Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Yesterday's coffee was only 1/4 caff (even 1/2 caff can send me into temporary fits of reorganization.) So here's the revision, you know, before tomorrow and I'm fully committed.
1) Still wear slippers more often.
2) Bath daily. (that's a new one.)
3) Get a handle on my hair.
And number sixteen I should have put "eat less fudge and Christmas cookies and candy" not "eat less". I must have been in a sugar fog at the time.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Most years I avoid resolutions of all kinds although sometimes I'll quietly suggest to myself one or two things to better myself or to accomplish in a year's time. I remember specifically one year, it was 1997, that I was going to accomplish one of three things 1) take violin lessons, 2) write a novel or 3) have a baby. I had Maya and Eva that year so I think I knocked that one out of the ballpark by giving birth to twins. Sure I could have also taken violin lessons and written a book (getting pregnant and being pregnant isn't all THAT complicated) and the girls weren't born until the end of August, but I hate to make other people look bad by being an overachiever.
Eleven years later and I'm back to the drawing board. My kids are in school and I'm pretty much a free bird most days. It's an open slate, anything can happen, I could do just about anything I want short of moving to Aruba. And finances are tight so I can do anything I want that costs less than say $10. It's a little restricting but hey, I can still do anything I want after I take care of the needs of 4 other people and a young pup on a daily basis. I can do anything I want like seek therapy.
Let's talk about goals. Right now I have none and I think I would do better with a few basic goals in place besides having clean underwear and a dog that doesn't eat everything. I think the last time I made goals was in 1997 and see? Didn't that work out well!
So here are my goals for 2009. Some lofty some not so much:
1) Wear slippers more often.
2) Sit up straighter. Good posture is the key to good health. (I don't really know that, I just made it up.)
3) Be a better friend.
4) Makes friends so I can be a better friend to those friends.
5) Travel somewhere! Preferably some place different but I'd settle for a trip to the beach to visit Tim's parents.
6)Blog daily. Ok, blog semi-daily. Ok, let's just say blog more.
7) Get paid doing something creative.
8) Get published.
9) Get a handle on my hair.
10) Get a grip.
10) Be a better listener to my kids.
11) But crack down on the b.s. I hear from my kids.
10) plus 11) = Listen intently to my kids before I give them a quarter and tell them to call someone who cares.
12) Worry less.
13) Pray more.
14) Save more.
15) Spend less.
14) Build something.
15) Take a class.
16) Eat less but eat more good food.
17) Exercise daily. Exercise almost daily? Think about exercise daily.
And last but not least...
18) Go on a date with my husband more than 4 times this year.
That last one is pretty lofty I know. Those are all very doable except maybe number 12. Now make your own bucket list for the year and we'll compare.
Happy New Year.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Tim and I spent Sunday walking around in a headache induced daze after our early morning adrenaline rush. It wasn't until later that night that the reality of it all hit - there were 6 (Tim says 5, but I say 6) male EMT's rushing into my house in the middle of the night - every parents worst nightmare and ok ladies just admit it, every woman's fantasy.
I'm pretty sure at one time I had fantasies. You know "real" fantasies not just the "I wish I had a housekeeper" fantasy and fantasies of going to the grocery ALONE. Ironically that evening Tim asked me if I had any fantasies. "Well," I answered, "I think I used to at one time but you know since I've been married to you there just hasn't been the need" I said. (To bad I didn't actually think to say that at the time.) "Although I think having 6 EMT's rushing into my house is a pretty good one, only ruined by the fact that I had a sick kid and a pint of mucus on the front of my oh so sexy Pacers t-shirt".
You can probably picture me sitting on the couch in my phlegmy Pacer's shirt and Tim's boxers with Isaac surrounded by 8 paramedics (I swear they were multiplying) wearing really big boots. (There's something about those boots...) So I know you all want to know if there was any firehouse candy present but unfortunately I didn't have my contacts in so I couldn't actually see the paramedics. (Just their really big boots.) There are a lot of other "unfortunatelies" like unfortunately I looked like hell. At some point Tim brought me my robe like he was trying to save my virtue or something. It was very sweet but again, unfortunately nobody was leering.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
And I would be the tree I'm speaking of.
I have this special ability to operate without the use of my frontal lobe, my cerebral cortex or my rear lobe (if there is one). Today I received a lovely birthday card in the mail. The problem is is that it wasn't for me but for my mother-in-law. Yes, I mailed myself my mother-in-laws birthday card. (Great card -it was even funnier the second time.) As I was lamenting my stupid mistake to Tim he kindly pointed out that I did complete half of my task. I did get the car in the mail AND it arrived on her birthday. So maybe that's 75% of my task. If only she would have received it instead of me. Maybe I can fax it.
It's not like this is the first time my body has operated sans my brain. I'm usually the one around here to admit to lost items at least lost items I've placed in my hot little hands. I'm never hesitant to put things in file 13 and I've been known to throw away that thing in my left hand that I was suppose to keep and keeping the dirty kleenex in my right hand. I've caught myself several times. And it's the really important things that I can't find that I can only assume I accidentally dumped like say, negatives and my birth certificate. At least I won't be needing a passport anytime soon.
I've been known to walk out of stores with merchandise only to find myself in the parking lot wondering why it's not in a bag. It's really embarrassing because then you have to walk back in the store with 4 pairs of pajamas not in a bag. Rather than explain myself to security I find it best to duck in an aisle and then walk out like I've been shopping in that aisle for an hour.
I've embarrassed myself so many times I've blocked out most of them. It's a challenge operating on only two cylinders. Perhaps when we get Eva's medication they'll have a little something for me too.
Friday, December 5, 2008
I'm letting Isaac stay home sick from school today. I had a list of things to do today which included (da,da, daaa...) the grocery (see previous post). But he's just one kid - I can handle Curly without Larry and Mo.
He had a rough night (and not just because my first husband is missing, see previous post again) - he is getting a cold. He could go to school but it's Friday, he's in kindergarten, he's not feeling great, he hasn't missed a day yet, and I was really, really tired this morning.
This didn't go over so well with his sisters. Maya and Eva acted like a couple of bear cubs who had just been given their final boot out of the den and left their little bear cub brother to snuggle with his mama bear. Maya's eyes teared up when she asked if I could have lunch with her today since Isaac "gets" to stay home. I pointed out the fact that I can't do that with a sick kid. Tears. Big crocodile tears. Eva said "Well, I don't feel good either!" No? Really?! This coming from my MIDDLE child?! Eva knew I wasn't going to give in hence the nasty glares and sneers. I do appreciate both of their strategies though ineffective.
I tried, as always, to explain to them that they are not a set of triplets always bound to do the same thing on the same day. Sometimes people get sick, and they themselves are not all attached at the hip and life isn't always fair, blah, blah, blah. More tears more sneers. (I must say Eva can sneer like a sixteen-year-old. Quite impressive.)
It didn't help that Isaac burst into song before the girls ever it made it out the door. A loud rendition of "Glory to God in the highest" doesn't say "I'm so sick I can't go to school". But alas the choice has already been made and now the next time Maya or Eva get the sniffles (probably next week) I'm going to have to try to explain the complexities of being a big kid and not a kindergartner. This is making me break out in a cold sweat as it will be as easy as feeding them creamed spinach. Oh, dear God what have I done?
Thursday, December 4, 2008
I could never be a military wife. I couldn't be a "my husband works nights at a convenience store" wife either. Five hours straight with my three kids and I'm done. Six hours and then they'd be done. That would be why when I put them to bed tonight at 9pm and at 10pm I turn around and child number 1 has just come in after child number 2 was in here telling me a story that she can't sleep because she hasn't talked to her dad and I have to remind her that in fact she just talked to her soon to be first father so go back to bed. (That sentence made perfect sense in my head.)
You know, I don't have much trouble sleeping when Tim is away. But for some reason tweedle dee and tweedle dum and tweedle can't-stay-in-his-own-bed do. Almost every night we play musical beds. I snuggle with Isaac to get him to go to sleep, he comes in my room at 1am to sleep in my bed, I kick him out just in time for Maya to come into my room and crawl in bed with me. An hour later I kick her out right before Isaac has a nightmare and I have to go crawl in bed with him. By morning I'm running into walls and reassuring the dog that daddy will be home soon.
But here is what panics me most. God forbid I should need to go to the grocery while Tim is out of town and the kids are home from school. The thought of having to take all three of my kids into a store, walk through the aisles and put groceries in a cart with Larry, Curly and Mo on my heels - eeeow. Just poke me in the eyes and slap my bald head - it would be less humiliating. If I had a quarter for every time I have to say "stop it" and "don't touch that" and "don't touch her" and "get your finger out of that" and "get off there, who said you could climb on that?" and "gee, no I'm not buying you Ding Dongs laced with high fructose corn syrup and red dye" then I could afford to leave town once in a while, on an airplane, and stay in a five star hotel. Make that a suite. With a masseuse. Named Sven. Or maybe Hans...
Hmmm... Hans. That sounds like a good name for a second husband.