I am not cool enough for this phone. But that statement is true for many things in my life. Husband, children, wonky tv remote – all cooler than yrs truly. The iPhone is like a magic firestarter to my little cavemomma mind…..magic! Anyway, little Stevey Jobs doesn’t need my accolades so this is just to say hello and wow and thanks to KBD.
In which I ponder my death.
December 10th, 2009 by Julia No comments »Pocket T was rasslin’ with Pocket 2 earlier today when this simple question was asked “Will we live in this house when Momma dies?”
Pocket T was relatively taken aback, and said “Pardon”? [Or something along those lines, I may be paraphrasin’.] [Sorry about the droppin’ the ‘n.]
Pocket 2 said that Momma (me) would die on the 14th (Monday).
So…..what am I doing with my last few days here?
Getting caught up with my blogging, such as it is. Having my period. Not cleaning the house. Trying to clean the house. Slipping $5 under Pocket 1’s pillow for the massive huge tooth she lost, finally. Being thankful for the single nicest person I know who lives next door to me and puts up with me [short list there but I love her]. Continue to adore Pocket T.
Hope to hell that my boy is wrong.
I’m pretty sure he is because he was wearing his favorite Croatian soccer shirt and Bob the Builder underpants. Nothing but sweetness could come from that combination.
This is my Oma back in ‘05, with Pocket 2 when he was just a few squishy weeks old. She went home in September and I miss her every single day. I know that when it is my time, she will be there. Waiting. Not so patiently. And she will tell me how pretty I am. And then she will make me chicken and rice.
In which I test out Live Writer.
December 8th, 2009 by Julia No comments »Really?
It can be this easy? Because, just to be perfectly blunt, I have my doubts.
When people say “Oh, you can’t miss it” – I can and do.
Case in point – I do not understand directions as most humans give them. To me, “up” is North, “down” is South, “left” is West and “right” is East. After so many years, Pocket T has this down to a science and could easily draw me a map to Autobot City and back. However, the mere mortals that write out directions to birthday parties? They have no idea the machinations behind the scenes that get me across the sands of Dee to their door. It’s always the same question “Oh, you found it ok?” and I give the same response “Yes, no problem!”…..because I am a lying liar liarton.
When the vox populi scream out “This is easy!”…..it never is.
I would put a list here but since I have some pride left (small amount tho’ it may be) I will only say that usually when I can’t find the remote, I’m sitting on it.
So this is my first post in Live Writer. I am a users manual junkie of the highest nerdly order, so I can’t wait to dig into the help files.
Until then, please enjoy yet another example of “easy things that are actually pretty hard” – the pull piñata. The strings don’t work, half the candy gets stuck, your darling husband almost falls off the bench after the wave of children attacks, and you look like a JACKASS in that shirt. Seriously.
In which I ponder the public meltdown.
December 6th, 2009 by Julia No comments »We just met Grandma & Grandpa & Uncle D (the adorable, affable family of Pocket T) for dinner. Seeing as this is not our first day at the whole parenting thing, we chose the fancy-pants establishment of Bob Evans and a reasonable hour to start.
Pocket 2 is going through a phrase (as my mother would say) of wanting things his own way, all the time. Some have noted that he perhaps gets that from his mother and those who have dared say that have been met with a stern eye. Not that it’s not true, but not everything need be said. The sky is blue, the grass is greeny brown, fireants suck ass, and I have been known to dig in my heels.
However.
This whole “but I want to” is driving me nuts. This may fall under things that need not be said but dinner was not smooth and if anyone had money on me and Pocket 2 ending up in the van so he could cry and stomp all he wanted while I hummed “Purple Rain” under my breath, you have made some serious bank. I am a let’s get out before the villagers attack with pitchforks type of momma and a swift removal of Pocket 2 was done and this race was definitely to the swift. Even in Crocs, I can make some tracks. My dear mother-in-law is often mortified by my parenting techniques – she has the soft, sweet approach to everything and I am much more hard edges. I just see no need to mollycoddle a boy who is losing his fucking mind over eating three bites of mac’n cheese. Eat, don’t eat, no skin off my nose (usually) but you don’t get ice cream and you don’t disturb everyone else [and by that I mean the five bluehairs who were sharing one cup of coffee three booths away].
So we wing it out to the van, he cries, I ignore, he snots it up first class and I just wait it out. Our children are still learning how long their mother can just sit on her fat ass and hum. Or imagine a threesome with Kirk and McCoy (Spock is totally hot but too gay even for me). Or hum. Whatever. I take the Survivor pledge to heart in parenting – I will outplay, outwit, outlast both of them. Every. Single. Time.
It ended as it does, each time a little quicker (I tell myself) and Pocket T and Pocket 1 make it out to the van and kisses all around with slightly damp hugs for all.
Life is not easy for any of us. Especially not when you are four and just cannot bring your incredibly sweet self to have even one more tiny bite of mac’n cheese. Not to mention when you are 41almost42 and realize that “Purple Rain” is still one of the coolest songs you know by heart.
He really is worth it.
But now I need a beer.
In which I attempt to post a picture.
December 6th, 2009 by Julia No comments »
This was at the end of our Christmas card photo shoot. Traditionally it is held at Mimi & Papa T’s house, since they have the Shelties (more on that later). So aside from the obvious “hitting the wall-ness” of this picture, it just makes me so happy. Pocket 2’s cheeks are completely irresistible and while I know they will grow up and apart and weirdness will ensue….that is a far ways out. I think.
*And how much do I giggle at his long-suffering face? A LOT. This was the world’s fastest freaking photo shoot on the planet and it was still too much for his royal highness of goof. And there was a dead rat in the canal. It was a very photogenic rat. It was a well-admired rat, at least by our two. And despite several requests, it will not be included in our Christmas card.
In which I am not brave. Or all that truthful.
December 5th, 2009 by Julia No comments »Recently, I broke my hand at IKEA.
That is all.
Well, actually, I broke my hand doing the “woo” dance. As in “woo, we’re here getting deals and lookie how cute Pocket T is all filled up with Swedish meatballs and did I mention how cute our plates are and WOO ~insert middle-age woman doing raise the roof gesture here~.”
In doing the WOO “raise the roof” gesture, I whapped the corner of the shopping cart*. Hard. Like, bone cracking hard. And for any of you just joining our regularly scheduled programming, I was not brave. I am not brave. I have never been and will never be brave. Pocket T has decided to find it adorable. Or at least he has shut up about it after all these years.
So, to recap.
Great deals, cute plates, Swedish meatballs, broken hand.
Ok.
Not broken.
But hurt. Definitely hurt. Painful. In the neighborhood of massive pain. Pain-ish. Hurt-ly.
*Can I just talk about the awesome shopping carts at IKEA? The wheels? They go sideways. Like all over slide-y around. Very cool except there is a learning curve. I know, right?
