5. "I watch Dora!"
4. "I sleep with you!" (Meaning she wants to lay in my bed and watch Dora.)
3. "I have drink of water?"
2. "I crying!"
And Number One:
Here's hoping she falls asleep soon!
Monday, January 30, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
The Teeter-Totter Theory
I've recently discovered that I'm pretty typical.
I'm not the only woman in this world that takes on too much. That tries to do things perfectly and seemingly effortlessly. That has a million balls up in the air that are all about to fall at any second.
But I can't juggle. Mine is a teeter-totter and I'm up in the air with all my stresses sitting at the bottom of the totter. Sometimes one little shift of events/stresses knocks me off my teeter-totter. That really did happen to me once when I was about ten. My leg got pinned under the teeter-totter as it crashed to the ground and it hurt ... a lot. So the prospect of falling off my teeter-totter really kind of freaks me out.
But it happens. My house is often a mess. My dishes are rarely done by a decent time of day. I have toilets that needs scrubbing. I have tons of friends that seem to have so much in place where I lack. (All that sentence does is prove that I have a major issue with comparing myself to others.) I can't say no, even when I really, really should.
I think I'm entitled to a few bad days here and there.
Sometimes it's really easy to blame the hormones. They are a-ragin', after all. And I'm sure that has plenty to do with some of my more irrational rants ("WHO LEFT THAT PILLOW ON THE FLOOR???"). But I have to acknowledge that there are other forces at work in my life as well.
I know a lot of women have plenty of stress. I realize that and even acknowledge it.
Of course, I also have the maturity of a preschooler sometimes and can't help but think my issues are bigger than other people's. And that doesn't do anything to help me.
There's really no point to this post but to put it out there that I'm at a stage where my teeter-totter is teetering and tottering.
I don't know that there's an end in sight for this stage I'm in. I'm sure there is one, but I can't see it yet. Until it appears, I just have to hold on. And on the bad days when my teeter-totter slams me to the ground, I just need to keep my legs out from under me.
I'm not the only woman in this world that takes on too much. That tries to do things perfectly and seemingly effortlessly. That has a million balls up in the air that are all about to fall at any second.
But I can't juggle. Mine is a teeter-totter and I'm up in the air with all my stresses sitting at the bottom of the totter. Sometimes one little shift of events/stresses knocks me off my teeter-totter. That really did happen to me once when I was about ten. My leg got pinned under the teeter-totter as it crashed to the ground and it hurt ... a lot. So the prospect of falling off my teeter-totter really kind of freaks me out.
But it happens. My house is often a mess. My dishes are rarely done by a decent time of day. I have toilets that needs scrubbing. I have tons of friends that seem to have so much in place where I lack. (All that sentence does is prove that I have a major issue with comparing myself to others.) I can't say no, even when I really, really should.
I think I'm entitled to a few bad days here and there.
Sometimes it's really easy to blame the hormones. They are a-ragin', after all. And I'm sure that has plenty to do with some of my more irrational rants ("WHO LEFT THAT PILLOW ON THE FLOOR???"). But I have to acknowledge that there are other forces at work in my life as well.
I know a lot of women have plenty of stress. I realize that and even acknowledge it.
Of course, I also have the maturity of a preschooler sometimes and can't help but think my issues are bigger than other people's. And that doesn't do anything to help me.
There's really no point to this post but to put it out there that I'm at a stage where my teeter-totter is teetering and tottering.
I don't know that there's an end in sight for this stage I'm in. I'm sure there is one, but I can't see it yet. Until it appears, I just have to hold on. And on the bad days when my teeter-totter slams me to the ground, I just need to keep my legs out from under me.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
The Nesting Beast
Tonight I was trying to think of what I might possibly blog about. Because Goodness knows if I don't make an effort to get on here regularly, I just may go MIA again.
So the obvious choice was to upload some pictures from off my camera.
But I couldn't find my camera.
As much as I like to blame my hormones for my extremely short temper fuse, this was a different sort of hormonal beast.
I searched the usual hiding spots for the camera, but to no avail. Then I checked the not-as-usual hiding spots. Culprit number one: the van.
Oh, the dang van.
The dang van hasn't been cleaned out since we came back from our vacation to Colorado. Yeah, it's that gross. So I spent several infuriating minutes looking under the seats, in left-behind backpacks, and under countless pieces of paper (not to mention all the other crap I'm too embarrassed to mention). The whole time the Nesting Beast began rearing her ugly head.
It was like an out of body experience. I could see the Nesting Beast ripping out of my already-full maternity clothes, my skin turning green, and my intelligence diminishing so I could only grunt in single syllables: "Beast clean!"
The Nesting Beast really isn't such a bad thing all the time. But it sure would be nice if she could make an appearance when I'm not twice my usual size. In looking under the dang van seats I nearly got stuck like a freaking turtle flipped over on the topside of his shell. Now, how am I supposed to clean when I'm severely limited in what I can do?
And when the Nesting Beast realizes she won't get to do all the things she wants to, she'll become even more enraged. And then she'll begin smashing stuff and flipping cars and grunting things that don't even qualify as syllables.
Should make for an interesting day tomorrow.
And in case you were wondering, I found 3 flashlights on my quest of looking for the camera. And yes, I used them CSI-style and wandered around my half-lit house using them to look for my camera.
And I found it.
So the obvious choice was to upload some pictures from off my camera.
But I couldn't find my camera.
This awoke the beast.
The Nesting Beast.
Oh, the dang van.
The dang van hasn't been cleaned out since we came back from our vacation to Colorado. Yeah, it's that gross. So I spent several infuriating minutes looking under the seats, in left-behind backpacks, and under countless pieces of paper (not to mention all the other crap I'm too embarrassed to mention). The whole time the Nesting Beast began rearing her ugly head.
It was like an out of body experience. I could see the Nesting Beast ripping out of my already-full maternity clothes, my skin turning green, and my intelligence diminishing so I could only grunt in single syllables: "Beast clean!"
The Nesting Beast really isn't such a bad thing all the time. But it sure would be nice if she could make an appearance when I'm not twice my usual size. In looking under the dang van seats I nearly got stuck like a freaking turtle flipped over on the topside of his shell. Now, how am I supposed to clean when I'm severely limited in what I can do?
And when the Nesting Beast realizes she won't get to do all the things she wants to, she'll become even more enraged. And then she'll begin smashing stuff and flipping cars and grunting things that don't even qualify as syllables.
Should make for an interesting day tomorrow.
And in case you were wondering, I found 3 flashlights on my quest of looking for the camera. And yes, I used them CSI-style and wandered around my half-lit house using them to look for my camera.
And I found it.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
If My Life Had an MP3 Player
I've been playing around with Emma's mp3 player she got for Christmas. She wanted a bunch of different songs uploaded on it. It's gotten me thinking about the music in my life.
If I were to set my day to music it would go something like this:
(Until I found this video online I had no idea what all the lyrics of this song were. But it's the music that matters. [Btw, the dude in this reminds me of my brother when he and I were in Dead Man together and he played the murderer -- weird].) This song accompanied me as I got the kids ready for school and off to the bus.
As the events began to unfold for the day, things changed a bit. You see, I'm currently homeschooling Abby (yep, heading down that adventurous road again) and she's still learning that there's a bit of independence in home school, just not as much as she wants. So my playlist shuffled and we got this gem:
And as the day continued, more kids came home. And suddenly the house was full of kids that didn't want to do homework or chores. They wanted to watch TV or play outside or do nothing at all.
I've never done drugs of any kind, but I can't help but think that four children who are all crying, whining, complaining, yelling, and fighting bring about the same chaos into your mind that the acid which inspired most 1960s music must have.
Hence, my next music choice.
Yeah, this one is nearly 18 minutes long. Of course, it takes a lot less than 18 minutes for the house to go from quiet to uncontrolled upheaval.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted. I just wanted peace and quiet. So after the kids cleaned up their messes from the day, they finally fell asleep and I did too so I plugged in my inner-mp3 player and let it charge for the night.
I haven't yet decided what today's music was. But I'm pretty sure I know how tomorrow's music will begin.
If I were to set my day to music it would go something like this:
Yesterday I woke up in a quirky and somewhat weird mood.
(Until I found this video online I had no idea what all the lyrics of this song were. But it's the music that matters. [Btw, the dude in this reminds me of my brother when he and I were in Dead Man together and he played the murderer -- weird].) This song accompanied me as I got the kids ready for school and off to the bus.
As the events began to unfold for the day, things changed a bit. You see, I'm currently homeschooling Abby (yep, heading down that adventurous road again) and she's still learning that there's a bit of independence in home school, just not as much as she wants. So my playlist shuffled and we got this gem:
And as the day continued, more kids came home. And suddenly the house was full of kids that didn't want to do homework or chores. They wanted to watch TV or play outside or do nothing at all.
I've never done drugs of any kind, but I can't help but think that four children who are all crying, whining, complaining, yelling, and fighting bring about the same chaos into your mind that the acid which inspired most 1960s music must have.
Hence, my next music choice.
Yeah, this one is nearly 18 minutes long. Of course, it takes a lot less than 18 minutes for the house to go from quiet to uncontrolled upheaval.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted. I just wanted peace and quiet. So after the kids cleaned up their messes from the day, they finally fell asleep and I did too so I plugged in my inner-mp3 player and let it charge for the night.
I haven't yet decided what today's music was. But I'm pretty sure I know how tomorrow's music will begin.
Monday, January 16, 2012
I Am...
I've never been one for labels, but I've noticed lately that I can't deny that I've become "things".
I Am...
a couponer. I coupon. I have multiple Sunday papers delivered to my home. I spend hours clipping and sorting and finding the sales matching up to my coupons.
This started out as something to try. I didn't really expect it to be a life altering project. But it did. And now I feel naughty when I go to the store without my coupon folder (yep, I keep them all in a folder). Like when I was a teller and I had to pull my bait money to check to make sure the alarms were working. It's a very naughty feeling.
I Am...
a runner. I've been watching the people in our neighborhood running throughout the day. Because we live in Arizona, it's not unreasonable to see people out during every hour of the day. But I'm watching these people and they are of different levels in their running. Some people are the same ones I've seen running for the last year. Some people are getting back into running after a short sabbatical of having a baby. And some people are running for the first time.
It doesn't matter how they're doing, how sweaty and tired they are, or how fast or slow they are going. I envy them. I want to run. I want to feel the warm sun counteract the cool breeze. I want to feel the pavement pounding under my feet and watch my shadow round the corners with me. I want to listen to my favorite running songs and feel them surge me forward toward my ending point.
I miss running. I can't wait to do it again.
I Am...
a writer. I know it's hard to believe with all of the weeks I've neglected to get on this blog, but one thing I did while I was away from blog land was write a novella for my daughter. A few years ago I began making a homemade gift for each kid each Christmas. This year I wrote Emma a book about a blonde 10-year-old girl who went to Colorado to visit her grandmother for a few weeks in the summer. I loved writing this story. It flowed from my brain to the paper so easily. Emma is still reading it and since it's her opinion that matters most to me, I look forward to knowing what she thinks.
And now I know I can do it. I can write a story from beginning to end. It's time to begin the next one.
I Am...
a couponer. I coupon. I have multiple Sunday papers delivered to my home. I spend hours clipping and sorting and finding the sales matching up to my coupons.
This started out as something to try. I didn't really expect it to be a life altering project. But it did. And now I feel naughty when I go to the store without my coupon folder (yep, I keep them all in a folder). Like when I was a teller and I had to pull my bait money to check to make sure the alarms were working. It's a very naughty feeling.
I Am...
a runner. I've been watching the people in our neighborhood running throughout the day. Because we live in Arizona, it's not unreasonable to see people out during every hour of the day. But I'm watching these people and they are of different levels in their running. Some people are the same ones I've seen running for the last year. Some people are getting back into running after a short sabbatical of having a baby. And some people are running for the first time.
It doesn't matter how they're doing, how sweaty and tired they are, or how fast or slow they are going. I envy them. I want to run. I want to feel the warm sun counteract the cool breeze. I want to feel the pavement pounding under my feet and watch my shadow round the corners with me. I want to listen to my favorite running songs and feel them surge me forward toward my ending point.
I miss running. I can't wait to do it again.
I Am...
 |
| Josh drew the cover art. Isn't he awesome? |
a writer. I know it's hard to believe with all of the weeks I've neglected to get on this blog, but one thing I did while I was away from blog land was write a novella for my daughter. A few years ago I began making a homemade gift for each kid each Christmas. This year I wrote Emma a book about a blonde 10-year-old girl who went to Colorado to visit her grandmother for a few weeks in the summer. I loved writing this story. It flowed from my brain to the paper so easily. Emma is still reading it and since it's her opinion that matters most to me, I look forward to knowing what she thinks.
And now I know I can do it. I can write a story from beginning to end. It's time to begin the next one.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Pregnantly Stupid
I don't know that I've ever gone so long without blogging. Not since I started this thing up which was about three and a half years ago. It almost feels like it's been that long since I last updated.
But there have been some reasons for my lack of updates.
I'm pregnantly stupid.
There are several different brands of pregnant stupidity. I can list three that I have personally been experiencing.
(Oh, in case you didn't know, I'm 22 or 23 weeks pregnant.)
When you're prego it's hard to imagine having a conversation with another person over something other than the fact that you are pregnant. It's way easy to forget that there are other events happening in life when there's a human life budding within you. Especially when you just want to barf and sleep all day long... not necessarily in that order.
This time around it's been different than before. We are having our fifth child. However, this is my eighth pregnancy. I got to go on a bunch of hormones for the first trimester which absolutely heightened all the negative aspects of pregnancy. It's hard to focus on anything else when you're lucky to get out of bed at all.
And so I've been focused on one thing. Me. And all of that self-focus has made me stupid. Pregnantly stupid.
Josh has told me more than once that when I'm pregnant my blonde roots become extremely apparent. It seems that the little person growing in my womb gets a little help in shaping his/her intelligence by borrowing my brain cells.
This makes having any sort of an intellectual conversation nearly impossible. And forget about having anything of interest to write about on a blog. I have had very little desire to display my lack of mental capabilities.
And it's the reason I'm "22 or 23" weeks pregnant. I have no idea which it is. That would require remembering something.
But it's January. Time to hit the Redo Button (like the Staples Easy Button, but for resolutions). Time to get my blog writing and family updating back on track. Plus, I'm in my second trimester now and it's time for me to unleash the tirades of hormonal imbalance.
It's no secret. We've been dealing with the heartbreak of two miscarriages over the last 15 months. Getting past the first 6 weeks of this pregnancy was a good sign. And should have bolstered my confidence in keeping this baby.
But I've been paranoid.
Even hitting the 20 week mark didn't aspire much more confidence.
We usually begin stocking up on diapers by this point in the pregnancy. I haven't bought any yet. Why? Because I'm afraid to count my chicken. The reality of this baby still hits me between the eyes, startling me to acknowledge that I'm not just fat. There's a baby in there. And then I realize that I'm being kind of stupid by not completely accepting that this baby is coming to our family. It's time to get beyond my own insecurities and embrace this new miracle.
Baby Girl Number 4. We are getting really excited for May 9th, 7:30 am to come around. There are definitely some advantages to having a planned c-section.
And so, I hope to come back to the blogging world. Despite being pregnantly stupid.
But there have been some reasons for my lack of updates.
I'm pregnantly stupid.
There are several different brands of pregnant stupidity. I can list three that I have personally been experiencing.
(Oh, in case you didn't know, I'm 22 or 23 weeks pregnant.)
CASE 1: One Track Mind Stupid
This time around it's been different than before. We are having our fifth child. However, this is my eighth pregnancy. I got to go on a bunch of hormones for the first trimester which absolutely heightened all the negative aspects of pregnancy. It's hard to focus on anything else when you're lucky to get out of bed at all.
And so I've been focused on one thing. Me. And all of that self-focus has made me stupid. Pregnantly stupid.
CASE 2: Borrowed Brain Cells Stupid
This makes having any sort of an intellectual conversation nearly impossible. And forget about having anything of interest to write about on a blog. I have had very little desire to display my lack of mental capabilities.
And it's the reason I'm "22 or 23" weeks pregnant. I have no idea which it is. That would require remembering something.
But it's January. Time to hit the Redo Button (like the Staples Easy Button, but for resolutions). Time to get my blog writing and family updating back on track. Plus, I'm in my second trimester now and it's time for me to unleash the tirades of hormonal imbalance.
CASE 3: Unnecessary Paranoia Stupid
But I've been paranoid.
Even hitting the 20 week mark didn't aspire much more confidence.
We usually begin stocking up on diapers by this point in the pregnancy. I haven't bought any yet. Why? Because I'm afraid to count my chicken. The reality of this baby still hits me between the eyes, startling me to acknowledge that I'm not just fat. There's a baby in there. And then I realize that I'm being kind of stupid by not completely accepting that this baby is coming to our family. It's time to get beyond my own insecurities and embrace this new miracle.
Baby Girl Number 4. We are getting really excited for May 9th, 7:30 am to come around. There are definitely some advantages to having a planned c-section.
And so, I hope to come back to the blogging world. Despite being pregnantly stupid.
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