This is what happens when your mom loves a particular mexican restaurant a little too much. A manager who knows her by name hands her some free t-shirts and says If you boys wear these next time you'll get a free meal!
And don't worry your sweet little heart about that mom. She also got a free Salsarita's t-shirt. Probably because she's so pretty. Or not. Just kidding. Either way that's good news. Her pub crawl shirts from college are starting to wear thin and form holes in the armpits.
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You can barely see it, but Leo is holding a cylindrical plastic container. Ever wary about what's going to be done with any random object I see the boys walking around with, I ask.
Leo: Oh Mom, us guys are just going to pick some apples.
Right. And by apples you mean my CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS!!! GO. AWAY. SHoooo. I can only hang those back up so many times in one day before I climb up on the mantel, swan dive into the tree, and wreck it for good to end the frustration.
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Hello? Salsarita's? Yeah. I'm going to be a little late for my shift. There's a...situation I'm dealing with right now. My mom, er, I mean my ride got into a nasty fight with our Christmas tree......I'll be there as soon as she can get all the ornament hooks out of her hair.
My friend Meredith haz my mug.
On Wednesday while the boys played at their Nana's, Matilda and I ventured out to run errands. First stop--HT--my old home away from home--the school where I spent four years saying things like I'm ready to start class now. Are you? What are our expectations for writing/reading workshop again and who's ready to conference with me?!? Who's your favorite author these days? You know what would be a GREAT book for you to read next?... Wow so and so. Your story about aliens who attack hot dog stands and use exploding macaroni hand grenades is...very creative--now let's talk about your story's initial conflict and eventual resolution....cause I'm thinking you forgot a little something called ....THE PLOT!...But we just took a bathroom break. Are you sure it's an EMERGENCY? Fine. Sign out.
Ah memories.
Tills and I went to drop off some Christmas cards and visit for awhile with my dear friends. My former Assistant Principal ran out to her car where she had a gift for Matilda just waiting by chance we should show up. What a gorgeous number this is:
There is something out of this world that happens to me when I walk into a school building--in particular my old school. It's like an invisible wave of energy hits me about the same as if you turned the corner of a city block and were knocked back by a gust of wind. I get tingly. And bouncy. I'll tell you it tugged at my heart to see the kids in uniform lining up from recess. To hug my former coteachers. To hold Matilda up in front of their classes and introduce her to a bunch of sixth graders who vaguely remembered hearing about that pregnant teacher from last year....
But last year. It was a good time for me to exit. When I was at school I ached to be home. To see my children through their early years is what I wanted most. If anybody was glad to see me go--it had to have been the Sunshine Committee. Each of the four years I was there--somebody was in charge of throwing me a shower--wedding, baby, baby, baby!
I'm lucky. I'm so lucky because I have the choice. I can go back when the time is right. Or at least that's what everyone tells me. I don't want to think about it too much so I'll believe it for now.
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Actually, though, I'll be going back to school quite soon. Next week in fact. Matilda has two morning dress rehearsals leading up to her big performance on the 18th. I didn't tell you guys, this? For the second year in a row Mitchell and I have produced a HOLY CHILD, a baby JESUS for the school's LITURGICAL DANCE OF THE NATIVITY. Didn't know my uterus was so sacred, huh?
What can I say? All I'm hoping for is a quiet baby Jesus. A thumbsucking baby Jesus. A baby Jesus who will sit still on Mary's lap for 30+ minutes without morphing into Scarlett O'Hara.
Or worse.
Yes friends, there are worse things than a three and a half month old with a thick southern drawl and a Belle's attitude to match. But can you even imagine what such a thing would be? And do you really want your mind to go there?
So see below for kiddo's first visit with Santa. We have been wearing the new hat every day which is good because she hates the hat I crocheted for her with a fiery passion. She also did a little hat fashion show for us the other morning.
This week we were supposed to go to her winter concert but it was cancelled due to cold weather (they had to walk over to campus to do it) so that was a bummer. Maybe someday I'll get to see her in a concert.
The only other news is that I gave her a haircut as you can probably see above. Oh yeah, and Eric is introducing her to Star Wars. She is really into Star Trek since she saw the beginning of the latest movie at Walmart in French with French subtitles (apparently our Walmart is trying to give us some culture). We kept having to tell her the car driving sequence as a story while driving to school. So Eric got her a Star Wars picture book and got out his toys. He also has an Empire Strikes Back pillowcase but that is on HIS pillow. Here they are playing with Chewy in the couch fort we made tonight.
I finally got around to clicking this link -- http://www.earlyword.com/2009/11/16/stephenie-meyer-on-oprah/ -- and watching the videos for Oprah's interview of Stephenie Meyer (thanks to Flower who sent it to me in the first place!)... I am sure y'all know I am a HUGE fan of the Twilight series, and also that I truly adore Robert Pattinson in the role of Edward... But I think I am becoming even more of a fan girl for Stephenie Meyer as I watch the interview, and even I didn't know that was possible... On a funny side note: the middle school librarian they talk to at one point is named Crystal Methvin... Teeheehee... Her name is "Crystal Meth"... Yeah, I know... I'm immature... Why do you think I manage to get along so well as a teen librarian?!? In other news... Stephenie Meyer later said something about a movie for The Host... http://www.stepheniemeyer.com/thehost_movie.html... Holy crap! Later days...
My husband will get all huffy and say "not until the 21st!" but to me, once the temp dips 35F and below and snow/sleet/ice start blowing around, it's winter. My least favorite season (I'm not alone there, I know) because driving is stressful and just getting anything done or going anywhere is a big hassle. Not to mention it's fucking cold, and as I get older, cold hurts more. Why can't I convince my husband to give up this farming gig so we can go move someplace warm? I don't care if we're poor, we'll be warm!
Right, now I've got that whining out of the way - who's ready for Christmas? Another thing I'm grateful for as I get older - Christmas/Holidays is FAR less of a big deal than it used to be. I do enjoy buying gifts for people, but no longer am I all excited/concerned about what I'll be getting back. Some might say the loss of that excitement is a bad thing - to me it just means I'm more self-sufficient, and that's a good thing! (If I really want/need something, I just go buy it now. Anything extra is nice but nothing to get all worked up over!)
I also gave up (pretty much before I ever started) the stress of holiday cards, decorating, and all that extra jazz. I send cards to the people closest to me (and the in-laws because they'll get huffy if I don't!) but we don't bother with decorations or parties or anything like that anymore. YAY. True, I'm still forced to do the holiday parties at work, but even those are low key and require very little from me. I show up with food, and all is well.
Speaking of food - damn I do hate this section of the year because no matter how hard I try to keep it from happening, the pounds pile on. That's what New Year's is for though of course, and like billions of people I'll be making that resolution to "get back to a healthy weight". If only just so my pants fit comfortably again. I'm annoyed that my favorite trousers are currently all too tight!
Sooooo. There we go, that's my boring update. Hope your lives are all well.
Another month has passed for Gus marching us ever closer to ...t-t-t-TWO! And boy are we feeling it around here. The Goose has really come into his own lately. The other night Mitchell goes When did Gus become so...animated? Oh, so you noticed too? What tipped you off? The blur of blonde hair speeding from doorway to doorway? The screaming? The extra booms and crashes you hear the next room over--and what the? Leo's standing right here. How could that be?
Poop, it must be this one. Yeah. I'd say animated is a good word to use.
Recently I read something over at celebrity baby blog that made my arm hairs stand at attention. I admit, I read about the kids of celebrities. A stupid fascination, but a fascination nonetheless. So Keith Urban was talking about his 16-month-old daughter, Sunday Rose, saying she's in her raccoon phase. Immediately my mind went hot damn! How perfect! Wish I'd thought of using those words first! Because how many times have I been lead around my house following a trail of things that hmmmm. I'd thought I already thrown away only to indeed find a hunched over Goose half buried in the trash can flinging goodies from it left and right? One too many times, friends. One too many. Just like a little varmint.
The other evening this happened for the millionth time:
This is our just for fun white tree we have in the front room. I bought a bunch of red, green, and white shatterproof ornaments since this tree is mainly over hardwood. Glass ornaments somehow didn't seem as safe. Our green tree with all the family ornaments is downstairs in the basement and I guard that one a little closer. For some reason though, Gus has it in his mind I like for him to disassemble this tree. I was cooking dinner when this happened the last time. I knew Gus was doing something to the tree, but with Matilda in the Bumbo on the counter and Leo helping me with the jambalaya on the stove--I felt my eyes were needed most in the kitchen. It was a toss up. Stop the Goose from taking my tree apart or risk a pulled down pot and a trip to the ER. Maybe Gus heard me say how much I enjoy decorating for Christmas and thought Hell, I'll just keep giving Mom this gift again and again. It's too easy and it must make her so happy! Look she's crying she's so happy!
How did I end up with such a thoughtful child?
So yeah. Nineteen months. Awesome.
My husband, my son, and I are all self-proclaimed geeks... We honestly love every minute of it... So, I was thrilled when I saw this book on the shelf as we shifted the parenting collection: BRINGING UP GEEKS [Genuine, Enthusiastic, Empowered Kids]: how to protect your kid's childhood in a grow-up-too-fast world... I vaguely remember ordering this book in my brief stint as the person responsible for ordering parenting books, but I forgot to ever check it out... With glowing reviews by people like Chris Hansen (the guy from Dateline NBC's "To Catch a Predator"), I'm sure that Marybeth Hicks won't let me down! Later days...
In case you missed it this morning, I was interviewed by Dan Harmon about The Tattooed Lady on Milwaukee's local NPR station's Lake Effect show.
You can listen online: http://www.wuwm.com/programs/lake_effect/view_le.php?articleid=863 or download as a podcast via iTunes.
Today Tills went all Margaret Mitchell's Gone With The Wind on me. We were casually taking some photos when she hit this pose and shrieked--in that high-pitched super girly shriek of hers-- Well, I do declare!
And she really nailed the declare making it sound like de-clay-a.
What am I going to do with this lady? Both demure and fiery? Perhaps we should add Scarlett to the lengthy list of nicknames we have going for her.
Fiddle-dee-dee.
