At 6:35 this morning:

“Mama, there’s a noise in my room, and it’s clapping clapping like ‘splat clap’ all the time and all over and everywhere and it’s loud clapping!” – The window was dripping water onto the frame.

Yesterday in the car:

“Mama, is O (friend from school) 5 yet?”  “Nope, her birthday isn’t until Monday.”  “Oh, well, she turn 5 and eat a cupcake.  And I turn 5 and eat a cupcake.  Is that a good idea?”  “Sure.”  “Okay, maybe tomorrow.”

This afternoon in the car:

“So, did you have a good time at Bible Study?”  “Yeah.”  “Did you play with Miss Lisa?”  “No.”  “Why not?”  “She in jail.”

Anytime JJ sees a male of African American descent:

“Wook, Mama, it’s Brock Bama!”

Anytime Abe coughs:

[Rushing over to put his hand on his chest]:  “It’s okay, Abe, it’s okay!  You awright.  You my big boy.”

Here’s why he needed to comfort the Little Man.  Thank heavens the Darth Vader infestation has left the bronchial tubes.

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I was supposed to be doing something else, but I forgot what it was, and the computer has such a pretty shiny monitor that I find myself blogging.  So pretty and shiny.

September.  Almost here.  Like that visit from friends or relatives that you knew was in the distant future, but you didn’t have to think about because it was so far off, and yet now it’s midnight and you find yourself at WinCo at midnight buying a toilet scrub brush because you don’t own one, and while you and your roommate don’t mind the ever-growing brown ring around the toilet because it kinda matches the decor of the bathroom, your visitor might turn the CDC on you.

I.E.  I’m not ready.

What’s really killing me is getting organized.  Correction:  organizing how I will get organized.  Yes, that’s dumb.  Or rather “complicated” if you’re supposed to be fasting from negative words (which I’ll get around to, one of these days, Dr. Nedley).  What’s the best way to try and manage my day-to-day stuff?  What about stuff for the long term, like budget and life goals?  How can I anticipate things that keep coming up every year, and every year I think, “Stink!  I forgot about that!  Next year I’ll do *so* much better about remembering.”  Heh heh:  notsomuch.

I have notebooks scattered around the house:  some blank, some planners, some for food, some for grocery lists, some for random lists.  I have Google Calendar and Remember the Milk profiles.  My feed reader sends me all sorts of stuff from Organizing Junkie and Zen Habits and Lifehacker.  I know Flylady says I need to let go of my perfectionism, but how can I do that when she has an entire home management binder I should fill out but get overwhelmed at the thought and also recognize I could do it if I didn’t have children and house stuff and life stuff to organize, but then I wouldn’t need to organize anything at that point?

So, what helps you get things done?  How do you manage not to look like a deer (well, in these parts, it’d be more accurate to say possum, but then that brings back some bad memories – woot NHS class of 93!) in the headlights?

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Yes, this blog is still functioning.  No, I have not forgotten about it.  I’ve created many a witty post in my noggin – things regarding:

• my bebe turning one and then turning thirteen months
• going camping/rafting with friends and managing to come home *not* having had to go to the hospital
• sharing what a travesty it is that Will was voted off of SYTYCD (America, for shame, for shame)
• in-laws coming to visit and going to the zoo
• in-ground sprinklers being installed
• water pipes breaking while out of town creating an unknown scary water bill and existing in the biggest tent ever (aka my waterless house)
• being up at the ‘rents for a week plus and having my every need catered to (including getting to work out every day on a machine, not working out by pushing 70+ pounds of bebes and double stroller up the Wine Country hills)
• having my bubba come visit with presents for everyone (including ds games for the mama which I can’t put down – ask the children:  they’re hungry)
• being married for five years (which we’ll celebrate . . . one of these days .. . maybe at around seven years, at the rate we deal with things)
• Etc., etc., etc.

But no:  what has motivated me to dust off the ol’ blogging keyborad (dusty like the rest of my house) is two-fold:

1)  The bucket’o'fuss (aka Abe) is sitting quietly playing with books at my feet and I dare not move lest the happy trance be broken and he remembers that the world is a cruel, harsh place (see above regarding SYTYCD – seriously, America:  that never would’ve happened in Canada).

2)  As I IMed my husband this morning:  BAKERY’S OPEN!!!  BAKERY’S OPEN!!! BAKERY’S OPEN!!!

We live in a little town, a blip on the way from one suburb to another.  But in this teeny town, there are a few good things:  BBQ, Chinese food, and a bakery.  Except the bakery closed.  Which was a cruel, cruel thing to have happen to a post-partum mama who enjoyed supporting local business and local carbs.  And her bebes enjoyed supporting local carbs (they’ll get on the local business part someday soon).

One day it was just not open:  the open sign was gone.  I kept looking.  Another day the hours sign was taken down, and I think perhaps a “closed indefiniately” sign was in its place.  That was a bad, bad day.

But the business never changed.  The tables stayed in place; the businesss sign was still up.  So everytime I went to the next suburb, I looked, I grieved, and I drove on.  Today was no different:  looking, grieving, driving.  After hitting all my typical Friday-shopping-cheap stores, I thought, “Hmm, we need some treats.  Oooh, Great Harvest Bread Co. hands out free bread:  mmmm.”  So we went.  We ate.  And we purchased;  Honey Whole Wheat (right out of the oven) and Wheat Cinnamon Chip (for breakfast parade munchies:  it’s good to know folks who live on a parade route).

Driving home.  Happy all is well.  One boy eating still, one boy sleeping.  Looking.  Getting ready to grieve.  But wait:  there’s an open sign.  Flipping head quickly:  new signage with hours!  And another open sign!

I kid you not:  I giggled all the way home.  Yes, pathetic.  But I *love* having a local bakery, one that I can walk to with the bebes, one that I can say, “Hey, yes, I can bring bread to your function:  bread from *my* bakery.”  Could I learn to bake bread?  Sure:  but it’s so much more fun to go get bread and have the bakers say, “Can we give you kiddos cookies?” and pass out a peanut butter cookie the size of your head.  Peanut butter – because it has protein. 

Well, the clicking of the keys alerted the yowler that I had something I desired to do more than revel in his “Now that I’m one and your return policy has expired, I can throw tantrums because you can’t send me back.  Nee-ner-nee-ner”, I’d best publish.

I may be back.  If I can find something *someone* enjoys more than being Irish.  Or if I keep the loaf of whole wheat bread next to my desk and shove a little larger than bite sized pieces into *someone’s* mouth.

Yay, my bakery. 

Daily Drivel, Random Remarks | 2 Comments »

I wrote a kinda heavy post on my other blogs, so to balance it out, I’m going to blog random funniness on this one.

Tonight while brushing his teeth, JJ was babbling about Yoyo and Steve taking a nap.  I called to the other room.  "Hubby, who’s ‘Yoyo’?"  "Yoda!"  "Oh. . . . Well, who’s Steve?"  "Steve Fawver !"  "Why are they taking a nap together?"  "I dunno."  And JJ just kept brushing his teeth.

Little A has added a new means of expression to his repertoire.

• When being fed green food
• When attempting to pass him off to a person who’s first name does not start with "ma" and end with "ma"
• When trying to put on his bib, when removing clothes
• When seeing his friendly ten-days-older buddy who loves Little A’s pacifier as much as Little A does

he now takes his head and shakes it violently back and forth.  I.E.  the little tyke is saying ‘no’.  At ten months.  Does it really have to start this early?  Really?

This morning in church the Young Friends singers performed.  In my head I was reliving the Young Friends singers days of my youth.  Except that I didn’t attend my current worship gathering until I was in high school.  But my high school friends had been YFS, and they videotaped their performances, and they liked to show them to those of us who hadn’t been present (special treat!).  But it was awfully cute to watch one little boy get stuck in his sweatshirt – poor guy couldn’t find the hole to save his life (they were doing a song about goosebumps and put on coats for dramatic effect), another one sporting what must be her mama or pappy ‘s coat because the sleeves almost his the floor so she looked like she was a very young streaker with very pretty flowered tights, and then later watching them try to wave triangle flags about without poking each other in the eye.  Because nothing says "God loves me and you" than a missing appendage.  Precious moments.

My friend was apologizing for her dinner offering tonight:  she sent her hubby to the store for bread, and he came back with Freddie’s french bread.  "White bread!  I’m so sorry!"  "Are you kidding?!!" I exclaimed.  "My roommates and I lived off of this stuff!  Throw in a rotisserie chicken, and when we had graduated, a bottle of . . . oh man, crappy girly wine."  Ash:  "Arbor Mist?"  "Yes!"  Ash:  "Aw, I knew we had too much in common." 

Yup:  random.

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After getting up with the preschooler twice and the mad roll-overer three times in the beginning, middle, and end of the night, it can be easy to be a bit . . . how shall we say . . . cranky?  But my friend Meredith posted a wonderful practice of listing her favorite things.  And so I shall list my favorites as well as the favorites of the wee folk in the house in an attempt to realize they do enjoy things and are not just out to get me.

Starting from the smallest in body size:

Orley

• Sleeping under the Big People’s bed
• Sleeping on the Big People’s bed
• Waiting underneath the Big People’s Bed to stalk the Female Big Person until she slips into bed and then leaping out, jumping on the bed, and walking all the way up her side to sleep on her shoulder which I know she loves because she sighs (contentedly, I’m sure) every time I do it and mutters something about “never getting space” and “having to be mastered by all the males in the house.”  I know she loves it

Little A

• Attention
• Having control over my pacifier, taking it in and out of my mouth, thereby controlling my verbosity (i.e. not allowing the Big People to control my verbosity):  I control the horizontal, I control the vertical.
• My brother and the natural whirlwind he creates wherever he goes:  I may grow up to be a tornado chaser – it’ll be just like being at home.
• Rattles.  I actually play with rattles!  As opposed to my brother, who played with humans, bending them to his will.  I don’t have to do that:  if I can bend my brother to my will, then I’m golden.
• Rolling over.  I’m a rolling fool!
• Oatmeal and applesauce.  Fed to me by the Female Big Person.  She should be in charge of feeding *always*.  Because she makes lovely faces when I request for her to be my server, and she makes funny muttering noises.  Funny lady.
• My lion on my carseat.  Bangy bangy bangy.
• Moonlight rendevous with the Big People, particularly the Female Big Person (see aforementioned lovely faces and funny noises).
• Attention

Jacks

• Attention
• Food
• Attention
• My blue plastic bone that I work at picking off the teeny tiny pokey bits that are meant for oral stimulation but I can’t handle that much stimulation because I’m all twitchy like.  Hence, the constant picking.
• Attention
• When the Female Big Person flops over onto her stomach in bed and lets her arm (I’m sure on purpose) hang over the edge to I can walk underneath it and help her pet me.  If she groans, then I lick her on the nose to let her know she *wants* to pet me.  I’m sure she does . . . .
• Attention

JJ

• Singing songs, even though I make up most of the words “E-E-N-G-O spells his name-O” and “oh my DAHlin lemontine”.
• Telling the Big People what they need to do:  “mama, come on”  “mama, look at my face”  “Little A:  quiet!  You understand?” “mama, you say ‘yes, sir, JJ!  yes, sir!’” (and boy howdy, does his mama love it as well)
• Playing with dinosaurs – with Big People.
• Playing with cars – with Big People.
• Playing with beans – with Big People.
• Telling Mama about how I take toys out of people’s hands and go to time out at school.
• Reading stories, especially unwrapping a Christmas book every night until Christmas time.
• Bath time.  With Mama.   And then spelling words.  With Mama.
• Elmojoestevebluecwiffordboblarrycookweemonster.  All.  At.  Once.
• Stickers from the store.
• Praying at night when I pray for family members and friends and school and the store and the library and friends and ABCs and 123s and friends and the store.
• Helping my brother understand that he will be much happier with a pacifier in his mouth being quiet in the arms of the Big Person I don’t want to play with so that I can play with the Big Person I *do* want to play with.
• Turning on the Christmas lights in the morning.
• I can’t remember:  did I mention playing with Big People?

Dren

• No attention
• The lock on my bathroom door (although it’s often used by JJ to lock out everyone else except him and Mama).
• My ipod  (listening to Satellite Sisters over the yowlers is quite enjoyable)
• Hearing “Mama bake cookies with JJ?” every night
• Seeing Little A smile with delight at folks captured by his charm
• Women’s Bible Fellowship:  and childcare!  Women who *want* to play with my kids!  And tell me:  this, too, shall pass.  Ah, Great GranMaribeth – my patron saint.
• A hubby who says, “Bad night?  You know what, I’m going to come home after lunch and stay at home.”  Of course, I tell him to stay at work, but still:  aw.
• My hubby.  And his dimples: they’re just so cute (and so are all my boys’ dimples).
• A Gran and Granddaddy who come down to visit, take us out to lunch, bring gifts of food and clothes and ornaments and homemade breast pads and say nothing but affirming words to everyone in the house.
• A decaf sugar-free something-or-other Americano from Chapters:  mmmm.
• My friends who can still laugh with me even though we recognize we’re all a little on the looney side.
• Singing “Feliz Navidad” with my brother:  chh chh chh chh.
• Driving around the week before Christmas looking at Christmas lights.
• Peace on earth, good will towards men – or a solid night’s sleep.

JJ Jawings, Little A Adventures, Mama Musings, Random Remarks | 1 Comment »

I wanna know:  who won the prize?

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“I am constantly questioning my decisions. It’s hard. I have a great education; I had a great job. If I stay home with my child, I feel like, ‘Is this all there is?’ and if I work, I feel consumed with guilt. So I end up feeling trapped, like I can’t win.”

- I was a Really Good Mom Before I Had Kids

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“I can’t come to the gathering this weekend; I’m doing the Tualatin Pumpkin Regatta.”

“Excuse me, enh?”

That’s what one of my friends recently told me. An amazing person who throws great baby showers, arranges meals for new moms, helps out with area teen moms, takes care of her own three adorable little ones and fantastic hubby, and always has a positive thing to say no matter the circumstance.

And she rowed down a river in a giant pumpkin dressed up as Cinderella (look for the cute blonde – in the first shot, she’s on the left).  My friends rock.

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Does it get much better? Check this out!

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