Archive for the ‘Daily Insanity’ Category

Good News.

August 23, 2012

I was having a particularly boring day at work today. Ignoring my phone most of the afternoon because let’s face it, nobody ever texts me while I’m at work. Except for today. I decided to check my phone and I had a message from my dear friend Angela. She was texting to let me know that she’d found a great deal on airfare and she’d decided to come and visit me again. I admit that I made absolutely no attempt to talk her out of it. I also admit that when she finally declared that she bought the tickets, I may or may not have done a little happy dance in the bakery. Okay, so I totally did.

It’s only going to be for a couple of days, but I’m beyond thrilled.

Here are some photos from our family vacation to Eureka Springs last month.

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That’s all for now. I’ll write again soon. Maybe.


Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

August 16, 2012

I often struggle with the idea of blogging about my life because the things I’m willing to talk about are probably not all that interesting. It’s not that my life is dull or boring, it’s just, well, normal? I struggle with the idea of normality. It’s not a concept I’ve ever been all that familiar with. But to those of you who may know me, this is simply not news. I can be completely addle-brained or completely serious at any given moment. My kids are doomed to die of confusion and embarrassment.

Take the other night. It was a late night and we were driving home. Lucinda started to fuss because it was past her bedtime and she is one of those weird children who won’t sleep anywhere but her own bed unless she merely passes out from exhaustion. (Side-note: trying to get her to sleep in a hotel room was an exercise in futility) I decided the easiest way to entertain her and make her happy was to sing to her. So Rob and I took turns singing various kiddie songs to her but her clear favourite was Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. In this way, she is just like her big brother.

I used to sing to James at bedtime, in this order, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Jesus Loves Me, Mary Had a Little Lamb (all 6 verses that I knew) and then he would look up at me and ask for Twinkle Twinkle Little Star one more time, please? Every night, without fail. I would kneel down beside his bed, stroke his tummy, and happily oblige. He would pull his favourite blanket up over his tummy and turn on his side when I was finished. Then I would kiss his forehead, ruffle his hair, and say goodnight. He would say back to me, in almost a sing-song voice “I’ll see you in the morrrrning!”. Lucinda is still not too interested in being sung to before bedtime, She’d much rather you read Goodnight Moon, turn out her light, and leave. But in the car when it’s past bedtime, singing is pretty boss. So we started to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star all together, James, Daddy, and me. We went a few rounds before James started suggesting “styles” for his parents to sing the song. Loud, quiet, fast, slow. Pretty standard requests. It was when James requested that we sing it “Cool” that we were briefly stumped.

Now, I don’t know if it’s because at that point I’d been awake for 21 hours, or if I’m just significantly weirder than I think I am. But I instructed Rob to start singing it sort of like a rap song, so he did his best. And I beat-boxed the whole way through. Much to the delight of my children. At the very end of the song, my husband looked over at me and said “I had no idea you could beatbox like that.” Neither did I. So you see? you learn something new every day.

I’m a little sad tonight. We had such a great summer together while Rob was on summer vacation. It’s always hard when he starts going back to work, but for some reason, it just seems so much worse this year. I think I’d gotten used to having the silly ol’ hubs around when I was off of work on a Tuesday. Tomorrow is his first day back and I know all of us are going to take it to heart. We did our best today to make a good day for the kids. We went to Sea Center Texas, and then followed that with Chuck E. Cheese. Both kids came home and napped despite James insisting he just wasn’t tired. He was so not tired that he fell asleep on the sofa while playing Storm in a Teacup.

(photo by Angela Galli Photography)

My children are growing. I wish they could stay this age but their physical and emotional growth are inevitable. James is going to be 5 years old soon, and Lucinda will be 2 years old even sooner. Baby photos of her are only one page back on this blog. Which not only is a testament to how fast she’s grown, but also to how little I write. They are both becoming more independent in their own way, and someday the idea of Goodnight Moon before bed will seem old hat. I’m not excited about those routines being thrown away. But I have hope. Because every once in a while, James still requests his songs before bed. And he still almost always wants Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, just one more time.

Stress List 2.0

August 10, 2011

A couple of years ago (has it been that long?) I blogged a list of all the items circling my brain just to try put some of them to rest. It actually worked out pretty well at the time so I’m going to go ahead and do it again. Here we go!

In no particular order…

Preschool. Renovations. Sex. Bills. Lucinda’s head. James’ finger. My side. Robert’s foot. Dry wall. Polyurethane. My diet. Robert’s party. Ice cream. Work. Always work. That weird scratching noise coming from outside. What am I cooking tomorrow night? Is my son watching too much tv? (some things never change.) Am I doing the right thing at work? New friends. Old friends. The weight of the books. Speakers. Money. Calories. Too many grams of fat. Twitter. potty training. Lucinda’s anemia. The metric system. Counting. One. Two. Three. Dozen. We all need hair cuts. Shaving my legs. What am I going to wear on Saturday? Cake. Date night. My bathroom. Ham or Turkey? White or wheat? Cheddar or American? Decisions, Decisions. Sausage. Calories. My freezer. Steve Carrell or James Franco? Laundry. Crawling. Teething. Carpel Tunnel. Editing my blog. Grocery shopping.

Even if I manage to work out all of these, I will probably always forget the weight of the books.

Do I know you?

August 8, 2011

I’ve posed the idea to others before, and people aren’t always sure what I mean, but I have in my heart a small collection of songs, movies, and even foods that are tied up in the memory of someone. I have songs I don’t want to listen to. I have movies that I won’t watch. I have foods and restaurants that I would choose not to visit.

But if I watch, if I listen, sit down in a familiar chair, memories and people come flooding back to me.

It can be the smallest of moments, the shortest of melodies, and my mind starts to wander.

For example, I’m not going to watch 13 Going On 30 any time soon. I’m not going to listen to that song that reminds me of the summer when I was 18. I even have a certain pair of pajamas that I intentionally abandoned in Canada because they remind me of someone.

Which brings me to my next question. Why do I avoid these things? Am I avoiding objects or am I avoiding memories? Is it all in self-defense? In defense of what? My own life?

As I sit back and consider my Pandora’s box, i wonder if the other people tied up in these memories still share them with me. I think that’s what I’m afraid of. Small moments and things that meant so much to me might mean nothing to the others involved. I suppose I’m making believe that they didn’t mean anything to me, either.

But I would be wrong.

Catching up with myself.

October 19, 2010

The past 12 days have been a complete blur. After spending 4 days in the hospital, I feel like I’m 4 days behind on my own life. (which means today would be friday. Awesome.) And I guess that feeling is a little hard to describe. It’s not like my 4 days in hospital were unproductive. I brought my beautiful baby girl into the world and I’m head over heels for her. I don’t know how you can love someone you just met so much, but you can. I worked on recovering from the c-section, had visitors, started walking again. I hated being stuck in bed but all in all my hospital stay was the complete polar opposite of my experience with James.

Since coming home, I’ve been working on getting myself back to normal. It’s going to take longer for some things than for other. For example, getting back to my pre-pregnancy shape. I believe I’m sentenced to a holiday season in stretch pants. wah wah. I’ll have to resist the temptation to succumb to the holiday eats i’ll inevitably be surrounded by. I digress. I still have a pile of thank you cards for my baby shower that are unmailed. I have dozens of emails that I need to return. I probably have a few important phone calls I’ve forgotten to make. My concept of time has been completely disrupted. I can’t completely blame this on my hospital stay. I’ve been doing my best to adjust to being a mother of two. Juggling a 3 year old and a newborn so far hasn’t been as difficult as i expected but my physical state over the next month or so will prove to be an obstacle.

I have my good days and my bad days. Today has been kind of a bad day so far. I feel like the interrupted sleep and the various other postpartum processes may have caught up with me. But I take pleasure in the small things. My kids napping at the same time means i get some Me Time that doesn’t occur in the wee hours of the morning. Curling up with Lucinda in the recliner and nodding off for 5 minutes. Having tickle fights with James. Cuddling up with my husband in the middle of the night when Lucinda goes back to sleep. Being able to sleep on my stomach. Every day I inch closer to feeling like myself again and less like a science project.

And one day I will wake up and I will recognize myself in the mirror again. But for now, I think I’ll be fine being a big zero.

mommy and lu

Random Tuesday (Or “I’m starting to worry my toddler may be smarter than me”)

September 28, 2010


My husband is a smart man. Very smart. He doesn’t update his blog with sentence fragments. He doesn’t have a blog. That latter point there is pretty much the proof pudding that he is smarter than I am.

I remember when I was pregnant with James that I fondly remarked that I hoped he would be smart like his daddy. Rob remarked that his mommy is smart too. Fair enough. My son, however, seems to be sharp as a tack in a way he could only inherit from his father.

Bring to mind the incident a few weeks ago with the unguarded bottle of Tums and the exchange James and I shared before I realized I’d been had. I’d like to tell another story about the sly cleverness that my son chooses to randomly exhibit.

James is well aware his mommy works at the grocery store. He knows we go to the grocery store to buy things that we need. the other day he was messing about with a toy he hadn’t played with in some time. As a result, the batteries were dead. When we explained to him that we couldn’t fix it because we didn’t have any batteries, he brought us our shoes and explained we needed to go to the grocery store so we could fix his toy.

Painfully cute.

But I digress.

Rob and James were at the store picking me up from work (we only have one vehicle), and as usual we needed to pick up a few things. We needed to pick up some fish food because James had gotten his hands on the bottle we already had and decided to redecorate the living room. Glad I wasn’t the one in charge when that occurred, that must have been smelly hell to clean up. So we are in the pet aisle trying to determine if there was anything else we needed when we remembered the batteries. I’m walking with James, holding his hand, while discussing with Rob whether they were C batteries or D batteries that we needed. Suddenly I noticed that we seemed to be making a dingle noise. James was holding my hand but in his other hand, he’d picked up a set of cat toy balls. I laughed and say “James, you don’t need those. You are not a cat!”

He looks up at me with his big brown eyes and says “Meow! Meow!”

Should I be concerned?

The other day I was sitting down on the floor so I could change his diaper (smart, but not smart enough to use the potty) and I kind of groaned in the process of sitting down. We then had the following exchange.
James: “Mommy tired?”
Me:”Yes sweetie, your baby sister makes mommy tired sometimes.”
“Yeah. me too.”
“You’re right, you make mommy tired sometimes too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You used to be in mommy’s tummy too, do you know that?”
“yeah. It was dark.”
“It was dark in there?”
“yeah. Dark.”
“Was it quiet in there?”
“Yeah. Dark and quiet.”
“I bet it was boring in there.”
“I had books.”
“Wait, you had books in mommy’s tummy?”
“Yeah. Hungry Caterpillar.”


Did that really happen? Yes it did. I’m in as much disbelief as you are. He’s screwing with me, isn’t he?

Random Tuesday Thoughts: Rainy Day version.

September 7, 2010


I was up half of the night (re: 2:47 am to 4:34am) because I was so hopelessly uncomfortable. Were I not nine months pregnant, it would be easier to relieve what ailed me. Take a fistful of different stomach discomfort relievers and call it a night. But no. At this juncture I am left with no options but to sit up in bed, cross my fingers and hope like hell I burp or something. Pregnancy is super awesome. Over the course of the two hours, I was eventually relieved enough (or exhausted enough) to go back to sleep. The next time I woke was 6:15am. DH was already out of bed which meant I could rearrange all pillows and take over the entirety of the bed.


A combination of the pouring rain and my son muttering to himself in his room is what woke me. Can I say I love when it rains like this in the morning on my days off? The sky stays dark and the pitter patter of the rainfall keeps my toddler asleep longer than usual. Which means I get to sleep longer. Which means that even though I’ll have a headache later from sleeping too long, I don’t really care.

Does anyone want to wash my dishes? No? Just checking.

I’m wearing James’ favorite pajamas. Before you think I wrestled myself into a pair of size 3t pajamas with sharks on them, I’m referring to my own pajamas that have baked goods on them. He loves to point out the cookies and cupcakes and ice cream. “Mmmm. Ice cream! Delicious!” He’ll say as he rubs his belly and licks his lips. Okay the first time he licked his lips, I had no idea what he was doing. Clumsy and awkward? thy name is toddler.

Speaking of toddler. Last…thursday? James managed to get into my bedroom while I was in the bathroom (and I’m always in the bathroom these days) and while I was in there, I guess James helped himself to the very last 3 tums in the bottle on my bedside table. I didn’t find out until hours later, when I discovered the empty bottle behind my bedroom door. All I could do was knit my brows together and do my best not to laugh. Am I basically admitting I’m a bad mom? No. I have a reason for stifling laughter. You see, when I came out of the bathroom, I fetched James out of my room and we went to the living room. I thought I saw something in his mouth. So I asked him. James, what’s in your mouth? His reply?

“Teeth, mommy.”

How could I argue with that?

I brought the empty bottle with me to the computer and consulted my trusty friend Google. It turns out that my son is definitely not the first toddler to get his hands on tums and he definitely won’t be the last. After reading about many other experiences with toddlers and tums and phone calls to poison control, I determined that three tums in my mammoth toddler would be nothing more than a blip on his stomach’s radar. Especially considering hours passed, along with 2 soiled diapers, a snack, and 2 drinks of water.

If this is the worst thing he ever gets into, I would call that a success.

When I was a toddler, I drank a bottle of floor wax. It’s why I’m so bright and shiny. And demented.

The point of the matter though, is that I was cursing my inability to have eyes in the back of my head at about 3:01am this morning. “Dammit. If I was a better mother and had made sure my bedroom door was closed all the way, I might still have some tums and maybe that would make my stomach feel better.”

I really brought it on myself, yet again.

What has your child gotten into when your back was turned for a second? What did YOU get into when your parent’s backs were turned?

ADDENDUM: I found James playing with my cell phone. It was about to send some kind of mass photo message of James’ foot. I asked for my phone back and he gave it up without a fight. I noticed I’d received about 5 text messages. From my mother. In a panic. Evidently, James had sent her 2 text messages. One read “O” and the other read “T”. She was concerned this was my very shorthanded and insane way of informing her I’d gone into labor. Oh James, you’ve done it again.

I want a cupcake.

August 31, 2010

This post has been brought to you by Random Tuesday Thoughts.

My child-in-utero hates the sound of running water and makes me pay for it every time I shower or wash the dishes. Clearly this is an excuse for me to not have to do either of those things. You don’t have to smell me or come into my kitchen, so what’s it to you?

My child out of utero hates the sound of the word nap. I don’t know if its the nnnn or the aaaah or the abrupt puh at the end, but something about the word makes him crazy. Speaking of syllables and pronunciation, my son has the tendency to add or substitute a T sound at the end of any words that end with an N. One sounds like Wat, for example. It’s cute and hilarious. Especially when he randomly starts talking about the Ocean.

I think my pizza is ready.

I love pizza.

I’ve decided if I’m going to gain ridiculous amounts of weight with this pregnancy without even letting myself turn into a human garbage disposal like I did with my first pregnancy (and gained next to nothing, by the way) then for the last couple of weeks, I’m gonna ham it up. Why the hell not?

I can worry about carbs and calories again once I’m postpartum.

Wait, postpartum spits me out directly into the middle of the big three. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas.


I think I decided to do an RTT post so that I wouldn’t have to compose a post that disguises the fact that I’m really, truly, a boring person. I think I’ve achieved the opposite.

I bet my two year old wonders why his parents never remember where the fishies live. They live in the ocean, mommy. The ocean. Ocean. Why are you laughing?

I’m going to stop writing before I lose all three of my readers out of sheer embarrassment. It’s okay, you guys. Just click here and you’ll be safe again.

I’m officially a member of…

August 27, 2010

…the “Worst Mommy Ever” club!

James has reached a point in his speech where he can clearly and concisely ask me for the things he wants and needs. “Mommy, Juice please?” “Mommy, Cheerios please?” “Mommy, Blanket fort please?”
But sometimes he’ll regress to pointing and whining. Pointing and whining drives me bonkers not only because I don’t know what he wants, but because he possesses the ability to ask properly but is just choosing not to.

When James busts out the “point and whine” method, Robert and I do our best to correct him. The most effective way seems to be just to tell him we don’t understand. This doesn’t always work. About 40% of the time, James descends even further into the whining. Such was the case early this afternoon. James had just finished a snack of cheerios and it was only a matter of time before he asked for juice. Right on cue, he ran to the gate blocking off the kitchen and started in on pointing and whining. I asked him what he wanted. He pointed and whined.
What do you want, James?
point and whine.
Mommy doesn’t understand pointing and whining, you need to tell me what it is that you want!
Point! And! Whine!
Do you want a drink of water?
What do you want?
You want some coffee?
*ceasefire* Yes please!
You can’t have coffee, silly!
*runs to his room and throws a tantrum*

Later, when he finished with his tantrum, he reappeared at the kitchen gate and asked “Mommy, coffee please?”

I brought this on myself, didn’t I?

So much beauty in dirt.

August 10, 2010

I was in the backyard with my kids. It was a beautiful, clear, spring day. I sat in the grass while my son and daughter ran around laughing and screaming the way happy children do. The saturation was turned up on this day. The grass, such a vivid and bright green. The smiles and eyes of my children, so bright and happy. The cool and calm breeze blowing the scent of my purple flowers across the yard.


This was life.

I picked up the phone.

I called every boy that ever broke my heart.

And thanked them.

I thanked them for letting me love them even if they didn’t love me.

I thanked them for moving on, and for letting me move on.

I thanked them for every mistake that was ever made.

Because they all led me here.

To the green grass.

In my beautiful backyard.

With my wonderful kids.

I hung up the phone and laid down in the grass. I closed my eyes. The pure blue sky and radiant, warm light of the sun seeped into my soul. And I knew. Nothing can ruin these moments.

And then I woke up.
Lying in bed.
Staring at the ceiling fan.

Just as happy.