</div><br /><div>I feel like I'm coming out of a cocoon, or a long hibernation or something. I'm looking around my house, and it is <em>such</em> a mess. Not like your average mess. A big, huge, hairy, ugly, unorganized, disaster mess. </div><br /><div>Now, it's been like this as long as we've lived here, pretty much. But I'm realizing as I sit here that I've been in this daze of depression for so long that I just let it happen. </div><br /><div>And now that I'm taking care of myself and feeling better? I can't believe this! I'm so disgusted and frustrated and...and...overwhelmed! </div><br /><div>I get the mothering thing. I can do that. I love my kids and the time I spend with them is so joyful. </div><br /><div>I get the wife thing. My husband and I are very blessed to still be deeply in love, and I feel like he and I are only growing closer as we get older.</div><br /><div>I get the work thing. I mean, I <em>do </em>it, anyway. I hate my bill-paying job, but I do it because it pays the bills, and I pretty much do the bare minimum to get by. And I LOOOOOVE my Zumba job, but it sure takes up a lot of my time. Time I could spend on the house thing.</div><br /><div>I do not--I repeat, DO NOT--get the house thing. </div><br /><div>"You want me to what? Clean? Every <em>day</em>? And...cook? Every day? Who <em>does</em> that?!"</div><br /><div>Seriously. I don't have time for this shit. </div><br /><div>But! I'm learning. I'm learning that my attitude of "we're renting; this isn't OUR house" doesn't cut it because while it isn't our <em>house</em>, it is our <em>home.</em> And...I'm learning the cleaning thing.</div><br /><div>Although, in case we <em>needed</em> evidence as to what a dork I truly am...I'm learning how to keep house...from...a <em>book.</em></div><br /><div>Gah, I'm <em>such</em> a dork.</div><br /><div>My poor mother is groaning. You know, it's not like I didn't have chores growing up. I did! I folded laundry (although my husband will tell you I still totally suck at it). I mowed the lawn! I raked leaves. I cleaned my room...occasionally. I cooked dinner and cleaned the kitchen every night.</div><br /><div>But hell, that stuff was <em>easy</em> to do when I didn't have a job (ahem, two jobs) and a hubby and kids and a social life and hobbies and...the damn internet to suck up all my time!</div><br /><div>OK, coffee break's almost over. Then back to cleaning. Possibly. I have good motivation: I want to have a yard sale to earn money for <a href="http://www.zappos.com/n/p/p/7470093/c/171958.html">this </a>and <a href="http://www.zappos.com/n/p/p/7299333/c/732.html">this </a>and <a href="http://www.sockdreams.com/_shop/pages/socks_detail_ProductID_490.php">this </a>and possibly <a href="http://www.dancewearsolutions.com/dance_shoes/BF1.aspx">these</a>, and if I clean the house, I'll find more stuff to sell. I'm trying to do a two-birds-with-one-stone thing. Get yard sale stuff, clean and organize. All that = me overwhelmed, though. </div><br /><div>S'all good. I'll just push off the yard sale another week or two. </div><br /><div>Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.</div><br /><div>Although, can I just say? What is it with my kids that they ONLY want to play with the very stuff I'm trying to clean! I clean the playroom, they go, "OOhhhh, clean playroom!" and trash it. I clean the craft table? "OOooooh! We have <em>paint!</em>" and trash that too.</div><br /><div>My next cup of coffee might just have something extra special in it.</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-82545088514258453552008-03-24T16:07:00.001-04:002008-03-24T16:07:31.999-04:00happy Easter!OK so I'm a day late but I couldn't let my favorite day of all year go by without an Easter greeting so here you go! I tried getting the song to play but all I have for you is the lyrics so if you can, rent VeggieTales--An Easter Carol and hear this beautiful, glorious, joyous song yourself. :)<br /><br /><b><span class="txt_1">There’s a story that started on Christmas<br />When a baby was born in the night<br />And those who came far, who followed the star<br />Were seeing a heavenly sight ...<br />a heavenly sight.<br /><br />Well the years hurried by, and the boy, now a man<br />Could make the blind see with a touch of his hand<br />He was born to be King -- he was Rabbi and Priest<br />But the best that he had, he gave to the least ...<br />He gave to the least.<br /><br />He was born and he died, almost 2,000 years ago<br />He laughed and he cried, he felt all the fears we know<br />But what does it matter? A story so strange ...<br />Even if it is true, what does it change?<br />What does it change?<br /><br />Well he spoke like a prophet -- like no one they’d heard<br />This simple young carpenter -- crowds hung on every word<br />He hated injustice -- He taught what is right<br />He said “I’m the way, and the truth, and the light.”<br /><br />His friends soon believed that truly he was the one.<br />The Savior, Messiah, God’s one and only son.<br />But others, they doubted, they did not agree<br />So they took him, they tried him,<br />He died on a tree ...<br />He died on a tree.<br /><br />God has made a way<br />for all who mourn and grieve<br />Death will never be the end<br />if you just believe.<br /><br />There is nothing left to fear<br />nothing Heaven knows<br />For he died for us to give us life<br />and to give us hope He rose<br />He died for us to give us life<br />And to give us hope He rose.</span></b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-42107464373826270262008-01-25T23:50:00.000-05:002008-01-25T23:53:04.245-05:00this would have made college a WHOLE lot easier<a href="http://www.easybib.com">www.easybib.com</a> . You type in all the information for the sources you want to quote in your paper or whatever, and it spits out the citation in MLA format.<br /><br />I could have seriously used that 5 to 10 years ago. Internets! Where were you when I needed you?!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-24459316277141649082008-01-24T14:19:00.000-05:002008-01-24T14:22:12.827-05:00sadI'm sitting here watching A Knight's Tale, one of my all-time favorite movies.<br /><br />I can't freaking believe this kid isn't going to make any more movies.<br /><br />He was a year younger than me.<br /><br />With a daughter.<br /><br />This sucks.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-31496435041098308992007-12-12T01:05:00.001-05:002007-12-12T01:22:43.610-05:00getting ready for christmasJust a few random things about this beautiful Christmas season:<br /><ol><li>Our house looks like a little kid designed it. Well, that's kind of true: hubby asked the kids how they wanted the house to be decorated this year, and they told him. So there are purple lights on the swing set, red and white candy cane stripes on the tree, red and green on the front stairs, and I don't know what else. It's very colorful--but part of me wants to rearrange it into something a little more aesthetically appealing. Like, oh, I dunno--<span style="font-style: italic;">all white</span> lights. Boring! I know it! I caved on the Christmas tree this year too. We've had a white light tree forever, but this year the kids begged for colored lights and I said OK. Gag! Good thing the kids are so cute when they beg...</li><li>I'm wondering how much longer til Jo catches on with the whole jolly big man thing. We keep getting package delivery trucks--FedEx, UPS, DHL--all addressed to daddy, all from places like toycamp.com and discoverytoys.com so I'm just <span style="font-style: italic;">waiting</span> for it to all click. Sigh...well, as long as she doesn't speculate out loud with her 5-year-old little sister. Let's preserve the innocence as long as possible, 'K?</li><li>Must. Resist. Urge to snoop for presents!!!</li><li>You wanna know what Santa's bringing the girls? I'll give you a hint: it's almost impossible to find in stores because it's always sold out. We've never let the girls have one of these before now. I'm going to enjoy it as much as they will. It's more money than we've ever spent on any one present before. I'm still not sure we made the right decision in getting it for them, because I don't want them on it nonstop. Or me, for that matter. Did you guess yet?!</li><li>Two words: Ice. Storm. One more word: Sucks.</li><li>Anyone got a good Christmas CD? I need something that's poppin--not something that's going to put me to sleep. I love my Bare Naked Ladies Christmas CD, and my John Denver and the Muppets Christmas CD and my Christmas Songs CD, but beyond that I'm struggling to stay awake listening to some of this stuff.</li><li>Is there some kind of conspiracy going on? I cannot find any good Christmas movies on TV. I want Scrooged, darnit!!</li></ol>OK, time for bed. PS: It's my brother's birthday today, the 12th! He's 26, the old man. ;) Love you, Joe!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-9018188524064919112007-11-16T15:25:00.000-05:002007-11-16T15:40:32.787-05:00two more days, and a contestI was supposed to post this on my Zumba/weight-loss blog, but oops. Here ya go.<br /><br />So...two more days until the most-excellent workshop with Tanya in CT. I'm excited!!!! I have to figure out what the heck to wear, since Tanya's email suggested bringing two sets of clothes.<br /><br />Did I <em>mention </em>she sent me an email?!<br /><br />Oh, alright. She sent the same exact email to everyone else who is going to the workshop, but hey, I felt pretty cool anyhow. ;)<br /><br />So yeah--two sets of clothes that I can be comfy sweating in in front of lots of other people and my very favorite Zumba instructor. Hm...I'll definitely be wearing as much Zumba gear as possible--the tee and tank Lee sent me, my bracelets if I get them in time, my jacket...gotta represent! :)<br /><br />Oh and the contest...Get a load of this! All us Zumba instructors have been challenged to a choreography contest. We have to pick a song from the new CD we just got and develop our own choreography to it. Then we videotape ourselves performing the song and send it in. There are five songs to choose from, and one person will win for each song. The song winners will win some Zumba gear and I think a chance to show their video on the instructor website, and the best of the five will win <em>mucho </em>Zumba gear (!!!) and a primo link on the general public's zumba website, or something like that. I forgot the rest besides $200 in Zumba gear. I want pants, shirts, bumper stickers, a bag... gotta get working on that choreography!<br /><br />I've talked about how I'm not so great at doing my own dance steps yet, being new and all, but I think I might give it a shot anyway. Who knows, they might like me! :)<br /><br />OK that's all for now. Gotta do chores if I want to get off with leaving my family all day Sunday.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-23262861835077301432007-11-15T00:16:00.000-05:002007-11-15T00:28:28.082-05:00Holy freakin cow, I suck at NaBloPoMo. It's been a week since I posted! Oh well, it's still more than I usually post, right?<br /><br />Now...what was it I came here to write about?<br /><br />Um...<br /><br />Hey, do you get a lot of catalogs in the mail this time of year? I swear, from October to March we must get like 20 a day. First it's "Buy me for Christmas!" Then it's "Buy me while I'm sale! Get your Christmas shopping done early!!" And rather than giving me good ideas on what to buy other people, they only seem to make my <span style="font-style: italic;">own </span>wishlist bigger. ;)<br /><br />Eeesh.<br /><br />I'm thinking of drawing our Christmas cards this year. Just a thought, not sure exactly whether or how I'd do it. We usually do picture cards, but I figure we could just get pictures printed and stick them in the cards. The only thing is it is so EASY to get the picture cards--you just tell them what picture, what design, and what you want printed on the cards so you don't even have to sign them! Which is good, y'know, when you have like 200 cards to send. How the heck do we even <span style="font-style: italic;">know </span>this many people?!<br /><br />Our wedding anniversary was this week. Sadly, I had to work that night, but we're having a little mini-date here at home tomorrow night after my Zumba class to toast our eight happy years together. Awww. :)<br /><br />Then there were those 12 miserable years together.... kidding, kidding.<br /><br />Hey, so, I've pretty much given up on my NaNoWriMo novel for now, unless by some miracle I get an uninterrupted week straight in which to write. And let's face it, that's not happening. I do have several good ideas, though, so I might have my own little novel writing month in, like, February or something, when it's too cold and cloudy and depressing outside to do anything else. That was my friend Lynda's idea, so when I'm a famous novelist one day, I can dedicate it all to her. ;)<br /><br />Speaking of novels, and catalogs that give me more ideas for my own wishlist, I'm staring at one catalog listing for a shirt that says, "Careful, or you'll end up in my novel." Hehe, I like that.<br /><br />Oh, I know what I wanted to show you. If you're a fan of Harry Potter, and we all know I am, you'll love this:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tx1XIm6q4r4&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tx1XIm6q4r4&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />I laughed so hard I thought I'd pee. Even the second time.<br /><br />OK, I'm off now.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-84793936828316818302007-11-09T10:04:00.000-05:002007-11-09T10:12:53.325-05:00i'm renaming the blog "the stupid things i do"Yesterday I was doing mad crazy laundry. Seriously, the clothes that five people go through! At some point I knocked a box of dryer sheets off the shelf above the washer and dryer. I figured it went behind the washer and dryer, but I couldn't see it anywhere. I thought I'd wait til hubby got home so he could move stuff around a bit and we could grab it, so I continued with the laundry.<br /><br />Much later I came by to unload the dryer and switch out the stuff from the washer.<br /><br />Yeah.<br /><br />As I'm pulling stuff out of the washer and throwing it in the dryer, I notice there are dryer sheets stuck in with the clothes.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">That's weird</span>, I think. <span style="font-style: italic;">There shouldn't be any dryer sheets in there...</span><br /><br />Then I notice there are bits of...<span style="font-style: italic;">stuff</span>..in there too.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Oh no. Oh no no no no </span>NO!<br /><br />Oh yes. The box of dryer sheets fell <span style="font-style: italic;">into </span>the freakin washer while I wasn't looking. And that washer did a <span style="font-style: italic;">job </span>on that box too. Tore it to <span style="font-style: italic;">shreds</span>.<br /><br />So I had to take all the rest of the clothes out--and they were covered in cardboard box shreds, like the box just exploded in there--and vacuum out the nasty cardboard bits. Then I reloaded all the clothes and had to wash them again, hoping that a second wash would get rid of the box bits, rather than just turning them into cardboard glue or something.<br /><br />The good news is most of it came off. The bad news is my entire outfit today smells faintly like dryer sheet.<br /><br />Fun times! ;)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-82684976795724274122007-11-07T12:45:00.001-05:002007-11-07T12:46:58.842-05:00Do you ever get to feeling like you would like to just tell the entire world to go shove it?!<br /><br />I get like that sometimes.<br /><br />I need a vacation.<br /><br />I need for this school year to be <span style="font-style: italic;">over</span> already.<br /><br />For now I guess I have to settle for more coffee.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-37734228771311385712007-11-06T12:34:00.000-05:002007-11-07T12:49:47.543-05:00Just some random things I'm pulling together and calling a post:<br /><ul><li>It's raining really hard. I just went to drop Devy off at the bus stop and got soaked. It reminds me of when I worked at the local renaissance faire (shut up, like you didn't know I was a dork by now!). When it rained like this, there would be puddles everywhere. But the ground was covered in wood chips, so unlike normal puddles, these puddles would have wood chips floating in them. So you wouldn't know there was a puddle there until you--whoops!--found it the hard way.</li><li>Bek is quite the escape artist lately with regards to her clothes. You put her in for a nap and before you know it, poof! Two seconds later you check on her and she is completely buck naked, the diaper is on the floor, and she's sleeping in a puddle of pee. She has to wear footy pajamas all the time so we can safety-pin them together so she can't unzip 'em. And even then she manages to get them seriously wrenched out of whack.</li><li>I just picked up this free "parenting magazine" from the rack at the supermarket. At first I was like, "Oh, nice, it is extolling the benefits of keeping your child from getting too overscheduled. How lovely." But then you turn to the back of the magazine and there are, like, a bazillion ads for ways to overschedule your child. And the article on balancing family time and work time is nicely balanced by tons of ads on how to buy back your kids' affection with crazy toys, parties that will one-up the neighbors', and of course, ads for the perfect preschool or private school, so as to assuage your guilt at not being home with the kids by sending them to the <span style="font-style: italic;">very best</span> of <span style="font-style: italic;">e</span><span style="font-style: italic;">verything.</span> Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a big advocate of unity between moms of all working arrangements. You should do what works for you and your family. But if guilt is a major factor in your family life? Then somethin aint workin.</li><li>The childwatch at the Y I teach for just had a case of MRSA Staph diagnosed in one of the kids. Now, part of me is like, "Aw, poor thing, he's OK now, right?" (Apparently he is.) The <span style="font-style: italic;">other </span>part of me is all, "Decon! Decon!! We aren't going back there until the whole place is dipped in antibacterial hand sanitzer! Aaaarrhh!" So now I'm analyzing my poor kids to death. Every mole, pimple, cut, and bump are scrutinized to pieces before anyone is allowed to go anywhere. Grr stupid Staph infections.<br /></li><li>Lessons in reading the label: I bought this baby bath wash by Johnson's. It's called Johnson's Naturals, or something like that, and it comes in soothing green packaging. But...I read the ingredients list. Now, I may have only barely passed Chemistry 101 in high school, but I'm pretty sure the only things on this list that were natural were water and olive oil. Or olive butter. Whatever it was. And I just made myself lunch, and OK, I'm trying to cut down on the sugar so I made myself a turkey, cheese, and pickle sandwich with some Polar Seltzer to wash it down. The pickles? Tons of sugar. And the Polar? Not seltzer at all, but soda with high fructose corn syrup. I'm so <span style="font-style: italic;">smart. </span>:P Of course, we won't even go into what...um, <span>goes into</span>...my beloved International Delights seasonal flavored coffee creamers. Because they are necessary. Much like water. Or, air.<br /></li></ul>Now if you'll excuse me, this kind of rainy crappy fall day is my <span style="font-style: italic;">favorite </span>kind of day for sitting in a comfy chair by a window, with a snack and a book. Kind of like this:<br /><ul><li><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1rmgIWIWd77wGc-e8KP5foAb6NSItr6FGKlqj34_UV9YRjqQOYGYz78QK0u90C-010h_YJ_-VZzcZy13dBPIX0IcBKDRSepl-yLUTOXe1PDqlim1fevp2-dizkaoHkofeQuPSg/s1600-h/ebay+7-07+027.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1rmgIWIWd77wGc-e8KP5foAb6NSItr6FGKlqj34_UV9YRjqQOYGYz78QK0u90C-010h_YJ_-VZzcZy13dBPIX0IcBKDRSepl-yLUTOXe1PDqlim1fevp2-dizkaoHkofeQuPSg/s320/ebay+7-07+027.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129782736127410978" border="0" /></a></li></ul>(I don't want to brag or nuthin. But, she's 5. And she's reading a chapter book.)<br />(Either that or she's just checking out the pictures.)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-28219877071961896982007-11-02T14:01:00.000-04:002007-11-02T14:13:26.783-04:00nanowrimo: day 2So, it's NaNoWriMo day two. I really really wish I could tell you that my novel is off to a great start.<br /><br />I really wish I could tell you it was off to any kind of start.<br /><br />But...I haven't written a single word. I haven't even opened a new Word document. I don't even know what I'm writing about. I wish I could take the novel I started last year, the one I had to abandon when my computer crashed. I really like that one, and I would love to finish it. But that would be cheating.<br /><br />Maybe I could just wait until day 11 or so--that's when the laptop died last year--and take up my last year's novel from then.<br /><br />Maybe?<br /><br />Nah, still cheating. Tempting, but cheating.<br /><br />This is the <span style="font-style: italic;">third year</span> I have done NaNoWriMo. The first year I was newly pregnant with Bek and spent most of November sleeping. The second year--well, you know. So this year I am <span style="font-style: italic;">determined </span>to finish my 50,000-word novel, if it kills me.<br /><br />And considering the fact that each November the housework goes undone for a month, if the writing doesn't kill me? The husband will. ;)<br /><br />I just have to stop thinking about how <span style="font-style: italic;">great </span>last year's start was. It's hindering my efforts to brainstorm something new. Hm. OK, tonight, at work, I'm going to put a serious effort toward putting down some starting notes. Then I'm going to get myself jumped up on caffeine and come home and start typing.<br /><br />I need some good writing music. Zumba music? The theme from <span style="font-style: italic;">Rocky</span>? The Notre Dame fight song? Maybe some Dropkick Murphys.<br /><br />That part would be a lot easier to put together if I hadn't promised to not steal music. Grr.<br /><br />So anyway, yes. Tonight. I will write. I'm supposed to write 1,667 words a day to make 50,000 by the end of the month. Today is day two. So that's what? 3334 words by the time I go to bed tonight.<br /><br />Erg.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-87730337477862993442007-10-29T23:38:00.000-04:002007-10-29T23:39:20.587-04:00I <span style="font-style: italic;">told </span>hubby we should have bought <a href="http://www.jordans.com/about/details.asp?article=Monster+Deal">new furniture</a> this year!!!<br /><br />(Go Sox!!! I knew you could do it.)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-62519059577036474042007-10-25T14:58:00.000-04:002007-10-25T16:00:24.373-04:00pretty pretty links<span style="font-size:100%;">Hi, remember me!<br /><br />OK, first thing's first. I would like to say:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:180%;">GO SOX!!!</span><br /></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">ok, got that out of my system. ;)<br /><br />Hm...what else to write about? I've been kind of in a funk lately, which is why you haven't heard from me. I don't know what it is--I love fall, it is my very favorite time of year--but I think I am just overwhelmed, trying to juggle everything. So what better way than to deal with everything but to stay in bed late, not leave the house, and only shower when the kids complain?<br /><br />OK, OK, kidding. I do try to shower once a week, at least. ;)<br /><br />No really though--I've taken on too much stuff and I can't keep all these balls in the air. Got to learn to say no! And a several of my "things" keep me in close working relationship with people I don't like very much, which is stressful. Grr.<br /><br />What I need is to get off my behind. Get organized. Get de-cluttered. Clean my dang house. I can't drop any of the balls neatly until the end of the school year so I just have to keep up and, God help me, not say yes to any-freaking-thing else. Haha, which is kind of funny since I'm looking to add some more Zumba classes to my schedule. I tell myself that doesn't count because I <span style="font-style: italic;">love </span>my Zumba classes but let's face it--it's still more stuff. But I know from experience that trying to juggle in a cluttered, messy, energy-sapping environment is a lot harder than doing it in a peaceful zen garden.<br /><br />Not that I have one of those.<br /><br />But I <span style="font-style: italic;">could </span>clean my dang house.<br /><br />So tonight, after work (which I will <span style="font-style: italic;">not </span>stress about or be grumpy for, even though I am <span style="font-style: italic;">not </span>supposed to work on <span style="font-style: italic;">Thursdays </span>because I <span style="font-style: italic;">teach Zumba </span>on Thursdays and had to get someone to <span style="font-style: italic;">fill in </span>for <span style="font-style: italic;">my class</span> tonight) I will go to the store and buy myself some soy milk. I will come home and make myself a yummy soy pumpkin spice latte in a very very cute <a href="http://cgi.ebay.com/2007-Starbucks-Halloween-Trick-or-Treat-Mug-Cup-NEW_W0QQitemZ150174288609QQihZ005QQcategoryZ10795QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem">Starbucks halloween mug</a>, and I will dig in to my house. Tonight: the kitchen and dining room. Tomorrow: the mess that has swallowed my desk. Early Saturday morning: the bathroom.<br /><br />And so help me if I come home from working all weekend and my hard work is puked all over. That is the worst part of trying to clean! I come home after working so hard at home and working so hard at the j-o-b and stuff is tossed on my desk, dishes are sitting in the sink, toothpaste is all inside the bathroom sink and the last person to <span style="font-style: italic;">go </span>didn't flush... Things like that are what get me so funk-y and down and then I don't do anything until it builds up so I don't know where to start so I don't do anything so it builds up so I get funk-y...<br /><br />Fortunately I have some secret weapons. Or, y'know, not so secret:<br /></span><ol><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Loud Zumba music.<br /></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">an MP3 player for when loud music is not an option</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://www.methodhome.com/products.php?cat=type&type=apc&prod=spray">yummy-smelling cleaning products</a><br /></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">fresh air--I open the windows, even if it's 45 degrees out. It's SOOOO good, dontcha think?!</span></li></ol><span style="font-size:100%;">And I am going to </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >throw things away</span><span style="font-size:100%;">.<br /><br />Oh yes.<br /><br />If we don't use it, out it goes. Maybe I'll find some things for ebay. Or <a href="http://www.freecycle.org/">freecycle</a>. Or <a href="http://www.bbbs.org/site/c.diJKKYPLJvH/b.1539751/k.BDB6/Home.htm">Big Sister Big Brother</a>. But it's </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >going. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://www.daveramsey.com/">Dave Ramsey</a>, the financial guy we follow, says to sell everythinig that isn't nailed down until the kids are afraid they're next. :) Well, the kids probably don't have to worry--we're kind of attached to them--but they'd better hide their favorite toys cuz Mama's on a rampage.<br /><br />And then? When I'm finally done cleaning for the night? I'm going to work on ideas for my nanowrimo novel. Because I <span style="font-style: italic;">will </span>finish this year, dammit. Provided my overworked, underpaid laptop doesn't bust down like<a href="http://www.blogcharm.com/unhip/53242/my+laptop...she+is+mort.+again..html"> last year</a>.<br /><br />So that's tonight. I'll probably be up for</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >ever</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> but if it gets me ahead? Even a little? It's worth it. I just hope I don't get sucked into watching the Sox <s>beat the crap out of the Rockies</s> play because if I let myself sit down to watch it, I'll never get up again.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-20381898659267118702007-10-16T12:57:00.000-04:002007-10-16T23:28:44.459-04:00I'm in geek heaven because November 1 (which is only 16 days away, people!) marks the start of <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.com/">NaNoWriMo</a>, or, National Novel Writing Month.<br /><br />For those of you not in the know, NaNoWriMo is an opportunity for literary-minded people to write a 50,000-word novel. So those of you who have always said, "One day...one day I'll write a novel!" can now put an end to the "one days".<br /><br />The writing is fast-paced and crazy, which is great for people (like me) who tend to over-analyze to death the stuff they've written. See, when you only have a month to finish your novel (that's 1667 words a day, people!) you don't have time to sit back and criticize yourself!<br /><br />So pick up a pen and a ream of paper, or set up your computer somewhere where there is easy access to the coffee maker and the bathroom. Lock the door. Count down to 12:00:01am, November 1 and start writing until your hands hurt.<br /><br />Then meet me at the local coffeeshop. Preferably one with free wifi. For, you know, email breaks.<br /><br />I'll be the redhead with the laptop, the huge coffee cup and the bags under her eyes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20pM9lzVFARWer6khsGAy9-cS3zCYIBrRjFQKqv-d0jEEmWwGZdCP1s5Ky_t6Qttgt5G_GIqmuyZ4HDWjkVKVbJ8bni_GvLZfhwY_px2dVnmnqNGKnGNb_GZ95195Okd6IjX_5A/s1600-h/nano_participant_icon_large.gif"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20pM9lzVFARWer6khsGAy9-cS3zCYIBrRjFQKqv-d0jEEmWwGZdCP1s5Ky_t6Qttgt5G_GIqmuyZ4HDWjkVKVbJ8bni_GvLZfhwY_px2dVnmnqNGKnGNb_GZ95195Okd6IjX_5A/s320/nano_participant_icon_large.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122142275486931154" border="0" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28367706.post-37289415003299795292007-10-02T00:57:00.000-04:002007-10-02T14:45:10.852-04:00It's almost one in the morning. I was just lying in bed, completely unable to sleep. It might be all the things I have to do, circling around in my head.<br /><br />Or...it could be that Diet Rockstar I drank a few hours back. Hm...maybe.<br /><br />So while I was lying in bed for some reason I was thinking about my j-o-b. You know, the one I can't mention online under penalty of death.<br /><br />I was thinking specifically about people who get paid a straight salary or hourly wage, as opposed to people who work for comission.<br /><br />See, my company pays us REALLY good money to do what we do. It's ridiculous how much money we make, really. Not that I'm complaining! See, I make the same amount of money whether I'm working my rear end off trying to make mucho dinero for the company, or sitting around making photocopies.<br /><br />That makes me a happy employee (I like my easy job, and I'm well paid!) and a competent employee (I've been there forever because they pay me too well to leave!) and it makes the customers happy because they get to deal with happy competent people, but it doesn't make me a very <em>motivated </em>employee.<br /><br />We have a bunch of programs (that were not in place when I applied for the job, but whatever) that we're being tracked on. So if we're one of the lowest locations in the region for any given program, we get flack. But if what I just said about getting paid the same no matter what I'm doing is true, then why should I work any harder to reach our program goals, just for the bosses to say, "Good job. Now this time get <em><strong>this</strong> </em>many."?<br /><br />So then I look at people I know to be commission employees. Like at cell phone kiosks, retail clothing stores, that kind of thing. If you've got money, maybe you like shopping here because the employees are very attentive, and very careful to remember your name and what types of things you like to shop for. Maybe they even have your number so when something you might like comes in, they can hold your size and call you in.<br /><br />But if you <em>don't </em>have money, like me, these kinds of employees come off as pushy, irritating, and self-serving. These kinds of employees make me want to yell, "Back off! When I want something I promise, I will come get you!" And I always feel like as soon as I walk in, they jump over each other to get to me first, and they're probably brawling while my back is turned. :)<br /><br />So here you have highly motivated employees who don't seem too happy (that is, underneath their perfected customer-is-my-life's-joy facade), who annoy the customers, and who have a generally high turnover rate.<br /><br />Nothing about this post is supposed to be particularly intelligent or persuasive--it's way past my bedtime y'know--it's just what I was thinkin about while I was lying awake, eyes refusing to shut.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09529909013081012514noreply@blogger.com2