I'm doing it again.
I'm alternately eating ice cream and peanut butter straight out of the container. With the same spoon. Standing up. After 9 pm.
I only get crazy out-of-control in my eating like this when I'm feeling really anxious about something. Is it the impending long car trip tomorrow? The full day of trying to keep the almost-ten-month-old occupied (and quiet) during a funeral and its attending events? The overnight stay in an unfamiliar place? Sunday's Relief Society lesson? The as-yet-unfinished (and let's be honest - hardly started) birthday slideshow for my mom that has to be done in a week?
Whatever the cause, this dire situation calls for only one thing: graham crackers.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Retro
WARNING: If you have a Y chromosome, this post may be pretty bo-ring.
OTHER WARNING: This paragraph is a shameless plug. My friend Kristy (the one whose writing style I covet) just started writing for a blog called "Light Refreshments Served." That title may have tipped you off to the fact that the site features a bunch of LDS moms-turned-pundits, each one a hilarious read. Check out the post This is Just to Say - I think even the men will laugh a little.
[My husband just walked in and said "You have TWO warnings? That's a pretty serious post." And right he is.]
So I'm pretty much a t-shirt-and-jeans type of gal. Growing up chubby bred in me a natural dislike of all things Abercrombananaeropostale, so I've gotten a lot of my clothes as hand-me-downs or gifts from well-meaning sisters (incidentally, I did not buy either of the two pairs of jeans that I wear right now). Point being, I haven't really been clothes shopping since maybe the Clinton administration. I've gone shopping twice this week. It has not been pretty.
Basically, I'm far enough out of the everything-pop-culture loop that I didn't even know who David Archuleta was until last night , so as of just a few months ago I still thought overalls were acceptable attire for people other than house painters and lumberjacks. Needless to say, I am utterly baffled by what I find in fashion these days; after buying a total of one shirt (out of a perusal of five stores), I came home and was surprised to find that it looked quite a bit like this one my mom had...IN THE EARLY 70s:
Ladies, would you or would you not wear this outfit (with different hair)? I would - but then again, I'm at risk of becoming one of those weeping fashion victims on TV's What Not to Wear, so what do I know? But it just goes to show, I probably should have kept those overalls. They're bound to make a comeback.
OTHER WARNING: This paragraph is a shameless plug. My friend Kristy (the one whose writing style I covet) just started writing for a blog called "Light Refreshments Served." That title may have tipped you off to the fact that the site features a bunch of LDS moms-turned-pundits, each one a hilarious read. Check out the post This is Just to Say - I think even the men will laugh a little.
[My husband just walked in and said "You have TWO warnings? That's a pretty serious post." And right he is.]
So I'm pretty much a t-shirt-and-jeans type of gal. Growing up chubby bred in me a natural dislike of all things Abercrombananaeropostale, so I've gotten a lot of my clothes as hand-me-downs or gifts from well-meaning sisters (incidentally, I did not buy either of the two pairs of jeans that I wear right now). Point being, I haven't really been clothes shopping since maybe the Clinton administration. I've gone shopping twice this week. It has not been pretty.
Basically, I'm far enough out of the everything-pop-culture loop that I didn't even know who David Archuleta was until last night , so as of just a few months ago I still thought overalls were acceptable attire for people other than house painters and lumberjacks. Needless to say, I am utterly baffled by what I find in fashion these days; after buying a total of one shirt (out of a perusal of five stores), I came home and was surprised to find that it looked quite a bit like this one my mom had...IN THE EARLY 70s:
Ladies, would you or would you not wear this outfit (with different hair)? I would - but then again, I'm at risk of becoming one of those weeping fashion victims on TV's What Not to Wear, so what do I know? But it just goes to show, I probably should have kept those overalls. They're bound to make a comeback.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Blah blah blah
I had a dream last night that I ran into an old friend of mine, and she asked me to update my blog. I took it as a sign. So here it is, 7:03 and I'm trying to think of something coherent to say.
Does anyone else out there just get grouchy every once in a while for no reason? I've been feeling a little low for maybe the last week or so, mostly before I go to bed, and I'm beginning to think something's wrong with me.
For one, I don't think I get enough sleep. My grouchies might also have to do with the fact that several people who are close to me have been suffering through some rough times lately, and I feel powerless to really help. Maybe it's because my baby has been a big whiner for the last little while. Maybe it's hormones...
In any case, whenever I get like this, I assume that I must be doing something wrong - I'm too prideful, not righteous enough, missing the proverbial boat somewhere. And while there are times when I admit that's true - we all need a jumpstart every once in a while - I don't think I should beat myself up every time the sun moves behind a cloud. Now, if I don't have enough of the Son in my life, that's a different story, but other ebbs and flows are just a frustrating part of our mortality.
Well, that's just something I've been chewing on this morning. That and peanut butter toast. I think I'll sign off with a little good news/bad news minute:
Good news: Truman loves books.
Bad news: He loves to tear pages out of them.
Good news: He's only torn out two pages so far.
Bad news: They were pages out of our scriptures.
Such is life.
Does anyone else out there just get grouchy every once in a while for no reason? I've been feeling a little low for maybe the last week or so, mostly before I go to bed, and I'm beginning to think something's wrong with me.
For one, I don't think I get enough sleep. My grouchies might also have to do with the fact that several people who are close to me have been suffering through some rough times lately, and I feel powerless to really help. Maybe it's because my baby has been a big whiner for the last little while. Maybe it's hormones...
In any case, whenever I get like this, I assume that I must be doing something wrong - I'm too prideful, not righteous enough, missing the proverbial boat somewhere. And while there are times when I admit that's true - we all need a jumpstart every once in a while - I don't think I should beat myself up every time the sun moves behind a cloud. Now, if I don't have enough of the Son in my life, that's a different story, but other ebbs and flows are just a frustrating part of our mortality.
Well, that's just something I've been chewing on this morning. That and peanut butter toast. I think I'll sign off with a little good news/bad news minute:
Good news: Truman loves books.
Bad news: He loves to tear pages out of them.
Good news: He's only torn out two pages so far.
Bad news: They were pages out of our scriptures.
Such is life.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
My day
I think there is something so decadent about eating a strawberry. It's a luxury that can turn milk toast into a king's meal and always gives me the illusion that I have more money than I do.
So you can imagine how pampered I felt this morning when, after getting a full extra hour of sleep and then taking a long shower (for once uninterrupted by screaming, whining, and/or violent protests at my absence - I know, Matt is really making progress), I followed my nose into the kitchen and found my wonderful husband making crepes - complete with decadent strawberries.
This is AFTER I found a note on the bedroom door from my nine-month-old thanking me for being a wonderful mother and informing me that this was my day...in suspiciously familiar handwriting. But back to the strawberries.
I ate. And ate. Then I ate some more.
Then I went to church and daydreamed about crepes while my white knight happily volunteered to change poopy diapers and take the boy to class with him so I could worship in peace.
Almost the first minute in the door after church, Mr. Thoughtful went to work on the morning's dishes. By the time I had put the boy down for a nap, my kitchen was immaculate.
Who's having a great day so far?
In spite of all that, I think my favorite part of the day was our after-dinner walk along the river trail. We stopped in the shade of some big, old trees, let the boy play in the grass (squealing like a hyperactive chimp all the while), and just talked and talked. It was an evening you want to catch and carry in your pocket for a day when the weather isn't so perfect, or when you don't feel so completely at peace, or when you forget you're the luckiest person in the world.
Well, I know it today. I am immeasurably blessed to be the wife of such a caring, righteous man who loves being a dad as much as I love being a mom to our darling son.
My motherhood is so precious to me. Thanks to both my boys for making this such a great Mother's Day.
So you can imagine how pampered I felt this morning when, after getting a full extra hour of sleep and then taking a long shower (for once uninterrupted by screaming, whining, and/or violent protests at my absence - I know, Matt is really making progress), I followed my nose into the kitchen and found my wonderful husband making crepes - complete with decadent strawberries.
This is AFTER I found a note on the bedroom door from my nine-month-old thanking me for being a wonderful mother and informing me that this was my day...in suspiciously familiar handwriting. But back to the strawberries.
I ate. And ate. Then I ate some more.
Then I went to church and daydreamed about crepes while my white knight happily volunteered to change poopy diapers and take the boy to class with him so I could worship in peace.
Almost the first minute in the door after church, Mr. Thoughtful went to work on the morning's dishes. By the time I had put the boy down for a nap, my kitchen was immaculate.
Who's having a great day so far?
In spite of all that, I think my favorite part of the day was our after-dinner walk along the river trail. We stopped in the shade of some big, old trees, let the boy play in the grass (squealing like a hyperactive chimp all the while), and just talked and talked. It was an evening you want to catch and carry in your pocket for a day when the weather isn't so perfect, or when you don't feel so completely at peace, or when you forget you're the luckiest person in the world.
Well, I know it today. I am immeasurably blessed to be the wife of such a caring, righteous man who loves being a dad as much as I love being a mom to our darling son.
My motherhood is so precious to me. Thanks to both my boys for making this such a great Mother's Day.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Wondering...
For the record, every time I sit down to blog I wish I could write like my friend Kristy. Her frequent posts make me laugh out loud, and I have to wonder - do the muses hover above her computer showering down wit and wisdom, or does she have to sweat and slave over her every gut-splitting phrase to get it just right? I can only pray it's the latter, because I haven't seen a muse around here in quite some time. A little elbow grease (or maybe...noggin grease?) is all that's going to liven up the joint around here.
Which makes me wonder, where does the term 'elbow grease' come from?
And while I'm wondering, how did Europe get to be its own continent? Did it throw a tantrum and demand continent status despite its meager size and firm attachment to Asia?
Why is it that my kid can crawl only backwards?
These are plaguing questions, I know - surely, the stuff of which Nobel Prizes are made. Discuss and get back to me.
Which makes me wonder, where does the term 'elbow grease' come from?
And while I'm wondering, how did Europe get to be its own continent? Did it throw a tantrum and demand continent status despite its meager size and firm attachment to Asia?
Why is it that my kid can crawl only backwards?
These are plaguing questions, I know - surely, the stuff of which Nobel Prizes are made. Discuss and get back to me.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Slow
Every once in a while I get a word or phrase stuck in my head the same way that other people get a song stuck in theirs. For at least a month in seventh grade, it was "Mesopotamia." Last year it was favorite lines from the movie Steel Magnolias that would wake me in the night. All day today, I've been plagued by the term "eye-pokingly slow."
Things in my life that are currently eye-pokingly slow:
Our internet connection. I have no idea why. I guess it's having a lazy day, just sauntering along and casually flicking pages my way at its leisure. "Oh I'm sorry, did you mean you needed directions to that place now?"
My baby's second tooth. It's hovering just beneath the surface and wreaking havoc on all of our lives.
Packs of roommates shopping at our local Wal-Mart. Make that "most people shopping at our local Wal-Mart." I swear they look at me, see that I'm in a hurry, and purposely block the aisle.
My sluggish brain. I am so tired right now that I can hardly keep my eyes open. Maybe because my baby gets up at an hour that can only be described as mind-numbingly early...
Things in my life that are currently eye-pokingly slow:
Our internet connection. I have no idea why. I guess it's having a lazy day, just sauntering along and casually flicking pages my way at its leisure. "Oh I'm sorry, did you mean you needed directions to that place now?"
My baby's second tooth. It's hovering just beneath the surface and wreaking havoc on all of our lives.
Packs of roommates shopping at our local Wal-Mart. Make that "most people shopping at our local Wal-Mart." I swear they look at me, see that I'm in a hurry, and purposely block the aisle.
My sluggish brain. I am so tired right now that I can hardly keep my eyes open. Maybe because my baby gets up at an hour that can only be described as mind-numbingly early...
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