not sunny

Ever get the feeling that you have no idea what the fuck you are doing?

You look around yourself, all of the things that surround you, and almost feel dazed?  Like, what just happened?

No?  Me neither.

It's a weird day.  Alternately raining or cloudy, and then sunny.  My mood totally matches the weather.  Except for the sunny part.  I have to go pick up Brooke from her summer recreation program in a minute, and I guess I don't know if I even feel like writing later, or anytime soon so this lame little post is it.

I'm sitting here blank.  I have things to say but I can't say them.  Kind of hard to write honestly like that, you know?  This blog is sometimes like going to a head doc for me.  I feel like I get an opportunity to just talktalktalk, about some things and sometimes nothing and just put random words or thoughts out there.  Then sometimes it feels a little bit like, what's the point?  If you go to a head doc to get clarity, to get fixed, but you can't be honest and say the words out loud that are stuck behind the fear, what's the point?

If you can't have an honest, real converzation without fear, there is really no point at all, is there?

wait. what?

It's quiet.

Wait.  What?

I just shocked myself a little when I saw that in writing.  I actually did a quick panicked look around.  It's summer and it's quiet.  When my kids were little, if it was summer and quiet something was up.  Once, during Easter break, it was quiet and Megan was cutting a half mullet in her own hair. Right before a little family photo session.  Yep, that wasn't too attractive.  There was no way I was going to help her out and finish the other side either - just throw caution to the wind and COMPLETE the mullet.  No way.  At least with the half mullet nobody thought I was a mullet-loving mother.  I figured this way, anyone who was anyone would know that Megan played Beauty Parlor on herself.  I quickly came to the conclusion that she is a pretty sucky hairdresser.

A three-year-old with scissors.  Sheesh.  Where was her mom anyway?  In my defense, Megan was the best alone player out of all of my kids.  She would go in her room and play dollhouse for hours.  That is not an exaggeration.  And she was happy.  She's a little bit like her mama in that way, kind of a solitary being.  So really, Meg being quiet and out of my eyesight at the same time wasn't cause for alarm.

I went off topic.  Sorry.  I was just pointing out that it's quiet and it's summer.  Kind of an anomaly.  Right?  Well, the two girls are at day camp.  For the entire day.  And their camp happens to be about 40 minutes away, so it's like, the longest day ever here at home.  My kids were gone at like 7:30, and won't be back til probably 5:30ish.  Yow.  I kind of feel like I have all sorts of time to do nothing!

Except today I had to wait for a delivery.  The washer/dryer crapped out, so we needed a new one.  Since when do appliances start dying at just 8 years old?  That's not a very long life.  I mean, even in dog years it's barely middle aged!  I have a stackable unit because my laundry room is super narrow.  When we built the house, the plans called for the laundry to be where the mudroom is, downstairs.  I wanted a mudroom though, and I wanted a laundry room upstairs, so we kind of had to find a place to squeeze it in up there.  The washer part still actually worked fine, but the dryer was totally dead - so we just ended up replacing the entire unit.

Thank COD it got here today because for the past week, I have had laundry hanging all over my house.  A family of 6 generates a ton of laundry.  If I skip a day I'm screwed, you know?  Shockingly, even without a dryer, I have kept up with the laundry.  The towels are as hard and scratchy as cardboard with sandpaper glued to it, but hey.  They're clean!  It's kind of like exfoliating when you dry off after the shower.  I have a freaking spa going on every damn day here.  So it was time.  Time for the fluffy softness that only dryer dried clothes feel like.

Fluffy softness means a lot to me.  

The girls are out for the day, but Alex has been kicking around here, and he's been periodically up my ass about bringing him to Lowe's.  Want to know why?  He wants me to bring him to Lowe's so he can buy himself a shed.

Yep.  A shed.  He priced it out, convinced his buddies to pitch in, and now he wants me to bring him there to pick it up.  He even called his grandpa and secured the dump truck so I could help him get it home.  He can be very resourceful when it's necessary.  Sadly for Alex, I am not driving the non-air conditioned dump truck to Lowe's on a sweltering hot 95+ degree day for a shed (for my teenager).

You might wonder what the hell a 15-year-old is planning on doing with his own shed.  Well, that's a good question guys.  He wants his own fort-type place where he has to do the least amount of actual work to build, so he and his friends can hang out there with a refrigerator.  He is such a goof ball.  And I sometimes wonder where he came from.

But then, I was thinking that Bill Gates pretty much invented Microsoft in his shed and now he's a billionaire.  It may have been a garage that he invented Microsoft in, but whatever.  Close enough.  Maybe Alex is a genius and he's about to make billions in his shed!

Alex taking his big sister for a little ride

And maybe he's just a silly kid who wants to have a refrigerator in the woods.  

breakfast wars

We were at this resort that has the most amazing food.  Amazing.  And we get an option of eating in the fancy dining room or the huge casual dining room, where they have buffet style food for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  We always go buffet.

This is no average buffet.  The buffet is like crazy town where anything you could possibly want is available.

So in order to bug my sister Ali since we were at the resort and she wasn't, I sent her a few breakfast pictures while we were eating.  You know, because I am all sharing like that...

You know, the thing is, you really have to sample everything.  On my first plate, I filled up on some fresh fruit and banana bread, then the second plate of course had pancake, waffle, eggs, bacon, sausage and a um, maybe another piece of banana bread.  There  may or may not have been a third plate that involved yogurt with granola and raspberries.  Who eats like that??  

All I know is, I ate like a champion.  I will put out there though, that I like to have tastes of as much as I can when I am at this place because everything is so good, but I did not lick my plate.  Also, I feel like I need to point out that that was not just one day of breakfast photos.  Because you know, that would be slovenly.  And their food is so rich, there's no possible way that I could get all of that down.

There was also an omelet bar, but oh man, I was way too full to go there.  There was a fishy thing that I didn't try, all sorts of eggs and potatoes and breads and muffins.  Oh whoa.  My mouth is watering.

So for two days, Ali received my breakfast food pictures, and this is what she sent back:

Burned bacon, boxed cereal, a miscellaneous piece of fruit... they so made me laugh.  That's why I like those guys.

drop in the ocean

                                                                       
  I don't want to waste the weekend  If you don't love me,pretend   a few more hours  Then its time to go
  And as my train moves down the east coast  I wonder how you keep warm  It's too late to cry  Too broken to move on

  And still, I can't let you be

  Most nights I hardly sleep

  Don't take what you don't need from me

  Misplaced trust in old friends  Never counting regrets  By the grace of God,   I do not rest at all                                                            A Drop in the Ocean
                                                                       -Ron Pope                                                                 

some random things you probably don't know about me

I love cheeses.

My baby toe toenails are basically nonexistent.

I can wave my pinkie toe.

I suck at most sports.

I don't sweat very much.

I enjoy mowing the lawn with a push mower.

I have an extremely hard time letting go when it's not my choice.

My arm and leg hair is so fine and light, it looks like I have none.

I like designing kitchens.

My astrological sign really does very closely resemble my characteristics.

I wish that I was way more artistic and creative than I actually am.

oh. 40.

It's my little sister Ali's 40th birthday today.  Wow.  She's old.  Which of course makes me old too, since she's younger than I am.

For her birthday, her husband had all of their family videos converted to DVD - such an awesome gift. I stopped over to have coffee like gentlemen this morning, and we watched a bunch of them - well, we only made it part way through the 4th one - there are 27.  Yow.  I see a lot of video watching in my future, because man, they are so great.

We all seem so young... the videos go back like 16 years.  Back when my skin was perfectly unwrinkled and I wore braids and bikinis and overall shorts (were they really in style?) and looked all cute and trim.  WTF.  

It's kind of motivating.  

I love listening to the kids voices, little.  My niece KK, I would recognize her kid voice anywhere.  My niece Abby too.  Their voices were so distinctive.  Kara was all small and had her same exact deep happy laugh.  There were some videos of little Alex so sweet and little and spitty, saying I love you mommy and aw.  It gave me a tear in my eye.  Ugh.  I miss my babies.

It's bad, when I see my kids as babies, so little and needing me.  Dangerous.  I can't help but imagine going there again.  Then I smack some sense into myself and shake it off.

I remember when my mom brought Ali home from the hospital, it was actually one of my earliest memories, because I was only like 2 1/2.  She was in this big white bassinet in our living room and I can remember tip toe peeking over the side to look at her, and mom shushing me and my sister Jen because baby Ali was sleeping.  As a little kid, she was always smiling, just the widest happiest smile.  She was this feisty little strong willed kid, but she definitely let me boss her around.  We played every day.  Doggies, house, teacher... we'd make mud pies in the back yard and play that we were the bakers at the "Short Stop," this little pizza place that also sold candy and ice cream cones in our town.  We'd swim and put on plays and dress up and run around the neighborhood knocking on doors and trig to get the neighbors to give us money for singing songs we made up.  We'd make up stories about being as small as a mouse and ride big wheels up and down the street and kick our little tiny pool balls all the way to school.  We'd be little trouble makers.

We went through a time where were less pals for a while, because she could be a little obnoxious.  I mean, when I was 15 and she was 13 - she was just a little kid with headgear who wore her hair in a tail.  She was always funny though.  We were definitely in different places for a while, pretty much til she had her first kid, my nephew Kieran.  Then we were moms, back on the same level.

So a little later we'll have some cake at her house because my mom still makes her a cake.  She's such a baby.  Then a little after that, we'll go out to dinner with my dad at this place that has two of my favorite things - lobster bisque and chocolate mousse.  I'm thinking that it's going to be a high calorie day.

Can't wait.

you googled that?? part two

OK, another edition of you googled that?  Because people are freaking weird.  And I'm a little concerned that their weirdness brought them to my innocent little boring old blog.


So these two gems were recently googled, "can sloths eat dough?" and "supermodels with camel toes," and they were directed to my blog.  This post in particular.  Geez.  And, omg.  Sherilin totally called it - she said I'd get a bunch of pervy pervs searching for gross things, and she was right.

Someone searched "i hate blowing my nose," and got sent to this post.  To the one who googled that, I feel ya sister.

I don't really get "mothers who teach their daughters to go braless."  I mean yes, I said bra-less, but not in the respect that I was trying to teach my kid to go without.  I thought that post was about Boss Hogg and teachers.

Someone googled "Corey Haim dirty movie bucker" and found their way to this post about my top ten 80's teen crushes.  Well I did discuss Corey Haim, but I didn't call him a dirty bucker.  Whatever that means.

"Close talkers" could have brought someone to several of my posts, because I mention it every so often because it is a thing that really bugs me.  But they were sent here, to my post about... you guessed it!  Close talkers!

OK, so in searching "hairy guys in leather jackets," someone was sent to this post, where I discuss in detail a bunch of sucky dates that I have been on in the past.  One of the sucky dates was with a super hairy guy, and another one was with a guy in a green pleather jacket.  So yeah.  Makes sense.

"False girdle advertisements" and "Bombshell Bra" understandably came to this post, where I talk about SPANX and the fact that wearing them is technically false advertisement if you're trying to pick up a guy.

So sheesh.  It's kind of interesting and disturbing to see what terms are bringing people to your blog.  So like, if you've made your way here and you're freaking weird, you can go now.  Thanks.

things she will miss and things she won't

I was reminded in the Huffington Post that in Nora Ephron's last book, "I Remember Nothing: And Other Reflections," she listed what she will miss and what she won't miss, though she didn't really disclose her diagnosis of cancer.  She obviously knew that it wasn't in the cards for her to reach old age.  In the spirit of Nora Ephron's list, this week's listicle is things that I will miss and that I won't.  Just in case I don't have long for this world, I'll share.   Because you never know...

Things I Won't Miss
1.  Saying goodbye when I am not ready
2.  Worrying
3.  Bathing suits
4.  Department store mirrors and sucky lighting
5.  Wrinkles
6.  Dusting
7.  Dieting and juice fasts
8.  Fake people
9.  Guilt
10. People who judge each other
11. Crying
12. Feeling alone
13. Working out
14. People in my space
15. Bad breath
16. Close talkers
17. Feeling pressured
18. Aches
19. When it's too hot
20. Cold feet
21. Overthinking things
22. Feeling vulnerable
23. Stressing over what to wear
24. Being late
25. People who are needy and clingy


Things I will miss, besides my kids, husband and family
1.  Dreaming and wondering
2.  Long cozy baths
3.  Late night moonlit walks
4.  An amazing meal
5.  Warm sunny days
6.  Crunching fall leaves under my feet
7.  Sounds of deep, real laughter
8.  Singing great music in the car with my kids
9.  The smokey smell of a fireplace fire 
10. The smell right before it snows
11. The smell of clean skin
12. Warm snuggly sleepy kids in pjs
13. Catching a glimpse of a new wobbly baby deer
14. Dessert
15. Good converzation
16. Getaways
17. Loungey lazy days
18. Watching movies in bed
19. Foot rubs
20. Sparkley blue eyes
21. Pancakes with ridiculous amounts of butter and syrup
22. When the leaves change color
23. The mountains
24. Notes from my kids
25. Loving, and feeling loved

Well sheesh.  What a sad topic!  Now I may or may not have a little tear in my eye and a sniffle.

confession

I had a few Type-A characteristics for almost ever a while.  I needed everything to be perfect, from the cupcakes that I brought in for the kindergarten Christmas party to the perfect, neat clothing and hair that my kids had to have when they left the house.  And the house, I had to have my house look just right - messes and chaos made me a little crazy inside, so when the kids went to bed, I had to thoroughly clean any mess in the house, you know, like toys and things that kids tend to spread all over the place during the space of a day.  I made sure everything was picked up just right for when my husband got home.  I vacuumed.  Every night.  That actually sounds a little OCD now that I think of it.   I don't think I was OCD.  I mean, I didn't flip out if things weren't perfect, but I just didn't want to be imperfect.  I didn't want it to ever look like I didn't have it all together.

So you know, that's a lot of pressure.  Feeling the need to be perfect, and have everything around me just so is just exhausting.  I remember right after I had Brooke, one of my sisters did something really nice for me.  I had been feeling overwhelmed - fourth kid, hurting and recovering from an unplanned c-section, just wiped out in general.  And I had these stupid swollen feet that were so painful and wouldn't go away.  Things were not perfect.  And there were a lot of dust balls on my stairs.  I never would have had dust balls.  And certainly never if anyone was coming over.  But she saw them so she tracked down a rag and cleaned them for me.

Well, most people would just appreciate that.  Most people would feel all grateful and thankful.  And though I was so grateful and thankful and appreciative, I was also inwardly horrified that someone (even my sister) came to my house and felt the need to clean something that I couldn't or didn't do.  My house was my job.  Brand new baby, swollen feet and hurt belly shouldn't matter.  The fact that someone might think that I didn't have it all together, that I needed help with something that I should have had done was like, awful to me.  I hate/d asking for help.                                                                                                                                              

It takes a lot for me to ask for help from anyone.  Even my husband.  Like, it's hard for me to drag the big ladder out to change light bulbs, so sometimes I'll begrudgingly ask him to do it.  It's hard, but not because I can't do it, only because I have a really bad back, and it hurts me.  Like, physically.  Bad.  He'd scrub the tub for me because that was one thing that would have me in pain for an entire day/night, and I hated it. I mean, I love that he would help me because he didn't want me to be hurting, but I hated feeling like I needed to depend on someone for something.

I hatehatehate feeling like I need someone.  Want and need are different.  Love and need are different.  Like and need are different.  Because need means that I can't do it myself.  It would take so much for me to utter the words "I need you," in any way.  

Yow.  What a vulnerable feeling.  I have a massive aversion to being vulnerable.

I am way less Type-A these days.  I believe that I am semi-reformed.  I'll get into the whys and hows some other time, but I am happy to say that I have let go a bit of the need to be perfect, to have everything around me just so.  I hardly even make my kids wear matching outfits for holidays! And I hired a cleaning lady, and she scrubs the tubs and changes the light bulbs!  It feels much better this way.  Really.  I definitely like a pretty presentable house, but I feel way less pressure to have it super presentable all day, every day.  

It's kind of nice to have the weight of the pressure that I put on myself off of my shoulders.  

monday listicle

Monday listicle link... questions:

1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, and find line 4. 

"Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to."  Megan is finally reading Twilight.  She is sucked in deep - up til 11 sneak reading in her bed every night.  I love it.

2. How many times a day do you say Hi? You know, not much.  Maybe once or twice?  I'm more of a "hey..." kinda girl.

3. Have you ever worn a uniform?  Yes, yes I have.  When I was a senior in high school, my band teacher convinced me to join the marching band.  Apparently they were shorthanded with the instrument that I played, the baritone.  I sucked so bad (At marching, not the baritone.  I was actually kind of good at the baritone.).  I am really not a very coordinated person in general, but put me in a hot, sweaty polyester pantsuit, give me a heavy horn and expect me to play while walking at the same time?  Not impressive.  Trust me.

Proof of me in the embarrassing uniform.  And apparently quite the large ribbon in my hair.  In 1987 huge ribbons were all the rage. Trust me. FYI, Brooke just got a glimpse of this picture over my shoulder and said, "Really mom?  Really?  That is an ugly sweater!"   So I said, "It's not even a sweater, it's a band uniform Brookie!"  And then she laughed at me.

4. What do you think about the most? 
Family, the truth, guilt, the future, wishes, wants, dreams, my appearance, music 

5. How many keys are on your keyring?  One.  My car key.  I hate carrying too much crap - I think I mentioned once or twice that I am anti-purse, pro-pocket.  I need to minimize as much as possible so I can fit everything either in a tiny purse or my pocket, and one key is all that I have room for.

6. What was the last thing you bought?  Soccer cleats.  I just got back from the store, because Megan needed cleats.  Somehow I got roped into also buying a track jacket and gym shorts.  Which is exactly why I usually shop alone.

7. Are you growing anything these days?  I am!  Besides a bunch of house plants that I cannot manage to kill, I have a nice vegetable garden growing in the back yard.  Actually two gardens in the back.  I am growing tomatoes, peppers, asparagus, onions, garlic, broccoli, lettuce, watermelon, dill, basil and rosemary.  Everything is looking pretty good!

8. What is under your bed? Shockingly, very little.  When I got a bunch of new bedroom furniture a little bit ago, I cleaned out under there, and I haven't built back up a cluttery mess yet.  So, besides a little bit of dust, there are a pair of black espadrilles, a boot box with a pair of new boots in it, a Barbie and Alex's man shoes.

9. What is most important in life? To me: following my dreams, being true to myself, setting a good example for my children, doing good, making a difference.  Also, love, respect, honesty, appreciation, commitment, compassion, belief in something, gratitude, patience, sacrifice... 

10. What is the strangest word you used this week? Hm.  I have to be honest here and say, "discomboobulated."  A goofy play on discombobulated, obviously.

fail

Want to hear something that makes me feel like a huge failure at being a stay-at-home-mom, wife, and mother in general?  This is a hard confession for me because I don't usually like to admit to being less than perfect at my job.  

I hate cooking dinner.

There, I said it.  And I know hate is a very strong word.  

But let me clarify.  I like cooking in general.  At my leisure.  In a leisure suit maybe even.  I like baking and making meals, I just don't like the pressure of having to plan and cook a spectacular dinner every damn night.  I think this makes me get a D- in SAHM-ness.   Yeah, if I got a quarterly report card, in DINNER, I would definitely be lucky to get a D.

Well, when my husband was in law school, it was great.  He went to school at night after work, so it was kind of great in the respect that I didn't have to cook.  Like, I could easily throw something together for the kids on a paper plate (wooHOO quick and easy cleanup!) and be perfectly content with a bowl of cereal for myself.  I like cereal.  And I really appreciate paper plates.

Then after law school, certain times of the year, work would be way busier for my husband.  Like, busy where he'd be in the office sometimes til 11 or 12 at night.  I got used to those schedules and loved that I still didn't have to come up with food too often to satiate a guy's appetite.  Plus, I'm pretty sure that nothing that I'd make could compare with the sausage and peppers or pulled pork that his grandparents throw together with ease.

So lately, his job is a snitch less demanding night-wise, (JUST A SNITCH) and he gets home most nights by 9 or 10.  So I get the call.  Every day.  "What's for dinner?"

"What's for dinner?"

That is my least favorite question ever.

Hm.  How about sushi from that great sushi spot?  Or a sub from Subway?  Or pizza?  Yeah, every guy loves pizza, right??   I am such a fan of takeout.  Isn't it great to have someone else cook for you?  Then the worst thing is deciding where to order from.

But sheesh.  Takeout is like, so unhealthy.  And expensive.  And it makes me feel guilty that I didn't provide something for my family myself.  I am home all day.  And now that every kid is in school - there is absolutely no good excuse for me not to have a dinner put together every night for my family.

I sometimes feel like the only stay-at-home-mom who hates the whole plan/implement dinner thing. It sure seems like nobody else says it out loud!  You know, I'd be willing to bet that it's a dirty little secret in the SAHM community.  

Maybe I should make a support group.