I have killed each and every plant I have ever been given. Every spring, I see beautiful flowers at our local farmers' market, but refrain from buying them because I know I will eventually murder them. Although, it really ought to be considered man--er, plant--slaugter since it is neither premeditated nor intentional. However, considering how long the process drags on, it could be considered cruel and unusual bumping it back up to murder...
Take my aloe vera plant, for example. Aloe vera is a cactus. Virtually impossible to kill. Notice I said virtually. It took me about two years, but I eventually neglected it to the point of no return.
See, I don't think to take care of my plants. I simply see them looking all wilty and brownish and try to revive them with water. After all, how often does a cactus need water anyway? Apparently more often than every four months.
Today, however, I discovered I do have a little green on my thumb. I can indeed grow something! 'Course it's not pretty. and it definitely doesn't smell nice.
I'm still trying to figure out how to turn it into penicillin so that I can finally have that perfect work from home job...
{NOTE: This blog was actually written on paper on Tuesday, December 21, 2010, but finally uploaded today.}
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
New Year's Resolutions
I rarely make New Year's Resolutions. And even when I do, by the end of January those resolutions have not only been abandoned, but long forgotten.
This year will be different, however. I know you are chuckling to yourself, thinking, 'Yeah, yeah, we ALL say that. Every year.' But, really, this year WILL be different. I NEED it to be different. I know this will be a tough year with my husband's deployment, but I plan to use it to focus on myself and do as much growing and learning as possible.
So, here are some of my New Year's Resolutions:
*Read the entire Bible chronologically.
*Run a 5K event.
*Reach and maintain my goal weight.
*Write and Read.
*Become a moderate minimalist.
*Take 7 pictures/week (average of 1/day, 365/year).
*Follow FlyLady's way of cleaning.
Good luck to each of you who are doing New Year's resolutions! May God bless each of you this year. Happy 2011!
This year will be different, however. I know you are chuckling to yourself, thinking, 'Yeah, yeah, we ALL say that. Every year.' But, really, this year WILL be different. I NEED it to be different. I know this will be a tough year with my husband's deployment, but I plan to use it to focus on myself and do as much growing and learning as possible.
So, here are some of my New Year's Resolutions:
*Read the entire Bible chronologically.
*Run a 5K event.
*Reach and maintain my goal weight.
*Write and Read.
*Become a moderate minimalist.
*Take 7 pictures/week (average of 1/day, 365/year).
*Follow FlyLady's way of cleaning.
Good luck to each of you who are doing New Year's resolutions! May God bless each of you this year. Happy 2011!
Delinquent
Am I a bad person for missing my son's doctor appointment today?
Truth be told, this is the second appointment I've missed THIS WEEK. The other appointment was for me, so thankfully, the medical field doesn't realize this. Otherwise, I'd probably be in the stocks reserved for thieves, murderers, and appointment-missers in the town square.
Who knew missing a doctor's appointment classified one as a delinquent? Had I known that, perhaps I would have taken measures to ensure my timely arrival (or perhaps not).
When I called to politely inform the receptionist that we were running late and would she prefer that we come in late or reschedule, she immediately stamped me with the label "no-show" and went on about $20 fees and 24-hour notices. She continued by informing me that if this was my first offense, then there would be no charge, but if there had been any incidents since May 2010, I would be charged $20.
Thank goodness I'm only a FIRST-time offender! (I think...I hope so, anyway)
I wonder what happens after missing 3 appointments...? (Don't worry, I think I'll just be more timely next time or pray for God to give me the gift of prophesy so that if I'm going to wind up running late that day, I'll be able to give them their required 24-hours notice.)
Truth be told, this is the second appointment I've missed THIS WEEK. The other appointment was for me, so thankfully, the medical field doesn't realize this. Otherwise, I'd probably be in the stocks reserved for thieves, murderers, and appointment-missers in the town square.
Who knew missing a doctor's appointment classified one as a delinquent? Had I known that, perhaps I would have taken measures to ensure my timely arrival (or perhaps not).
When I called to politely inform the receptionist that we were running late and would she prefer that we come in late or reschedule, she immediately stamped me with the label "no-show" and went on about $20 fees and 24-hour notices. She continued by informing me that if this was my first offense, then there would be no charge, but if there had been any incidents since May 2010, I would be charged $20.
Thank goodness I'm only a FIRST-time offender! (I think...I hope so, anyway)
I wonder what happens after missing 3 appointments...? (Don't worry, I think I'll just be more timely next time or pray for God to give me the gift of prophesy so that if I'm going to wind up running late that day, I'll be able to give them their required 24-hours notice.)
Saturday, December 25, 2010
The Face on the Milk Carton
Have You Seen Me?
Shea Lynn Moore
Birthdate: March 26, 1987
Hair Color: Red
Eye Color: Blue-Green
Height: 5'3 1/2"
Weight: Undisclosed
Date Missing: Unsure
CONFESSION TIME
I'm ready to talk. For real.
I've been fighting a war. Battle after battle.
The War Against Depression (hereafter referred to as "WAD") started when I was in high school. At first, it was "Seasonal Affective Disorder" (Operation Seasonal Depression, "OSD") meaning I was only depressed during the winter.
Sometime around the time my husband and I got engaged/married, my depression began pervading other seasons. I don't know exactly when it started. It was slow, creeping, quiet.
Shortly after having my son, I was diagnosed with "Post-Partum Depression" (Operation Post-Partum Depression, "OPPD"). I didn't want to take any medication, so I waged war with exercise, diet, counseling, and "thinking happy thoughts." Even with summer in full swing, the depression would not retreat. I used up my entire arsenal. Finally, I had to admit it. I was losing. I needed to bring in the big guns: medication.
I first tried one medication. It brought me a comforting numbness. It ceased the angry yelling and the waterfall of tears. After a few months, that numbness became bland. What was life without flavor? But I couldn't go back to the way things had been before medication. I refused to surrender.
Finally, I tried medication #2. Within days, I began to come alive. Colors sparkled with vibrance. Patience welcomed me. Laughter bubbled over. Smiles stretched easily. Even anxiety began to retreat.
My only complaint was that this new medication brought with it an absurd amount of sleep. My husband finally introduced me to my new best friend: coffee. Together, these two drugs have awakened me. As I have adjusted to the new medication and copious amounts of caffeine rushing through my veins, I have asked over and over, "Where have I been? How long has it been since I've been truly happy like this? When was the last time I had this kind of energy?" I don't know the exact answer, but the response has been clear: I've been missing for a few years.
As the realization hit me, I cried. I didn't have to live like that. How did my husband live with this woman who had become so unlike the woman he had fallen in love with?
But, thank you, Lord, for being faithful and pulling me out of the darkness back into the light. It has been too long, but it is good to be back.
Shea Lynn Moore
Birthdate: March 26, 1987
Hair Color: Red
Eye Color: Blue-Green
Height: 5'3 1/2"
Weight: Undisclosed
Date Missing: Unsure
CONFESSION TIME
I'm ready to talk. For real.
I've been fighting a war. Battle after battle.
The War Against Depression (hereafter referred to as "WAD") started when I was in high school. At first, it was "Seasonal Affective Disorder" (Operation Seasonal Depression, "OSD") meaning I was only depressed during the winter.
Sometime around the time my husband and I got engaged/married, my depression began pervading other seasons. I don't know exactly when it started. It was slow, creeping, quiet.
Shortly after having my son, I was diagnosed with "Post-Partum Depression" (Operation Post-Partum Depression, "OPPD"). I didn't want to take any medication, so I waged war with exercise, diet, counseling, and "thinking happy thoughts." Even with summer in full swing, the depression would not retreat. I used up my entire arsenal. Finally, I had to admit it. I was losing. I needed to bring in the big guns: medication.
I first tried one medication. It brought me a comforting numbness. It ceased the angry yelling and the waterfall of tears. After a few months, that numbness became bland. What was life without flavor? But I couldn't go back to the way things had been before medication. I refused to surrender.
Finally, I tried medication #2. Within days, I began to come alive. Colors sparkled with vibrance. Patience welcomed me. Laughter bubbled over. Smiles stretched easily. Even anxiety began to retreat.
My only complaint was that this new medication brought with it an absurd amount of sleep. My husband finally introduced me to my new best friend: coffee. Together, these two drugs have awakened me. As I have adjusted to the new medication and copious amounts of caffeine rushing through my veins, I have asked over and over, "Where have I been? How long has it been since I've been truly happy like this? When was the last time I had this kind of energy?" I don't know the exact answer, but the response has been clear: I've been missing for a few years.
As the realization hit me, I cried. I didn't have to live like that. How did my husband live with this woman who had become so unlike the woman he had fallen in love with?
But, thank you, Lord, for being faithful and pulling me out of the darkness back into the light. It has been too long, but it is good to be back.
Best. Husband. EVER!
Really. I know everyone says it, but I mean it.
Over the last couple of weeks, I've put in many hours working for a local, family-owned business helping them out with the Christmas rush. Therefore, I've neglected my house, my blog, and my planning. Our family decided to do a progressive dinner this year since three of us have houses all within a mile of each other. Normally, I would have spent hours planning and shopping, making sure every last detail was perfect. However, I didn't do one iota until yesterday. Talk about procrastination.
Yesterday, I worked my last full day of the season. While I was at work, my husband was watching our son. He called me toward the end of the day and told me he had a small surprise for me. Come to find out, he had washed TWO loads of dishes, done THREE loads of laundry, folded and put away clothes, and swept and mopped the kitchen floor! I don't think a surprise that stops your heart should be called "small." A warning label should have come with that announcement. I felt SO incredibly blessed! He said he thought it would help me to get a jump-start on the house. What a sweetheart.
Then, after I got off work, my husband and son came with me to brave a small local grocery store. On Christmas Eve. My heros...*happy sigh* My husband even wracked his brain, endured all of my anxiety and indecision, and helped me come up with an awesome theme for our part of the Christmas progressive dinner: Red, white, and green; a taco bar with 7-layer dip.
Then, this morning we got up a little after 7:00AM when our son woke us up. My husband did ALL of the cooking and food preparation. He really is my hero.
Meanwhile, I went into a cleaning frenzy, the likes of which have not been witnessed in our humble abode in...well, ages. I spun around, hither tither, frantically decluttering, rearranging, sweeping, and perfecting our living room, dining room, and bathroom.
Unbelievably, we had our house looking very tidy, set our dining table beautifully, and had delicious food on the table on time (I was a bit late on wrapping presents, however....ah, well, you can't have it all, right?).
This Christmas has TRULY been the best Christmas ever for me. Thanks to the BEST husband EVER. I never would have pulled it all together if it weren't for him. (And he made THE most amazing tacos. Pretty sure Taco Bell will be calling, begging for the recipe).
Merry Christmas!
{Special thanks to:
***My husband-for cleaning and cooking without a single complaint.
And for putting up with me...
***My sister-for fixing my hair this morning after I realized I had
neglected to do that and also to put on make-up.
***My husband's parents for helping me get our house back in order after the dinner.}
NOTE: Even after having 12 people over today, our living room, kitchen, dining room, and bathroom are the cleanest they have been in MONTHS. It's nice to see only 3 small dishes in the sink after serving tacos to 12 people. A little work goes a long way...and my husband and I put in a LOT of work today. It all paid off, though. I pray today's energy, motivation, inspiration, and optimism continue through next week and beyond.
Over the last couple of weeks, I've put in many hours working for a local, family-owned business helping them out with the Christmas rush. Therefore, I've neglected my house, my blog, and my planning. Our family decided to do a progressive dinner this year since three of us have houses all within a mile of each other. Normally, I would have spent hours planning and shopping, making sure every last detail was perfect. However, I didn't do one iota until yesterday. Talk about procrastination.
Yesterday, I worked my last full day of the season. While I was at work, my husband was watching our son. He called me toward the end of the day and told me he had a small surprise for me. Come to find out, he had washed TWO loads of dishes, done THREE loads of laundry, folded and put away clothes, and swept and mopped the kitchen floor! I don't think a surprise that stops your heart should be called "small." A warning label should have come with that announcement. I felt SO incredibly blessed! He said he thought it would help me to get a jump-start on the house. What a sweetheart.
Then, after I got off work, my husband and son came with me to brave a small local grocery store. On Christmas Eve. My heros...*happy sigh* My husband even wracked his brain, endured all of my anxiety and indecision, and helped me come up with an awesome theme for our part of the Christmas progressive dinner: Red, white, and green; a taco bar with 7-layer dip.
Then, this morning we got up a little after 7:00AM when our son woke us up. My husband did ALL of the cooking and food preparation. He really is my hero.
Meanwhile, I went into a cleaning frenzy, the likes of which have not been witnessed in our humble abode in...well, ages. I spun around, hither tither, frantically decluttering, rearranging, sweeping, and perfecting our living room, dining room, and bathroom.
Unbelievably, we had our house looking very tidy, set our dining table beautifully, and had delicious food on the table on time (I was a bit late on wrapping presents, however....ah, well, you can't have it all, right?).
This Christmas has TRULY been the best Christmas ever for me. Thanks to the BEST husband EVER. I never would have pulled it all together if it weren't for him. (And he made THE most amazing tacos. Pretty sure Taco Bell will be calling, begging for the recipe).
Merry Christmas!
{Special thanks to:
***My husband-for cleaning and cooking without a single complaint.
And for putting up with me...
***My sister-for fixing my hair this morning after I realized I had
neglected to do that and also to put on make-up.
***My husband's parents for helping me get our house back in order after the dinner.}
NOTE: Even after having 12 people over today, our living room, kitchen, dining room, and bathroom are the cleanest they have been in MONTHS. It's nice to see only 3 small dishes in the sink after serving tacos to 12 people. A little work goes a long way...and my husband and I put in a LOT of work today. It all paid off, though. I pray today's energy, motivation, inspiration, and optimism continue through next week and beyond.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Real Parenting
Before you have kids, you have it all figured out. You know exactly what YOU would do in every situation. After all, you've baby-sat, witnessed numerous incidents of both good and bad parenting, and were once a child yourself! How hard could it be?
Finally the glorious day comes when you welcome your bundle of joy! Suddenly, fatigue, postpartum, and insomnia all burst into your life unannounced and quite unwelcome. Life follows and you do the best you can. Eventually you, your spouse, your child, or some combination thereof do something totally unexpected and you ask yourself, "Really?? Did that really just happen?"
Tonight, my husband and I took turns telling our son, "No. Come back here. Back over to Mommy and Daddy."
Finally, my husband says, "Hand me the puffs." (Definition: Gerber puffs; a snack for crawlers) I gave him the same tilted-head look that confused golden retrievers often employ. He grinned sheepishly and said,
"Whenever I don't feel like getting up to go get him, I shake the puffs container and he comes right over. Then I give him a few puffs as a reward." He paused. "Does that make me a bad person?"
I laughed and said, "Really?"
My husband proudly said, "Yeah! Watch this!"
He proceeded to shake the puffs container like a Shake Weight and sure enough our son came running! (Er, quickly crawling)
{No children were harmed during the aforementioned happenings. There was, however, one child who received numerous puffs for his outstanding performances.}
Finally the glorious day comes when you welcome your bundle of joy! Suddenly, fatigue, postpartum, and insomnia all burst into your life unannounced and quite unwelcome. Life follows and you do the best you can. Eventually you, your spouse, your child, or some combination thereof do something totally unexpected and you ask yourself, "Really?? Did that really just happen?"
Tonight, my husband and I took turns telling our son, "No. Come back here. Back over to Mommy and Daddy."
Finally, my husband says, "Hand me the puffs." (Definition: Gerber puffs; a snack for crawlers) I gave him the same tilted-head look that confused golden retrievers often employ. He grinned sheepishly and said,
"Whenever I don't feel like getting up to go get him, I shake the puffs container and he comes right over. Then I give him a few puffs as a reward." He paused. "Does that make me a bad person?"
I laughed and said, "Really?"
My husband proudly said, "Yeah! Watch this!"
He proceeded to shake the puffs container like a Shake Weight and sure enough our son came running! (Er, quickly crawling)
{No children were harmed during the aforementioned happenings. There was, however, one child who received numerous puffs for his outstanding performances.}
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Dust Buster
I had a great visit with my sister last night.
The kind of girl-talk where you laugh, cry, and laugh-until-you-cry (Who wouldn't when your niece points to her behind and asks innocently, "What does that say?").
Then came our confessions about dusting (What can I say? It seemed like a smooth transition from the chocolate chocolate chip cookie to the wassail.).
I dust twice a year, on average.
Not in the hehehe-her-hyperbole-is-so-funny kind of way. More in the scientifically-accurate kind of way.
I think I used to dust more often before my son came along. But, still not all that often.
My bedroom furniture gets dusted the most because it is generally the least cluttered and the beautiful cherry wood looks even more gorgeous when it's shiny.
But the living room? Pft!
I bet THE Suzy Homemaker dusts once a week or more.
I should probably work on my dusting skills...
{Slight exaggeration and creative license used during the writing of this blog...but neither were used with regard to Someday Suzy's dusting statistics.}
The kind of girl-talk where you laugh, cry, and laugh-until-you-cry (Who wouldn't when your niece points to her behind and asks innocently, "What does that say?").
Then came our confessions about dusting (What can I say? It seemed like a smooth transition from the chocolate chocolate chip cookie to the wassail.).
I dust twice a year, on average.
Not in the hehehe-her-hyperbole-is-so-funny kind of way. More in the scientifically-accurate kind of way.
I think I used to dust more often before my son came along. But, still not all that often.
My bedroom furniture gets dusted the most because it is generally the least cluttered and the beautiful cherry wood looks even more gorgeous when it's shiny.
But the living room? Pft!
I bet THE Suzy Homemaker dusts once a week or more.
I should probably work on my dusting skills...
{Slight exaggeration and creative license used during the writing of this blog...but neither were used with regard to Someday Suzy's dusting statistics.}
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Handle with Care
Life is precious.
Life is also fragile.
I thought about both of these truths this past weekend when a friend experienced an unexpected loss. It reminded me of the losses I have experienced in my own life.
Life is short. And we are not guaranteed anything beyond this moment.
Take nothing and no one for granted.
Hug and kiss your children.
Go on a fun date with your spouse.
Tell someone you love them.
Smile.
Each one of us is blessed beyond measure.
Life is also fragile.
I thought about both of these truths this past weekend when a friend experienced an unexpected loss. It reminded me of the losses I have experienced in my own life.
Life is short. And we are not guaranteed anything beyond this moment.
Take nothing and no one for granted.
Hug and kiss your children.
Go on a fun date with your spouse.
Tell someone you love them.
Smile.
Each one of us is blessed beyond measure.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Butt Paste
So, I've already confessed that I allow my 9-month-old to chew on tubes of Butt Paste. As much as it freaks me out, considering what it is and where it goes, he LOVES to chew on it. It makes his gums feel better. And did I mention he has about FIVE teeth on top that will soon be breaking through?!
Well, the time has come to lock up the Butt Paste.
Today, he was playing in our bedroom, chewing on a tube of Butt Paste, chattering away excitedly. Then, he switched it out for a tube of A&D Ointment. At one point, he was actually chewing on the top of the tube--where the lid is. (Usually he chews on the bottom of the tubes). I thought to myself for a few minutes:
'That looks so gross! Can he get the lid open yet? I sure hope not. Look how happy he is!'
A smell wafted toward me. An unmistakable smell. I looked at my son. Everything looked fine. But that smell got stronger and stronger until it was making me gag.
I got down on the floor in front of him and took the tube of A&D out of his mouth.
"EW!!"
Sure enough, he had gotten the lid open and his mouth had A&D on it, inside and out. I quickly grabbed some wipees and began washing his lips, cheeks, and tongue.
Blech!
Back to the good ol' fashioned teething ring. Sorry, kiddo.
Well, the time has come to lock up the Butt Paste.
Today, he was playing in our bedroom, chewing on a tube of Butt Paste, chattering away excitedly. Then, he switched it out for a tube of A&D Ointment. At one point, he was actually chewing on the top of the tube--where the lid is. (Usually he chews on the bottom of the tubes). I thought to myself for a few minutes:
'That looks so gross! Can he get the lid open yet? I sure hope not. Look how happy he is!'
A smell wafted toward me. An unmistakable smell. I looked at my son. Everything looked fine. But that smell got stronger and stronger until it was making me gag.
I got down on the floor in front of him and took the tube of A&D out of his mouth.
"EW!!"
Sure enough, he had gotten the lid open and his mouth had A&D on it, inside and out. I quickly grabbed some wipees and began washing his lips, cheeks, and tongue.
Blech!
Back to the good ol' fashioned teething ring. Sorry, kiddo.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
3 Little Words
There are three little words that every mother wants to hear from her husband:
"I'll change it!"
Tonight, I heard those precious words.
I walked over to my son and smelled something. I immediately said, "Whew! You STINK! How 'bout we change your diaper??"
And then it happened.
My husband enthusiastically exclaimed, "I'll change it!"
I was astonished. I couldn't believe my ears! My heart leapt with joy!
'How SWEET!' I thought. 'I'll go ahead and change him, but how considerate of him to offer to put down his Xbox controller to change his son's dirty diaper!!'
My husband continued to talk. Only this time it didn't make any sense. And then, it hit me. He was talking on his Xbox headset to one of his friends. Apparently, he had been talking to this friend the whole time. The fact that he had said those wonderful three words was pure coincidence. He hadn't heard what I had said at all.
My heart sank. But, I had to laugh! Boys! *shakes head*
P.S. For fear that this posting should shine an awful light on my beloved: he made me a fried egg sandwich tonight and took out the trash! All before this occurred :)
"I'll change it!"
Tonight, I heard those precious words.
I walked over to my son and smelled something. I immediately said, "Whew! You STINK! How 'bout we change your diaper??"
And then it happened.
My husband enthusiastically exclaimed, "I'll change it!"
I was astonished. I couldn't believe my ears! My heart leapt with joy!
'How SWEET!' I thought. 'I'll go ahead and change him, but how considerate of him to offer to put down his Xbox controller to change his son's dirty diaper!!'
My husband continued to talk. Only this time it didn't make any sense. And then, it hit me. He was talking on his Xbox headset to one of his friends. Apparently, he had been talking to this friend the whole time. The fact that he had said those wonderful three words was pure coincidence. He hadn't heard what I had said at all.
My heart sank. But, I had to laugh! Boys! *shakes head*
P.S. For fear that this posting should shine an awful light on my beloved: he made me a fried egg sandwich tonight and took out the trash! All before this occurred :)
Blogworthy
My husband called this morning and kindly requested that I run just one load of dishes and wash/dry just one load of laundry. I groaned and whined, "Okaaay, I'll tryyy."
'The dishes haven't formed a good tower, yet. They're not even leaning!' I said to myself.
I sat still for a minute and finally decided it was best to get it out of the way.
As I unloaded the dishwasher, I handed my son a toy to play with and let him pull up and stand on the side of the dishwasher. I probably shouldn't have done that.
Once I started loading the dishwasher, I decided that he was in a bad spot--not to mention that he kept grabbing dishes. So, I spent the next 15 minutes scrubbing dishes and stopping every few seconds to tell my son to "get down" and "sit down" and then physically removing his hands from the dishwasher.
I grumbled silently at my husband, 'You have no idea what it's like to wash dishes with a mobile little one in the room.' And to myself, 'No wonder I only do this on special occasions.'
Finally, my son started to realize that I wasn't going to give up. He tried it twice more, then he gave in. I breathed a sigh of relief (I was getting exhausted!) and went on loading the dishwasher.
A few minutes passed and I realized he wasn't in the kitchen anymore. I could hear his voice coming from the living room/dining room area. I also heard a light *thump*.
'I should probably go see if he's into something,' I thought. 'The peace and quiet sure is nice, though. I really need to get these dishes done. Heh, maybe he'll do something blogworthy,' I laughed to myself.
Several more minutes went by then my son came crawling back into the kitchen. He smiled up at me like he had missed me during his little expedition.
He didn't seem to be a mess or anything, so I thought maybe we were in the clear.
At long last, the dishwasher was full. I poured in some soap and turned the dishwasher on.
As we headed back to the bedroom, I took a good look at the living room. Nothing seemed out of place whatsoever!
'Hmm,' I mused to myself. 'I wonder what he was doing...maybe he wasn't doing anything bad or blogworthy after all. '
O ye of little faith. When does a day, even an hour go by that my child does not do something blogworthy? I simply have not the time to chronicle all his doings (and undoings...).
Suddenly, I saw it. The dining room. Napkins strewn about. Paper plates scattered on the floor. Cups knocked over. The lamp on its side (that explains the thump I heard).
I smiled. That's my boy. Never a dull moment.
'The dishes haven't formed a good tower, yet. They're not even leaning!' I said to myself.
I sat still for a minute and finally decided it was best to get it out of the way.
As I unloaded the dishwasher, I handed my son a toy to play with and let him pull up and stand on the side of the dishwasher. I probably shouldn't have done that.
Once I started loading the dishwasher, I decided that he was in a bad spot--not to mention that he kept grabbing dishes. So, I spent the next 15 minutes scrubbing dishes and stopping every few seconds to tell my son to "get down" and "sit down" and then physically removing his hands from the dishwasher.
I grumbled silently at my husband, 'You have no idea what it's like to wash dishes with a mobile little one in the room.' And to myself, 'No wonder I only do this on special occasions.'
Finally, my son started to realize that I wasn't going to give up. He tried it twice more, then he gave in. I breathed a sigh of relief (I was getting exhausted!) and went on loading the dishwasher.
A few minutes passed and I realized he wasn't in the kitchen anymore. I could hear his voice coming from the living room/dining room area. I also heard a light *thump*.
'I should probably go see if he's into something,' I thought. 'The peace and quiet sure is nice, though. I really need to get these dishes done. Heh, maybe he'll do something blogworthy,' I laughed to myself.
Several more minutes went by then my son came crawling back into the kitchen. He smiled up at me like he had missed me during his little expedition.
He didn't seem to be a mess or anything, so I thought maybe we were in the clear.
At long last, the dishwasher was full. I poured in some soap and turned the dishwasher on.
As we headed back to the bedroom, I took a good look at the living room. Nothing seemed out of place whatsoever!
'Hmm,' I mused to myself. 'I wonder what he was doing...maybe he wasn't doing anything bad or blogworthy after all. '
O ye of little faith. When does a day, even an hour go by that my child does not do something blogworthy? I simply have not the time to chronicle all his doings (and undoings...).
Suddenly, I saw it. The dining room. Napkins strewn about. Paper plates scattered on the floor. Cups knocked over. The lamp on its side (that explains the thump I heard).
I smiled. That's my boy. Never a dull moment.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Moderation
"Moderation in all things."~Aristotle (probably)
So, my husband and I have been working out regularly and counting calories for the past week or so. I have been doing very well actually (I have only gone over my calorie goal twice in the past 8 days! Major improvement!). I have read nutrition labels, measured out serving sizes, and cut out most of my snacks.
Then today, I felt it. My chocolatometer dropped below "sufficient" into the "deathly low" range. I needed chocolate. Fast. (Some will try to convince you that one never needs chocolate, but I can assure you that women need chocolate just like men need steak).
I decided to make chocolate pudding for dessert. But, then I had to run to the store for milk and eggs. So...I waltzed down many of the aisles in pursuit of a particular chocolatey, sugary goodness that I could justify the amount of calories it contained. There exists none.
Defeated, I brought my groceries home. My husband made us some fried egg sandwiches (under 300 calories!) and I mixed up the pudding. I boastfully declared to him that I had enough calories left that I intended to eat TWO whole servings of the Devil's Food pudding.
After we had finished our dinner, I went to the kitchen to get a bowl of pudding for my husband and another one for me. Even though he had many more calories leftover than me, he insisted on only having one serving of pudding. Feeling guilty, I scooped out one serving for him and finally talked myself into only putting one serving in my bowl as well ('After all, if this doesn't curb my craving, I can always come back for more!').
I thoroughly delighted in every delicious morsel of that Devil's Food pudding. And found that by the end of my half-cup serving, I needed no more. However, had a put a full cup of the pudding in my bowl, I would have eaten the whole thing. And thus, I would have overeaten.
It is hard to break bad habits. But, one by one, I am cutting those thick cables and building new, healthier cobwebs...er, habits.*
{*Reference to a quote in a previous blog: "Habits are first cobwebs, then cables."~Spanish proverb, courtesy of The Quote Garden}
So, my husband and I have been working out regularly and counting calories for the past week or so. I have been doing very well actually (I have only gone over my calorie goal twice in the past 8 days! Major improvement!). I have read nutrition labels, measured out serving sizes, and cut out most of my snacks.
Then today, I felt it. My chocolatometer dropped below "sufficient" into the "deathly low" range. I needed chocolate. Fast. (Some will try to convince you that one never needs chocolate, but I can assure you that women need chocolate just like men need steak).
I decided to make chocolate pudding for dessert. But, then I had to run to the store for milk and eggs. So...I waltzed down many of the aisles in pursuit of a particular chocolatey, sugary goodness that I could justify the amount of calories it contained. There exists none.
Defeated, I brought my groceries home. My husband made us some fried egg sandwiches (under 300 calories!) and I mixed up the pudding. I boastfully declared to him that I had enough calories left that I intended to eat TWO whole servings of the Devil's Food pudding.
After we had finished our dinner, I went to the kitchen to get a bowl of pudding for my husband and another one for me. Even though he had many more calories leftover than me, he insisted on only having one serving of pudding. Feeling guilty, I scooped out one serving for him and finally talked myself into only putting one serving in my bowl as well ('After all, if this doesn't curb my craving, I can always come back for more!').
I thoroughly delighted in every delicious morsel of that Devil's Food pudding. And found that by the end of my half-cup serving, I needed no more. However, had a put a full cup of the pudding in my bowl, I would have eaten the whole thing. And thus, I would have overeaten.
It is hard to break bad habits. But, one by one, I am cutting those thick cables and building new, healthier cobwebs...er, habits.*
{*Reference to a quote in a previous blog: "Habits are first cobwebs, then cables."~Spanish proverb, courtesy of The Quote Garden}
Coffee with Golf Balls
I received the following story as an email and I thought it was worth repeating:
The Mayonnaise Jar
When things in your life seem almost too much to handle,
When 24 hours in a day is not enough;
remember the mayonnaise jar and two cups of coffee.
A professor stood before his philosophy class
and had some items in front of him.
When the class began, wordlessly,
he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar
and started to fill it with golf balls.
He then asked the students if the jar was full.
They agreed that it was.
The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured
it into the jar. He shook the jar lightly.
The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls.
He then asked the student again
if the jar was full. They agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand
and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else.
He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded
with a unanimous 'yes.'
The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table
and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively
filling the empty space between the sand.
The students laughed.
'Now,' said the professor, as the laugter subsided,
'I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.
'The golf balls are the important things--God, family,
children, health, friends, and favorite passions.
Things that if everything else was lost
and only they remained, your life would still be full.
'The pebbles are the things that matter like your job, house, and car...
'The sand is everything else--the small stuff.
'If you put sand into the jar first,' he continued,
'there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.
The same goes for life.
'If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff,
You will never have room for the things that are
important to you.
'So...
'Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.
Play with your children.
Take time to get medical check-ups.
Take your partner out to dinner.
There will always be time
to clean the house and fix the dripping tap.
'Take care of the golf balls first--
the things that really matter.
Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.'
One of the students raised her hand
and inquired what the coffee represented.
The professor smiled.
'I'm glad you asked.'
'It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem,
there's always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.'
~Anonymous
(with some minor formatting changes)
So today wasn't perfect, but I was much more conscious of the golf balls and pebbles versus the sand in my life. I even found some time to load the dishwasher! ;)
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Wardrobe Malfunction
Shoes can be a little too big. No big deal. Shirts can be a little too big. Not a problem.
Leggings a little too big? NOT okay.
As I walked across the parking lot, bundled in my coat, carrying my son on my left hip, holding onto my purse and a sack of food with the diaper bag slung across my back, I felt something slipping. Not just slipping, shimmying. With every step, my leggings shimmied downward. I prayed that my coat would be long enough and no one would notice.
I continued to trek across the parking lot, then up the stairs to my sister's apartment holding onto to everything but my swiftly sagging leggings. Once safely inside, I carefully dropped my sack of food on the kitchen counter, my purse and diaper bag onto the floor of the living room, handed off my son to my sister, and barely said hello.
I went straight to the bathroom (relieved to have made it this far without any detection), hiked up my dress, and repositioned my droopy drawers to a more fashionably-appropriate location.
I would like to say this was the first time I experienced this problem. But sadly, a mere four hours earlier, I could have been spotted walking helter-skelter around Wal-Mart (in search of chicken strips) attempting to discreetly hoist my leggings to a more suitable locale.
I can, however, assure you that this will be the last time I have this problem. The leggings are being booted from my wardrobe. Effective immediately.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Hospitality
"Show hospitality to one another without grumbling."~1 Peter 4:9 (NKJV)
Usually when unexpected visitors come to my house and need food, they are met with a dilemma: Do I graciously accept the stale piece of bread and glass of water or do I politely refuse and risk starving?
Too often, there is nothing already prepared when you walk into my house and generally, there's not even any leftovers or stuff to make sandwiches. Unless you count mayo only as a sandwich or mold as a leftover.
I'm not exactly sure why that is, other than that I cannot seem to get my act together.
However, tonight is a positive story. I'm not here to delve into a psychological explanation of the workings (or rather misworkings) of my brain.
Tonight, my husband and I cooked dinner. Team effort! We made this delicious White Cheddar and Asparagus soup from our local Fruit Market. We added Italian cheese, parmesan cheese, sour cream, and chicken strips to it. My husband came up with the INGENIOUS idea of topping it off with Cheez-its. (I could write an entire blog entitled "Ode to Cheez-its," but I'll try to refrain.)
My husband fixed two bowls of the delectable dish and we settled onto the loveseat to partake. (This time, thankfully, without the major distraction of having my toe gnawed on.)
Then, the phone rang. My sister and father-in-law were at the front door and we hadn't heard them knock (now that we spend all of our time in our "bedroom suite" where the TV and loveseat are currently dwelling).
They had come to pick up a couple of things, but my sister also had low blood sugar, so she requested something to eat (very brave of her).
I was absolutely THRILLED to present both of them with our amazing soup!
Eating the soup warmed my body, but serving our soup to two unexpected guests warmed my heart.
"It is better to be prepared for an opportunity and not have one than to have an opportunity and not be prepared."~Whitney M. Young, Jr.
{Special thanks to http://www.biblegateway.com/ and http://www.thinkexist.com/ }
Usually when unexpected visitors come to my house and need food, they are met with a dilemma: Do I graciously accept the stale piece of bread and glass of water or do I politely refuse and risk starving?
Too often, there is nothing already prepared when you walk into my house and generally, there's not even any leftovers or stuff to make sandwiches. Unless you count mayo only as a sandwich or mold as a leftover.
I'm not exactly sure why that is, other than that I cannot seem to get my act together.
However, tonight is a positive story. I'm not here to delve into a psychological explanation of the workings (or rather misworkings) of my brain.
Tonight, my husband and I cooked dinner. Team effort! We made this delicious White Cheddar and Asparagus soup from our local Fruit Market. We added Italian cheese, parmesan cheese, sour cream, and chicken strips to it. My husband came up with the INGENIOUS idea of topping it off with Cheez-its. (I could write an entire blog entitled "Ode to Cheez-its," but I'll try to refrain.)
My husband fixed two bowls of the delectable dish and we settled onto the loveseat to partake. (This time, thankfully, without the major distraction of having my toe gnawed on.)
Then, the phone rang. My sister and father-in-law were at the front door and we hadn't heard them knock (now that we spend all of our time in our "bedroom suite" where the TV and loveseat are currently dwelling).
They had come to pick up a couple of things, but my sister also had low blood sugar, so she requested something to eat (very brave of her).
I was absolutely THRILLED to present both of them with our amazing soup!
Eating the soup warmed my body, but serving our soup to two unexpected guests warmed my heart.
"It is better to be prepared for an opportunity and not have one than to have an opportunity and not be prepared."~Whitney M. Young, Jr.
{Special thanks to http://www.biblegateway.com/ and http://www.thinkexist.com/ }
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Biter Beware!
My day began earlier than usual as I was roused from a deep (albeit, nightmarish) sleep at 6:30AM. From there it went onto bowls of cereal, jars of baby food, folding and putting away clothes, counting calories, running errands, cranky baby, trip to the gym, lifting weights, bicycling, walking uphill, back home, returning phone calls, more bowls of cereal and jars of fruit.
Then finally, I kicked off my shoes. I made my way to the kitchen. I scooped out a serving of green bean casserole. I poured out a serving of tortilla soup. I microwaved. I added a delicious dose of sour cream and tortilla chips. I went back to our bedroom suite, two bowls in hand. I sat down on the loveseat. I stretched out my legs. I held my bowl of green bean casserole in one hand and with a spoon in the other hand, prepared my first tasty bite. Out came the involuntary sigh of blissful relaxation.
"YEOWWW!!!!" Pain shot through my big toe! Something had me! I looked down.
My son, on hands and knees, mouth open, looked at me in complete bewilderment.
Finally, it sank in.
"He bit me!" I exclaimed in complete surprise.
I immediately chastised him to which he responded with sobs, completely confused as to what he had done wrong.
It's okay. This time you get a free pass. You don't yet understand that you have the ability to hurt other people and what that feels like. But you're learning. Just know that I don't take kindly to being bitten. :)=
{Vampire smiley courtesy of a friend...you know who you are :)= }
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