I look like I got into a hardcore wrasslin' match with a poison ivy plant.
Oh wait ... I did.
Never in my life have I had to endure this ridiculousness. Ever. All my years of wandering through wooded areas with friends, going horseback riding through thick grasses and playing in areas you'd think poison ivy would grow, and where do I pick up this itchy, scratchy rash?
The flower bed at Future Home.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Thursday, August 22, 2013
The desk has left the building
Trying to stay organized while gradually moving into one house and out of another while also trying to keep the house we're moving out of in some sort of livable fashion and the new house from melting into a puddle of chaos is challenging.
You follow that? We're talking full-on shaking with frustration over everything kind of challenge over here in Naked Baby Land.
But maybe that frustration is a sign of making headway? Or I'm just an asshole who wants everyone to check my list before they touch/move/breathe on anything in their personal space.
You follow that? We're talking full-on shaking with frustration over everything kind of challenge over here in Naked Baby Land.
But maybe that frustration is a sign of making headway? Or I'm just an asshole who wants everyone to check my list before they touch/move/breathe on anything in their personal space.
Monday, August 19, 2013
WTF! She knows her ABCs
Somehow Josie knows her ABCs.
It's absolutely horrible, but I'm not even sure where she learned them. These are bad habits to break.
Next thing you know she'll know how to spell and my life will forever be destroyed. I will never be allowed to plan a surprise trip to get I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M again and forget going to the P-L-A-Y-G-R-O-U-N-D.
Sure, it's entirely possible that my incessant singing of the little ditty drilled it into the ever-changing landscape of grey matter inside her noggin. Or it could have been any one of the LeapFrog toys she plays with in conjunction with the LeapFrog videos on Netflix she's obsessed with. It could even be my mad immersion techniques where I have forced my kids to go to the Y and have fun (I know! I'm such a bad parent) and the amazing childcare staff has given a push in the preschool education department. Someone should buy them cookies.
It's absolutely horrible, but I'm not even sure where she learned them. These are bad habits to break.
Next thing you know she'll know how to spell and my life will forever be destroyed. I will never be allowed to plan a surprise trip to get I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M again and forget going to the P-L-A-Y-G-R-O-U-N-D.
Sure, it's entirely possible that my incessant singing of the little ditty drilled it into the ever-changing landscape of grey matter inside her noggin. Or it could have been any one of the LeapFrog toys she plays with in conjunction with the LeapFrog videos on Netflix she's obsessed with. It could even be my mad immersion techniques where I have forced my kids to go to the Y and have fun (I know! I'm such a bad parent) and the amazing childcare staff has given a push in the preschool education department. Someone should buy them cookies.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
We're flippin' carseat crazy. Emphasis on 'crazy.'
A minivan officially sits in our driveway with my license plates on it. My truck ... well, I loved it and we had some good times, but in the end she just wasn't living up to my expectations.
We lost another binky. They are all missing. Charlie is borrowing one from her sister's godfather's son who likely never would have a clue it was missing if I weren't mentioning it now. Sorry 'bout your luck, Liam, it's got girl germs on it now.
After the recent nephew/niece trading, Boy went through our Netflix "recently watched" list ... interesting. Someone needs to clue that younger boy into how not appropriate it is to attempt to watch anime on my TV. Or any TV. Especially mine and particularly when I assume my children were in the room. In fact, I think he and I and his mother may have to chat. At first, I thought it was hilarious that it was listed in the watched list, until my husband said, "I think it's time someone gets the talk."
We lost another binky. They are all missing. Charlie is borrowing one from her sister's godfather's son who likely never would have a clue it was missing if I weren't mentioning it now. Sorry 'bout your luck, Liam, it's got girl germs on it now.
After the recent nephew/niece trading, Boy went through our Netflix "recently watched" list ... interesting. Someone needs to clue that younger boy into how not appropriate it is to attempt to watch anime on my TV. Or any TV. Especially mine and particularly when I assume my children were in the room. In fact, I think he and I and his mother may have to chat. At first, I thought it was hilarious that it was listed in the watched list, until my husband said, "I think it's time someone gets the talk."
Monday, August 12, 2013
Refrigerator, van ... it's all the same
It's after 2 p.m. and I'm close to mainlining the cup of coffee I reheated ... again.
The again is in reference to reheating the coffee, not mainlining it. I've never actually done that, but taking my caffeine intravenously is definitely an idea that's been tossed around. *yawn*
The last two weeks have kind of been a blur of kids coming and going and things changing. My 10-year-old nephew came and spent a week with us and then I switched him out for his sister, who is 14. I think having them here was more exhausting than keeping up with the Mini Me Duo. If nothing else, it was more mentally exhausting.
The again is in reference to reheating the coffee, not mainlining it. I've never actually done that, but taking my caffeine intravenously is definitely an idea that's been tossed around. *yawn*
The last two weeks have kind of been a blur of kids coming and going and things changing. My 10-year-old nephew came and spent a week with us and then I switched him out for his sister, who is 14. I think having them here was more exhausting than keeping up with the Mini Me Duo. If nothing else, it was more mentally exhausting.
Friday, August 9, 2013
Clean freak chronicles: In a Lysol haze
I've been kind of secretive about plans to move. Or at least, after some careful thought and a strategically made Facebook post, that's the way it may appear to some.
Truthfully, I just haven't turned to social media with all my joy/panic moments over the decision because we (Boy Wonder and I) never sat down and did a serious house hunt.
But here it is — after almost five years in this house, we're moving on. It's happening slowly, because if I make a big move and do it too quickly I'll fall apart, and I can't afford to do that all over again. Moving into our current home was almost too much to bear and the clutter utterly consumed me. A lot of days it still does, but that's primarily because we don't have enough space for the amount of things we have. I've been making great strides to cut back on the material things here that are just pure crap we don't need to hold onto, but I can only do so much when we only get 24 hours each day to accomplish what's on my list. And that list is long.
Truthfully, I just haven't turned to social media with all my joy/panic moments over the decision because we (Boy Wonder and I) never sat down and did a serious house hunt.
But here it is — after almost five years in this house, we're moving on. It's happening slowly, because if I make a big move and do it too quickly I'll fall apart, and I can't afford to do that all over again. Moving into our current home was almost too much to bear and the clutter utterly consumed me. A lot of days it still does, but that's primarily because we don't have enough space for the amount of things we have. I've been making great strides to cut back on the material things here that are just pure crap we don't need to hold onto, but I can only do so much when we only get 24 hours each day to accomplish what's on my list. And that list is long.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Weighing the problem
Weight is just a number on a scale. Isn't it?
As an obsessive compulsive weight checker, I can say that isn't always the case. Yesterday, I weighed myself seven times. Seven. It's not always that bad. Some days it's only three. And when I skip a day, I worry more about eating a sandwich with bread than any one person should. I don't, by any means, starve myself, but I do watch closely what goes in my mouth with a reward and reprimand mentality.
For a lot of women, being "fat" is in their heads. For those of us who have battled the weight monster for years, we look in the mirror and see a giant even if our clothes have become ill-fitting from weight loss and the number on the scale reflects something we're pleased with.
The scale isn't the issue, though. The body mass index charts, the skinnier than thou actresses, the weight loss supplements advertised everywhere ... those are the issues. As a society, we — women and men — have religiously opened ourselves up for criticisms where weight is concerned. For most people I know, the BMI would call them overweight; actresses who put on a few pounds because they had a bad breakup and ate a loaf of bread and some Ben & Jerry's are flaunted as baby bump suspects; directly related are the too-skinny rich and famous who are called out as bulimic or anorexic; I'm not even going to tell you what advertisements, the grocery store and pharmacy do to a chunky girl with low self esteem.
What I am going to do is get to the point. Eventually. I think there's a point to this. Maybe.
As an obsessive compulsive weight checker, I can say that isn't always the case. Yesterday, I weighed myself seven times. Seven. It's not always that bad. Some days it's only three. And when I skip a day, I worry more about eating a sandwich with bread than any one person should. I don't, by any means, starve myself, but I do watch closely what goes in my mouth with a reward and reprimand mentality.
For a lot of women, being "fat" is in their heads. For those of us who have battled the weight monster for years, we look in the mirror and see a giant even if our clothes have become ill-fitting from weight loss and the number on the scale reflects something we're pleased with.
The scale isn't the issue, though. The body mass index charts, the skinnier than thou actresses, the weight loss supplements advertised everywhere ... those are the issues. As a society, we — women and men — have religiously opened ourselves up for criticisms where weight is concerned. For most people I know, the BMI would call them overweight; actresses who put on a few pounds because they had a bad breakup and ate a loaf of bread and some Ben & Jerry's are flaunted as baby bump suspects; directly related are the too-skinny rich and famous who are called out as bulimic or anorexic; I'm not even going to tell you what advertisements, the grocery store and pharmacy do to a chunky girl with low self esteem.
What I am going to do is get to the point. Eventually. I think there's a point to this. Maybe.
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