So, our Thanksgiving went well. We actually didn't have our big meal on Thanksgiving day as my mother has decided that she must work! constantly! even on holidays! at her goofy-minimum-wage-job-she-does-for-FUN!
But I'm not bitter.
My grandparents came down from Up North for their annual Thanksgiving trip. They came over to Our House and I made P-Dub's lasagna (which really is the best ever. No, really.) and cheesy spinach bread with strawberry pie for dessert. Ok, so I had a caterer-friend make the bread and the pie. But I ordered and paid for it. So, that counts a little, right?
We had turkey and fixin's on Black Friday and it was delicious. I haven't been doing too well with the old WeightWatchers-Not-A-Diet Diet. I have basically been eating cupcakes and cream cheese brownies (a la Bakerella) like there's no tomorrow or such thing as a size 16... Today I am trying to jump back on the bandwagon. So far, so good. If one of you could just go to my house and finish off that dozen cupcakes so I won't eat them? Much thanks would be expressed.
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And as a side note, I have successfully stolen my neighbor's cat. Now I want to haul her to the vet to give her the Bob Barker treatment so she doesn't have kittens under my porch. Because that would be bad. Her name is Ginny-Cat and she looks like she is wearing Cleopatra eyeliner and purrs like a motor. And she is a bit whiny. But the rabbits like her, so there's that.
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My husband bought a new TV and it reminded me distinctly of the exchange in this post. But it's really ok. Jelly Bean came up to me while I was getting ready this morning and said, "Mama? You know Star Wars?"
"Yes, dear."
"I wanna watch it Big TV."
And so...it begins. My parents and grandparents were giggling about this purchase because...we don't have cable or satellite or anything. But we have Hulu and Netflix. Ha, Old People! You CAN watch TV other ways! But really? Having a decent sized television makes me feel like we live just a bit more in the 21st century. The old TV is the size of a shoebox.
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TAP hasn't killed me yet. I have about fortybazillion things I have to do for it before...5 minutes ago. But I am alive. I am trying to keep my give-a-shit factor waaaayyyy down near 'nonexistent'. Belive it or not, it is working.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Brightly
My life is so full right now. We are getting ready for our big conference coming up soon at work and I have been pulling together the silent auction. I am in the process of stealing the neighbor's cat, because I love her more, so there. Brother has play rehearsals and Jelly Bean is staying up half the night. We have a bonfire to go to on Saturday and I need to get my Christmas Tree and Thanksgiving Turkey from my mom. We have a schedule to go caroling with the drama group and are going to get the estimate to remodel Our House early next week.
Look how incredibly blessed we are. Look at it. Can you even see it because it shines so brightly?
A little 4 year old boy died last night of childhood leukemia. I only met him once at a Christmas party years ago when he was just a slug-bug baby in a sleeper with a gummy grin. I have been boo hooing all day at my desk because, while I know that I can never know what his mom and dad are going through, I *feel* it. This. All of our very worst fears. Everything we do is to prevent something like this happening to us. To our kids. I am inexplicably sad for them. For the mama and the daddy and the big brother. For his auntie who is about to marry my cousin. For my cousin and the people on the email listing and Facebook. For everyone who is sitting there crying at their desks, just like me.
I know it is so so cheesy. I know it is a cliche, but this gave me some perspective: Life is not about getting through the storms; it is about learning to dance in the rain.
So I am going to go home and kiss the husband who drives me crazy. I am going to go hug Brother who misbehaves in school and hug that Jelly Bean who misbehaves all the time. I am going to look at my dirty house with thankfulness in my heart. And I am going to send out a dove-winged prayer for Kyle, where ever he may be.
Look how incredibly blessed we are. Look at it. Can you even see it because it shines so brightly?
A little 4 year old boy died last night of childhood leukemia. I only met him once at a Christmas party years ago when he was just a slug-bug baby in a sleeper with a gummy grin. I have been boo hooing all day at my desk because, while I know that I can never know what his mom and dad are going through, I *feel* it. This. All of our very worst fears. Everything we do is to prevent something like this happening to us. To our kids. I am inexplicably sad for them. For the mama and the daddy and the big brother. For his auntie who is about to marry my cousin. For my cousin and the people on the email listing and Facebook. For everyone who is sitting there crying at their desks, just like me.
I know it is so so cheesy. I know it is a cliche, but this gave me some perspective: Life is not about getting through the storms; it is about learning to dance in the rain.
So I am going to go home and kiss the husband who drives me crazy. I am going to go hug Brother who misbehaves in school and hug that Jelly Bean who misbehaves all the time. I am going to look at my dirty house with thankfulness in my heart. And I am going to send out a dove-winged prayer for Kyle, where ever he may be.
"Goodnight, Sweet Prince...
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
NewsFlash
Mornings make babies wild. Thought you ought to know.
(Ok, when do I get to stop calling him the baby? He's three for chrissakes. I am starting to annoy myself.)
This morning, Jelly Bean was running around and around Brother, singing loudly, poptart in hand. Naked. He stops and looks at me and says, "Ooo, I like you shirt. Let me wear it." Um, no kid. *I'm* wearing it. I sit down to check the weather on the computer and he holds my arm and whispers a lullaby. Then he notices that my hair is wet and says,
JB: You took a shower, Mama? Your body dirty?
Me: Yes, dear.
JB: Now you clean?
Me: Yes, dear.
JB: I need a bath. My legs dirty and my booboos hurt.
And then he proceeds to nakedly run off and rub a thick layer of bar soap all over his dry body. Which is really hard to get off. Another thing you ought to know.
Questions asked of me:
Do dogs eat peanuts?
Do cats eat grilled cheese?
Boy, do I love that kid. But he is a bit crazy making, yes?
(Ok, when do I get to stop calling him the baby? He's three for chrissakes. I am starting to annoy myself.)
This morning, Jelly Bean was running around and around Brother, singing loudly, poptart in hand. Naked. He stops and looks at me and says, "Ooo, I like you shirt. Let me wear it." Um, no kid. *I'm* wearing it. I sit down to check the weather on the computer and he holds my arm and whispers a lullaby. Then he notices that my hair is wet and says,
JB: You took a shower, Mama? Your body dirty?
Me: Yes, dear.
JB: Now you clean?
Me: Yes, dear.
JB: I need a bath. My legs dirty and my booboos hurt.
And then he proceeds to nakedly run off and rub a thick layer of bar soap all over his dry body. Which is really hard to get off. Another thing you ought to know.
Questions asked of me:
Do dogs eat peanuts?
Do cats eat grilled cheese?
Boy, do I love that kid. But he is a bit crazy making, yes?
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