Blogger, mother, dreamer, swimmer, biker, runner, coffee-drinking mistress of silliness… all in exciting Kitsap County!
I sit inside - cramming down a chocolate chip cookie after dinner.
It is second-rate, at best, but I eat it anyway.
I eat it as an act of comfort, and act of escape… an act of sanity.
My knees touch as my feet are placed wide apart.
I feel vunerable… like a knobby kneed child…
‘xceptin’ the fact there ain’t nothing knobby about these knees.
My shoulders are hunched…
Kids - The Whole World; Mom - 0
From my seat on the step stool I see: Continue reading ‘Pantry Moments’
I should not be surprised. In fact, I am a little proud. Though I would never let Olivia know.
In the car today Olivia mentioned that her teacher will sometimes ask her to “…never do that again.” I know my daughter is very social, so I am not surprised that her teacher might request such things. She really wants to be a “self-manager”, but it is a real struggle to deny her need to chat and giggle. I was curious though, what has she done in class that might encourage such a request?
I asked, “So… what is something you have done that Mrs. **** has asked you to not do?”
Her reply, “Um… Dance.”
Minnie Me. I know. I know…
Mrs. ****, I truly apologize. I have taught girls like her. So precious, but exhausting.
Turns out there IS an appropriate time to dance at school - the end of the day on Fridays. However, she is her mother’s daughter and neither her nor I can contain The Dance to a mere margin of time. It oozes from our very souls. I did encourage her to save up her moves for the Friday dance time. It’s my job to help her discern acceptable times for the boogie.
I will be encouraging her to focus on practicing our moves here at home… or at the waterfront during the summer concerts… maybe at the mall if a REALLY good song plays overhead, but it has to be a good one.
When I saw this emergency exit on the ceiling of the bus
as I chaperoned my daughter’s trip to a local theater’s production of
“If You Give a Pig a Party“, I wondered…
“Were I in an emergency on this bus and needed to escape
and the only way out was that thar hatch…
Would it make my butt look big?“
Just wondering.
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I kinda wonder if I should really call this training thing “training” at all. I have deviated from my handy-dandy “plan” and am now just making things up as I go. Part of my “problem” is I am looking beyond the half-marathon in June. Preparing for the half is my main focus, but an Olympic distance triathlon is on the horizon in early August…. 6 weeks to the half and 15 weeks to the tri. I need to be sure to make more room for biking and swimming as the weeks whittle down. Especially the bike - it’s my weakest, and I have a cruiser/mountain bike - not a speedy road bike. Oh, how I long for a road bike…
Enough of the thinking - here’s what was accomplished this week. I know you’re beside yourself with curiosity… Continue reading ‘It’s a Wrap! 3 Weeks Down, 6 to Go…’
just danced. live band. little, tiny venue. ears ringing. 4 glasses of wine. no caps in post. or proofing. so. much. fun. out. to. night. oh. yeah.
can’t see.
oh. the. love.
Ha! You thought I was gettin’ all political! Nu-uh. I mean, I do believe we should vote. Voting = good. Me gettin’ all political = not so much.
This is a call-out (YO!) for votes for a friend of ours (the hubs and mine). I’ve posted about this here feller before. His name is Joel. My son’s name is Joel, but we didn’t name our Joel after THIS Joel… but we did think about THIS Joel when we were considering “Joel” for a name, and he didn’t ruin the name for us. ***taking breath*** In fact, we really like THIS Joel, ‘cuzza he’s so derned funny - so maybe we kinda did name OUR Joel after THIS Joel… Or not - either way…. back to my point… Continue reading ‘It’s 2008! Get Yer Vote On’
What’s the tiiiiiiiiiiiime?! It’s time to get CHILLed!
What’s the tiiiiiiiiiiiime?! It’s time to get CHILLed!
What’s the tiiiiiiiiiiime?! It’s time to get CHILLed!
What’s the ti-iiiiiiiiiiiime?! It’s time to get CHILLed!
Scratch that. That’s not how the song goes…. It’s time to get ILL. ILL! What does that even mean? Yeah. I guess we really don’t want to “get ill” in my fridge. I envisioned this post taking a whole other direction… Maybe I can still save it:
What’s the time?!What’s the time?!What’s the time?!
You tell me.
For those who accuse me of having a clean fridge - here - it’s milk crust. Yum. Maybe something did “get ill” in the fridge after all.
This picture was taken at my 32nd birthday party… many, many moons ago. This picture makes me happy. Many of my dear friends disco’d and karaoke’d the night away… all to celebrate Me and the wonder of my birth… I was pregnant with Lucy, and feelin’ really ugly. But all the love shoved that ugly feeling to the side for awhile, and we danced… and sang… Oh, I’m the one in the pimp hat with the pink fuzzy. So appropriate.
So. All the loveliness of my blog is fading… My great header is down and all my badges and all the fun cool stuff that created visual appeal has stopped working. My feed is also kaput. In rebellion, I decided to post a picture of something fun. This is fun. Fun. Fun. Fun.
Wish you were here there!
I read this post about my friend who… well… She was with her young kids, at a race track… with dirt… young kids… a race track… it was hot… Other mother’s children appeared to be behaving… THOSE mothers appeared to be enjoying their time at the race track with heat and dirt and children… I will not call them names, I will not call them names…
Has anyone ever been in that spot? You know, Every-other-mother-but-Me is smoothly negotiating the bends and curves of a public outing with her children. Jen’s story reminded me of a trip to the grocery store not-so-long-ago… like, last week.
Lucy, My Princess of Three (Reign of Terror)… Empress “Iwillnotbend”…. I digress. We were… In Public. Lucy decided she wanted to swim. In Public. To the check stand. I had a choice. Pretend I was the good mom The Public expects, OR know my devil daughter and choose my battles.
You wanna know what I did? I. Let. Her. Swim. Yes, on her belly, a few dozen agonizing feet to the check stand. Some bystanders were delighted, some ran to the bathroom to vomit and sanitize their hands because of all the disgusting floor germs my daughter was “swimming” through. I chose to focus on the delighted people. I was blessed that my checker was one of the delighted folk. I told her that I was choosing my battles and that the germs were of FAR LESS concern than what would happen if I tried to make Lucy please the germophobes. No one really knew that my choice was not only better for me and Lucy, but better for all products stored in glass within a one mile radius…
Of course, now she has developed a third head… BUT I think that was from the time I let her swim at the toxic waste facility we visited on that last preschool field trip. I think.
So, are Jen and I the only “bad moms” here? Hey You - You look a bit disheveled… I bet you have a story… Oh, and You - You just put on some lipstick - nice color! Work it. I know You have a good one… C’mon - misery LOVES company :) And You… Giiiiirl! Did You just get your nails done? I love the color you chose… was it mani-therapy??? I need mani-therapy, or pedi-therapy… I just told you why I need it… what’s your story?
It is in times like these I wish I had magic powers of All Technology.
But I do not.
The Chief Technologist of My Life is drowning in work. Poor fella. BUT this is good, ‘cuz there are like, bills-n-such. Remember? Yesterday was tax day - so sorry to bring that up.
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