I love my children dearly. I love that I get to watch them grow into such different amazing people.I'm lucky because they are great kids. I don't begrudge my obligation to be their parent. To be a guiding influence in life, to have short nights, early mornings and loud rowdy days. That being said, it has been three weeks since I have been out of my house WITHOUT them. Tonight, as most anyone I know already knows since I have mentioned it ad nauseam, I'm getting out of the house!
I've already mentioned to my little rays of sunshine that while I love them, when the babysitter steps one foot into the house tonight, I will be stepping one foot out. I try to reassure them it isn't that don't want to be here with them. It's that I have to actually leave them every once and a while for me to appreciate them more. Not sure what I'm going to do (well, I totally do but that's for me to know), but some time away is, at this point in my brain, "critical-need" status.
That's the thing about my life...I miss spontaneity. I never appreciated it when I had it. I never actually took advantage of it ever before. I miss someone saying, "Get dressed, we're going out..." or even, "...no, you head out to the store alone, I've got this...". That's where my 'control-freak' button kicks in. It's cleverly hidden behind my left ear. Not because I enjoy having it, it's necessary for survival. For me to do anything alone, I have to not only plan ahead, make phone calls, try not to sound too needy, and line up everything else in this house so that I can leave seamlessly...and...I hate that. I hate asking for help (I know, this is constantly said, but really I need to wear a sign). I hate that I can't just slip out and have some alone time. I hate that by the time I actually get out of the house, my brain has already checked out DAYS before. I hate that I might be giving my kids the subliminal message that at times I can't handle...life.
In a perfect world, I'd be independently wealthy. Care.com would actually find someone to help me babysit my kids one day a week. In a perfect world, I wouldn't feel like someone needing a PRISON BREAK...In a perfect world I could handle all of this, well, better. I feel pretty empowered by what I have mastered so far in this new life of ours. I have figured out how to get stuff done, not like I would have done them before, but oh well. My house is 'clean', my kids are fed, the laundry is still getting done. I keep thinking that with more time under my belt, I'll figure out the "getting out of the house" business...you know, before I'm mentally squealing the tires out of my driveway in my minivan screaming FREEDOM!!!
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Sunday, February 9, 2014
...Sundays and a DAY GLO bra...
...I know someday...Someday, I will enjoy a leisurely Sunday...I haven't really seen one in 9 years. There are those foreign moments...those times when I catch myself, sitting doing nothing on a Sunday, only to have to get up and get someone a Kleenex and then do more laundry.
Going to church is like an Olympic event. I feel as though if I make it through the whole thing, and we are all still alive, with a furrowed but moistened brow from fighting a FREAKISHLY strong two year old for an hour...I await the interview from the commentator at the door....
Going to church is like an Olympic event. I feel as though if I make it through the whole thing, and we are all still alive, with a furrowed but moistened brow from fighting a FREAKISHLY strong two year old for an hour...I await the interview from the commentator at the door....
"So, Kate...How do you think you did? There was a time during the Lord's Prayer when it looked like it was all going to fall apart..."
"...Well Frank... I'm not going to lie...I ran out of animal crackers at a crucial point of play and to say it was touch and go...well, I'm just glad I finished....See you next week..." -end scene.
Today...it was no exception. I love the town we live in, it has all the best a small town has to offer. The only thing I miss is being a little anonymous. You're late to church, you miss church, your kids like to pick out a wedgie at church...it's all being seen. If you go to mass at another church, you better tell one woman there, as she will remind you every time she sees you that you were clearly missing...up note that I have to remind myself, at least someone even cares.
Today, I felt like I had all my ducks in a row. Snacks, drinks, Kleenex, toys, pacifiers, I had it...except the church envelope. For some reason, when my kids get into church, it's as if they forget HOW to take off their coats. They just sit down and look at me...with my duffel bag of tricks and a howler monkey two year old on my hip, I shoot them a look of, okay, what do you think you do next? Everyone adapted, an early request for a snack denied and quickly discussed that underwear were not a topic for church conversation. Interestingly enough, I no more say that, than I'm taking off my coat, and my sweater and shirt get statically STUCK. As I'm taking off my coat, half of my clothes come off of one arm, and boom all of the right side of church gets to see my DAY GLOW bra...classy...may have to start sitting in the back of church.
But, the strangest thing happened today...I was given my leisure. I wrestled the howler monkey into submission and before I knew it...for the first time...he fell asleep, snoring and clutching a plastic dinosaur. I actually heard what was being said and actively participated. It was appreciated, thank you so much who ever had a hand in it. Afterward, this kind gentleman who sits behind us put his arm around me and told my how well behaved my kids were. I thanked him, shot him a wink, and assured him that I hadn't drugged any of them...today.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
...where June Cleaver meets Mommy Dearest..
Snow. Snow. Fevers. Tantrums. Cleaning. Popcorn. Movies. Snow...honestly, I'm not like the rest. I don't mind the snow days we have been having. I'm lazy I suppose. I'm grateful not have to leave my house. It's a verified reason to wear your P.J.s all day long, sport some rockin' bed head, and basically be slovenly...at least for a little while.
So, with snow days and sick kids a bound a very rare occurrence happened the other day...I took a nap. Doesn't sound earth shattering but that's how rare it is here. While asleep, I had this very real dream, where I was speaking to someone I know on social media, but have never actually met. She asked me a question that so fired me up! It's a harmless question really, but at times when asked, it does feel as if it's loaded. I was sitting across from this girl and she asked me, "So, what do you do?".
Now, in the moment, I became slightly dictator-like in answering the question. I will preface this by saying, I believe I was born into the wrong era. One lone light shone on me, and the questioner far back on the other side of the room. I felt as though I was answering this question how I've wanted to answer it the millions of other times I've been asked, but chickened out. I was answering it with not myself only in mind, but for the millions of other women who also have to answer this question. Not sure why it enrages me, perhaps the frequent response to my answer is what triggers it...usually some indication that I don't have a 'real job'....that's where June Cleaver meets Mommy Dearest...
I answered the question in such a way that doesn't elude to the fact that I'm so well to do that I can stay home with/for my kids. I answered it in a way that right now, I make wise choices, follow a budget, go without luxuries, and still get to be home with my kids. I answered it in a way that didn't portray me as a mother when I started my time nine years ago. Rather a mother for 2+4+8+9 years...because in reality that's how you should add up the accomplishments of a mother...and you've lived to tell the tale. I answered the question, making sure to include that if I did work outside the home, I'd be handing a paycheck over to someone else. That someone else was also rewarded by seeing all the milestones that I missed out on for a job that wasn't as important to me...at least as important as the job I'm doing now. I am proud to know mothers that work outside the home. I marvel at their dedication to something they love to do as well as being a mother...I just haven't found it yet. I know this bubble I live in will very soon become more expensive to live comfortably in...
So, I answered the question, of this woman whom I've never met face to face. Again, not really understanding this dream, where it came from or how it came to be...other than maybe being reminded to keep answering in the way that I did, as long as I can...My answer was very simply and to the point, "...oh, I'm a stay at home Mom..." and then I woke up.
So, with snow days and sick kids a bound a very rare occurrence happened the other day...I took a nap. Doesn't sound earth shattering but that's how rare it is here. While asleep, I had this very real dream, where I was speaking to someone I know on social media, but have never actually met. She asked me a question that so fired me up! It's a harmless question really, but at times when asked, it does feel as if it's loaded. I was sitting across from this girl and she asked me, "So, what do you do?".
Now, in the moment, I became slightly dictator-like in answering the question. I will preface this by saying, I believe I was born into the wrong era. One lone light shone on me, and the questioner far back on the other side of the room. I felt as though I was answering this question how I've wanted to answer it the millions of other times I've been asked, but chickened out. I was answering it with not myself only in mind, but for the millions of other women who also have to answer this question. Not sure why it enrages me, perhaps the frequent response to my answer is what triggers it...usually some indication that I don't have a 'real job'....that's where June Cleaver meets Mommy Dearest...
I answered the question in such a way that doesn't elude to the fact that I'm so well to do that I can stay home with/for my kids. I answered it in a way that right now, I make wise choices, follow a budget, go without luxuries, and still get to be home with my kids. I answered it in a way that didn't portray me as a mother when I started my time nine years ago. Rather a mother for 2+4+8+9 years...because in reality that's how you should add up the accomplishments of a mother...and you've lived to tell the tale. I answered the question, making sure to include that if I did work outside the home, I'd be handing a paycheck over to someone else. That someone else was also rewarded by seeing all the milestones that I missed out on for a job that wasn't as important to me...at least as important as the job I'm doing now. I am proud to know mothers that work outside the home. I marvel at their dedication to something they love to do as well as being a mother...I just haven't found it yet. I know this bubble I live in will very soon become more expensive to live comfortably in...
So, I answered the question, of this woman whom I've never met face to face. Again, not really understanding this dream, where it came from or how it came to be...other than maybe being reminded to keep answering in the way that I did, as long as I can...My answer was very simply and to the point, "...oh, I'm a stay at home Mom..." and then I woke up.
Monday, February 3, 2014
...listlessness and indifference...
Not sure who to point the finger at...Mother Nature? The Ground Hog? Well, at least those two I know which finger I'd be pointing. This one isn't for the faint of heart. It seems the irony that I am usually able to point at and make fun of has sort of taken a back seat to life lately. Not sure if it's the winter blahs or the winter of my discontent or just life catching up with me.
I talk about my house a lot. We have a love affair he(?) and I do. The vastness, the beauty, the uncommon features, they are not lost on me. I still wander around it, in the quiet early morning hours and look from corner to corner knowing how blessed I am to be living here. I sip my coffee and whisper gently to him to try not to fall apart all at once, my heart couldn't take it...as I know forever to mean something different now. I know it's ridiculous to believe I should be here at all, let alone forever, and I try to take a minute each day to be in love and terrified of this house all at the same time...it's a labor of love.
Being a parent isn't all there is to me, but it's my 18+ hour a day job and at times I feel like I'm not easily tapped out. Even recently when I was out of daily environment, I'm still cleaning up tables, picking up coats, tiding things...and I thought to myself, "What the hell are you doing? Stop!..." but I couldn't. I needed to be doing something. A kin to holding a 'blankie', it stunted the opportunity I could have had to sit, laugh, and enjoy the company around me. Maybe that's my tell? Maybe I'm to the point where keeping busy is easier than having to engage? Sometimes the lack of irony life holds does not escape me. While the scenario may be unfortunate, there is no reversal of experiences...and it appears my view from this picture window has changed...time to rearrange the furniture.
I never just hid. In all these months since our life has changed, I've never just hid. I've been blessed with family and friends and those who love me wanting to ease myburden no, my day to day. Taking the kids while I run errands, having them spend extended time with them, even coming to my house and telling me to leave for the night. All things I am beyond grateful for, especially when they take into the equation that I am horrible at asking for help. I wish I would have taken those same people up on the option to hide earlier. I feel now, that I'm not sure I could actually do it (yes, my name is Kate, and I'm a control freak), and I'm not sure what good it would do...I would only end up feeling guilty for not having been productive, and dread going home because while I love every molecule of my children, sometimes reality isn't as much fun.
It seems that I'm in a big time-warped-rut of listlessness and indifference. So, while Mother Nature told her dirty secrets to the Ground Hog, and evidently the Farmer's Almanac, as it has predicted every flake of icy snow we have been given...I will listen to the principle of the school tell me in his prerecorded message that yes, indeed school will be canceled tomorrow. Six more weeks until Spring...and praying my mood will be improved before then...
I talk about my house a lot. We have a love affair he(?) and I do. The vastness, the beauty, the uncommon features, they are not lost on me. I still wander around it, in the quiet early morning hours and look from corner to corner knowing how blessed I am to be living here. I sip my coffee and whisper gently to him to try not to fall apart all at once, my heart couldn't take it...as I know forever to mean something different now. I know it's ridiculous to believe I should be here at all, let alone forever, and I try to take a minute each day to be in love and terrified of this house all at the same time...it's a labor of love.
Being a parent isn't all there is to me, but it's my 18+ hour a day job and at times I feel like I'm not easily tapped out. Even recently when I was out of daily environment, I'm still cleaning up tables, picking up coats, tiding things...and I thought to myself, "What the hell are you doing? Stop!..." but I couldn't. I needed to be doing something. A kin to holding a 'blankie', it stunted the opportunity I could have had to sit, laugh, and enjoy the company around me. Maybe that's my tell? Maybe I'm to the point where keeping busy is easier than having to engage? Sometimes the lack of irony life holds does not escape me. While the scenario may be unfortunate, there is no reversal of experiences...and it appears my view from this picture window has changed...time to rearrange the furniture.
I never just hid. In all these months since our life has changed, I've never just hid. I've been blessed with family and friends and those who love me wanting to ease my
It seems that I'm in a big time-warped-rut of listlessness and indifference. So, while Mother Nature told her dirty secrets to the Ground Hog, and evidently the Farmer's Almanac, as it has predicted every flake of icy snow we have been given...I will listen to the principle of the school tell me in his prerecorded message that yes, indeed school will be canceled tomorrow. Six more weeks until Spring...and praying my mood will be improved before then...
Thursday, January 16, 2014
...the moon and back...
The moon is full...no I mean, REALLY FULL. I heard today that the moon is the fullest it's been or will be in a while...triggering unrivaled emotions, odd behavior, and mood swings. I would have normally said, "...sounds like your average day here". Then I started thinking. It made clear sense...almost eerily so.
While the nudist colony still stakes claim here, I've taken it upon myself to dress Atti in MANY layers. By the time I find him trying to get 'as nature intended', he's usually only two layers in...we've negotiated on socks, they are now optional. However, I made it very clear that some day, the orange jumpsuit will be mandatory, enjoy his freedoms now. He laughs, and runs away, usually finding the most pointy object he possibly can find...fourth kid.
The moon's lure did not surprise me in this house. Emotions have been running high for a few days, about very little on the surface, which usually means there's more there but no one is wanting to talk. I even found myself if a fury of things to do today, and then duly noted to myself, get ready...it's your turn next. Not sure if I can blame this on exhaustion, or just another family event tomorrow. At any rate, it hit. Tomorrow Abe's birthday...It's hard to imagine, as it seems like yesterday he was born. As with any holiday, I try extra hard on the kids birthdays to make sure it is as it has always been...but sometimes I wonder if it's enough.
I am very careful about talking about Jason with them. I don't make a big deal out of it, he's part of our vernacular. However, I try very hard not to pry into what they are feeling. Not because I don't want to know, I'm always wary of picking a scab. I'm always wondering, if I say too much is it just going to make them feel worse? I try to constantly and subtly remind them that there is always an open door, when they want it, it's there. But, there are times when I don't have to remind them...they really have no problem of saying it, I'm not the one they want to talk to.
I wish I knew a way to describe Heaven...at least to a four year old. I wish I could just say Guam...at least I could tell her where it was at. I'm asked the same questions routinely. I've read all the books to her. I've quoted Maria Shriver, Elmo, and the kid who died and came back again. Even though I give the same answers every time I'm asked, I know she keeps asking because it's not really the answer she wants, hoping I'll just crack under the pressure. She so desperately wants what she cannot have. It comes in waves, and currently it's high tide.
Then I have one on the opposite end of the spectrum who cannot put it directly into words, but he's just mad. He can mask it at times, but when things don't seem to be going his way, look out! I thought I had a fairly menacing glare, but this kid has nothing on me. I know he's scared, and I can't make him talk until he's ready. So, until then...I enjoy the occasional look of , "...I really hate you...". Last night I called him on it. Told him that while I know life is hard, I'm afraid he's stuck with me. If he was planning to move out, make sure to clean his room before he left.
Then there is Abe, who turns eight tomorrow.This kid that seemingly is right on the cusp of being ornery. He is so full of love. No seriously, the kid would do anything for anyone...willingly plays with the Smalls...he'll run down in the middle of the night to let me know Oscar is sick. He usually does what he's asked to do, THE FIRST TIME. In this house, that's the equivalent of a superhero/mythical character/ someone from the Box Car Children (Abe's newly disclosed favorite books). He is quick with his humor, he loves with all of his heart, and he is a spirited ladies man...heaven help me.
Sometimes, the things that really haunt me, aren't always for me, but for my children. The things that they don't get to have that so many of their friends might take for granted. Everyday I'm sure they miss what they had...even if they've done a lot of living since. Everyday, I try to fill in the gaps of what they might missing. But, let's face it, I'm fighting a ghost. I'm the one telling them to clean their room. I'm the one telling them not to set bad examples for their siblings. I'm the one who can't fully explain why you can't see heaven. I'm the one who can't help them remember an exact time they had with their dad. I'm the one who gets to see their faces the first thing when they wake up...and sometimes it stings, knowing mine isn't the one they wish to see.
I know my kids love me. I know that I have tried hard to keep some stability/routine/sanity here for them, even when I myself was about to lose it. Cut to me, frosting a birthday cake today, thinking do they even know why I do this? It doesn't matter, because I do it for them. The moon, yeah, it caught up with me tonight. For a moment, I was taking out the trash, and before I knew it I was emotional. How much has changed in eight years. How different our lives have become. Life doesn't give you what you want. It gives you what is supposed to happen. How you survive it is up to you. Me? While it's been a while, I've become adept at hiding tears...
While the nudist colony still stakes claim here, I've taken it upon myself to dress Atti in MANY layers. By the time I find him trying to get 'as nature intended', he's usually only two layers in...we've negotiated on socks, they are now optional. However, I made it very clear that some day, the orange jumpsuit will be mandatory, enjoy his freedoms now. He laughs, and runs away, usually finding the most pointy object he possibly can find...fourth kid.
The moon's lure did not surprise me in this house. Emotions have been running high for a few days, about very little on the surface, which usually means there's more there but no one is wanting to talk. I even found myself if a fury of things to do today, and then duly noted to myself, get ready...it's your turn next. Not sure if I can blame this on exhaustion, or just another family event tomorrow. At any rate, it hit. Tomorrow Abe's birthday...It's hard to imagine, as it seems like yesterday he was born. As with any holiday, I try extra hard on the kids birthdays to make sure it is as it has always been...but sometimes I wonder if it's enough.
I am very careful about talking about Jason with them. I don't make a big deal out of it, he's part of our vernacular. However, I try very hard not to pry into what they are feeling. Not because I don't want to know, I'm always wary of picking a scab. I'm always wondering, if I say too much is it just going to make them feel worse? I try to constantly and subtly remind them that there is always an open door, when they want it, it's there. But, there are times when I don't have to remind them...they really have no problem of saying it, I'm not the one they want to talk to.
I wish I knew a way to describe Heaven...at least to a four year old. I wish I could just say Guam...at least I could tell her where it was at. I'm asked the same questions routinely. I've read all the books to her. I've quoted Maria Shriver, Elmo, and the kid who died and came back again. Even though I give the same answers every time I'm asked, I know she keeps asking because it's not really the answer she wants, hoping I'll just crack under the pressure. She so desperately wants what she cannot have. It comes in waves, and currently it's high tide.
Then I have one on the opposite end of the spectrum who cannot put it directly into words, but he's just mad. He can mask it at times, but when things don't seem to be going his way, look out! I thought I had a fairly menacing glare, but this kid has nothing on me. I know he's scared, and I can't make him talk until he's ready. So, until then...I enjoy the occasional look of , "...I really hate you...". Last night I called him on it. Told him that while I know life is hard, I'm afraid he's stuck with me. If he was planning to move out, make sure to clean his room before he left.
Then there is Abe, who turns eight tomorrow.This kid that seemingly is right on the cusp of being ornery. He is so full of love. No seriously, the kid would do anything for anyone...willingly plays with the Smalls...he'll run down in the middle of the night to let me know Oscar is sick. He usually does what he's asked to do, THE FIRST TIME. In this house, that's the equivalent of a superhero/mythical character/ someone from the Box Car Children (Abe's newly disclosed favorite books). He is quick with his humor, he loves with all of his heart, and he is a spirited ladies man...heaven help me.
Sometimes, the things that really haunt me, aren't always for me, but for my children. The things that they don't get to have that so many of their friends might take for granted. Everyday I'm sure they miss what they had...even if they've done a lot of living since. Everyday, I try to fill in the gaps of what they might missing. But, let's face it, I'm fighting a ghost. I'm the one telling them to clean their room. I'm the one telling them not to set bad examples for their siblings. I'm the one who can't fully explain why you can't see heaven. I'm the one who can't help them remember an exact time they had with their dad. I'm the one who gets to see their faces the first thing when they wake up...and sometimes it stings, knowing mine isn't the one they wish to see.
I know my kids love me. I know that I have tried hard to keep some stability/routine/sanity here for them, even when I myself was about to lose it. Cut to me, frosting a birthday cake today, thinking do they even know why I do this? It doesn't matter, because I do it for them. The moon, yeah, it caught up with me tonight. For a moment, I was taking out the trash, and before I knew it I was emotional. How much has changed in eight years. How different our lives have become. Life doesn't give you what you want. It gives you what is supposed to happen. How you survive it is up to you. Me? While it's been a while, I've become adept at hiding tears...
Sunday, January 12, 2014
...un-scactioned nudist colony...
Most days in my house aren't really unlike that of any other house...with the exception of maybe the volume, high levels of drama, and well today...nudity. While everyday isn't going to look like the idyllic notion that you might project to others that it is. There are those days when you look around and think...what the hell is going on in here today?
It's payback really. I went out with friends last night. It was the first time in nearly two weeks that I had been out of the house without children. The earnings of those days start early, and at some point you look at the clock and think, how many hours until the babysitter gets here?! I love my kids, with every ounce that I am. However, getting out, being with adults...it's heady. It's this experience that seriously is more than just getting away from my house, it's an escape from worries, drama, and debates.
So, that being said...today, well, it was a nice cosmic wedgie, reminding me that , "...hey, guess what? this is your life..." Like a cold splash of water to wake you up? Yeah, mine started with a naked toddler, who decided to start potty training himself, in his crib. He was naked as the day he was born, so very proud telling me what he did, and that indeed these were his 'frank-n-beans' pointing downward. That's a lot to take in at 6:01 in the morning. Little did I know, that we now live in an un-sanctioned nudist colony...I just kept finding him, nude. Not all laid out or running through the house...going through the video cabinet, reading books, talking to his Elmo doll. Seemingly as if, he didn't even notice the slight breeze he was getting. And with every naked adventure, came the gift of bodily fluid. At one point I actually asked Abe, "...do you think it would be wrong to duct tape his clothes on him?" 'Cause you know, asking an 8 year old that kind of stuff makes sense...I needed feedback I guess.
There were fist fights, arguments, declarations of 'you're the meanest brother ever' or 'you wish'...it was making me twitch. The drama queen who sat for 68 minutes at the dinner table refusing to eat one sugar snap pea. Finally, when I told her that her time was up, she succumbed. Afterward, she marched through the house so proud of herself, as if she'd just taken down the CRACKEN. Meanwhile, headgear mysteriously broke...at this point, I look at the Talls smiles, and it's like a cartoon, all I see are dollar signs. So, it looks like we'll be loitering in the office of Dr. Paul Miller, DDS within the next few days...
I love my kids. I'm grateful to be their mother. I'm blessed to have the challenge of being their parent. While it's a challenge, I'm fortunate to stay with the ones who are still at home for now. I'm gratified at the end of the day that we all survived to do it all over again tomorrow. I at one point today, I looked out my kitchen window and thought...so, did you have fun last night?...two more weeks until it happens again.
It's payback really. I went out with friends last night. It was the first time in nearly two weeks that I had been out of the house without children. The earnings of those days start early, and at some point you look at the clock and think, how many hours until the babysitter gets here?! I love my kids, with every ounce that I am. However, getting out, being with adults...it's heady. It's this experience that seriously is more than just getting away from my house, it's an escape from worries, drama, and debates.
So, that being said...today, well, it was a nice cosmic wedgie, reminding me that , "...hey, guess what? this is your life..." Like a cold splash of water to wake you up? Yeah, mine started with a naked toddler, who decided to start potty training himself, in his crib. He was naked as the day he was born, so very proud telling me what he did, and that indeed these were his 'frank-n-beans' pointing downward. That's a lot to take in at 6:01 in the morning. Little did I know, that we now live in an un-sanctioned nudist colony...I just kept finding him, nude. Not all laid out or running through the house...going through the video cabinet, reading books, talking to his Elmo doll. Seemingly as if, he didn't even notice the slight breeze he was getting. And with every naked adventure, came the gift of bodily fluid. At one point I actually asked Abe, "...do you think it would be wrong to duct tape his clothes on him?" 'Cause you know, asking an 8 year old that kind of stuff makes sense...I needed feedback I guess.
There were fist fights, arguments, declarations of 'you're the meanest brother ever' or 'you wish'...it was making me twitch. The drama queen who sat for 68 minutes at the dinner table refusing to eat one sugar snap pea. Finally, when I told her that her time was up, she succumbed. Afterward, she marched through the house so proud of herself, as if she'd just taken down the CRACKEN. Meanwhile, headgear mysteriously broke...at this point, I look at the Talls smiles, and it's like a cartoon, all I see are dollar signs. So, it looks like we'll be loitering in the office of Dr. Paul Miller, DDS within the next few days...
I love my kids. I'm grateful to be their mother. I'm blessed to have the challenge of being their parent. While it's a challenge, I'm fortunate to stay with the ones who are still at home for now. I'm gratified at the end of the day that we all survived to do it all over again tomorrow. I at one point today, I looked out my kitchen window and thought...so, did you have fun last night?...two more weeks until it happens again.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
...TODAY'S THE DAY I GO OFF...
New adventures. New year. New evaluation of your life...you see it everywhere. Everyone starts the year hearing/seeing that this is the time of year to become what you've always dreamed of. This is the fresh new start that you deserve. It's every where from the television programs you watch to the advertising you subliminally listen to. The fact is...it's difficult task, that's why in June you aren't as inundated with such messages, as most have either given up or moved on to the next task at hand.
The other night I had to write a short biography of myself. It seems pretty self explanatory...what you've done, where you've done it. Honestly, I dreaded it more that seeing the gynecologist. I have no problem telling the exploits of my children, or giving my opinion on something. Writing about myself, I was stumped. I went back to what I learned in high school writing: just the facts. The fact is, my life has been what it has based on the experiences I've had, not on the jobs I've held or the promotions I've been given...
The thought of "...it's a quarter past I don't know what the hell I'm doing" crosses my mind more than three times a week. After mentioning this out loud earlier this week when my friend April was here, she looked at me straight in the eyes. Meanwhile Oscar had walked into the room. And while patting him on the back, as he was reaching over her for some snacks she said, "...but look how well they have turned out". Oscar sort of looked at her, snorted and walked away. Cut to April and I dying laughing...
Last spring I was accused of being a witch, as I taught above mentioned seriously organized friend how to fold a fitted sheet. She was astonished and had never seen it before. I was on cloud nine, thinking I might know something about the world...then realized such accomplishments weren't resume worthy. Fact of the matter is, in my overly verbal brain, I have little to nothing that I could actually put on a resume...unless throwing a cocktail party is now a section on a resume in the new millennium. My skill set is skewed for either an elderly companion or someone likely to join a cult.
While April was visiting, she walked me through a few things I needed to set up online. With every click of the laptop, I felt like some 80 year old, who had never used a computer before. I kept apologizing for acting like such a dolt. To which she said, "...why would you know how to do any of this? It's not in your daily skill set...I do it everyday." She held my hand setting up author pages, twitter accounts (still don't know what the hell I'm doing), and understanding why certain passwords might get me flagged in some bizarre way...I like creative passwords, but my brain is lacking it's vital dose of gingko biloba...
I'm three days into 2014, and I'm tired of people showing me the 'skinny version' of a recipe. I want more things on sale that yogurt. I'm stubborn enough to want to make those 'resolutions' later in the year, when the sight of my backside in a swim suit terrifies me properly. In the meantime I plan to look at some opportunities I have been given. While my job for the last 9 years has been motherhood, and at times it's seriously two minutes from being chaos here daily. Today I actually heard Nora exclaim, "...TODAY'S THE DAY I GO OFF!!". Even though that is my nearly everyday, I'm grateful everyday that I have done things the way I have. Now, it seems time to change things up a bit, put on another hat, get out of non-yoga-practicing-yoga-pants and look at what else life has to offer. Take in every second of new opportunities, learn from them and about myself. Happy 2014!
The other night I had to write a short biography of myself. It seems pretty self explanatory...what you've done, where you've done it. Honestly, I dreaded it more that seeing the gynecologist. I have no problem telling the exploits of my children, or giving my opinion on something. Writing about myself, I was stumped. I went back to what I learned in high school writing: just the facts. The fact is, my life has been what it has based on the experiences I've had, not on the jobs I've held or the promotions I've been given...
The thought of "...it's a quarter past I don't know what the hell I'm doing" crosses my mind more than three times a week. After mentioning this out loud earlier this week when my friend April was here, she looked at me straight in the eyes. Meanwhile Oscar had walked into the room. And while patting him on the back, as he was reaching over her for some snacks she said, "...but look how well they have turned out". Oscar sort of looked at her, snorted and walked away. Cut to April and I dying laughing...
Last spring I was accused of being a witch, as I taught above mentioned seriously organized friend how to fold a fitted sheet. She was astonished and had never seen it before. I was on cloud nine, thinking I might know something about the world...then realized such accomplishments weren't resume worthy. Fact of the matter is, in my overly verbal brain, I have little to nothing that I could actually put on a resume...unless throwing a cocktail party is now a section on a resume in the new millennium. My skill set is skewed for either an elderly companion or someone likely to join a cult.
While April was visiting, she walked me through a few things I needed to set up online. With every click of the laptop, I felt like some 80 year old, who had never used a computer before. I kept apologizing for acting like such a dolt. To which she said, "...why would you know how to do any of this? It's not in your daily skill set...I do it everyday." She held my hand setting up author pages, twitter accounts (still don't know what the hell I'm doing), and understanding why certain passwords might get me flagged in some bizarre way...I like creative passwords, but my brain is lacking it's vital dose of gingko biloba...
I'm three days into 2014, and I'm tired of people showing me the 'skinny version' of a recipe. I want more things on sale that yogurt. I'm stubborn enough to want to make those 'resolutions' later in the year, when the sight of my backside in a swim suit terrifies me properly. In the meantime I plan to look at some opportunities I have been given. While my job for the last 9 years has been motherhood, and at times it's seriously two minutes from being chaos here daily. Today I actually heard Nora exclaim, "...TODAY'S THE DAY I GO OFF!!". Even though that is my nearly everyday, I'm grateful everyday that I have done things the way I have. Now, it seems time to change things up a bit, put on another hat, get out of non-yoga-practicing-yoga-pants and look at what else life has to offer. Take in every second of new opportunities, learn from them and about myself. Happy 2014!
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