Recently on Facebook there has been a virus going around. It's not a bad computer virus or even a bad medical virus, just a list of 25 random things you write about yourself, and you tag 25 people and they write their own. Here are my 25 random things:
1. I keep pens and chapstick until they run out. I don't lose them. I like Uniball Grips to write with (I hate ball point pens) and I like Burts Bees Beeswax Lip Balm.
2. I do not like tomatoes. When I was little my babysitter would make sandwiches for lunch with tomatoes. The texture grossed me out, so I put them on the side of my plate. She would shove them down my throat until I gagged. For the longest time I would gag if I accidentally ate a tomato. I'm not compelled for any reason to get over my childhood trauma.
3. I think Jack Bauer kicks ass!!!
4. I like attending sporting events. My favorite is hockey because it's pretty much all action and not a lot of contrived entertainment. I think it's sad that events like sports have become so overrun with what happens in between the sport itself. Is it too much to ask for a little down time? Do we ALWAYS need to be entertained???
5. I will see any action movie with Matt Damon.
6. Of all the habits I've had in my life, smoking has never been one of them.
7. I love watching old people who know how to partner dance. I'd like to learn before my 50th wedding anniversary, but hubby refuses. It's good I've got 39 years to soften him to the idea.
8. I took piano lessons as an adult. I stopped to take prereqs for a nursing program. I wish I had a real piano to take lessons again, or get my kids started. I think it's one of the only instruments that sounds good, even when practicing.
9. I don't listen to sappy music or see sappy movies because I'm afraid of becoming too sentimental about things . . . anything.
10. My right pinkie finger doesn't straighten, and I don't know why.
11. I have a problem with books. I like how some books feel when I pick them up. This presents a problem when in a store that carries books because I will always look and feel, and sometimes buy, even though my To Read pile is well over 70 now.
12. I love hot and sour soup, and I'm baffled that every Chinese restaurant has the same recipe, but I can't duplicate it at home, no matter how hard I try.
13. I appreciate people who say what they mean, and mean what they say, and I try be one of these people myself.
14. I love overhearing my children play make believe games with each other. I love it when they've organized a show with a performing dog or 3 year old on guitar. I think the thing I like about this most is that they usually get along and two are okay with one being in charge, and they just talk to each other and agree.
15. I love overhearing my children laugh . . . hard. It ALWAYS makes me smile.
16. I think a binary world view is a scary thing to have.
17. I ALWAYS have a book with me. Hubby makes fun of me when I travel and asks, "How many books did you bring this time?" when I'm leaving overnight and I have 2 books, and 600 pages to go in the first. But what if my car broke down on the side of the road and I had to wait for 6 hours? I'd wish I had my book with me if I forgot it.
18. When I go home I always go two places:
The Tattered Cover
El Taco de Mexico (7th & Santa Fe) for a smothered Special Burrito
19. I have only been out of the country once. Last year for our 10 year anniversary we went to Aruba. I'm willing to go anywhere, though.
20. I love camping, especially backpacking. I love the idea of having everything I need on my back. I don't even mind being away from showers or toilets, because it's one less thing that needs to be cleaned. (With regards to #17 I would probably only bring the book I'm reading at the time on a backpacking trip because too many books are heavy).
21. When I watch tv, I cross stitch to stay awake, otherwise the inactivity would knock me out in about 2 seconds flat. That's probably why I almost always fall asleep in the movie theater.
22. While the act of doing laundry is Sisyphean, sometimes I like the sense of accomplishment when it's all done, folded and put away.
23. I was born at home and had #3 at home. It was one of the coolest things I've experienced. I actually delivered him myself (we had a midwife there, but I did all the work).
24. There is a vacant storefront in my neighborhood. I dream of owning a bookstore there.
25. I feel inferior and am somewhat envious of women who work. I know being a stay at home mom is worthwhile endeavor. I know that being with my children is/will be rewarding and enjoyable, like today and yesterday, but sometimes the monotony can be mind-numbing. Sometimes I feel like I have nothing worthwhile to contribute to adult conversations. I think things might be different if I spent the bulk of my day talking to adults, but then again I'm sure some of my friends who work are tired of talking to adults and would just like to be home with their kids. The grass is always greener . . . and I'm working on appreciating my own grass.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Should I take a hint?
In preparation of our annual Christmas Soup open house on Saturday, I was wiping down the baseboards and walls in our kitchen and was reminded of my preparations for the event last year.
It was a rainy Friday morning, and I was running in between our little room in the back of our house where we keep our TV (we call it the back house). I hadn't showered or gotten out of my pajamas, but was getting the boys set up for a little auto-sitter while I enjoyed my morning routine, uninterrupted. The boys were happy, entertained and contained, so I made my way back to the house to get ready. I made my way carefully up the steps, to find the door . . . locked. Oh, that's right, I made sure to close it behind me so the rain wouldn't get in. No problem, I'll just call my hubby at work from the back house to run home and open the door. Back across the yard, pick up the phone and . . . it's off the hook in the house. CRAP!!! Now what?
Plan A: I pulled on the door handle really hard for about 15 minutes with tears (or was that rain?) streaming down my face. No luck.
Plan B: I grabbed a rock from my backyard and pounded away. Have you ever intentionally broken a window? It is a wild feeling. . . the anticipation of hearing the glass brake, your hand going through something hard that should be intact. Window eventually gave way, I was in the house, cleaned up the mess, then braced for the rest of the day. I successfully found someone to replace the glass that afternoon and everyone loved our party the next day.
Now today, hubby has a busy day at work, so he leaves early. I'm ready to leave the house at 8:35 to get #1 & #2 to school by 9. We go through the usual business of getting in the car and trying to ignore the plethora of distractions between the front door and the car. We get in and we're off . . . or so I thought. The car won't go into gear. CRAP!! I call hubby who can't get away. Now what? Thank goodness for good friends who were not too far away or too busy to add a trip to our house to pick up kids for school. Then I remembered I have been paying for Roadside Assistance on my cel phone. They arranged for a tow truck to our mechanic, and #3 and I are home for the day. Lucky for me, I bought new makeup yesterday and now feel like I can go out in public again. Urgh!!
On the bright side, I do have everything I need to make the remaining soups for our party on Saturday, and I have all the material to finish the quilt I'm making for my college roommate's baby (who is almost 2 months old now).
I'm not going to think about what adventures next year will bring.
It was a rainy Friday morning, and I was running in between our little room in the back of our house where we keep our TV (we call it the back house). I hadn't showered or gotten out of my pajamas, but was getting the boys set up for a little auto-sitter while I enjoyed my morning routine, uninterrupted. The boys were happy, entertained and contained, so I made my way back to the house to get ready. I made my way carefully up the steps, to find the door . . . locked. Oh, that's right, I made sure to close it behind me so the rain wouldn't get in. No problem, I'll just call my hubby at work from the back house to run home and open the door. Back across the yard, pick up the phone and . . . it's off the hook in the house. CRAP!!! Now what?
Plan A: I pulled on the door handle really hard for about 15 minutes with tears (or was that rain?) streaming down my face. No luck.
Plan B: I grabbed a rock from my backyard and pounded away. Have you ever intentionally broken a window? It is a wild feeling. . . the anticipation of hearing the glass brake, your hand going through something hard that should be intact. Window eventually gave way, I was in the house, cleaned up the mess, then braced for the rest of the day. I successfully found someone to replace the glass that afternoon and everyone loved our party the next day.
Now today, hubby has a busy day at work, so he leaves early. I'm ready to leave the house at 8:35 to get #1 & #2 to school by 9. We go through the usual business of getting in the car and trying to ignore the plethora of distractions between the front door and the car. We get in and we're off . . . or so I thought. The car won't go into gear. CRAP!! I call hubby who can't get away. Now what? Thank goodness for good friends who were not too far away or too busy to add a trip to our house to pick up kids for school. Then I remembered I have been paying for Roadside Assistance on my cel phone. They arranged for a tow truck to our mechanic, and #3 and I are home for the day. Lucky for me, I bought new makeup yesterday and now feel like I can go out in public again. Urgh!!
On the bright side, I do have everything I need to make the remaining soups for our party on Saturday, and I have all the material to finish the quilt I'm making for my college roommate's baby (who is almost 2 months old now).
I'm not going to think about what adventures next year will bring.
Monday, December 1, 2008
But I wove you . . .
This is the way #3 tries to get out of doing something he doesn't want to do. He says it in this sweet little sing-song voice and cannot pronounce the L in love and it just melts your heart, kind of. But that's not what I wanted to write about . . .
One of my favorite programs is This American Life. In a nutshell, it's thought provoking, in depth journalism, with essays every so often. It's an NPR show from Chicago that is on every weekend, usually airing Friday evening. (It has also become a TV show on Showtime, although I've only seen snippets of that because we don't have that channel). This show has opened my eyes to new ideas, people, ways of looking at the world, authors, etc. I love it. I subscribe to their podcast because I can't possibly ensure that the hour the show is on each weekend (or rebroadcast for that matter) is the precise hour my children are going to be quiet, so I tune in when I'm driving/running/doing dishes, you get the picture.
Episode #293 aired on July 11, 2008 entitled A Little Bit of Knowledge.
Act 2 of the show was an excerpt of a book by Dan Savage called The Commitment. The excerpt is regarding gay marriage in 2004, and how certain members of Dan's family were in favor of he and his partner getting married, but their son was ademently opposed to the idea, while Dan & his partner weren't sure if they wanted to get married at all. But in the middle of Dan's discussion about gender issues with his son, he has this wonderful discussion about falling in love that just melted me. Here it is:
It's not a decision you get to make, I said. It's not a decision I got to make, it's a decision your heart makes.
When?
When you're older, I said. One day your heart will let you know whether you're the kind of man who falls in love with a woman or a man. There was a long silence and I thought DJ had fallen asleep. He was curled up next to me resting his head against my side and I couldn't see his face. I stayed very still.
Grandma says you're supposed to marry the person you love, DJ suddenly said. He hadn't fallen asleep, he'd just been quietly working through something.
That's right, I said. Grandma does say that, all the time.
But you love me and we're not gonna get married.
Grown up love is a special kind of love. People don't fall in that special kind of love with their sisters or their mothers or their sons. There's something in your heart that makes you go out into the world and find someone new, someone you've never met before, and that's the person you fall in love with.
Why?
Because that's how new families are made. And one day you'll meet the person you want to make a new family with and that's the person you're supposed to marry.
Why?
Because marriage is a promise that you make to that other person. A promise to stay in love with them forever. To be related forever, so that you'll always be together.
Amen, brother.
One of my favorite programs is This American Life. In a nutshell, it's thought provoking, in depth journalism, with essays every so often. It's an NPR show from Chicago that is on every weekend, usually airing Friday evening. (It has also become a TV show on Showtime, although I've only seen snippets of that because we don't have that channel). This show has opened my eyes to new ideas, people, ways of looking at the world, authors, etc. I love it. I subscribe to their podcast because I can't possibly ensure that the hour the show is on each weekend (or rebroadcast for that matter) is the precise hour my children are going to be quiet, so I tune in when I'm driving/running/doing dishes, you get the picture.
Episode #293 aired on July 11, 2008 entitled A Little Bit of Knowledge.
Act 2 of the show was an excerpt of a book by Dan Savage called The Commitment. The excerpt is regarding gay marriage in 2004, and how certain members of Dan's family were in favor of he and his partner getting married, but their son was ademently opposed to the idea, while Dan & his partner weren't sure if they wanted to get married at all. But in the middle of Dan's discussion about gender issues with his son, he has this wonderful discussion about falling in love that just melted me. Here it is:
It's not a decision you get to make, I said. It's not a decision I got to make, it's a decision your heart makes.
When?
When you're older, I said. One day your heart will let you know whether you're the kind of man who falls in love with a woman or a man. There was a long silence and I thought DJ had fallen asleep. He was curled up next to me resting his head against my side and I couldn't see his face. I stayed very still.
Grandma says you're supposed to marry the person you love, DJ suddenly said. He hadn't fallen asleep, he'd just been quietly working through something.
That's right, I said. Grandma does say that, all the time.
But you love me and we're not gonna get married.
Grown up love is a special kind of love. People don't fall in that special kind of love with their sisters or their mothers or their sons. There's something in your heart that makes you go out into the world and find someone new, someone you've never met before, and that's the person you fall in love with.
Why?
Because that's how new families are made. And one day you'll meet the person you want to make a new family with and that's the person you're supposed to marry.
Why?
Because marriage is a promise that you make to that other person. A promise to stay in love with them forever. To be related forever, so that you'll always be together.
Amen, brother.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Reduce - Reuse - Recycle
I don't know how I got so lucky today, but my children entertained themselves this afternoon by using trash and recyclables to make robots. They worked together and dug through the trash, and here is what they came up with. I love it!!! The two yellow ones have Matchbox cars on the bottom, which they used to race down the hill in front of our house. What a great afternoon.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Giggles
#1
One year for Christmas, I took our daughter to the dollar store for her to pick out a gift for Dad. I know, big spender. (This was probably the Christmas when she was two.) She chose a small vanilla scented statue of Jesus that had adhesive on the bottom to stick on a dashboard or something similar.
Fast forward a few months and we go visit my husband at his office. I pointed out to her that he had the Jesus statue on his bookshelf. She took a whiff and said, "Ummm. It smells like Jesus in here."
#3
It is a favorite bedtime ritual in our house to read stories. Sometimes I choose the stories, sometimes the kids do. The other night I chose The Peace Book by Todd Parr (if you don't have this book, I highly recommend getting it). Each page begins with the phrase: Peace is . . . followed by some action, ie. . . .sharing a meal, . . .keeping the street clean, . . . being who you are, etc.
The book opens with, Peace is making new friends and #3 says, "Who is Peace?" and starts pointing to each of the five children on the page and asking, "Is that Peace?" The third page reads: Peace is listening to different kinds of music and there's a picture of a person in a turban playing a recorder to a snake coming out of a basket, and he says, "Oh, that's Peace."
I can't wait for the day he sees a snake charmer on the Travel Channel or something like that and yells out, "That's Peace!!!"
One year for Christmas, I took our daughter to the dollar store for her to pick out a gift for Dad. I know, big spender. (This was probably the Christmas when she was two.) She chose a small vanilla scented statue of Jesus that had adhesive on the bottom to stick on a dashboard or something similar.
Fast forward a few months and we go visit my husband at his office. I pointed out to her that he had the Jesus statue on his bookshelf. She took a whiff and said, "Ummm. It smells like Jesus in here."
#3
It is a favorite bedtime ritual in our house to read stories. Sometimes I choose the stories, sometimes the kids do. The other night I chose The Peace Book by Todd Parr (if you don't have this book, I highly recommend getting it). Each page begins with the phrase: Peace is . . . followed by some action, ie. . . .sharing a meal, . . .keeping the street clean, . . . being who you are, etc.
The book opens with, Peace is making new friends and #3 says, "Who is Peace?" and starts pointing to each of the five children on the page and asking, "Is that Peace?" The third page reads: Peace is listening to different kinds of music and there's a picture of a person in a turban playing a recorder to a snake coming out of a basket, and he says, "Oh, that's Peace."
I can't wait for the day he sees a snake charmer on the Travel Channel or something like that and yells out, "That's Peace!!!"
Monday, October 20, 2008
Our Sunday Chaos
Yesterday was an especially weird day. #1 and I began the day by cheering on my friend and mother of daughter's friends in a triathalon. I might have been inspired for a new sport, except I'm not such a strong swimmer.
The preschool where #2 & #3 attend is run by a church and yesterday was Preschool Sunday, and the 3 & 4 year olds have been practicing two songs. So we packed up for church early and were guests in the preschool's church, and what do you know, the boys wouldn't sing. We sat in a pew and watched their classmates sing. Okay, no big deal.
Then we proceeded to our church. #3 throws a major tantrum in the middle of Sacrament Meeting and puzzle pieces go flying. Nice. I ask #1 if she'll help pick up the puzzle pieces, to which she agrees because she's that kind of a kid (thank goodness). She's bending down on her heals leaning forward and bumps her elbow and is jolted upright by the pain and then her eyes roll back in her head and she goes over backwards. I look at her and see her eyes rolling around but she's not responding to me, and I freak out. Hubby and I jump up and try to get her out of the chapel, get her some water and he takes her to get some food. After further evaluation, her blood pressure was probably low from being almost horizontal, and then with lack of circulation because she was sitting on her heels, well you get the picture. She was/is fine.
Nothing like having your child pass out to get your heart pumping. Then when we realized she's okay, I was drained.
We enter Primary, and our behavior problems are in full force, and I was off to the adult's classes to retrieve the parents of said children.
Hubby and I came home and looked at each other and said, "What the heck just happened?"
"We give up."
The preschool where #2 & #3 attend is run by a church and yesterday was Preschool Sunday, and the 3 & 4 year olds have been practicing two songs. So we packed up for church early and were guests in the preschool's church, and what do you know, the boys wouldn't sing. We sat in a pew and watched their classmates sing. Okay, no big deal.
Then we proceeded to our church. #3 throws a major tantrum in the middle of Sacrament Meeting and puzzle pieces go flying. Nice. I ask #1 if she'll help pick up the puzzle pieces, to which she agrees because she's that kind of a kid (thank goodness). She's bending down on her heals leaning forward and bumps her elbow and is jolted upright by the pain and then her eyes roll back in her head and she goes over backwards. I look at her and see her eyes rolling around but she's not responding to me, and I freak out. Hubby and I jump up and try to get her out of the chapel, get her some water and he takes her to get some food. After further evaluation, her blood pressure was probably low from being almost horizontal, and then with lack of circulation because she was sitting on her heels, well you get the picture. She was/is fine.
Nothing like having your child pass out to get your heart pumping. Then when we realized she's okay, I was drained.
We enter Primary, and our behavior problems are in full force, and I was off to the adult's classes to retrieve the parents of said children.
Hubby and I came home and looked at each other and said, "What the heck just happened?"
"We give up."
Sunday, October 12, 2008
To Play or Not to Play
One of our favorite things to do is go to the park to have a little family baseball game. Hubby or I will pitch, and the kids take turns fielding and hitting. It's usually a pretty enjoyable experience, a few negotiations about "one more pitch" or "one more hit," maybe some tears, but generally, it's fun.
BUT . . .
. . . as is the case with parks in general, there are other people there, which is usually a good thing, except when it comes to the family baseball game (or any ball game we've intended to play at the park). After we've been going for a little while, a kid who doesn't belong to us, will skirt around the fringes, start shagging some balls, and before you know it, they're struggling with #2 over whose turn it is to bat next.
Hubby's point is this, "I came to the park to pitch balls to my kids, not your's. I didn't come to the park to referee 6 kids fighting over the next swing (with the bat, we hope), it's tough enough with 3, so would you kindly butt out."
I get it. Sure I do. But where do you draw the line? Our kids will usually ask to play with other kids in their ball games at parks and other parents are gracious enough to consent. I don't mind so much except when one of our children isn't in the mood for sharing one of his parents. He does so well with one on one attention, especially when it involves Dad and a ball. Maybe it's different for me being with them the majority of every day, that I don't mind mixing it up a little and playing with other kids at the park because we do have a lot of one on one time, so the hour Hubby has to play with the kids at the park on a Sunday afternoon is precious to him. During the week it gives me a chance to speak to other adults at the park during the day, where he's not at the park to make friends, he's there to play with his kids.
Sometimes, we've taken balls and mitts and if other kids don't have a mitt, they usually don't ask to play, but any other sort of ball game seems to be free reign.
I clearly understand both sides of the issue (Economy? War in Iraq? Equality in marriage? BHAA, we're talking real issues here) I'm just not sure how what the protocol for diplomacy is in resolving this one. I'm up for any suggestions you have. Give it to me straight. I don't need it sugar coated, my skin is pretty thick.
I'm serious.
BUT . . .
. . . as is the case with parks in general, there are other people there, which is usually a good thing, except when it comes to the family baseball game (or any ball game we've intended to play at the park). After we've been going for a little while, a kid who doesn't belong to us, will skirt around the fringes, start shagging some balls, and before you know it, they're struggling with #2 over whose turn it is to bat next.
Hubby's point is this, "I came to the park to pitch balls to my kids, not your's. I didn't come to the park to referee 6 kids fighting over the next swing (with the bat, we hope), it's tough enough with 3, so would you kindly butt out."
I get it. Sure I do. But where do you draw the line? Our kids will usually ask to play with other kids in their ball games at parks and other parents are gracious enough to consent. I don't mind so much except when one of our children isn't in the mood for sharing one of his parents. He does so well with one on one attention, especially when it involves Dad and a ball. Maybe it's different for me being with them the majority of every day, that I don't mind mixing it up a little and playing with other kids at the park because we do have a lot of one on one time, so the hour Hubby has to play with the kids at the park on a Sunday afternoon is precious to him. During the week it gives me a chance to speak to other adults at the park during the day, where he's not at the park to make friends, he's there to play with his kids.
Sometimes, we've taken balls and mitts and if other kids don't have a mitt, they usually don't ask to play, but any other sort of ball game seems to be free reign.
I clearly understand both sides of the issue (Economy? War in Iraq? Equality in marriage? BHAA, we're talking real issues here) I'm just not sure how what the protocol for diplomacy is in resolving this one. I'm up for any suggestions you have. Give it to me straight. I don't need it sugar coated, my skin is pretty thick.
I'm serious.
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