Lucy The Valiant

Easy Like Sunday Morning

2012-02-12T10:17:00.000-06:00

My man is sleeping in (and most deservedly so, after a late night at the LAST BASKETBALL GAME of the season!)

My girls are watching The Lion King (and most deservedly so, since they haven't watched any tv all weekend!)

And I have made a cozy little nest for myself at the table, where I can make things (and most deservedly so, since I have piled project upon project on myself and I won't feel right unless I can check some of them off of my list!)

Innocence Regained

2012-02-09T07:32:00.000-06:00

Yesterday the girls had had a playdate and were napping late, Kanga called me to say, so we didn't need to pick them up as early as usual. It would have been too cold for our usual after-school park and playground jaunt, anyway. But we are supposed to be walking for an hour every day with this diet.

"Let's walk at the mall, since it's too cold to walk outside," suggested Joey, pausing in my classroom door while I hustled the last few students into completing their chores and collecting their belongings. "I want to go to GameStop anyway, there's a new game I want to try and I have some giftcards..."

"Okay, I need to get more makeup, too, I grabbed the wrong shade last time and it's too pale..."

We are both kind of sheepish about our intended purchases, trailing off and waiting for the other to comment on how that isn't exactly necessary for life and shouldn't we be saving money right now? But we don't, because each thinks the other should have whatever they want.

We drive to the mall, listening to our new favorite songs a little too loud, holding hands over the center console, gossiping unabashedly about the antics of various students. When we get to the mall entrance and see the carousel, I laugh and say it's a good thing we didn't bring the girls, or we'd undoubtedly be shelling out for carousel rides.

He laughs too and we hold hands tightly, weaving our fingers together and relishing the contact. Big, strong, calloused hand and little, soft, manicured hand. When we got sized for our wedding rings all that time ago, we found out that his fingers are exactly twice as big as mine. We seemed to be older then, because we feel much, much younger now. Maybe as you learn to trust and love someone completely and wholeheartedly and fearlessly... maybe you grow younger and more innocent. Maybe true love gives you back your child-heart.

We walk quickly past the food court, because this feels like a date and a date ought to mean food! If we weren't on this diet, we decide, we would eat Chinese food and pizza and soft pretzels and gellatto. All at once. And it would be glorious.

He buys a Cookie Monster hat, which I think is adorable on him, then he steers me to Barnes and Noble and waits while I find a new book. We walk past perfume and jewelry and I tease him to tell what he's getting me for Valentine's Day.
"Nothing." He says, trying to look casual. He has the hardest time keeping secrets, and always wants to give me my presents the minute he buys them.
"Nothing! Then maybe I won't be your Valentine!
"You have to be my Valentine."
I shake my head firmly.
"FINE, I'll get you a present."
And we laugh, because every year he gets me a more elaborate Valentine present than the last. It's his best holiday, actually.

He buys his game and I buy my makeup and we finish our walk, fingers still intertwined. We get to the doors of the mall and he says, "So...you got a book and some makeup, and I got a video game and a Cookie Monster hat." I frown, thinking this is leading to a Practical Discussion about how we should be saving money. "Well it really shows who's more mature," he continued. "Because I would have picked out a video game and a Cookie Monster hat when I was twelve." He smiles sheepishly at me.
"It doesn't really show that." I giggle. "If you had taken me shopping when I was twelve, I absolutely would have picked out makeup and a book!"

He wraps an arm around me to shelter me from the cold wind, and we hustle to his truck. It's time to pick up our daughters and run errands and make dinner and do bedtime and clean up all the messes. We'll be responsible and grown-up and for a while it will seem like that is reality and our stolen teenaged after-school mall date was just a foolish dream. But the veil between is thinner every day, and we are too wise, in our child-hearts, to believe in it.

Bigger Picture Moments are at Hyacynth's today!

Thumbs Up Of Great Emphasis!

2012-02-06T22:21:00.000-06:00

I always feel bad if I don't agree with everyone, but...

Why does it seem like every person on the Internet hated Mockingjay? I was almost scared to read it, if it was going to end badly and ruin the previous books for me! I hate when that happens.

I just finished it (which is why I'm all tear-stained and pensive, as well as indignant) and wait a minute, Every Person on the Internet! Did we read the same series just now? That was like the best ending EVER. It ended perfectly, even better than I was hoping. EVEN BETTER.ER. And I am very picky about endings!

It stayed in keeping with the rest of the series, there was justice and redemption and courage and it made perfect sense. Actually, it struck me as very classic literature-y, which is what I liked about it. None of these newfangled post-modern novels for me, that end with the main character dying alone (preferably at their own hand), reflecting on the meaninglessness of existence and the futility of all their pointless struggles in life, their corpse eaten by feral cats (preferably feral cats that they fed and nurtured at one point in the story) as the stars go slowly out, one by one.

Yeah, no, I don't like books like that. I liked this book!See? Emphatic Thumbs Up Of Great Emphasis!

Anyway! It was too a good book! Even if I'm the only one who thinks so!

Well, no, if I'm the ONLY one who thinks so, then it maybe isn't a good book. Surely I'm not the only one, though!

No, I am? I still loved it anyway..

Although, you guys, my pants are loose today. I could probably read a depressing post-modern feral cat novel and say something nice about it. Beyond the cover art, even!

Regardless, this just goes to remind me that one of my most-often repeated teacher sayings - You don't get to have an opinion about a book until you've actually read it- applies to me, too! Which is why we should all read all the books!

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Best! Day! Ever!

2012-02-04T09:29:00.003-06:00

Which one, you ask? Oh, you know, just ALL OF THEM.

The hCG diet is of course for losing weight, but I'll be sad when it ends because it has put me in the BEST mood all week long. I've only been grumpy three times this past week and one of those times was Wednesday night and we all know that doesn't count because Wednesday nights are constructs of the devil. IN ADDITION to spending my days skipping around in a sunny meadow of flowers I have also not had ONE SINGLE migraine all week. NOT ONE. I usually have one of those suckers daily. I didn't realize how wretched that was, because I was so used to it, until all of the sudden I had finished a full day at work and skipped home to frolic with my babies and make dinner and realized that Hey! This is a lot easier when you aren't in horrible migraine hell, all nauseous and touchy and just want to die!

Interesting note: I never get migraines when I am pregnant. And according to Kanga I am also in a very good mood when I am pregnant. Which is, interestingly enough, the only time we produce hCG. Totally a coincidence, right?

Actually, the unexpected happiness is the SECOND thing I noticed about this diet. The first thing is how often I am in the HABIT of eating. The first day of eating only (brace yourselves) five hundred calories a day was almost funny to me, because I kept involuntarily starting up from whatever I was doing to head for the kitchen. It was like my subconscious was so outraged that I wasn't eating as much as usual that it was trying veeeeerrrry hard to make my body do stuff without letting my conscious brain know about it. The minimum amount of days we can be on this diet is 21, which is supposedly how long it takes to make or break a habit, right? So I'm hoping to do some serious eat-all-the-time habit breaking here.

We started the hCG last Friday, but you have to "Load" for two days while the hCG gets fully into your system. That means, eat everything in sight, the fattier the betterer. I gained THREE pounds during those two loading days. I also lost all three of those pounds after the first 500 calorie day. And have lost four more since then. Losing seven pounds in one week? Yes please! Since that first 500 calorie day, where I truly gnawed my allotted apple away to NOTHING, I haven't had any real problems with feeling hungry. One time an insurance salesman brought a cheesecake to school to get on our good sides, and that was a little difficult. When my children turn their noses up at their delicious-looking tuna sandwiches and fresh mozzarella cheese and buttery crackers and and and THEN want to eat MY wee little melba toast? I confess to some Mommy Isn't Sharing, Go Away moments. I also had a dreadful dream about making pancakes and then realizing that I couldn't eat them. But it has gotten easier each day and yesterday I sat and chatted with a co-worker while she ate a fresh-from-the-oven brownie and I didn't even TWINGE. I haven't cheated even once. Except for that pancake dream. Actually, ever since the first day, I'm too full to eat my entire lunch and dinner, so I save my fruit portions for snacks.

I am usually in need of a little snack around four and again before bed.

So yeah, I kind of love this diet. Just the no-migraine part would be enough for me to be okay with 500 calories a day indefinitely. But the weight loss part and the happy part ALSO? I am DOWN. My brain feels clearer and all the masses of anxiety that I've been struggling with lately are just gone. Poof! And I almost forget, but I am also able to get UP in the morning. Last year I rocked getting up at five thirty every day and this year it has been a big struggle. Me and my snooze button have been on intimate terms these days, you know? But after the hCG was in my system for only ONE day, I've been popping out of bed at five thirty again like a little pop tart, and liking it.

JOEY, on the other hand, is NOT happy. Not even a little bit. Joey is an angry starving bear that just woke up from hibernation. Joey is a zombie and he neeeeds braaaaaaaiins. Joey is a coach on a diet who has to take his players out for victory meals and watch them eat hamburgers while he sips ice water.

Joey is not much fun, these days. He's also lost SEVENTEEN POUNDS this week. For this we are willing to put up with Insanely Touchy Joey, although he's a creature we are largely unfamiliar with. One morning he had only gone down one pound and so he was all, "It's not worth it to just lose ONE pound in a day. I'd rather eat a burger than lose ONE pound a day." I explained how on most diets you can only lose one pound a week. I explained how he's really getting about 4000 calories each day, he's just only eating five hundred of them. I backed away slowly and cautiously, keeping my hands behind my back so as not to have them bitten off and deep fried.

The first few days were the worst for him, because on top of being pretty sure he was starving to death, he also felt very, very ill from all kinds of detoxing that was taking place in his poor drive-thru system. He was also in the throes of serious carb withdrawal. It wasn't fun for him.

(I think I mildly detoxed the first day or so, because my muscles were all very sore, but that was it. We have very different eating habits, and always have, though. I think I just had less to detox from)

Now he doesn't feel sick or dizzy or head-achy or exhausted... just grouchy. And he declares his hatred of all vegetables on the regular. I would take more offense at these criticisms of my cooking, but I'm having to make everything without any kind of oil or butter or anything, so I didn't have really high expectations in the first place. Just eat it. Because I said to.

On the diet you don't have anything but water (and coffee! You can have all the coffee and tea you want! No cream or sugar, but STILL) for breakfast, and then lunch and dinner are made up of two cups of vegetables (not any vegetables, just the ones from the approved list) and one hundred grams of protein (weighed raw, also has to be from The List) one apple or grapefruit or handful of strawberries and one melba toast.

I know it sounds crazy, but I always really am too full to eat the fruit at the same time as the rest of the meal. I've also made a point of getting all organic foods, more than ever, because all those chemicals and preservatives and pesticides really do interfere with weight loss. The body can't process them and so it stores them... as fat cells. No thank you!

So there is my hCG update after the first glorious week. I give it two thumbs up and Julie Andrews twirling in an Alpine meadow.

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Joey gives it a grudging acknowledgment of seventeen pounds lost in a week (I think that looks like a manly chin-jut) and a ravenous grizzly bear.

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He says his primary motivation to keep on with the diet is how happy it is making me. I'm kind of feeling a lot of pressure to be VERY VERY HAPPY all the time!

Crazy Girl Is Crazy

2012-02-01T07:15:00.001-06:00

You know everything, right Internets?

Well tell me, then, how can I make my living room stop smelling so bad? More specifically, the carpet. It stinks. Because of the dog, the stupid one that Shall Not Be House Broken. Bane of my existence, that dog.

When I come home to my little house that I love and cherish and make pretty things for and sacrifice hours of time- that I COULD have spent reading- in cleaning it... and it stinks? I am sad. When I walk out of the bedroom and into the living room and instantly notice the stink? I am really sad. When I do yoga in the morning, in close proximity to the offending carpet, and really inhale the stink? I am VERY SAD. When I apologize/complain to others and they tell me they can't smell anything? I am... confused. Is this like a The Yellow Wallpaper kind of thing?

No! I really can smell it! It's not madness, it's dog pee! I'm pretty sure it's in the carpet padding! Trying to get out!

Joey steam cleaned the carpet (AGAIN) on Sunday and while it looks clean, it still smells bad.

(Doesn't this really, really make you want to come over to my house for coffee?)

I'm starting to get very obsessive about this smell thing. I hate it. I can't stand for my house to smell bad.

If I had a million dollars I would just have the stupid carpet ripped up and replaced, but yeah. No. The only way I can see new carpet happening is if I found a super amazing deal on carpet and Joey installed it himself (he knows how to do useful things like that! He can also install hardwood floors and drive a forklift and use a nail gun! People who can do things are amazing- and somewhat mysterious- to me!) which is an okay idea except that it will interfere with all my campaigning to re-sod the back yard. Which is an important and also a connected Home Project because the dogs track mud in from the back yard onto the carpet. That doesn't really make it stink worse, but it also doesn't improve its appearance.

SO what I would like to know, Internets, is can you tell me of a magic potion (or incantation, even, I'm a desperate woman) that will make a clean-looking but bad-smelling (at least to one person) carpet be less offensive?

If it's a jealously guarded family secret passed down for generations at the deathbeds of wizened old grandmothers, you could totally just email me instead of leaving it in the comments for all to see.

But don't say baking soda. The Stench Monster of the Living Room eats baking soda for breakfast. No, really, it does. I keep feeding it baking soda with essential oils for breakfast each morning. It's all, Nom Nom BAKING SODA AND LEMONGRASS! for an hour, and when I come home from work it's back, ostensibly for another meal but we all know it's really just trying to drive me crazy

And kind of succeeding.

You can tell because of how I just wrote an entire blog post about smelly carpets and ended up personifying an odor as a sentient entity that is OUT TO GET ME, and also THE WALLPAPER, I'M PRETTY SURE THERE'S A WOMAN TRAPPED IN THE WALLPAPER!

In Which We Say No To Drugs

2012-01-30T07:29:00.001-06:00

I have finally, FINALLY managed to convince Joey that we should sign Ariel up for pre-k dance class. Finally!

I've been waiting and waiting for her to be old enough, because I know she'll enjoy it so much. She's always so... dancy. And hammy. Solo halftime performances at basketball games, anyone? And then arranging toys like an audience at Kanga's house and cautioning Nessie to leave them be, because she's MAKING A SHOW. Oh yes, gotta dance, for sure.

And I want her to have some experience playing with kids her age and being in a group before she starts pre-k this fall.

And it's really, really cute.

And you know, I might happen to make friends with the other moms. It's possible.

Also, EXTREME CUTENESS, who are we kidding!

Joey was a hard sell, though. I used all my powers of persuasion and still had to agree to do extra tutoring this summer to make up the cost of the lessons. I really hate tutoring. I like the group dynamics of the classroom, is what I like.

It might have been easier to convince him if he hadn't come home from a basketball game one night to find me watching an episode of Dance Moms, which is pretty horrifying. "What are you watching? Why is that mean lady telling that little girl that her mommy doesn't care about her?"

(I'm hoping it's not exactly like Dance Moms, at least not for the pre-k class...)

But he finally caved and we get to sign up for the class and YAY! But seriously, thanks so much, economy, for sucking so much that we are so stressed out about money all the time that we have to debate pro and con this extensively before we can decide to sign our child up for dance class. And I haven't even mentioned how I would like to sign BOTH girls up for mommy/baby swim lessons at the YMCA. Probably I'll be more motivated to mention it when I look better in a swimming suit, I'm guessing. But that isn't my point.

Our resident teenager overheard the tail end of this dance-class-if-you-tutor-this-summer discussion.

"Couldn't you guys make more money if you worked at public school?"

"Yeah, but we don't want to work at public school. Being happy is more important than money..." I offered, a little lamely, since right then it didn't seem like giving up money was making us entirely happy, exactly. He pondered for a moment.

"Yeah, okay. You know what you should do? You should start sellin' crack. You can make a ton of money from crack."

"You can go to jail for doing that, though. It's kind of illegal." Joey answered with a straight face

"True. You could just sell pot, then, I guess."

....

I mostly think he was joking.

Regardless, I'll stick with tutoring!

Where We Try A New Diet That Sounds Weird

2012-01-28T00:01:00.002-06:00

So, I'm kind of hesitant to post this because my little Facebook status about it this morning led to a bit of a lecture, and I'm not really a fan of lectures, but oh, Internet, I could never keep anything from you!

Joey and I started the hCG diet this morning, and I'm really, really excited about it. For one thing, I'm excited to lose those Last Stubborn Pounds of Doom that won't go away, ever, and like to croon sweet nothings, all siren-like, to lure in a few more pounds to join them. Jerks. But what I'm really excited about is how on-board Joey is, how determined he is to make some healthier, more aware food choices. If you'd told me, the first year we were married, that he would be wholeheartedly agreeing to severely limit his consumption of Coke and burgers, I would have laughed at you. And then sighed. And then laughed some more.

But the more we've learned about whole foods and organic foods and the disgusting things they put in conventional foods and how it all affects our bodies... he's really there now. It's been a long learning process for us both, which started when we got pregnant with Ariel and health suddenly started to MATTER, and I'm excited now because I feel like starting the hCG means we'll have a chance to really change some habits, like for permanent.

And Imma tell you all about it and how it goes for me, my pretties, so you'll know if it works or makes you gain two hundred pounds and lose all your hair.

I've been all over the Internets the past month or so, reading up on the hCG diet, and there is seriously a LOT of stuff to read. Some of which is super confusing. Essentially, though, hCG is the hormone you produce during pregnancy (the one that pregnancy tests detect) and it lets your body access stored fats. This is what originally intrigued me about the hCG diet, because I had such terrible morning sickness with both of my pregnancies so far, and couldn't keep anything down for weeks and WEEKS on end, but somehow mysteriously did not starve to death and managed to also sustain an additional person with sweet tea and that one Saltine I kept down on Tuesday. MYSTERY SOLVED! It was the hCG nomming on my stored fat.
Anyway, once this was discovered, in the fifties, a weight loss plan was developed. You would receive daily injections of hCG and live on a very low calorie, very specific diet. Low calorie diets, on their own aren't so effective because you feel crappy and slow your metabolism down, but with the hCG you're signalling your body that it should go ahead and hit up that stored fat.

WE aren't doing injections, because CAN YOU IMAGINE? I can't. No. I can barely maintain consciousness when health care professionals are sticking me with needles. There's no way I could do it myself! Fortunately you don't have to get injections anymore, you can you can mix it with B-12 and hold it under your tongue. Yay!

I think the biggest criticism that I've heard of the hCG diet is that after you finish it, you gain a ton of weight back. Which I'm sure is true, if you go back to eating processed, chemicall-y junk all the time. The guidelines I've read for how to keep the weight off after you complete an hCG cycle look perfect to me - don't count calories or cut out food groups, but eat organic as much as possible and avoid food with ingredients you can't pronounce. I want to do that anyway!

(Also, I know two people who've done this already, and they've both lost weight like whoa and kept it off; one of them being our school nurse and the other being the crunchiest earth-mama EVER, which is why I'm pretty confident about trying this.)

So, there you have it! Thoughts? Questions? You may even lecture me, if you like, and I'll still love you.
My starting weight is 150 pounds, which is TEN MORE pounds than it would have been if we had been talking about this before Christmas break. During which time I pretty much made crafts and ate candy like it was my full time job. Smart. My goal is somewhere around 130 or 135, just because I know I like how fit into my pants when I weigh that much. Pants comfort is WHERE ITS AT, friends. I won't share Joey's starting weight because he probably wouldn't like that, but when it's all over I'll tell you how much he lost. Men usually lose more than women on hCG, so I'm curious to see how we'll compare to each other.

Basketball Wives

2012-01-24T08:21:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I took a few minutes between teaching and making dinner to sit on the porch swing while the girls played in the sunshine. Ariel announced that she was going to school and hopped into her little red car. After she zoomed around in a few circles (which is TOTALLY how I drive, by the way) she jumped back out and proclaimed, "I'm HOME!"
"You're home from school? Now what will you do?" I asked her, fully expecting to hear something about making dinner.
"Mmmm, well, now I goin' a back-a-ball game!"

Oh yeah, that.

And later, after dinner, I wrangled them into their cheer leading uniforms and we DID go to a basketball game. Because that is just what we do these days. I've even appropriated one of the team's away jerseys and taken to wearing it on game days because Joey thinks it's cute.

I won't lie... sometimes I think about everything that's involved in getting ready, loading up, going, sitting through an entire game without a small child wandering onto the court (an act of vigilance which usually results in said small child screaming bloody murder), collecting our scattered belongings after the game, getting home very much PAST bedtime, and putting two overtired children to bed, all solo, all after a full day of work, I don't particularly want to go. Like, at all.

I love seeing my students play, I love the atmosphere of a game, I love how much fun my girls have. But those aren't the real reasons I drag us to the home games night after night.

He is.

My experience with sports was incredibly limited before I met Joey, but my general understanding has always been that coaches aren't exactly the calmest of people. They yell and shriek and call you Nancy and ask the referee if he's blind. A lot (not all, but a lot) of the coaches I've seen at these games have kind of confirmed that idea.

But not our coach. He is calm and patient and never yells at his players. They want to play for him and they respect him and they crave his respect on some mysterious manly level.

When he gets frustrated and discouraged about lack of effort or lack of consistency or lack of home crowd fans or lack of players altogether at this tiny school of ours, they never know about it. They only know that Coach will make everything funny and fun (and will undoubtedly think up the the most insane pranks known to man, all HYPOTHETICALLY, not as a real suggestion or anything), that he won't yell, that he'll explain every aspect of the game a hundred different ways until it makes sense to you, that he will buy you dinner after the game if you're low on cash. That he's the kind of coach whose graduated players will always wander back to help out with practice because they miss it.

I think he's too close, too involved to often see the miracle he's working. To see the character he's modeling and the lives he's changing and the life lessons he's teaching when they all think they're just playing basketball.

I see it, though. It's beautiful.

Last night our JV lost, but our varsity was amazing. Their three-pointers were lovely to behold and their defense was poetry in motion. POETRY I SAY. They could have made the final score be an utter humiliation for the other team, but he limited them to a twenty point lead because he's classy like that. I think that's part of the reason our team has such heart.

The other coach was young, and he didn't yell or berate his players either. Anytime I heard him, he was encouraging them. They played well and with good character. His wife was there, eight months pregnant and running after their three year old daughter. She had traveled an hour and a half to sit in a hard metal folding chair through two games when you KNOW she would rather have been home reading blogs. She came to see her husband's miracle.

We chatted for a bit while the girls all played together. We didn't say anything about how breathtaking it is to see young men striving and good men guiding. But we both acknowledged it, all the same, by our presence. Our weary, toddler-distracted, if-I-was-home-I-could-be-drinking-hot-tea, supportive presence.

Presence is really all you need to see a miracle.

Hibernation Is Lovely Sometimes

2012-01-22T21:31:00.000-06:00

Sometimes, more than anything else in the world, you just need a weekend off. Not like a regular weekend, where you catch up on all the things you were too busy to do during the week, but like OFF. Like, I'm setting up camp in this comfy cozy chair of mine and not moving unless it's absolutely necessary. And I don't think I'll be doing any cooking. Or anything remotely productive. Or talking to anyone outside of my own little family. And the most stressful situation I'll be dealing with is these two toddler people trying to both sit on my lap at once, even though they currently have a very low tolerance for each other.

That kind of Off.

I needed that kind of weekend, and for once? I went ahead and TOOK it. I wasn't sick or anything, there was no real excuse for my lack of productivity. I just wanted to sit still and not do for a while.

It was kind of awesome, actually.

I took Friday and Saturday Off from Life (except Friday night, because we had to go to a basketball game and potentially be exposed to the rotavirus! Fun!) and that was EXACTLY what I needed.

(the taking those days off part, not the exposure to rotavirus part. Nobody needs THAT)

Today I woke up and proceeded to scrub my house from top to bottom, do all the grocery shopping and laundry and general week-preparing that I would normally spread out over the whole weekend. And I WANTED to do all that. It was satisfying. My feet hurt now, but I'm seriously happy. And relaxed. And it's nice. It's nice to sometimes get to be a person and not a Doer Of Many Tasks All At Once.

I'm a pretty good Doer Of Many Tasks, Etc., and I absolutely love roughly 85% of my tasks, but I think everything is a lot better when I've let myself take a break from it all and just be.

My goal for the week is to hold onto this happiness, and if that means letting a Task Of Great Importance or two slide for a bit so I can rest, then so be it. Anyway, a rested Lucy is a Lucy who can move at warp speed, apparently.

Elevensies

2012-01-17T07:45:00.003-06:00

Yay! Jules tagged me!

11 things about me

1. Eleven WHOLE things? Like off the top of my head?

2. I make up random rules for myself (do yoga! every day! at six thirty-seven a.m.!) and then feel horribly guilty if I don't follow them.

3. Which I know is stupid, but they are usually really good rules.

4. Few things make me happier than having a perfect pen- fine tip, smooth black ink that flows just right, writing all crisp and clean on my planner and lists and notes on student papers. It just makes everything better.

5. Few things make me UNhappier than when I have the perfect pen and someone steals or breaks it. One of the nicest parents at our school is So Very Nice! but is nonetheless permanently on my list of People To Keep An Eye On because he "accidentally" stole my pen the first time I met him.

6. It's six thirty-eight a.m. and I'm not doing yoga yet. Cue shame.

7. OH, THE SHAME!

8. I kind of enjoy every household chore except cleaning toilets. I hate cleaning toilets so much that I refuse to do it and make Joey do it.

9. This is one of the few Gross Chores that he does for me. Mostly I get stuck with all the disgusting, gag-inducing chores around our house because I have a MUCH stronger stomach. I don't really think it's fair to punish me for that, though. Just because I can keep from vomiting if necessary doesn't mean I WANT to.

10. Kind of like how I never get car sick so in any kind of group situation I am always the one stuck in the back middle seat, which we all know is the worst possible seat. Seriously, EVERYONE in my family and Joey's claims great carsickness unless they are driving or sitting in the front. I don't know that I necessarily believe them, but I do respect how they are much better road-trip strategists than I am.

11. I hate, loathe, and despise shows like Family Guy. So much. It's ugly and vulgar and mean and just the sound of it for a few seconds in a TBS commercial makes me want to punch the television. Who's the guy that makes all those horrible shows? You know the guy I mean? If only I had been his teacher in high school, I guarantee we would not be inflicted with those shows.

11 questions for me

1. How many siblings do you have? Two younger sisters - one is four years younger than me and one is TWENTY years younger than me!

2. Coke or Pepsi? Regular or diet? Definitely regular Coke. On the rare occasions that I drink Coke. And by Coke I of course mean all Coke-type beverages, not necessarily Coke itself. I think this is a Southern thing.

3. What are you 3 favorite candies? Heath bars, Andes mints, and peanut M&M's

4. Are you a pessimist or an optimist? I would love to say optimist, and pessimist doesn't sound right...I wonder if it's possible to be an optimistic worrier? I think that's what I am.

5. If you went on Fear Factor would you rather eat blended cockroaches and stink bugs or lay in a coffin full of snakes? Snakes! SnakessnakessnakesSNAKES A THOUSAND TIMES SNAKES! They are cool and I kind of really like them. When I was little we used to volunteer at a nature center and I would go around for hours with a six foot bull snake draped around my neck, freaking people out. But roaches? You know how I feel about roaches! They are the embodiment of sheer evil! I realize this isn't exactly a Biblical perspective, but only because if the Devil had appeared to Eve as a big talking roach she would have freaked out and started screaming for Adam to come and Deal With It HURRY IT IS LOOKING RIGHT AT ME GET HERE FASTER!

6. What is your biggest regret in your life so far? That I didn't have a psychic vision and follow it in blind faith to Texas and find Joey a LOT sooner. Like when I was five. Seriously, what was I THINKING?

7. The best concert you have ever been to? How lame is it that I haven't actually ever BEEN to a real concert? Sometimes we go to free outdoor concerts in the park...sometimes they're pretty good, too! Sometimes they suck, though, I wont lie. Sometimes they're free for a reason.

8. What do you normally eat for breakfast? This is weird... keifer? It's like a very thick yogurt drink with a lot of probiotics. Sometimes I tell Ariel that it's a vanilla shake and get her to drink some, too. It's very healthy.

9. Would you rather have a massage or a facial if you could only choose one? A facial! I absolutely hate massages! They hurt!

10. Have you ever ordered something off an infomercial? Yeah, no. But one time when I was like fifteen I saw an infomercial for some strange ab wheel thing that you rolled on the floor and your abs! Magically! Appeared! and so... I made one out of an old roller blade and part of a broom handle. True story. Also true is how my abs did not magically appear.

11. Which subject in school did you hate the most? MATH! Another reason I really regret my failure to have a psychic vision and meet Joey sooner... he could have done all my math homework for me and I could have written all his English papers and we both could have received full academic scholarships even though we're both only halfway smart and we would have been all HA! Fooled Yooouuu, IVY LEAGUE!

But no, seriously, I really hate math. Math and roaches. Two worst things EVER. If there was ever a math book crawling with roaches, or a math problem involving roaches, I'm pretty sure that it would be so far an opposite from me and everything that I stand for in the world that it would actually cancel out my existence and I would suddenly cease to BE. Let's not test that theory, please.

11 questions for you

Now, this is probably cheating, but I'm very much running out of time here and failing at all kinds of my random made-up rules for myself LEFT AND RIGHT, so I'm going to copy the questions that Jules answered for herself. BUT they are good questions! And I still have to get ready for work!

1. If you could meet one person, dead or alive, who would it be?

2. What's your favorite smell?

3. If you had to choose 3 bands to listen to for the rest of your life, who would they be?

4. Chocolate Frosty or Vanilla Frosty?

5. When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?

6. Ice or no ice in your drink?

7. If they were to make a movie of your life, who would play you?

8. Guilty pleasure food?

9. If you had to choose between having perfect health for the rest of your life or having an unlimited supply of money, which would you choose?

10. How would you describe yourself in 3 words.

11. Most important accomplishment you have done thus far in life.

I tag

Anyone who wants to be tagged. Really. I'm always scared to tag people in these things, because you never know who loves them and would feel left out if they weren't tagged and who hates them and would give me the virtual stink-eye for tagging them. And as we have previously established, my psychic powers are not to be depended upon.

Oh, yeah:

The Rules

1. Post the rules.

2. Post 11 things about you.

3. Answer the questions the tagger asked you.

4. Write 11 new questions for those you tag.

I think I was supposed to put that at the beginning of the post. I am just a REBEL today like WHOA!

Familial Joy

2012-01-14T17:31:00.001-06:00

Saturday morning and we all lazed around the living room, basking in puddles of sunlight. I snapped silly pictures and decided that nothing was ever more perfect than this.

Lately I keep catching myself realizing, at odd moments, how much fun my family is becoming. Which sounds weird to say, like I didn't enjoy them before. I did! Joey and I ALWAYS crack each other up, and I've always thought our girls were adorable and fun. But lately I've been noticing that all four of us are having more and more fun together.

I first realized it a couple of weeks ago when we couldn't find a drive-through place we wanted for dinner, so we very impromptu-ly went for a meal at a sit down restaurant. Halfway through the meal I realized that not only was I actually able to EAT my food - which never happens when we go out to a restaurant all together- but that we were all really enjoying each other's company and making each other laugh.

Another evening recently, I made shrimp and crab legs and a knock-off version of those awesome biscuits from Red Lobster. We sat around our table for nearly two hours, the four of us... feasting on seafood and getting each other with crab claws, laughing.

And a lot of other moments just like that, lately. Moments that make me realize that no matter how angsty I get about their baby years (all two of those precious, elusive years) slipping away from me...the kid years are going to be pretty amazing, too.

Really amazing. Even though I horribly disillusioned my Ariel by being unable to satisfactorily draw "The Lion King Chasing a Cheeekin" on her Aquadoodle.

Pictured: Actual disappointment in maternal art skillz.

HOWEVER we might, just possibly have the makings of a girl band. They already do a pretty rockin' KT Tunstall cover!

(I really, really hope the video plays correctly. I have the WORST blogger/video uploading abilities. Worse even than my ability to draw Simba and poultry. Also, please disregard the random sports equipment that the girls had to share the back seat with- Joey had had a basketball game the night before and that usually means we shlep around some stray gear for the weekend, alas!)

The Lonely Strikes Again

2012-01-10T07:27:00.000-06:00

I really wanted to do a Virtual Coffee post for the first time today, but when I settled in to write this morning I realized I couldn't. I had an attack of The Lonely last night, and I'm still a little sad that Virtual is all I'm going to get these days.
I was happily planning Ariel's birthday party, going gleefully from cakes to invitations to banners to favor bags, when I realized I needed to know how many small children-type guests to plan for. Which is when I realized, oh yeah, I don't KNOW anyone.

There's my littlest sister and Joey has some small honorary nephews, but other than that? I couldn't get ten people over here if I begged....

OH MY GOD I REALLY AM CELIA FOOTE.

(Actually, I don't even know anyone TO beg to bring their toddler to a birthday party, but I'm not sure that makes me feel any better. I think it might make me feel worse.)

And I very nearly started crying.

I should have FRIENDS! Who are MY AGE! And have small children the ages of MY small children! And since I don't, my poor baby is doomed to have cricket-chirpy parties with too many leftover party favors, attended by older adult relatives who look around wondering why there are no CHILDREN at this CHILD'S PARTY.

I'm absolutely RUINING her life, is what I felt like in the throes of The Lonely last night.

I know, I know. But I couldn't help feeling that way.

I tell myself it will be better next year! She'll be in school and we will invite her whole pre-k class! And the kindergarten class, too! And we'll put her in dance lessons or something like that and I can try to make friends with the other moms there!

But I'm still sad about this year.

Joey laughed last night while I was whining pitifully about how there is clearly something WRONG WITH ME that I have no friends. "You MOVED after college, babe. Away from everyone you knew."
"Yeah, like five years ago!" I retorted from the depths of a pillow.
"And you've been a little busy since then, right? Working and having babies and taking care of our family? That's OKAY."

Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but either way it doesn't FEEL okay to me.

For a minute I thought about maybe doing an outing kind of celebration this year instead of a party. Like go spend the day at the zoo or something.

But I can't. Ariel is obsessed with birthday parties, really and truly, and she's already been looking at pictures of Minnie Mouse cakes with me and telling who is going to come to her party and bring her presents.

(It's all boys from the varsity basketball team, in case you were wondering. And don't think I haven't considered it, either!)

Soooo... I know. She won't be scarred for life or anything. It'll be a fun small party, I'll get over myself and my ridiculous whiny problems...

I feel foolish even writing about it. I tried to write about something Else! Cheerfully! instead, but it would have been all fake and forced and stupid. This at least is honest and real and stupid. And I'm really kind of hoping that someday SOON we will flip through the archives and read this and laugh because haha, remember when you were so lonely for girlfriends with babies and you felt so pathetic? And now look at you! Friends -and their children! -in and out of your house day and night! You can't get a moment's peace!

Sometimes that happens, you know.

The Girl With The Best In-Laws Ever

2012-01-07T16:20:00.000-06:00

Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, oh.MY.gosh!

This is a very, VERY happy day for me.

Our vacuum cleaner just up and died last weekend, which sucked - or DIDN'T suck, rather. See what I did there?

I usually vacuum every single day thanks to the Fezzik -hair snow drifts that would otherwise take over the house, not to mention all the leaves the dogs track in and plenty of flotsam and jetsam of unknown origin. So having no vacuum for a whole WEEK was bad. Very bad. I didn't know what to DO! And Joey kept being all vague and unhelpful when I would bring the situation to his attention, sucking in his breath and saying things like, "Shoot, I forgot about that... I don't know, babe, I'll think about it."

Which was annoying, because what? He'll THINK about getting a new vacuum? We kind of have to have one of those! I just wanted to go grab one similar to our last one - it lasted nearly a whole year, at least- from Big Lots and be done with it.

Last night he had a basketball game and I couldn't stand the filthy living room carpet any longer, so I took the useless old vacuum out and tried to get it to work. No. It was having none of that. It dumped a lot of old particles of kitty litter in the middle of the living room. KITTY LITTER. We haven't had our poor cat for like two or three MONTHS now! Where did that even come from??

This morning I told him to get up and lets all go to Big Lots, I need a vacuum cleaner STAT. He stalled and put me off a bit, but finally we all went...

...to his parents' house...

...where they gave me THIS baby...

That's right, a DYSON!! Joey had asked his dad last weekend to help him find a good deal on one, and his parents decided to just GET one for us instead!
Sometimes I realize just how ridiculously spoiled I am. And it's kind of really nice!

Also, you know you're an old married lady when you get THIS happy over a cleaning device. But I don't even care, this thing is AMAZING! Just look at what it sucked up just from the main living area:
(or, actually, don't look if you are easily disgusted)

Eeeeeeww. I think all Great Pyrenees dogs should come with complimentary Dysons.

Now, if you need me, I'll be the crazy lady who is vacuuming already-vacuumed carpet. I'm sitting here wondering how much more it will pull up if I go over it again immediately!

Quick Takes

2012-01-06T08:01:00.000-06:00

It's STILL basketball season. I'm maybe kind of tired of basketball season. It lasts until February, but according to my husband we have only played about half our scheduled games. Ugh. There's a home game tonight, which I should take my baby girls to so they can cheer...but the thought of staying home and having an evening to myself is VERY tempting.

In February, when it stops being basketball season our school will switch gears and have drama season. Not like they don't have drama season all year long, being teenagers, but you know, it'll be time to start working on the play. We're doing Hotel Frankenstein this year, but after watching SNL the other week Joey is all for billing it as War Horse and doing the SNL War Horse skit at the beginning of the performance as a prank. Is it really any wonder that he is perpetually the favorite teacher?

Yesterday morning before school started I was writing sections of poetry on my board for the day (I start each class with a few minutes of memorizing poetry, just a few lines at a time. You'd be amazed at how much poetry I've memorized, just from putting the lines up on my board each day!) when one student wandered into my room to talk to another student. And then proceeded to tell the other student -while I was clearly standing right there, with ears and everything- all about sneaking out of his house to meet a girl the night before and how much trouble he would be in. I listened in disbelief for FIVE MINUTES before finally capping my dry erase marker and drawing the boy's attention to the fact that Hi, I am standing RIGHT HERE and I am SO going to email your mother!

And I did, too. Anyone that bad at being sneaky deserves to be busted. I'm pretty sure that's natural selection or something.

Also? Yesterday I told an adult-type person who is neither family nor friend that something they were doing upset me and to not do it any more. This is big, people. Everyone I've recounted this conversation for has been all, Wait, did you ACTUALLY say that? OUT LOUD?

Not because I said it in a rude or mean way AT ALL, but because I'm a wimp about stuff like that. A BIG wimp. I can boss kids around all day long, but I'm still pretty convinced that most adults are the boss of me and should not be talked back to. But yesterday I decided I was very tired of being upset in this particular way and that I was going to put an end to it. And I did. When I told Joey all about it last night, he said I was a badass.

I wouldn't usually say 'ass' on my blog, but I can't think of a good synonym for badass. Badbutt really just doesn't have that same ring to it. You know it's true!

I'm going to a bunch of thrift stores with my mama this afternoon! I'll be searching for the raw materials to get my Etsy stock started. And you know, any other random thrifty treasure I come across!

And I think I'm going to buy The Help today, too. I'm tired of not having read it! I thought I was going to get it for Christmas, so I was holding off buying it. But I didn't, and I don't think I'm going to wait any longer!

More Quick Takes here!

Creation

2012-01-04T08:08:00.000-06:00

via

Sometimes I feel as if my mind...or maybe my heart? Possibly my spirit...somewhere in there, anyway, is just teeming with energy and ideas and innovations and creativity. Crafting and writing and cooking and blogging and nesting and mothering and teaching and beautifying and simplifying... I can't seem to stop thinking up more for myself to do. And I enjoy it, which is funny to me because when you look at it objectively, there should be NO time for all these Projects of mine. None. Why on earth would I want to add MORE?

Sometimes I DO get overwhelmed.

But if I try to curb those creative impulses, life seems suddenly dreary. I have more time to relax, but I don't feel rested. I feel unsatisfied, incomplete. My husband has always observed that I don't know HOW to relax and just do nothing, and he's right. Just doing nothing is very rarely relaxing for me. It's creativity that relaxes me. When my hands are busy, my spirit is at rest.

via

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, bemused at myself for constantly adding more things to an already ridiculous to-do list. And I've been thinking, it isn't just me. You do it to. You, my blogging, Pinning, writing, cooking, homemaking, mothering, wife-ing, nail-painting, crafting, reading (and if you think reading isn't an act of creation, you aren't doing it right), photographing, soul-diving ladies. Us. We constantly create in a thousand small, barely-noticed ways. Mostly feminine ways, it seems like, and that makes sense. We are constructed to create life (or at least, to seriously facilitate the process) and we don't just do that on the large scale. Thousands of tiny acts of creation, tiny little births that might seem insignificant, but they still matter because they make life that much more lovely.

I don't think it's trivial, and I don't think it's busywork. I'm pretty sure that even the smallest act of creation is vitally necessary.

via

This has probably been better said before, I am sure, it's just what's been drifting around the edges of my mind lately. Now I have to run and CREATE breakfast, at task at which I am running very, very late!

Etsy Newb

2012-01-02T21:11:00.000-06:00

Joey took me out to dinner on New Year's Eve for our anniversary date and under the influence of several bellinis I decided that my resolution for the new year was to go out and do karaoke. Like, in front of people. No, really, let's go now!
(we didn't, but whatever)
Two days later, I still think it's a pretty good resolution. I think I'm going to declare 2012 to be the Year of Singing in general, just as much as possible.

Today was the first day of the new semester. I've missed all those stinkers. Even though my phone died last night and my alarm didn't go off and I was running significantly late, it was a pretty awesome day. Thanks to the luuurvely economy we all got a fifteen percent pay cut this semester. The funny thing is, we don't really mind. Like I told my boss this morning, if we were looking to make money, we wouldn't be working there in the first place! We're there because we really, really believe in the school and feel like we can make a difference by working there. If we need to take a pay cut to keep the school afloat and make sure no one has to be let go because a lot of people are struggling to pay the tuition, that's what we'll do. Gladly!

So related to that, I've decided to go ahead and start an Etsy shop to hopefully augment a little bit of the pay cut... not that I really expect an Etsy shop to make much money because I can't really see why people would buy stuff that they can just MAKE themselves, which is what I do whenever I want something...but you never know! I think I'll start with some fairy houses and yarn wreaths and whatever-you-call-it, framed pictures and lamps and stuff covered with book pages like I did when I redecorated my bedroom.

Like these? Is that a stupid idea??

Any Etsy-shop-having advice, my lovelies? AND any suggestions for an Etsy shop name where such things are sold? I've been trying to think of something literary, maybe places in literature like...I don't know, Netherfield Park or something. I'm sure that particular one is already taken, but you know the kind of thing I mean. I haven't thought about it very long! Ideas? Guidance? Feedback?

Celebrating Five Years of AWESOME

2011-12-30T23:55:00.002-06:00

Five years ago today I was a new bride filled with the innocent belief that my beloved and I would sleep in each other's arms all night long, every night for the rest of our lives. Five years ago tonight I realized that wasn't going to happen EVER because of the earth-shattering, record-breaking EPIC BEAST SNORING that my beloved is capable of. All night long, every night for the rest of our lives. Surprise!

Other than that one little disillusionment, though? Being married is WAY better than I would have even thought possible five years ago. SO WAY BETTER!

But only because I'm married to Joey. He's just the best thing to ever happen to me, is all!

(And I totally cannot sleep when he's gone because I MISS THE SNORING, which is ridiculous but there you go. True story.)

Apples Falling From Trees

2011-12-28T15:55:00.000-06:00

So, Nessie is sick...

She woke up all congested and coughing last night, and hasn't really slept much since.

Joey and I have determined that Ariel is just like him when she's sick...very sad and pathetic and I'll-just-lay-here-motionless. When they're sick they like to sleep and sleep and have things brought to them. And Nessie is just like me when she's sick...very cranky and irritable and screw-this-I-wanna-get-up-and-DO-stuff. When we're sick we like to wait for our medicine to kick in and then hop up and pretend like nothing's wrong. Until the medicine wears off and then....GGRAAAAARRRGH.

While I greatly sympathize with Nessie, I'm realizing that they are much easier to take care of when sick than we are. They hold still, at least.

A stance I will maintain right up until Joey gets this cold, then I'll write about how annoying and whiny he is when he's sick.

And then maybe after that I'll write about how I feel about my dad reconnecting with me on Facebook after no contact whatsoever for like seven years. Just as soon as I figure out exactly how I DO feel about that. Because I really, really don't know yet, like AT ALL.

Christmas Wrap- Up

2011-12-26T15:32:00.002-06:00

Christmas! Happened! And now, pictures of it!

We baked and decorate cookies for Santa on Christmas Eve, while watching Christmas movies, and I decided this will be tradition from now on! Because I have that kind of power! Except, next year I'm getting DVDs of my favorite old Christmas movies... It's a Wonderful Life, Christmas in Connecticut, Holiday Inn...Joey hates any movie that's in black and white, so it's up to me to indoctrinate our girls in the goodness that is old movies. Which usually have lots of dancing and singing, so I think they'll go for it!

We also made reindeer feed, and Ariel decorated a gingerbread house with great aplomb, while I did more ahead-of-time baking than you'd even believe.

After the Christmas Eve party at Joey's Gran's house, we put food on the lawn for the reindeer, then left cookies and milk for Santa...

...and drank hot chocolate and read Twas The Night Before Christmas!

Then Santa came!

And he was very busy for a very long time! He made a point of bringing Ariel the only two things she asked him for - The Little Mermaid movie and a train. I have a very adorable video of her saying what she wanted Santa to bring, but I'm not going to waste five hours of my life trying to upload it here.

There was Christmas morning, which was pretty much a blur of presents and a sea of wrapping paper. All of our parents came over for the morning, which lasted well into the afternoon, actually, and there was baked french toast for breakfast, which I ONLY make for Christmas morning because wow, is it unhealthy! But soooo delicious! Unless you're crazy like Joey and don't like it, but whatever. The only bad thing was that I was seriously disappointed with the laptop that I gave Joey... I ordered it online and didn't really check it out before I wrapped it... it doesn't look all fancy and shiny like I'd thought. Despite about a million reassurances from Joey that it was a great present and all, I was very sad about it. I'd wanted to surprise him with the PERFECT laptop, even if he's happy with this perfectly fine laptop, you know? I stopped pouting about it when he told me what he REALLY wanted for Christmas was for me to be happy. That's kind of hard to argue with.

Ariel's fairy house was one hundred percent a hit, though. She can sit and play with that thing for HOURS!

Oh, and there were Christmas tutus. That I made. Thanks, Pinterest! The girls thought they were just about the fanciest creatures on the face of the earth, and who could disagree? Not me!

In case you're wondering, yes, he IS wearing a BAZINGA! shirt. That his awesome wife gave him. What's more awesome is that he almost got the same exact shirt for me. Soul mates!

Instead, thanks to a slight wishlist miscommunication, he got me three mama bird necklaces from Etsy, among many other wonderful things. I couldn't pick my favorite necklace when I was making my wishlist, so I put links to all three as options. He thought I wanted them all, so he got them all for me! Because what his baby wants, his baby gets, even if it doesn't exactly make sense. I love that man! And I STILL can't decide which one I like best, so good thing, too!

Then we put the girls down for a nap and cleaned up and got ready for all of the Valiant family that comes over for Christmas dinner and games. Don't let the apron fool you into thinking I'm all hostessy, though. By the time everyone came over I was so sleep deprived and tired that I was pretty content to sit in a corner and wave people in the general direction of food. Like every year. That's the problem with them being the last event in our Christmas triathalon (except, there are FOUR big Christmas eventy-things we do each year, I just don't know a concise word for THAT. Quadrathalon? See?) every year... they probably think I'm the laziest hostess in the world!

But we still had fun... and tons and tons of food...and delicious smoked turkey...and more presents...and an epic game of Apples to Apples!

But the whole time I was really daydreaming about my most favoritest present EVER. Joey put envelopes with directions in my stocking... directions to this hotel in Santa Fe, where he made reservations for the two of us in April! It's a getaway for us SLASH research trip for the book I'm working on, and I can't WAIT!! He really is the best :)

Now I'm going to be good and use the rest of naptime trying to figure out where to PUT all the new toys the girls got, which is especially tricky since I didn't really know where to put the toys they already had ever since we cleared out the playroom. I sense a trip to IKEA somewhere in our immediate future...it's inevitable.

Workshop Elf Working Overtime, Here!

2011-12-22T09:30:00.000-06:00

IF you have a sweet little girl who is obsessed with wee miniature houses (I'm not entirely sure why, but I can't blame her. They ARE awesome!) and also fairies (an obsession I maybe encouraged JUST because she pronounces Tinkerbell as ChickenBob and who doesn't want to hear as much about ChickenBob as possible?) then you and your trusty hot glue gun might find yourselves buckling down to make THIS for Christmas:

I've been wanting to make a fairy house ever since we read Peter and Wendy together and I fell in love with the description of Tinkerbell's house.

But there was one recess in the wall, no larger than a bird-cage, which was the private apartment of Tinker Bell. It could be shut off from the rest of the house by a tiny curtain, which Tink, who was most fastidious , always kept drawn when dressing or undressing. No woman, however large, could have had a more exquisite boudoir and bed-chamber combined. The couch, as she always called it, was a genuine Queen Mab, with club legs; and she varied the bedspreads according to what fruit-blossom was in season. Her mirror was a Puss-in-Boots, of which there are now only three, unchipped, known to fairy dealers; the washstand was Pie-crust and reversible, the chest of drawers an authentic Charming the Sixth, and the carpet and rugs the best (the early) period of Margery and Robin. There was a chandelier from Tiddlywinks for the look of the thing, but of course she lit the residence herself. Tink was very contemptuous of the rest of the house, as indeed was perhaps inevitable, and her chamber, though beautiful, looked rather conceited, having the appearance of a nose permanently turned up.

It's probably not exactly age-appropriate, considering all the little glued-on things she can pick off (I know for a fact that she won't swallow any of it, honest) but I'm pretty sure she's going to LOSE HER MIND when she unwraps it on Christmas morning. And it was about twenty kinds of fun to make! If only I enjoyed wrapping presents as much as I enjoy making them! But I really, really don't, is the sad truth.

Can you blame me, though? This is WAY more fun!

Cry It Out

2011-12-20T09:24:00.000-06:00

My first clue should have been when I didn't cry at the end of this book.

I'm not recommending this book, and I'm not NOT recommending this book. It was fascinating and gritty and there were more distressing parts than I can usually handle in a book. Which isn't saying much, because I have a crazy low threshold for book distress. So that should have been my first clue... that I read it all very blase, and didn't cry, even at the end. The ending that was essentially a recipe for Weeping Lucy.

Combined with all of my struggles with grouchiness and angst and loss-of-mojo this past week, I really SHOULD have figured it out.

But it still took me a few more days. I got up early to do yoga, hoping that would help me feel both less fat AND less homicidal. I didn't bother with the DVD I usually use, because I've done it so much that I have the whole sequence memorized, so I put on my "meditation" Pandora that was leftover from last year's Bradley exercises. It's kind of heavy on the Enya, but it's no worse than the mystical sitar music on the yoga DVD, and I can ignore it pretty well. Until a couple of poses in, when Pandora lost it's mind and played My Immortal by Evanescence.

That song? Is my nemesis. I cry EVERY SINGLE time I hear it. No matter if I am around other people, or driving, or WHAT. I cry. In college, I was pretty sure it was about a terrible New Moon-esque breakup (not that I was actually dating Edward, as I came to find out later, but whatever.) As a new wife, I was pretty sure it was about a dead husband. Now I'm pretty sure it's about the loss of a child. AND a dead husband. Really. I think I have it figured out now, that's what it's about. DON'T LISTEN TO IT, especially if you're wearing mascara.

This time was no exception...I ruined all my perfect vinyasa-flow-y breathing with stifled sobbing, long after the song had ended and Pandora moved on to more Enya. And I realized, OH RIGHT, THAT.

I cry. It's actually a very big part of who I am. I feel and I cry and then I'm okay to go and feel some more. Happy cry, sad cry, what-a-great-commercial cry, I-wanna-punch-you-in-the-face cry, oh-its-so-beautiful cry. I promise that isn't ALL I do, but it's pretty frequent. I'm mostly very good about not crying in public now, at least. Mostly.

I'm fortunate to be married to a man who treasures this about me... who holds me close and praises my tender heart and wipes away my tears, rather than getting irritated with all the waterworks. Fortunate because I can be myself and I don't have to pretend to be strong. Because if I try to be tough, I get all numb and irritable and mojo-less. It isn't pleasant, and overcoming it is a lot more involved than just washing my face and hiccuping a little.

Even knowing that, even being married to a man who doesn't fear tears, sometimes I get overwhelmed and busy and there is just so much to deal with, and without realizing it I start shutting it down. And then I wonder where did Lucy go? Because you can't feel like yourself while trying to avoid your feelings. You can't go around, you have to go through. At least, I do, if I don't want to be numb inside. And I can't stand numbness. I would MUCH rather struggle through yoga with tears and a runny nose than THAT!

I'm feeling much better now.

I'm Just a Teeny-Tiny Wildabeest

2011-12-15T23:33:00.001-06:00

I'm going to say all the negative, whiny things I keep thinking, really fast and all together so I can get them out of the way.

Here I go.

Mylaptopisbroken,myChristmaslightsstillaren'tup,IkeepdoingthisthingwhereIfeelreallygrumpyrandomlyeventhoughIwasreallyhappyfivesecondsbefore,it'shardtotypewithoutusingthespacebar,I'malittlebittiredofdoingcraftyprojectsbutIstillhavecraftyprojectstodo,Idon'twanttogetgrumpyaboutChristmasbecauseIloveit,didImentionm ylaptopisbroken?I'mlonelysittinghereatourdesktopinthebedroomallalone!IfeellikeI'velostmybloggymojoandIdon'tknowhowtogetitback.I'mprettysureI'velostmybeingapersonmojo,too.WHEREHASALLMYMOJOGONE?Also,Ifeelfat.Andthedogateallmycuteshoes.Andtosumup,MYLAPTOP!

There! I feel a little better now!

(Please tell me you didn't try to read that. I'm pretty sure if you try to read that many words without spaces between them, you're going to get a brain tumor. Or discover the secret to life! But probably it's the brain tumor thing.)

I was hoping that if I did that, I could get it out the way and a brilliant! Funny! non-whiny! post would magically flow from my fingers.

.....

I guess not. It was worth a try, anyway!

Oh, but you know what? Joey and I are getting horribly addicted to Big Bang Theory around here. Like, in a major way. You probably already knew how awesome it is, because you're cool like that. Which means you'll appreciate how we're teaching Ariel to say "Bazinga!" We're working on pronunciation right now, and after we get that perfected we'll teach her how to use it in the correct context. "Daddy poopy...BAZINGA!"
Also, I can sound EXACTLY (no,really, EX.ACT.LY) like Bernadette if I choose. The only downside is I've spent so much time saying Bernadette's lines in Bernadette's voice to make Joey laugh, that now I catch myself talking like that unintentionally. "I don’t understand. I thought I was a teeny-tiny wildebeest!"

Besties!

2011-12-12T11:33:00.000-06:00

Joey rented The Help last night, because he knows how to make me happy, and also because the last movie he brought home was Cowboys and Aliens, and he likes to keep things balanced. Later I was cleaning up the kitchen and dreaming of those amazing dresses they all wore in the movie and WHY can't I dress like that every day?
"Who would I be if I was someone from The Help?" I asked him suddenly.
"The nice one, of course!"
"WHICH nice one?"
"The nice one that no one likes. Wait, no, people like you! I meant to say the HOT nice one."

source

Actually, he wasn't too far off the first time! But today I have PROOF that at least TWO WHOLE DIFFERENT PEOPLE like me! Yay!

I'm guest posting for two of my oldest and awesomest bloggy crushes today, ladies who have inspired me and encouraged me and befriended me and they both make the Internet a better place!

Erin is my kindred spirit of all things homeopathic and all-natural, although she pulls it all off with much more style than I could ever DREAM of! She's all kinds of fabulous, and all kinds of sweet and kind, too. She's one of my first blog friends ever, and getting to know her through comments and posts and emails is what originally encouraged me that you CAN find real friends online, like, a REALLY REAL friend you want to hang out with all the time. I'm pretty sure that we're just going to HAVE to meet up someday, so our girls can play together (and I can be mesmerized IN PERSON by her daughter's gorgeous icy blue eyes of perfection) and our husbands can X-box together and we can TALK AND TALK together! I'm over at her place today talking about the Abominable Snowman, Ebenezer Scrooge, the Winter Warlock, and Michael. You should go over there, and then you should follow her because yeah, she's AMAZING!

Sarah is one of the first blogs I ever archive-stalked! There is just something so wonderful in the essence of her writing that I never can get enough. Of course, I ran through her archives a long time ago, so now I just have to wait for new posts like a normal, non-blog-stalker person! Alas! She is gracious and sweet and... Heavenly! Sarah's girls are a little older than mine, and since I found her blog just a bit before Ariel was born, I have consciously tried to keep her maternal wisdom and patience in mind ever since. ALSO, she just recently had an adorable little boy, who I want to gobble up. WHILE talking and talking to Sarah. Multitasking at it's finest! I'm at her place telling my not-cute birth story today, and even you're too squeamish to read that, you should at least go over there and follow her. Don't say I didn't warn you when you get lost in her archives, though!

Christmas Books

2011-12-09T11:03:00.001-06:00

There now. Books for each of my students and homemade peppermint bark for all of my co-workers.

This year's booklist was, after much shopping and deliberation and switching things around again and AGAIN:

The Scarlet Pimpernel
Anne of Green Gables (to two different girls)
Right Ho, Jeeves
Black Beauty
Sophie's World
Little Women and Werewolves
Around the World in Eighty Days
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
Pride and Prejudice (to two different BOYS, with the explanation that any man who learns from Mr. Darcy will be irresistible to the ladies)
The Invisible Man
The Cross and the Switchblade
Catching Fire
Pippi Longstocking
Eragon
Surviving the Applewhites
Treasure Island
My Side of the Mountain
The Secret Garden
Dear Mr. Henshaw
Frankenstein
The Swiss Family Robinson
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
Peter Pan
White Fang
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
Charlie St. Cloud
A Wind in the Door
Gulliver's Travels
Endless Night
Where the Red Fern Grows
A Swiftly Tilting Planet
Villette

By now they all expect me to give them books, and most were actually excited to see what they got and to judge if I knew them well enough to pick out a book they would enjoy. I try. I try to think of a book where the main character or the theme reminds me of how the student seems to think of themselves. It's not really what you'd call an exact science.

Joey and our new boy (let's call him Michael, shall we?) just left for a weekend basketball tournament, which I'm not exactly thrilled about. I was privately feeling pretty grumpy about it, actually, because Joey will be gone all weekend essentially and it will be hard for me to accomplish everything that I usually get done over a weekend. My weekends are always filled with the laundry, cleaning, and grocery shopping that I don't have time for during the school week. But this morning, after they left and I was trying to figure out everything that had to get done, I realized... OH. CHRISTMAS BREAK NOW. I don't have to rush to get things ready for Monday because I don't have to work on Monday. Not until January. So there, laborious tasks! Take that!

So no rushing around getting things accomplished today. We're watching Sesame Street and eating our way through the mountain of Christmas cookies and treats that my students gave me, and I'm planning how to spend all the super awesome gift cards that they gave me and it's SO NICE to not have a busy day. I may actually be able to catch up on blogs and emails today!

Finding My Welcome Mat

2011-12-07T07:32:00.000-06:00

Last night I should have wrapped all my presents for my students. Really, I should have. It's there in my planner, all organized and scheduled so I won't have more than one huge project per evening this week.
Instead I cleared all the toys out of our playroom, inflated air mattresses, made an unexpected run to Target for some much-needed basics, and washed a small, lonely load of laundry.

This morning I should be posting a picture of stacks of cheerfully wrapped presents and a list of all the books I'm giving the students this year because Hi, English teacher here. OF COURSE I am giving you books. You're WELCOME. That's what I had planned to post today. But instead I'm thinking about...I'm not exactly sure...transience and permanence and how to accept the one while embracing the other.

A new teenager has come to stay with us, and you never, ever, ever met a boy more in need of mothering. Or coaching. This is our plan for our family, you know. For Joey to coach and me to mother lots more than our own kids. We're a team like that. It wasn't exactly our plan for this wee little house, but while putting away a truly minuscule amount of personal belongings last night, I was struck by the wild extravagance of our having had an entire room just for toys. While Joey and our new boy were away at their basketball game last night I turned the playroom into a teenaged den as best I could. It isn't a very good den yet, still having pink walls and being lit by a VERY pretty pink crystal chandelier...but it was the best I could do in one evening.

The whole time I prayed prayers and thought thoughts and I'm really not sure how to put them into words. It's hard to open your heart to a child (and I don't care how big and bad and tough, he really IS a child) when you have the full knowledge that they may not stay there long. That they might stumble and make bad choices, that permanence and family are sometimes concepts too foreign. Accepting that and hanging an extra stocking up anyway is hard for me. My heart always craves consistency and stability and roots. I dislike impermanence. So it would be much easier for me to open my home and not my heart. But that would be wrong... and cowardly... and certainly not maternal. I struggled with my cowardice last night while I snipped the tags off of new t-shirts and stocked a cabinet with teenager-friendly snacks. I think I will continue to struggle with it for a long, long time, far past this present situation, probably. But I am hopeful, and I will try, and I will hang up another stocking over our fireplace for now.

Feeling Merry And Bright

2011-12-05T07:34:00.001-06:00

I am really, REALLY feeling Christmas this year. Like, a LOT.

I always love Christmas, but this year it seems better somehow. I feel like I'm getting a handle on how our family does Christmas, and I like what we're doing. Also, the girlies are a bit older, and I can see how much fun we're going to have in the Christmases-yet-to-come!

And they're so much fun NOW! They are especially diggin' the bootleg Advent calendar I rigged... just envelopes with cute numbers strung up in the hallway. Every evening we count how many more days till Christmas and open an envelope up to find Andes mints and a Christmas coloring page. We're big on counting right now. And coloring. And eating Andes mints.

We got a lot of our shopping knocked out this weekend, and THAT was fun, too. Nessie had her first ride on the carousel at the mall...

...which was deemed both fun AND scary and I'm just gonna climb off this horse now and hold onto you for the rest of the ride, okay? Okay then. Cool.

We did a little divide and conquer, at one point. Joey took Nessie to run several errands while Ariel and I hit up the used bookstore for my annual buy-books-for-all-the-students marathon. Ariel loves books, so she was pretty much an ideal shopping buddy. ~~Until she peed a little on the bookstore floor but nevermind that! moving on!~~ We were there for at least two hours, and it was kind of wonderful to spend some time just the two of us together.

Also Christmas-related... my Shutterfly cards came! I won a giveaway on this awesome girl's blog and oh. em. gee. am I glad I did! I'm so happy with these! I'm a total Shutterfly convert now!

Love. LoveloveloveloveLOVE!

And after a ridiculous trip to Big Lots yesterday afternoon with Joey and Kanga, we're ready for all the myriad gift exchanges we do every year. I still have a lot to do, especially wrapping up all those books and making candy for my co-workers before Thursday, which is the last day of school! But it feels like the perfect amount of busy, and presents make me happy, and, and... I *heart* Christmas, is what I'm saying.

Now someone please tell me where I can buy an Elf on the Shelf because those guys look like a LOT of fun!

But I Totally Got The Last Laugh

2011-12-03T01:35:00.000-06:00

So those exams? Included a section where the students had to show that they knew how to use a pre-writing technique I taught them... I give them an issue and they come up with arguments for and against and it's all very useful. For the test I asked who would win in a fight, Superman or Spiderman. And I got this...

Well, yikes! What a horrifying thought!

Anyone at all familiar with dyslexia and invented spelling can easily see that he meant to write Superman. But it would take a FAR MORE professional educator than myself to not die of suppressed laughter at this. Because suppress it I did, HEROICALLY. The poor student was anxiously watching me to see how he had done on his exam, so I kept my face all impassive like you wouldn't BELIEVE and sent him back to his desk to study something else while I finished checking his work. And then I snapped this picture all sneaky-like and texted it to Joey. Because my maturity and sense of decorum have very finite limits and I had to diffuse my inappropriate and impending giggles SOMEHOW.

Flying sperm. Yeesh.

Sorry, Did You Say Something?

2011-12-01T07:56:00.001-06:00

Yesterday all my students had exams... so yesterday I explained exam instructions about fifty bazillion times. By my last class I was fairly PELTING the students with verbal instructions, making them repeat back everything I said, asking if the would SWEAR BY ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY that they understood what to do.
"Good then. You can just take your exams and not ask me the same questions over and over!" I chirped manically, passing out Blue Books more vigorously than was absolutely necessarily.

"Um, okay? What are you talking about?" Asked one boy, confused by my vehemence over what seemed like such straightforward written instructions.

"I think what she means is she's in a bad mood, so don't annoy her." Stage-whispered another.

I thought of migranes and hormones and reports that need to be finished and exhaustion and the desperate need for more patience and gentleness and the wearying effects of telling them exactly what they needed to know, only to be ignored over and over and OVER, and the fine line I constantly walk of special needs issues versus character issues.

"Close enough. Now be quiet and take your exams." I answered.

Five minutes later I hear the inevitable, "Hey Mrs. V., what are we supposed to do for Section B again?"

Then my head exploded and exams were canceled due to my untimely demise. The end.

Oh, Oh! AND! Actual text I sent my husband during my first class, REGARDING TWO SENIORS: "E just threw a McGriddle at A's head. During an exam."
And his response: "AGAIN?"

Yeah.

If A Flood Comes, This Will Probably Save Our Lives

2011-11-28T07:25:00.000-06:00

Okay, so, the biggest yarn wreath EVER? I will tell you all about it.

Kanga and I were looking at pretty pretty yarn wreaths on Pinterest a while back, and I made a small autumn wreath and was happy with it. But that Kanga, she is an innovator. She said how she thought you could make a REALLY BIG wreath on the cheap if you used those foam pool noodles. And as soon as she said it, I knew I had to make one to go on the big, annoying stone fireplace thing in my living room that goes right up to the ceiling, which I have left blank these past two years because I didn't know what to put on it. HAD. TO.

So during the course of this lovely week off that we're saying goodbye to, I asked Joey to get two old pool noodles from the garage for me. When he brought them inside and asked me bemusedly what I was going to do, the ONLY reasonable response was, "I'm going to go swimming, duh." When I explained the real plan, he was only slightly less skeptical. "That's just crazy." He informed me. I told him it was his mother's idea. "Yeah, well there's a fine line between genius and, you know, just crazy."

Undaunted, I duct taped the noodles together (I would recommend finding two noodles of the same actual shape, but whatever, you work what your husband brings you from the garage) and started wrapping my Very Large Flotation Device with scratchy cheap yarn.

It soon became clear that the neon colors of the noodles and tape were going to show through no matter how carefully I wrapped the yarn. Fortunately, Kanga had the idea of wrapping the noodles with white fabric before I wrapped it with yarn, so I undid the bit I had done and wrapped the Very Large Flotation Device with strips of an old sheet.

Like a mummy. Then I started over with the yarn, which went MUCH faster over fabric than it had over neon foam. Go figure. But don't be fooled, this thing took FOREVER. AND FOREVER. And then a little longer. I didn't finish it all in one day, although I DID do the bulk of it on Saturday. But then, finally, just when I thought I would be yarn-wreathing for the rest of my life, it was complete.

"Yeah... it looks like a giant egg." Decided my husband after he hung it up for me.
"Pfft. I could sell this on Etsy for like fifty dollars." I retorted, unoffended.
(I KNOW it looks kind of like an egg. And I know how to fix that too, because it WAS a circle before it was hung up - well, mostly, those flowers might be strategically placed but whatever- it's just heavy and... noodly. But I don't know that I WILL fix it, because I'm weird and kind of like it as an oval.)
"Really? It's kind of growing on me...you should make more!" He changed his tune. Especially after Kanga corroborated that I could sell it for MORE than fifty dollars, due to it's hugeness.

I don't know, though, why anybody would buy something like that on Etsy when they could just make it themselves. Also, I'm kind of yarn-wreathed out. Except for the pretty Christmas one that I'm planning to make this coming weekend....

Boys: A Different Species Altogether

2011-11-26T22:48:00.000-06:00

"You should be so proud of me," I told Joey a few minutes ago. "I'm doing the dishes. I've been working SO HARD all day long and I don't want to do anything else, but I'm DOING these freaking dishes anyway."

"I am proud of you! You HAVE worked hard today!" He agreed. And I really have, you guys.

(five loads of laundry, cleaned the house, vacuumed twice, re-organized our closet again, put away the fall decorations, decorated the Christmas tree, put out all the other Christmas decorations including the garlands, oh dear Lord the garlands, made a felt Christmas tree centerpiece, made the world's largest yarn wreath - no seriously, I used old foam pool noodles and it's very very enormous, oh and you know, looked after two small children all day and fed them and entertained them and gave them baths and put them to bed... and those are just the highlights.)

"I have! And I'm GOING to get these dishes done, too."

*a pause*

"You should be proud of ME, babe. I've gotten so much done in my game today." Says that husband of mine, and I crack up. "No, seriously. I think I leveled up FIVE times today."

Mmmhhmm.

Thankful

2011-11-24T10:48:00.001-06:00

For crisp cool air and glowing sunlight and finally turning leaves and acorns crunching under foot. For a nest to feather and meals to cook and plans to make.

For soft, soft curls and rosebud lips and sweet chubby cheeks. For her precious head resting on my chest every time we snuggle in the rocking chair.

For kisses and hugs and snuggles. For "I muv yoooo, Mama."
For new adventures and explorations and dreams and new words every day and "I go school, Mama?"

For a man who cracks me up, who insists I sleep in, who makes my heart beat faster. For forever and ever and ever with him.

For all the beautiful little things I always dreamed of, and more. For pretty little jackets and sweet bows and Winnie The Pooh and my babies dancing and singing and clapping and playing together.

For family and love and laughter. For grace never-ending.

Home Makeover Fever, I Has It

2011-11-22T12:30:00.001-06:00

So remember how I said a while ago that I was determined to re-do my ugly bedroom? Well. It has been done.

My mama and I scored some awesome yard sale/ thrift store/ craft store stuff, and last weekend, Kanga called me up and told me that she was going to take me to IKEA and get a new desk for me. I forgot, for a few minutes, that I had blogged about looking for one, and I was all, Whoa. She knows EVERYTHING. She must have superpowers! Maybe my children will inherit them! Then I remembered, but still. How awesome is that? Nobody has a better mother-in-law than I do!

Since I had everything I needed, and plenty of free time, I decided to fix the bedroom once and for all, and have seriously done NOTHING else for the past two days. The girls had pajamas-and-movies day yesterday while I hot-glued fabric flowers like a crazy woman. Parenting win! But it is FINISHED FOR REALS ~~except for a few things here and there that I still want to do, because OF COURSE~~. Also, I don't like the wall color still, but Joey is morally opposed to painting unless absolutely forced, and I was already making him move heavy stuff and get rid of a truly enormous behemoth TV, so I didn't think it would be nice to push the issue.

I'm not showing you before pictures of the bedroom, because yeah, it was THAT BAD. Think all the stacks and stacks of not-baby-proof stuff that you don't have time to deal with, accumulated in one room. Plus a lot of dust. So no, no before pictures of the room, but here are some before pics of the STUFF that I transformed.

So big old garage sale frames, a lampshade, etc...

Plus copious amounts of mod podge and hot glue, an old sheet (for fabric flowers), chicken wire, ribbons, buttons, a recycled book (THAT was a hard choice, let me tell you! I couldn't rip up a book I wanted to read again, but I didn't want to use a book I didn't like, either. I ended up using a copy of Anne of Windy Poplars, one of my favorite books, that I had picked up at a thrift store, since I intend to buy a whole matching set of all the Anne books) and my pretty, pretty fabric - Pride and Prejudice fabric, Kanga calls it. And voila!

(the swirlies and font for the happily ever after is totally copied from this, but painting it onto book pages was my own idea, I think. It's hard to tell sometimes. And I just made some fabric flowers from leftover scraps after I'd finished the curtains, and pinned them to the duvet, for matchingification. Totally is a word now.)

(Also my own idea, I think. The leaves are made out of book pages... I think I want to put some fabric behind it, but I didn't have any on hand that I liked for it.)

(Mr. Darcy called. He approves of these curtains. I think they need some sheers to be complete, though.)

(You can't be addicted to Pinterest and not make one of these jewelry hangers. I'm pretty sure it's against the law.)

(Loverly new desk! Which, you can't really see well in the picture, alas! Take my word for it, it's PERFECT. Also there's a little drawer thingy that I mod-podged over with book pages, you just can't see it really, and a garage sale letter-sorter-thing and a bulletin board made with MORE leftover fabric and a chair I got at IKEA, the slipcover of which I am kind of tempted to dye navy blue or yellow, but I should probably NOT dye yellow because of the wall color. I probably shouldn't have any yellow with that wall color, but I WANTED SOME YELLOW BECAUSE I LOVE IT.)

And there you have it. There are still things I want to tweak, but OMG it's quite an improvement. The best part was that Joey left for an away game last night while everything was still an unholy mess, and I had it practically finished when he came home, and he was all impressed. He hadn't been very enthusiastic about anything I was doing from my explanations and descriptions, but when he SAW it he was like, OHHH I LIKE IT, YOU CLEVER, TALENTED WOMAN! WELL DONE, MY DOMESTIC GODDESS! Which is pretty much how dinner goes every night, too.

I don't know whether to be happy or appalled that I'm already planning like five other crafty nest-feathery projects for the rest of this break. Either way, I should probably do some laundry first.

At Our Leisure

2011-11-19T15:52:00.002-06:00

And just like that...

Our pace slowed blessedly down and we can all sleep in, and snuggle, and play, and take our time.

We can plan and talk and take our sweet little girls to a movie in the late morning, and the carousel in the mall afterwards.

We can turn a simple hand-washing after a sticky snack into an unhurried splash session in the sink.

We can breathe a little easier.

Honest Mistake

2011-11-18T10:11:00.000-06:00

One sure way to tell if you are rushing around too quickly and with too many things to do in the mornings? You attempt to make apple slices with cinnamon and sugar for your children's breakfast, but...yeah...

...that cumin looks DECEPTIVELY like the cinnamon. Right? It's not just me?

I did not feed my children apple slices with cumin and sugar, but I can't claim that I wasn't tempted. I very virtuously rinsed the apple slices and started over, and their breakfast just smelled slightly like Indian food and they didn't care at all.

But oh, thank goodness that it's Thanksgiving break now. Seriously. I think I am exactly ONE school day away from keys-in-the-fridge-and-milk-in-my-purse levels of distractedness.

We Got Spirit

2011-11-16T08:13:00.000-06:00

My girls are ALL ABOUT cheering, these days. We only go to home games, so when Joey has an away game, Ariel gets MIGHTILY upset that he's going to a basketball game and we're staying home. She has thoroughly discovered the lure of performing.

And Nessie has discovered the lure of pom poms, which are the BEST THING EVER OMG!

They are the cutest things ever, and wonderfully supportive of Daddy's Team. If nothing else, the boys appreciate Ariel's unique pronunciation of the word "falcons."

(Think about it. Uh-huh. It sounds JUST like THAT OTHER WORD BEGINNING WITH F, and she yells "GO FALCONS" at the top of her lungs continually. I die.)

All Her Paths Are Peace

2011-11-14T13:04:00.000-06:00

Am I blogging at school on my lunch break instead of grading things or planning things? Oh yes, yes I am.

I also had to step out to talk to the vet and tell him that we had to put Maya to sleep this afternoon. He agreed, and was nice and supportive and everything, but I still feel like a monster.

I also had to step into Joey's classroom for a bit to sniffle into his shoulder when he probably should have been explaining quadratic equations or something equally horrifying.

And it's okay. It's a family here, after all, and sometimes sad things happen and sometimes people cry. Somehow, that makes our family a little bit stronger, I think.

If, for a few minutes there are some teenage boys not learning about quadratic equations, but instead beseeching that I stop crying before I make THEM cry, or doing silly things (like drawing on their faces with marker or committing mild acts of physical violence against one another because, well, those are the first things that pop into their heads) to make me smile? I actually think that's an important kind of learning, too. And there are few things more comforting than times like that, when I get to see the sweet hearts that lie just under those marker mustaches and noogie-rumpled hair.

The verse we had in devo this morning was from Proverbs, talking about wisdom... "Her ways are pleasant ways and all her paths are peace." I talked to my class about how we could maybe take this to mean that if we don't feel at peace, that might be a good indication that we aren't acting in wisdom. I've been thinking about that all weekend, actually. I really like it. After this morning, though, I realize that I should have also said that sometimes you can be at peace regarding something, but still be sad. That peace sometimes involves tears.

That can be hard to remember.

7 Quick Takes

2011-11-11T13:14:00.000-06:00

I guess it's a Quick Takes kind of day!

1.) My cat has been at the vet since yesterday morning, and I'm worried. The VET is worried, which worries me, as he is a very soothing, positive kind of person. But yeah... yesterday we were getting ready for work and she wandered into our closet and started have seizures. She couldn't pick up her head or keep her balance. And since we HAD to get to work, I felt like the most horrible person in existence for leaving her there, alone, shivering. Ugh. I called the vet as soon as I got to my classroom and then Joey sent his math class into my room with worksheets while he took poor Maya to the vet. Apparently she is starving and dehydrated, which makes NO sense considering the constant supply of food and water she has access too. So. That happened.

2.) A select group of my students think it's AWESOME how I'm as geeked out over the release of a video game as they are. I'm mildly embarrassed to like a video game so much, but they are happy about it, and spent a lot of time asking me, "But Mrs V., did you do that one quest in the last game? Did you know about that one thing you can get? Coach said you logged A MILLION hours, is that true?" (no, not a million). When I got a text alert about my pre-order being available in the morning, my status as a gamer chick was pretty much sealed. Until they found out I don't play Halo.

3.) When I'm not being a giant nerd this weekend and hogging Joey's 360, I plan to hit up a lot of thrift stores with my mama. I'm in search of a new desk... a small little desk as opposed to the mountainous beast that's currently taking up a third of our bedroom. Our bedroom is easily the ugliest room in the house, OF COURSE, because no one sees it when they visit. But lately I have decided that I want a beautiful bedroom and I WILL have one! Pinterest is either aiding me or egging me on, depending on your perspective.

4.) Basketball season is in full swing now... we had a home game on Tuesday and another tonight and from here on out it will just be a lot more of the same. My poor babies may never recognize a regular schedule again, since we'll be attending all the home games as Cheerleaders. A role that Ariel takes very seriously ever since she found out it garners APPLAUSE. She went back out on the court after the girls did their first halftime cheer and performed a loooong spinning dance routine of her own device for the gym. And they clapped and cheered for her because she's adorable and they aren't dead inside.

5.) The next day? She spent a long time setting up toys in orderly rows and then performing a "show" for them. Kind of a ham, that one!

6.) I wrote 1 through 5 at home, but I'm finishing this post up on my phone, while getting my hair done. Bleach, it burns, is all I have to say about that!

7.) I've been so focused on keeping my head above water this semester that I was truly shocked yesterday, while lesson planning, to discover that the semester is almost OVER! Just one week till thanksgiving break, and after that is only TWO weeks till Christmas break! I always forget how short our first semester is, probably because it's always FILLED with behavioral issues as we acclimate the kids (and their parents) to the school philosophy.

Okay! I hope I can figure out the linking stuff on my phone! If not, I'll have to go back and fix it when I get home.

Go see more Quick Takes at Conversion Diary!

Things That Make Me Happy

2011-11-06T16:36:00.000-06:00

All you sweet people/ having a space where I can actually say what is on my heart, with complete honesty. That makes me VERY happy.

An extra hour of sleep this morning! And feeling more rested, in general, than I have in a long time. Not from just one extra hour of sleep, but that helped. I kind of feel like I've had a chance to regroup and am ready to go forth! and conquer! some more!

My craft supplies organized all pretty-like. I've been jonesing for a big armoire-turned-craft-cabinet-thing, but I don't have space for one anywhere. Enter Pinterest and the smartest idea ever! A shoe organizer hanging on the inside of my closet door! MUCH better than random Hobby Lobby bags stuffed full of junk hanging out in the closet! This was the icing on the cake of my weekend project: Cleaning All The Closets FOR REAL.

And speaking of crafty stuff! All these pep rally projects for tomorrow that are FINISHED thanks to Kanga's help! I didn't really feel like doing any projects after the Great Halloween Costume Making Extravaganza, but it was better with company. And now it's done!

The new seafood restaurant that Joey had us all try for lunch today-YUM!

Going shopping and finding exactly what I was looking for.

Big Bang Theory marathons snuggled up with Joey.

Clean house, clean laundry, fridge full of groceries... the hallmarks of a successful weekend.

Nessie's scary growl-laugh. It's cute, but kind of terrifying.

Kanga showed me the trailer for One For The Money... it's going to be AWESOME!

The amazing job Ariel did of cleaning up a mess this morning. She shouldn't have made the mess, and she knew it, but oh my goodness did she rock at cleaning it up.

Long hot baths with lavender epsom salts. And a book.

And lots and lots of other things.

Mirror, Mirror

2011-11-03T15:26:00.000-05:00

I don't think I am pretty.
I think I have moments where I maybe appear pretty, or look okay, but that's as far as I'm willing to go. I know what I see in the mirror.

I don't like it when people tell me that I'm pretty...it makes me sad. I always feel like they're being sarcastic or making fun of me or being nice. I've told several of my students this year to please stop complimenting me, because it makes me uncomfortable. Because I know what I see in the mirror.

When Joey tells me I'm beautiful, I wince as my mind leaps to all the things that are wrong with my appearance. Surely he's just engaging in wishful thinking. He gets upset that I never believe him, that I can't just accept a compliment, that I ask him if he wishes I were hotter. I apologize, but I know what I see in the mirror.

It's physically painful sometimes, being so aware of how ugly I am. It makes me want to cry. Most days I can get over myself and forget about appearances and enjoy life. But to be told I'm pretty, when I know I'm not, brings it all rushing to the surface. Because I know what I see in the mirror, and I see every deformity of my soul incarnate in my face.

In the past week I have been complimented much more than usual about my appearance. Randomly. I won a Halloween costume contest (which I had NOT wanted to enter) for the "prettiest" category. I walked past a group of kids getting ready to go to a basketball game and Joey told me later that a girl told him that wow, his wife was really pretty. This morning a student meant to tell me I was being nice, but said pretty instead, then blushed and stuttered and stumbled away. Lots of little things like that, all running on the same theme. And so frequently that I'm being forced to notice my reaction to compliments.

When I spend time getting ready in the morning, I'm making an effort to look normal or not disgusting. I'm not aiming for pretty. But all this convergence of compliments makes me wonder...if there is some sort of synchronicity at work. They say that girls who grow up without fathers have self-esteem issues, and I'm sure that's true. I hope it's true, because that means my babies will always feel beautiful. And I wonder if my Father is sending me messages of love right now, or at least some kind of immersion therapy. Either way I'm getting the idea that now is the time to learn how to open my eyes to see all the beauty of His soul incarnate in my face.

I would much, much rather learn anything else right now, to be perfectly honest.

But I do know enough to know that it's fairly pointless to try and go against synchronicity.

Candy Smackdown, Valiant Style

2011-11-01T22:36:00.000-05:00

Wait, what's that you say? People will be coming to the door for our candy?

Lets check this thing out.

Oh HECK no!

Okay girls, forget defense. It's time to go on the OFFENCE. Attack!

And bring the big guy. Just in case.

Victory. It's sweet. Like all this candy.

Best not take on Team Valiant when candy is on the line.

Trick Or Treat!

2011-10-31T09:33:00.000-05:00

Oh yes. Yes he did.

MORE Fall Fun!

2011-10-30T09:25:00.000-05:00

Today I will be recovering from our crazy day yesterday...actually, our whole crazy weekend of business. And by "recovering" I naturally mean "carving pumpkins, baking and decorating cupcakes, and sewing trick-or-treat bags that match my daughters' costumes. But in my yoga pants."

That's what that means, right?

Right now the girls are sleeping off their sugar crashes, brought on by helping me run a booth at our school's Fall Fest for four hours and then attending two consecutive birthday parties. That was our day... all sugar filled overstimulating events, PRECIOUS LITTLE napping. I was anticipating... well, Hades, to tell you the truth, but my toddlers are way more awesome than I give them credit for, apparently.

There weren't any potty accidents, or meltdowns (Ariel started to throw a fit, at the end of the last birthday party, but as soon as I asked her if we needed to leave the party she got it together. The favor bags hadn't been passed out yet, and there was NO WAY she was leaving without one) and I didn't feel overly sorry for myself any more than usual!

I DID have lots and lots of help running the activities at my booth

Nessie was occupied with emptying containers... of anything. The pumpkins for the pumpkin decorating table, the prizes for the duck pond, the ducks FROM the duck pond....

Ariel was much more active, but there was still plenty to keep her occupied. She got her nails painted, she decorated a pumpkin (and I think I discovered a hidden babysitting GEM in one of my students, who helped her with that pumpkin for thirty minutes, and the ANGELS SANG HALLELUJAH) she played in the bounce house, she got another of my students to take her fishing for prizes and returned with several new dolls.

She sat quietly and watched the magic show at the booth next to us...

...for about five minutes, until the first time the audience applauded for performer. Then I glanced up and noticed her sidling along the front of the stage area, still quietly, but with tell-tale footwork and booty-shaking moves.

I scooped her up, trying not to be disruptive. And she wailed, loudly, "But MAMA, I gotta sing a SONG!"

I love that crazy little ham!

Now! To carve pumpkins! And bake stuff!

The Ridiculous And The Sublime

2011-10-26T08:08:00.000-05:00

SHHWOOOOOOOOSH goes a big jet overhead, while Joey and I are snuggled up in bed the other night.
Joey: There have been a LOT of jets tonight.
Lucy: I was just noticing that.
Joey: Weird. Don't you think that's weird?
Lucy: Mmmmhmm.
Joey: I mean, especially since there's no Benny.
Lucy: Huh?
Joey: Benny...
Lucy: What are you talking about?
Joey: I was just channeling my dad for a second there. You know, Benny and the Jets...?
Lucy: Wow. That was a JOKE? I expect so much better of you that it didn't even register as an attempt at humor.
Joey: I'll just avoid eye contact for a little while.
Lucy: I think that would be best.

You want to read about how we fell in love and became the dynamic bantering duo we are now? I wrote about how it all started over at the lovely Jade's Pinnacle Moment series today!

Autumn Adventure

2011-10-24T07:02:00.000-05:00

Joey and I don't have to work on Fridays...ever... because our school is awesome like that and goes four days a week. I know, you hate me. I understand.

This school year we've been making an effort to use those Fridays for family adventures. Most places are less crowded then because most people are still stuck at work or school, and it's an awesome way to start the weekend and have fun.

This past Friday (and yes, I realize this would be a good post for SATURDAY or even SUNDAY, but we had such a nice weekend together that I couldn't be bothered to post until now, when I'm busy pretending that I don't have to go to work in a few short hours) I got everyone ready. "Do you want to go have an ADVENTURE?" I asked Nessie. She said yes, in her own Nessie way, which involves face splitting smiles, emphatic nods, and bouncing up and down. Ariel was likewise excited, so away we went to a pumpkin patch!

There was a petting zoo:

And pumpkins:

And a hayride:

And a hay maze:

And...there where... prepare yourselves, this was pretty epic according to Ariel:

PONY RIDES:

It was a very successful adventure, all told. And Oh Em Gee, I love this toddler-centric life. Toddlers are so much fun! Even if they make you walk slowly in a circle, hunched over in an unflattering posture, avoiding stepping in piles of poo so they can ride a pony. Twice.

WHY, CHARLES, WHY??

2011-10-20T23:14:00.001-05:00

(You can maybe skip this post if you are like, a mature adult)

I have probably mentioned a time or two that the big downside of reading unedited, original versions of classical literature is the words... that used to mean innocent things... but now mean decidedly NOT innocent things. Except for Shakespeare, which is kind of the opposite, actually. But I'm not reading Shakespeare OUT LOUD TO FIVE CONSECUTIVE CLASSES EVERY DAY right now, am I?

No. I am reading Charles Dickens. Which is totally amazing and beautiful and I'm pretty sure that immersing myself all that rich, wonderful writing is slowly but surely refining my brain cells. Except when it's not. Like today.

Because today I had to read THIS sentence, to five different classes:

"The heartiness of the ejaculation startled Mr. Dick exceedingly; and me, too, if I am to tell the truth."

YIKES! I AM KIND OF STARTLED, MYSELF!

Admit it, you giggled. Yes, you did, too.

Some of the older students got called in to the principal's office today to discuss their habit of talking about inappropriate things. I have a bad feeling that my name came up in the course of that conversation, as an aider and abetter. But honestly, I only laughed the first time I read it! All the rest of my classes I kept a PERFECTLY straight face and then explained how some words mean different things now than they did in 1850, so to please not use that word out in the rest of the world thinking it meant 'exclaim' or 'yell'. And I only said THAT because...once upon a time...when I was an innocent little home school girl... I made that EXACT mistake myself. True story. I THINK I CAN STILL HEAR THE LAUGHING AND MOCKERY!

Sheesh.

What Do You Mean...

2011-10-18T07:12:00.001-05:00

Doing two posts in a row about my genius children is overkill?

That's just crazy talk.

(I would have included this in my last post about my genius children, but it happened after I hit publish, and really, it's either this or pictures of the yarn wreath I made in an effort to Pinterest up my house.)

Ariel was sitting at the table the other day, with new sparkle crayons and a pile of printer paper, making "Happy Birthdays" which are, of course, things you give to other people while shrieking HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAY!!! and then you ask if maybe there is cake? Chockit cake? No? That's messed up, okay, THIS IS A BIRTHDAY AND AS SUCH THERE MUST BE CHOCKIT CAKE!

She was singing to herself as she colored, a kind of stream-of-consciousness singing, and I noticed that I was hearing "O....E....E...O...E....O...EEEEEEE!" a lot. "Are you singing about letters?" I asked her. "Mmmhmm, I singing E...O!" she answered. I smiled indulgently, thinking how cute she is.

In a few minutes she hopped down from the table and presented me with her paper, screaming HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOMMY!" and lo and behold...

THOSE ARE E'S AND O'S! SOME OF THE E'S ARE BACKWARDS BUT WHATEVER, MAN!

I think I must have forgotten to tell her that she's only two years old.

What's The Plural For Evil Genius?

2011-10-15T11:47:00.001-05:00

Ariel has a new NEW favorite stuffed dog these days. I think she keeps a rotation of favorites, but it's ONLY stuffed dogs that can be favorites or sleep in her crib. THIS dog, we've had for a long time, and he's only just recently risen to favorite status.

Only, it's not a dog. It's a baby. You might THINK it's a dog, what with how it looks like a dog (a Red Wolf, actually, someone bought it for her at a zoo gift shop) and goes around being shoved in people's faces saying "Arf! Arf! Arf! ARF ARF ARF!" in a high pitched voice. But you would be wrong. OH SO VERY WRONG. Woe betide the unfortunate soul who dares refer to this... baby... as a dog. Ariel stops whatever she's doing. She glares, with the burning fire of a thousand suns. She sticks her lower lip out in Great Displeasure. She folds her arms protectively around the Not A Dog Baby. In her very sternest, most intense voice she scornfully informs you, "NOT a dog. My baybee. Not a baybee doggie. MY BAYBEE." And then she and the Not A Dog Baby storm off in full Shunning You mode.

Seriously, you guys, I am required to put a DIAPER on this thing at bedtime. Because, duh, it's a Baby. It will totally pee in the bed. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?

It's so hilarious and cute, sometimes I die a little. She is so SMART! And CREATIVE! And NURTURING And that IMAGINATION, OMG! (I think this started when the Not A Dog Baby was somewhat mauled by our actual dogs -which happens to any toy that doesn't get put up before we leave the house, alas- and I had to stuff all the stuffing back in and sew it up. Ariel was very distraught, and all OH NO POOR BAYBEE BOO BOO! OH NOOO BAYBEEEEE! until everything was put back to rights. And from being a poor baby it became a regular baby...that's a perfectly logical progression, right?) I totally make genius children.

And I SO am anticipating the day a million years from now when she has her own HUMAN baby and some insensitive dummy makes one of those stupid comments that they like to make... you know, "Wow, your baby has a HUGE HEAD! Yikes! I feel sorry for her neck!" type thing... and Ariel hauls off and hits the stupid person in the face. With a frying pan.

AND THEN there's this child.

I don't let the girls take toys away from each other. If it was unoccupied, it's fair game, and you can just chill, is my rule. Ariel has sneakily thought of a way around this... if Nessie has a toy that Ariel MUST HAVE! SHINY! ALSO MY PRECIOUS! CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT IT! Ariel will offer her another toy... when Nessie drops the first toy to take the second, Ariel scoops it up before it actually hits the ground. No one cries in this scenario, so I'm okay with it.

But I think Nessie has figured out a way to outsmart this outsmarting. If you follow.

Today Ariel had some awesome blocks and she was building something awesome with them. So, no, Nessie, you SO cannot even LOOK at these awesome blocks. THEY ARE MINE ALL MINE!

I watched Nessie fuss a little in frustration, because man, those blocks were awesome. Then I watched her toddle aimlessly around the room for a minute, glancing around at various discarded toys. And then. She spotted The Not A Dog Baby, lying near the table where it had been eating cereal for breakfast earlier. Ariel NEVER lets Nessie TOUCH the Not A Dog Baby. She makes sure to always keep it in her possession.

I thought Nessie would be pretty happy with this turn of events... she might not have gotten those awesome blocks of awesomeness, but here she was pretty much guaranteed some Not A Dog Baby play time. But no... she picked the Not A Dog Baby up... toddled back to Ariel, smiling... plopped innocently down in Ariel's line of sight, as if she were just going to watch the awesome block project.

Ariel looked up in horror. "My Baybeeee!" She gasped. She looked at me, knowing I wouldn't let her snatch the Not A Dog Baby away from her sister. Then she hastily shoved the awesome blocks at Nessie, who happily dropped the Not A Dog Baby and scooped up the blocks that she had wanted in the first place.

I think she planned out the whole thing, I really do. Honestly, I'm a little scared. How long before these genius children are like, plotting to take over the world? WE MUST FIND A WAY TO CHANNEL THEIR POWERS FOR GOOD!!

This post brought to you by entirely too much cold medicine, which always makes me kind of loopy. In case you were wondering.

Five Minute Friday: Catch

2011-10-14T11:42:00.000-05:00

Catch.

I catch his cold. Of course I do! I thought I had made it through the contagious zone and was in the clear, but then BAM! It hits me like a ton of bricks, before I can even reach for the Airborne.

I hate catching a cold.

When he is sick, it makes perfect sense for him to lie in bed and rest as much as possible. Keep the germs away from the babies, save his energy, recuperate. I don't think twice about it. I can't say I have a ton of patience for the horrible whining of a Man Cold (I know you know what I mean) but it seems a given that he should stay in bed and rest until he's better.

But when I am sick? Staying in bed... away from my babies... seems shocking. Wrong. Selfish. Surely I am a bad mother to want to take some Nyquil and be unconscious, off the Mommy clock. I know they miss me, and oh, I miss them.

I'm staying in bed. I don't want to breathe germs all over them, and I want to be better as soon as possible. I'm bad at resting, so I sniffle through all 700+ pages of The Host, but at least I'm lying still. Outside the bedroom door I hear them chattering, laughing, watching tv.

I catch his cold. He catches my responsibilities. And he doesn't seem to mind a bit.

More over at Gypsy Mama's!

Let's Talk About... Sex? Maybe?

2011-10-10T15:24:00.000-05:00

Ummmm, yeah.

My writing has kind of come to a screeching halt lately, and it's taken me a while to figure out WHY it got difficult to move forward all the sudden. But then I did figure it out, because I always get there EVENTUALLY, it just takes me a while.

I've got these two main characters? And they're in love? And they just figured that out? And yeah. I'm not entirely sure what they should or should not be... you know...DOING.

source

I honestly never considered this aspect of fiction writing. It never crossed my mind to have an opinion about this.

I have no problem READING love scenes - even pretty, ahem, descriptive ones. For instance, I love me some Janet Evanovitch, which Kanga introduced me to but Joey refuses to believe that, because HIS MOTHER DOES NOT READ WORDS LIKE THAT!!

But WRITING love scenes? Awwwwkward.

So I think I should just not. Right?

But then I think, will that take you out of the story by seeming kind of hidden agenda-y or preachy or, like, flat?

I don't want my story to be flat.

But I really don't think premarital sex is a good idea.

(In theory, at least, I don't. In practice, well... NEVERMIND THAT.)

(overshare much?)

(See my dilemma? I happen to know for a FACT that soul mates don't necessarily care about whether or not Not Waiting For That is a "good idea" or whatever. And OF COURSE the main characters are soul mates. And I DO want my story to be realistic. But I don't want to promote, like, bad stuff.)

So... I can't make up my mind...and I'm pretty sure that I can't move forward until I DO make up my mind.

Which brings me to my point: What do YOU all think? In general? Do you hate love scenes in books? Or just kind of ignore them like I do? Or do you think they're kind of necessary to most love stories? Or, or, WHAT?
No matter what you say, at least one third of my brain is GOING to agree with you, because I am of SEVERAL minds on this. But maybe a lot of you could feel VERY STRONGLY one way and then I can go with that?

(Indecision, thy name is Lucy! Or, you know, whatever my name actually is!)

Help!

Fall Weekends Are For...

2011-10-09T21:13:00.000-05:00

Gardening (sans pants, of course)

Coloring together (somewhat amicably. kind of. momentarily.)

Football cheering

And mother and daughter in law activities faaaar more Pinteresting than football!

Not to mention spontaneous autumn picnics, just a mama and her babies.

Fall weekends are for magic, I'm pretty sure.

Invictus

2011-10-07T11:38:00.000-05:00

If you've noticed that this blog hasn't been terribly funny lately, don't think it's because I'm Going Into A Deeply Melancholy State. I mean, I am, a little bit, but that isn't the main reason for my lack of funny! No, the main reason is that lately everything funny (or NOT funny, but I could blog about it and MAKE IT BE FUNNY) has been happening at school and it wouldn't be prudent to blog about. Not prudent at all. But trust me, if I DID? You would be laughing. A LOT.

Also, I am Going Into A Deeply Melancholy State. Le sigh.

Mostly because I'm kind of discouraged about human nature and my students and WHATEVER HAPPENED TO HONOR AND COURAGE AND STRENGTH AND, AND COURAGE? AND STUFF. COULD WE ALL JUST, LIKE, RISE ABOVE IT AND KICK SOME BUTT PLEASE? Or at the very least, not turn into a pack of vicious hyenas at the least provocation? Yesterday I had to go cry in Joey's classroom during a passing period because I was just THAT disappointed in them. Later, he and I talked about it late into the night... the frightening desensitization that we see so much, where everything is mockable (no matter how horrible) and nothing is real and no one matters but yourself and you are never responsible for anything, since it doesn't matter anyway and was most certainly someone else's fault besides. We talked about a hundred things that contribute, while seeming harmless, to this numbing of the soul that happens every day.

I think I felt like this around the same time last year... when they were making Holocaust jokes. This year it's more a spirit of bullying and viciousness that just breaks my heart. They are better than that. Fortunately, I know I can DO something about it. I stopped them making Holocaust jokes last year and I'll stop them being hateful this year. It's just time to bring out the big guns, is all.

And I will be bringing out the big guns. Because I? WILL kick some butt. I'll kick it right into shape. Because I'd a THOUSAND times rather have to kick butt every day (which, let's face it, is a lot of work and often unpleasant) than go on all year with this hopeless feeling that I'm wasting my time.

I'm not wasting my time unless I accept that this is their best. And it isn't.

I make my oldest, roughest class memorize and recite the poem Invictus at the beginning of class every day.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade*,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

"Why don't you ever pick GOOD poems, Mrs. V?" Complains one student. I only smile at him. If I believe in the cumulative effect of all those little soul-numbing factors that he constantly bombards himself with, then I have to believe that my own bombardment can have some effect as well. And I won't be giving up.

*I almost wouldn't like Invictus because of those two lines...but... I love that even though he thinks he's pretty much destined for hell and he has no hope that things will ever get better for him, he holds onto his pride and honor and personal responsibility. Okay, I'm done being a huge English nerd now!

Daddy's Girl

2011-10-06T07:22:00.000-05:00

Every afternoon, as soon as we get home, Ariel asks me where Joey is. "He's still at work, running basketball practice!" I say. "Daddy's teaching the big boys how to play basketball!"

(Ariel is somewhat infatuated with all the 'big boys' that are always in and out of this house, and coyly calls many of them by name)

"I pay back-a-ball." She always answers. And I always agree, "Yes baby, Daddy will teach you how to play when you grow a little bit bigger."

When Ariel doesn't want to even taste ONE BITE of dinner (instead marching off to her play kitchen and announcing scornfully, "I cookin' dinner. I make chicken.") we remind her that she wants to get bigger and stronger so she can play basketball, right? And eating dinner is how we make our bodies grow...so...if you want to play basketball, you should probably eat a LITTLE TINY MORSEL OR TWO. And oh, look, now she's shoveling spoonfuls of mashed potatoes into her mouth as fast as she can!

I hope all of our children get Joey's amazing athletic (and mathletic!) genes. And I wonder, is this genetics? When Joey was a little tiny boy, he wanted to play back-a-ball just like HIS daddy. But I suspect it is less genetics and more the natural result of having a wonderful, loving father. Or if it IS genetics, it goes much deeper than just athletic predisposition.

I'm beginning to suspect it is coded in our DNA somewhere to want to do as our Father does.

link-up at Hyacynth's!

Daily Bread

2011-10-03T22:29:00.000-05:00

Every morning I make my family scrambled eggs for breakfast. Toast with butter and jelly - strawberry jelly. Barely ripe bananas. Orange juice or milk. Vitamins. Sometimes we mix it up with waffles and syrup, bacon if there is extra time, or maybe cereal if there's less, but usually this is breakfast.

Sometimes I revel in the prettiness of the healthy food arranged on clean white plates, sometimes I'm moving so fast I barely see what I'm serving. Sometimes I stop to be thankful that I can give them good food, sometimes I wish someone else would do it. Sometimes I sprinkle breakfast with love and happiness, sometimes I pepper it with bad temper and resentment.

Every morning I have to make breakfast anew. Every morning I have to choose anew how I will be, who I will be, how we will live. I make the meals and I set the tone, and usually I do those things simultaneously.

I used to think this was unreasonable. Actually, I still do, but I've accepted it. There's a freedom in accepting it, in knowing that just as surely as I will have to make breakfast each morning, I will also have to decide what kind of family we will be each morning.

After work I make dinner while the girls ~~squabble incessantly~~ play on the deck. I make steak and goat cheese salad and bread with herbed butter. The perfect mix of new indie stuff and old bluesy stuff plays on Pandora and the late afternoon sunlight streams into the kitchen. I wait for Joey to come home from running basketball practice, and amuse myself by wondering what coming home looks like to him.

I choose this. This is who we are.

Often I forget to choose it. Often I choose to rush and complain and resent the very things I love the most. Often I don't realize I'm choosing at all.

But no, I remember, I stop. I choose this.

Shadow And Sunlight

2011-09-30T15:39:00.000-05:00

Just now, I woke up from a restless night of anxiety dreams. (I planted a beautiful garden! but it made a big mess and people got mad at me! and then I was late picking up the girls! We went to a fancy hotel! But Joey got into a fight with the manager! Who took his revenge by charging us more than we could afford for crazy things! Like $700 for using the microwave! That kind of thing...) I settled onto the couch with my laptop and some coffee and a soft fuzzy robe...and a wild desire to burst into tears.

Everything is whirling around in my head, and I am so very poised for a terrible disaster that I am barely occupying the back half of my body, if that makes any sense. Every muscle is tensed for forward motion, for fight or flight.

Oh, anxiety attack. That's what this is called.

Racing through my brain (and my veins, it feels like) are a thousand things and they are all bad. Or could be bad. Or signify something bad. Some are valid (Joey's great-grandmother went to the ER last night) some are... not valid (I never manage to email responses to people who comment on my blog) but they are all equal in weight and depth of terribleness. This is how I know I'm not being rational.

I tried listing all the things so I could know them and own them and conquer them one by one. But there are more than I could list in an hour, if I typed without stopping the entire time. They are not dividable and they are not conquerable.

They are not conquerable.

My best way of coping with the horrible amounts of anxiety and worry that I carry around every day is to identify whatever it is that seems to be bothering my mind most frequently and obliterating it. Usually this works. Oh! Life isn't horrible, I just needed to take care of all the laundry! Problem solved! But... it isn't working now. The fact that I don't have enough TIME to fix all of the things I'm panicking about is yet another thing that I'm panicking about. I can't fix this.

*****

I wrote all that yesterday morning, but didn't have time to finish it because I had to get ready and make breakfast and get everyone else ready and go to work. No time for a panic attack! I squared my shoulders and pushed through the day, because I had no choice. But all day long the thought was in the back of my mind that I've never conquered my anxiety. I've learned to prevent it often and cope with it and function through it, but it is Always. There.

I don't like that.

Today has been better. There was a ferocious thunderstorm last night and today the weather is perfect and crisp and sunny. I slept -no lie- TWELVE HOURS last night and then had a lovely morning of going BY MYSELF to get my hair done and sipping a pumpkin spice latte and wandering around Barnes and Noble. I was rested and refreshed and relaxed.

Then I met up with Joey and the girls and we went shopping for Halloween costumes. Which is always ridiculously fun! Ariel was terrified of a large inflated green spider, but declared that she WANTED the cobweb-draped, eerily hissing, moving skeleton that was freaking ME out. Um, NO. And we ended up picking out a family theme of costumes, inspired by Joey's costume, which is SO AWESOME that I can't wait for it to be Halloween so I can show you all pictures! I seriously looooove how fun and what a good sport that man is.

But who knows when It will overwhelm me again, I wonder, under the laughing and sunshine and silly costumes. I don't know what triggered it yesterday and I hate knowing that randomly all my joy can evaporate and leave me gasping for air. It isn't pretty and it isn't reasonable and it turns everything I love doing into suffocating, insurmountable obstacles. My husband and daughters deserve better than this.

I don't know what to do.

New! With Weaker Immune System!

2011-09-25T20:02:00.000-05:00

So my family has caught a lovely stomach bug this weekend! Joey got it first, but essentially slept through the entire thing for most of Friday afternoon/ evening and has just been kind of tired since. Then Nessie got it, poor thing, but aside from throwing up and refusing all food (which, admittedly, was VERY ABNORMAL for her) she was pretty darn cheery until bedtime. That was yesterday...she's been perfectly fine today. Ariel hasn't had it at all, because she's a rockstar like that. Apparently sneaking spoonfuls of DIRT when playing outside and surreptitiously licking everyone's shoes (oh, how I wish I was joking on both counts...) will give you an AMAZING immune system. Or else she's just biding her time.

So it seems like it's a fairly short-lived bug. Six to twelve hours. Ish.

EXCEPT FOR ME, THE MAMA, THE PERSON AROUND WHOM ALL EXISTENCE REVOLVES.

So this thing is kicking my butt for 24 + hours now because:

a.) I'm just weaker and whinier than the rest of my family, in general.
b.) My immune system is all puny from not resting enough lately.
c.) I am exposed to everyone's germs more from taking care of them.
d.) It's hard to get better when you're rocking a fussy Nessie baby at 12 am, while shivering and aching from fever, because she wants her mama and no one else will do, and even though you are shivering and aching, ect., it IS awfully sweet how she just melts onto your chest all sleepy-like, as if you are the magic cure to all the world's ills.

I'm thinking a combination of all of the above, maybe?

And oh, look. Joey just came home with the girls - they had been at his parents house all afternoon while I followed his orders and rested and ignored the laundry that has been TAUNTING ME-and lo and behold. Ariel threw up on the way home.

No, you never did see a more pathetic sight. Never, ever.

Shocking Scientific Breakthrough!

2011-09-23T19:08:00.000-05:00

All week I have been increasingly more and more HIDEOUSLY EXHAUSTED. Not tired, mind you. HIDEOUSLY EXHAUSTED. The thought of moving or, heaven forbid, doing something, was enough to make me want to burst into tears. By Thursday I was too HIDEOUSLY EXHAUSTED to even read aloud to my English classes, so I set them to other, far less classical tasks while I huddled in my chair and desperately gulped coffee.
So rushing home, late, after picking up the girls, and finding THIS

When I had fifteen minutes to tidy up before Joey got home with some of his basketball players so we could take them to a school spirit night thing? Did not please me overmuch. That USED to be a lovely IKEA throw pillow.

This morning I did not get up at five thirty like usual. I slept in (well, until eight. I am incapable of sleeping past eight even when I have the chance) and then stayed in bed until TEN, while Joey got up with the girls.
Miraculously, I feel like a normal person now. Sleep! Who knew! It makes people not tired!

I even was rested enough that on top of cleaning the house and doing five gajillion loads of laundry (hi there, jerseys and shorts for the ENTIRE BASKETBALL TEAM! I'm looking at you!) I even managed to pot some mums that I'd bought earlier in the week! Because of Fall Is Here!

Ariel definitely got into the spirit of things.

We do love the feeling of digging into nice, chilly soil.

We love it A LOT.

I think maybe I'll try to sleep in a little more often.

"My Faults!"

2011-09-22T07:47:00.000-05:00

I was being a ridiculous, completely spoiled brat the other day to my husband. I don't even remember what about, but it involved a lot of pouting and turning my face away from kisses because I wasn't getting my way and mature behavior like that. Because I am seven years old, apparently. He grabbed me and pulled me into his lap and said OF COURSE I would be getting my way about...whatever it was. It must have been phenomenally important, since I can't even remember it.

Since I was getting my way, I apologized for being such a brat. Joey kissed me. "You are so adorable. I love how much of a brat you are." He said fervently.

Um, what?

Being a brat is a BAD thing, isn't it? I always thought so. It's immature and annoying and lots of other bad stuff. Surely not a quality that a man cherishes in his wife. But he was being totally serious there and I haven't stopped thinking about that statement of his for several days now.

He GAVE me that fault of mine and it stopped being a fault. It was powerless. He loved it and annihilated it's...faultiness.

I have a LOT of faults that I'm always trying to get rid of. I've been mentally listing them ever since that conversation, and I'm realizing that my husband CHERISHES my faults. I cry too easily...he loves how tenderhearted I am. I am needy and clingy...he loves how much I love him. I get overwhelmed... he loves fixing it. I don't know how to do lots of practical things... he loves showing me. I am insecure...he loves telling me how beautiful I am.

And I love his faults, too. The things he is vaguely embarrassed about, the things he tries to hide under a manly exterior, those are the things I love the most.

It's the places we think we're strong...fault-less...right that we fight about. Those are the things we have a hard time accepting in each other. Until we break them down to their most basic parts and find the flaw, and then we are able to cherish that flaw in a way we could never have cherished a strength.

I haven't exactly figured out the why of it. Some thoughts take a very long time to fully think.

But one thing I am sure of. Joey's love for me is a reflection...of a picture...of a far Greater love for us all. And the thought that He gives me my faults, cherishes them, loves them into flawlessness is like a deep calming breath. It makes me feel like I could maybe stop always trying to get rid of my faults and instead relinquish my strengths.

Hosted at Melissa's today!

Bring Home The Bacon

2011-09-20T22:53:00.000-05:00

Last night, part of the dinner I made was green beans and new potatoes (ORGANIC! Because I get to buy organic food again, yay!!), sauteed in bacon grease, with bacon crumbled aaaaalllll in it.
"Wow, you really went all out tonight!" Kanga complimented me later, when they came over to watch Jane Eyre with us and Joey dished up a plate for his dad and enthused about the delicious meal.

"Well," I admitted sheepishly, "it's just that I had to cook an entire package of bacon tonight so my art class can make real Paleolithic paint tomorrow with the grease, and I had to figure out SOMETHING to do with the bacon."

Because, you know, bacon grease plus ground ocher equals stinky caveman paint FOR REALS. Oh, and those ribs? I totally scrubbed and disinfected the bones and took them to school on Monday so we could have awesome bone handles for the AUTHENTIC paintbrushes that we made out of horsehair and sinew. If these kids can't tell you all about the Lascaux cave paintings after this, I give up.

Lately I keep thinking how funny and random my life is, and how much I love it. And dinner/art class preparation multitasking? WIN!

If You Lived In Texas?

2011-09-17T22:44:00.001-05:00

You could totally come over to my house and devour the most delicious ribs known to mankind.

I'M JUST SAYIN'!

NOM NOM. NOM.

Dancing In The Desert

2011-09-15T09:42:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a good day at work, but also a very LONG day. A lot of my students are having to learn to work harder than they are used to working, to respond with grace and courage when things are challenging. The process never ceases to fascinate me, this dance we dance as I push them to do more than they think they can do. I can see the potential shining through, so close! But the process of accessing that potential is so often... not fun for them. Not fun is practically blasphemy these days. So that potential has remained there, just out of reach for so long, until it's easy to think that it never was there at all, just a mirage in the desert, so why bother trying?

So we dance this dance in the desert, always moving closer to that mirage. Which always, always turns out to be an oasis.

But it would be a lie if I said that it didn't wear me out sometimes, this constant dancing. It's hard to remain calm and firm and detached and consistent but also loving and gracious and joyful all day long while hauling people forcefully out of the desert, and none of those things are really optional. Yesterday I was tired by the end of the school day.

And then I came home and ... Joey hurt his back horribly two days ago and hasn't been able to so much as put his own socks on since then, but he's worked anyhow. So I tried to make him comfortable and get him various things he needed and the extra sympathy he craves when he's hurt and schedule a massage for him but I don't know the number of the place and the internet was taking forever. And I had to make dinner right then and Ariel was zooming around the house shrieking like a (very cute) crack monkey, asking the same three questions over and over, getting into everything. And Nessie was taking hesitant steps, which called for applause EVERY time (which brought Ariel over so she could show us that LOOK, I'M WALKING! I WALK ALL THE TIME! CLAP FOR ME!) and she's just discovered the trash can so I had to stop her from pulling things out of it repeatedly, which made her scream at the top of her lungs and cling to my legs while I tried to make dinner and get things for Joey and answer THE SAME questions over and over and the dogs wouldn't stop BARKING and there was suddenly a very anxious email from a student's parent to answer, which I knew needed to be dealt with right away! And Nessie bumped her head on the table while trying to climb into my lap as I tried to answer the email and you thought she was screaming before? No, she was JUST WARMING UP then, THIS is screaming!

I scooped her up, slammed my computer shut, snapped at Ariel, threw a remote at to Joey and shrieked at the dogs to SHUT UP. And I added a general I CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE for good measure, then flung myself outside and onto the porch swing.

Nessie stopped crying instantly (oh the magic of Outside!) and I tilted my face away from her, up to the sky, fighting back my own tears.

All my words to my students began drifting softly through my head... all the things I say patiently, calmly, a thousand times a day about having courage and strength and trying even though you don't think you can do it, about having a sweet temper and controlling yourself when you DON'T have a sweet temper...things like that.

Things that surely apply more to taking care of your family than they do to revising an essay.

I let out a long breath. Nessie leans forward and rests her head on my chest. Ariel comes to sit next to us and flips through a book about bugs, which she is terrified of and only looking at so I will tell her the name of each kind of bug and she can learn more about her enemy. We sit and swing and snuggle.

I go in and finish making dinner and send Joey off to the chiropractor and put the girls to bed and finish my email. I explain the assignment and my reasoning and the school's philosophy in great detail, and the whole time I am thinking of it as it applies to me.

This, coming home after using up all my stores of grace and love and patience, but needing still more grace and love and patience for my family, this is my essay that I don't want to keep revising. It's really hard and I'm not sure I can do it. It isn't fun and I've failed at it many, many times before. Chances are I will keep failing and I'm so very tired of feeling like a failure. But I understand now that Someone is dancing me through this desert.

I conclude my email with, "I am convinced that ----- is capable of completing this assignment, and I feel I would be doing him a disservice if I excused him from an opportunity to empower himself through the experience of perseverance." and I am really writing about myself at this point.

It is an oasis, not a mirage, out there, and the only thing to do is get up and keep dancing.

Bigger Picture Moments hosted at Alita's this week!

My Brain Hurts

2011-09-14T07:53:00.000-05:00

Which means, obviously, that it's time to look at the Recent Keyword Activity on my StatCounter and see what all has been bringing people here lately! We'll ignore the logical, boring terms and go straight for the REALLY IMPORTANT stuff.

Here goes:

"impressive clergyman" costume - Well, so you're pretty awesome for wanting one (it's from Princess Bride, Lenae!) and I happen to have one hanging on my costume rack at school. But I just made it out of a red graduation gown from a thrift store, a doctored up chef's hat, and some random bling. So you could probably make your own, too!

karma train chew chew - Help! Man-eating train of metaphysical justice! Run for your lives! Oh, wait, you meant CHOO CHOO, didn't you? DON'T SCARE ME LIKE THAT!

slutty blonde hair- Yes. Sigh. At my last appointment my stylist commented how this is a shade that he usually does for his clients who are 'dancers'. By which he meant strippers.

blonde pictures for dating sites - OMG PLEASE DON'T USE MY PICTURES FOR DATING SITES! I HAVE STRIPPER HAIR! THIS GIVES PEOPLE THE WRONG IMPRESSION ENTIRELY, I PROMISE! Unless that was what you were going for? In which case...I guess... but don't expect me to go on any actual dates for you, so I don't know how you expect to pull this off, really.

slutty penguin- Now you're just being ridiculous. Get off the Internet.

analogies paper on ice skating - Oh, like, 'you're on thin ice' kind of thing? Yes, good idea. Now write your paper yourself instead of trying to find one online! Such a paper would practically write itself! And as an English teacher, I will come through the screen and smack you with a thesaurus if you don't stop being so lazy. Fair warning.

giant evil penguin- Whoa. Scary thought. When did I write about penguins, you guys? I don't even remember this!

billy goat - None here, not since I made my husband shave! The Goat Beard is no more!

i keep hearing a thud noise in my house at night- That's creepy! Let's hope it isn't, say, a giant evil penguin! Because that would be problematic!

joey weary - Well, but can you blame him? I'm REALLY high maintenance!

baby penguin saying funny things - Enough with the penguins! Although, that would be seriously cute.

AND THE VERY BEST ONE?

batmans to do list - Oh no! My cover is blown! Okay, I'll level with you guys. The real reason I have a secret blog and an alias is... because... I am Batman's personal assistant. Although I'll probably get fired now, thanks to you meddling Googlers!

Please Tell Me You Have This Problem Too

2011-09-12T06:32:00.001-05:00

When I was putting away laundry last night, I noticed that a pair of Joey's underwear had deteriorated so much that there was really more hole than underwear. Bracing myself for the inevitable argument, I carried the dearly departed shorts to the living room.
"Honey, I think I would be a bad wife if I didn't throw these out at this point." I said gently.
"NOOOO! Those are some of the good ones! I like those!"
"Dude."
"I mean it! Go put them back."
"They have no seam. They are no longer fulfilling the basic purpose of underwear."
"NO. Do NOT throw them away!"
I fold my arms and give him a Stern Look. He glares defiantly. I should have just thrown them out without saying anything.
"Fine. Either I throw them away-"
"NO!"
"-OR I'm blogging about this."
"Blog away, baby." He says.

So I am, even though I didn't actually want to, because maybe he thinks I'm just bluffing? Which would be crazy because I DO NOT BLUFF, MISTER.SEE? BLOGGING ABOUT YOUR UNDERWEAR RIGHT NOW! FOR ALL TO SEE! And maybe this way we can all commiserate for a moment about how Boys Are Weird. Unless my husband is the only one who does this, in which case feel free to tell me how I am a Long Suffering Saint and all.

(Also? I can't think of anything deeper than a ridiculous post about my husband's undies at this point... I had to set my novel-writing aside for a few weeks so I could get a ton of Back To School stuff accomplished, and I was kind of afraid that I wouldn't be able to pick it back up, you know? But I just MAGICALLY started writing on Saturday and then again yesterday and I got close to 10,000 words in this weekend and I'm SO HAPPY, but it's hard to think very deeply about anything else because my brain hurts from spending a weekend writing proper, non-run-on sentences. Which is a total lie, because I don't bother writing proper sentences EVER and I have an ongoing war with that stupid green underline feature in Word. It's all, 'FRAGMENT; CONSIDER REVISING' and I'm all, 'SHUT UP, THAT'S HOW PEOPLE TALK! STUPID MACHINE, YOU THINK YOU CAN BOSS ME AROUND? YOU WILL NEVER TRULY COMPREHEND THE HUMAN SPIRIT! CREATIVITY AND BEAUTY WILL TRIUMPH OVER YOUR COLD LOGIC EVERY TIME! BOOYAH!" Which is when Joey knows to bring me some chocolate and back carefully away, without making any sudden movements or loud noises.)

Sunday Afternoons Are For...

2011-09-11T17:52:00.001-05:00

Football fans!

Terror In The Kitchen II

2011-09-09T14:15:00.002-05:00

The other night, I wanted soup. It was late and my throat hurt and I realized I hadn't eaten dinner with the rest of my family because Joey made cheddar brats again and I don't like cheddar brats. So I wanted soup!

And I realized that I had a big leftover batch of Kanga's AMAZING chicken tortilla soup in my freezer. Which is soup! That I could have!

But first I would have to thaw it. And you know, of course, Kanga and I had decided to pour the large amount of leftover soup into a giant freezer bag, since we couldn't find a big enough container and I KNEW that I would want that soup later. So what I really had in my freezer was a misshapen frozen soup-cicle, encased in plastic. And the bag had of course folded in on itself when we put it in the freezer, so parts of the bag were stuck deep within this frozen mass.

I cut the bag off the soup, naturally. I was DETERMINED to have some soup.

A few pieces of plastic remained stuck in the frozen soup. So I put the whole thing in a pot on the stove and turned the burner onto low heat, thinking it would thaw a bit and I could chisel the remaining plastic out. Am I insane, or does that make fairly good sense?

But then Joey and one of his Manly Cousins came in from tinkering with my car and wanted to know WHAT I was doing and WHAT was that blob and OF COURSE waiting for it to thaw didn't seem like the best plan to them.

But this did:

They hacked and sawed and poked at the poor soup-cicle with knives until it gave up that plastic. It never stood a chance. And THAT wouldn't have been fun enough, in and of itself, so they also pretended they were on various TV shows while doing so.

A cooking show: "So today we're going to make soup! The first step, of course, is hunt your soup down and kill it dead."

And one of those shows where the guy eats weird things and survives in the wild: "Right, I don't know exactly what this was before it died, but whatever it was, it ate a lot of corn..."

And, yeah. Boys crack me up.

Joey threatened to take this pictures and start his own blog, a blog all about my cooking. Which isn't really fair, if you think about it, because this is HIS MOTHER'S soup. AND I hardly ever set off the smoke detectors any more.

But I do think that last stabby picture would make a BRILLIANT button for a housewifely fail link-up or something. Not that I would EVER have fodder for such a thing, but still...

RIGHT??

Best Year EVER!

2011-09-06T21:32:00.001-05:00

Today was the first day of school. Have I ever mentioned how much I LOOOOOVE the first day of school?

I love it. A lot. There's nothing like going in a little early, dressed up extra cute, on the first day of school, just to steal a few minutes of basking in all the crisp perfection of a freshly organized classroom.

Because you can't help but know that THIS YEAR will be the best year yet. And there are butterflies and you have to double check everything and run through the day's lesson plans in your mind a few times, but no, everything really is ready.

And then the kids come in and flip out over Fezzik (who comes to school because he is a 125 lb working breed dog and he NEEDS A JOB, PEOPLE. And he's pretty sure his job is to herd children. And shed copiously. He's terrific at that last job, especially.) and you give them doughnuts and explain their schedules and The Rules and all that.

Next thing you know, you have read the first chapter of David Copperfield FIVE TIMES IN A ROW (which is painful because you have a cold! But pretend like you don't!) and the kids have turned afternoon chores into a mind boggling chaos and oh! They're all gone! And you straighten up your classroom and realize how very, very HAPPY you have been all day. SO HAPPY! TEACHING IS AWESOME! LETS DO IT AGAIN TOMORROW!

By the time you've picked up your sweet babies and taken them to the playground and come home and had dinner and done bedtime and cleaned up and, and, and... By then? It's only eight thirty, but you feel just exactly like this:

But it's a GOOD kind of totally exhausted. (He's a tired boy! What a rough day he's had of being loved and adored and slipped doughnuts on the down-low! And did I mention SHEDDING EVERYWHERE?) And you realize all over again just how much you love teaching, as you discuss various students and incidents with your yummy Coach Joey. And also you realize that maybe last year seemed so horribly difficult because you were like two seconds post-partum when the school year started and this year you AREN'T! Which is why everything is sunshine and roses and freshly sharpened number 2 pencils, rather than doom and angst and private crying fits.

This year is SO going to be the best year yet!

Meanwhile, In Ariel's Room...

2011-09-04T08:39:00.000-05:00

Apparently she can get out of her crib now.

I opened the door and beheld this horror, and she (face liberally smeared with lotion) pipes up brightly, "Hi Mommy! I don't wanna spankin'!"

(a ploy which TOTALLY WORKED, if you were wondering, because it was just all too cute to bear.)

I guess it's time to get a big girl bed? At least then she can get BACK in bed if she chooses to get out of it.

This child is hilarious. And charming and delightful and sweet. And one minute she's all:

"Let me just sit sweetly on this pink tricycle and read a book."

And next thing you know she's more like:

"It doesn't count as eating more than one cupcake, like you said, since I only ate the ICING from three cupcakes. LOOPHOLES, mommy, you gotta watch out for the loopholes."

Oh, Hi!

2011-08-31T22:16:00.000-05:00

So apparently I think I'm too "busy" to do things like "update my blog" now that I'm "working" again now. Whatever, Miss Fancy Pants.

Well, it's inservice week and I've been a little bit occupied with sorting through old papers, attending staff training meetings and TOTALLY PAYING ATTENTION, planning literature and art lessons, writing my syllabi, sifting through approximately five BILLION Greek poems in an unsuccessful search for just ONE that isn't twenty pages long or diiiiirty, AND painstakingly crafting my new MAGNETIC chore chart.

That's right, I made it ALL MYSELF. BAM. You see, the student names are MOVABLE and also MAGNETIC, and why yes, I did spend nearly as much time making it as I did planning an entire art history course. Because I might be a teensy bit obsessive about important things like chore charts. I have my priorities! And standards! And it could be worse, I could have reached the end of the day with nothing to show for myself but the creation of an AMAZING bow tie made of a plastic Wal-Mart bag, *cough* JOEY *cough*

(No, to be fair, he did more than that. He also terrorized everyone with one of those sticky slappy hand toy things you get for a quarter from vending machines at the front of the all-you-can-eat Mongolian restaurant.)

So, yeah. Inservice week. Pretty much means our brains are exploding over here. But don't worry, we'll totally have it all together next week.

A Good Man

2011-08-27T23:24:00.000-05:00

I had a rough, PMS-y day yesterday, so naturally, when Joey went to pick up a gallon of milk after his fantasy football draft last night, he also picked up a bouquet of lilies to surprise me. Cause that's just how he rolls. The guy in line behind him was buying a rose and asked if Joey was in trouble, too. The cashier looked at both of them and smirked.
"Looks like you BOTH messed up, huh?"
"Not me," says Joey, "she just had a bad day."
"And you?" She asked the other guy. He admitted he was, in fact, in trouble.
"And I can tell that YOU-" she pointed to Joey, "are married, and YOU aren't." She pointed to the other guy.
"Uh-huh." They both said.

Smart lady. But I think it's a little sad that when people see a man buying flowers they automatically assume that he's making up for being a jerk, not that he's just being a good man. They DO exist, I promise.

(And after TONIGHT'S fantasy football draft, he came home bearing an ice cream cone, which I devoured in under five minutes because PMS RAAARGH SMASH. Not only is he a good man, but he has a very healthy sense of self-preservation.)

Where All My Kindred Spirits At?

2011-08-26T10:28:00.000-05:00

I've probably written about this before, but you guys, I am terribly, terribly lonely for IRL friends. Terribly.
It's silly, because when Joey and I say that we are each other's best friend, we're being totally serious. We really are. And between family and work and my sweet girls who are wonderful company themselves and the thousand different directions that my brain is going at all times, planning amazing creative things to do, and of course, you, blog people who are always fantastic in every possible way, between all of those things? My life is really, REALLY full.

But I still feel this nagging lack. Something vitally important is missing.If my amazing girls from Georgia, who I left to marry Joey, would just move to Texas and buy houses next door to me (particularly the house on the left of me, which is home to SEVEN dogs who are always outside and ALWAYS barking, as well as home to five vehicles, one of which is a big work van that likes to park in front of my mailbox. Actually, ANYONE could move into that house and I would significantly happier.) then my life would be all kinds of perfect. But they have "husbands" and "fiances" and "jobs" and stuff like that. And YOU don't live here, either.

Which leaves me contemplating crazy things like finding a mommy group or a book club or SOMETHING.

You might be saying to yourself that that sounds like an okay idea, like, be proactive instead of just whining on your blog, Lucy. And you would be right, except for....

...sigh.

Girls don't really like me.

You know how there's this idea that girls are always changing themselves and not being themselves so that boys will like them better and not be threatened by them?

With one notable exception (my stupid college boyfriend, who had delusions of student government grandeur -no really, he was all THE PRESIDENT and stuff- and decided that to accomplish his lofty goals of rule he would need a girlfriend who was lovely and composed and demure and NETWORK-Y. And who certainly DID NOT enjoy slipping outside in the middle of the night to enjoy a nice drenching thunderstorm. But what did he know? He was stupid, see above.) I have not really felt the need to pretend around boys since I was like fifteen. I just am myself and we get along swimmingly.

Not so with girls. I hate that. Except for my Georgia girls (which, if you're counting, is a grand total of TWO people) I do not have lasting girl friendships, or really what you could call ACTUAL friendships. And I am always baffled to discover that VERY OFTEN this is because I am apparently intimidating or threatening or too confident somehow. I'm not saying that to make myself feel better, really, I've been DIRECTLY TOLD that by some of the very people whom I make feel bad about themselves just by breathing. Which is CRAZY, because I'm the most insecure person in the entire world. I don't say mean, stabby things because I know how much those things can sting. I always assume that everyone else is prettier, has it all more together, is smarter, and generally BETTERER than I am. I try really hard not to be a jerk, honestly, and I don't think I'm a jerk most of the time. But apparently in order for me to be friends with most girls? I have to constantly tone myself down. I have to be careful to not look too pretty, or be too happy with my husband and marriage, or be too well-liked in general. As far as I can tell, the rules of being an acceptable friend, in general, are:

Always wear less makeup, have less styled hair, and wear frumpier clothes than your friend.
Always weigh more than your friend.
Complain about how horrible your life is, in general, NEVER talk about how happy you are with something.
Especially complain about what a jerk your husband is.
Be careful to be less witty than your friend.
In fact, don't talk at all, just listen.
Compliment and be envious frequently, accept any and all subtle cutting remarks as fact.
Don't ever make a man smile or compliment you, including your husband. You must be less desirable to the opposite sex than your friend at all times.
Never receive praise or recognition at work that might overshadow your friend or make her feel bad about herself.
Because really, your whole purpose is to make your friend feel better about herself.
Ask for help and advice because you are clearly less competent, but never in an inconvenient way.
Etc., etc.

It isn't worth it. It just isn't. I wouldn't change and belittle myself for a man, and any woman would be horrified at the suggestion that I should. But I must always be less if I want to have a girl friend. Which I don't understand, because I always want to be friends with people I ADMIRE. And if it weren't for my Georgia girls (who apparently don't NEED a 1950's housewife friend, as they are grown up, confident women) I wouldn't even know what I was missing. But I do. True friendship is NOTHING like that list up there, and I want it. And I know that more than two girls like my Georgia girls exist, because I read your blogs and you leave me sweet comments and somethings even email and text me and send adorable hand-made goodies to my children and end up getting put on my list of People Who Should Live Next Door To Me. But none of you DO live next door to me. And none of you work with me and none of you are married to my husband's friends and, yeah. This must be part of the plan for me right now, and I should just accept it, I guess.

This makes me feel very... wistful. But there isn't really anything to DO about it. The best I have right now is blogging and looking forward to going to Georgia and being Elle's matron of honor in March and getting to have a long visit then. For now I have to be content with long phone conversations and sending each other packages and occasionally texting a picture of an outfit for feedback because Joey can never give me an objective opinion when I need to know if I'm showing too much cleavage. Husbands as best friends are wonderful, but they do have their drawbacks.

(So I'm super hesitant to post this, because I'm afraid I sound really whiny AND really full of myself, like I think I'm so great and all the other kids just don't like me cause they're jealous of me, which is NOT what I mean OR what I think. Honest.)

The Hazards Of Being Mrs. Coach

2011-08-23T09:07:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, coming home from a Target run, Joey stopped at the school to show me the fancy new basketball goals that he's been laboring very hard to install in the parking lot that serves as our "gym". These aren't portable ones with big bulky bases that trip the players, they're expensive fancy ones that had to be installed IN the concrete. He's been working out in the 110 degree heat with things like pickaxes and jackhammers and re bar, and now he's finally finished and oh so proud.

After admiring the shiny, shiny goals, we started talking about the upcoming basketball season and team, etc. I had a moment there, picturing High School Basketball Stud Joey owning the court in his glory days, perky blond cheerleaders swooning on the sidelines; and simultaneously picturing Studly Coach Joey owning the whistle and calling the plays, tiny blond daughters cheering on the sidelines. And then I was all, CONTINUITY and CHANGE ALL AT ONCE and LIFE IS SO BEAUTIFUL and a single glistening tear might possibly have graced my cheek.

So naturally I started talking, not of CONTINUITY AND CHANGE JUXTAPOSED!, but all about my idea to order wee little navy and white cheerleading uniforms and pom-poms for Ariel and Nessie to wear to games this year.

SO NATURALLY I now find myself committed (a term which here works on SEVERAL levels) to organizing and running a Cheer Squad For Very Small People, later christened the Minia-CHEER Squad. Hold me.

I don't like to be in charge of things. Like, AT ALL. But I guess this way I can make sure it stays low-key, with the emphasis remaining firmly on Tiny People In Uniforms, OH THE CUTENESS! where it belongs. AND if I'm in charge, Ariel can be on the squad (and Nessie too, inasmuch as she'll be there, wearing a tiny uniform and chewing on a megaphone) working her mad dance skillz. I tested the waters last night and she did a bang-up job of echoing GO! FIGHT! WIN! which is really about as involved as I think tiny little cheers should get.

So. There's that. Apparently I have a subconscious desire to ALWAYS COMPLICATE MY OWN LIFE. And another one to dress my children in adorable pleated skirts. Apparently they go hand in hand.

Terror In The Kitchen

2011-08-21T16:20:00.000-05:00

This just in! Apparently in a fit of Inservice-Week-Is-Only -One-Week-Away panic, a local housewife has gone on an uncontrollable cleaning rampage. In her quest for a deep-down clean and organized home before she starts working full time again, she has wreaked havoc and mayhem on dirt, dustbunnies, and disorder. But in addition to her seemingly tireless War On Grime, she has left a slew of innocent victims, collateral damage if you will, in her wake.

For instance, THIS brand-new container of off-brand cleaning wipes, purchased only yesterday, was one of her first victims:

Cut down in it's prime, poor Disinfecting Wipes was used up mercilessly until all that remained was an empty shell.

(Warning, disturbing image ahead)

As the last wipe was used, only an hour after the hapless container was opened, Disinfecting Wipes was heard crying out, "Oh, the humanity! I was meant to last for WEEKS AND WEEKS longer than this!"

Leaving the scene of the crime, witnesses overheard this ruthless housewife complain, "No matter how much I clean, I keep finding MORE nastiness in this house!"

This leads authorities to believe that her killing rampage is far from over. Members of the cleaning products community are advised to take evasive action, particularly the paper towels and the bottle of off-brand Ultra Oxygen Magic Foam. The all-purpose glass cleaner, who witnessed much of the horror of the past several hours told reporters, "I've never seen anything like it. She just keeps cleaning and cleaning! Usually she gets distracted by her blog or shiny things MUCH sooner than this. It's like she's a woman possessed."
There you have it, ladies and gentlemen, possessed indeed. Meanwhile, we're all left wondering, When Will It End?

(This cleaning frenzy was also MAYBE inspired by the scary scary dream I had last night that on top of dust and dog hair, my house was overrun by Very Large Spiders. And if that weren't bad enough, I then discovered Nessie playing innocently with a boa constrictor type snake that was CLEARLY large enough to eat her up. I rescued her by throwing a heavy ceramic book-end at the snake's head to distract it while I snatched her away, but I woke up feeling that it was HIGHLY NECESSARY that I poke around in all the nooks and crannies of our house to make absolutely certain that there were no large spiders or baby-eating snakes lurking, just to be on the safe side. I haven't found any so far, but I HAVE found out that the bottom two feet of our house is MUCH dirtier than the rest. I hadn't noticed before. The girls must think I'm a TERRIBLE housekeeper.)

Lest I Forget

2011-08-19T07:48:00.000-05:00

My children these days? Totally hilarious. I'm pretty sure they're conspiring against me, and at BEST they're unashamedly double-teaming me, but that doesn't stop me from laughing. While I cry. But still.

Yesterday Ariel had to go potty. By the time we got back (one whole minute later) Nessie had miraculously reached my coffee cup that I could have SWORN was out of her reach and had splashed lukewarm coffee everywhere. No joke, I was cleaning that stuff off my wall a good five feet up.

When we were shopping yesterday, Ariel kept on picking out clothes that were clearly BOY CLOTHES and asking for them. Anytime I showed her something and asked if she thought it was cute she said "NO" very adamantly. And several times I LIKED what she picked out and said so, which caused her to immediately change her mind and put it back. It was very much like shopping with a fourteen year old.

Nessie makes this face? I call it the French Fry Face because she used to make it only if I handed her a french fry. Now she makes it anytime she is pleased with life. It involves jutting out her lower jaw and folding her bottom lip over her top lip and no, I don't have any pictures to show you because I'm always too busy shrieking with delight any time she makes the face to take pictures.

If I had a dollar for every time Ariel asks me "Mommy, what're you doing?" consecutively, with barely a pause for me to answer, I would have many millions of dollars. My brain would still be a sad puddle of goo, but at least I would have millions of dollars to show for it.

(seriously, I've approached this so many different ways for sanity's sake. Answering her in detail each time because she's learning how to converse with people and craves verbal interaction. Making HER tell ME what I'm doing. Informing her that if she asks a question she needs to listen to the answer. Telling her I'm walking my dog, obviously. "Dog?" says she, bewildered. "Dog! 'Mere dog! Lets walk!" Sarcasm + 2 year old = dog walking trip you weren't planning on taking right then.)

When she wants to cuddle, Nessie leans her forehead on mine and exhales forcefully through her nose. And no, I have no idea why. But it is slightly messy.

I went to get Ariel out of bed yesterday morning, to find her perched precariously on top of her crib's headboard. "Oh hi, Mommy, I'm stuck!" She informed me cheerfully. Does this mean it's time for a Big Girl Bed? Please say no, I can't bear the thought of all the destruction and chaos that will ensue.

Nessie can't stand to be put down or, if she happens to be playing happily by herself, reminded of the fact that I am not holding her. These things make her scream without ceasing, louder than you would think possible. Oh wait, that isn't funny. It really isn't. Right now it's to a point where she will scream even if I am holding her and dare to SIT DOWN while doing so, just exactly like a newborn baby. That weighs over 20 pounds. It's fun.

They have started wrestling with each other. Ariel grabs Nessie around the ribs, proclaiming, "I gotchoo, NiNi!" and then they topple over and roll around until Nessie gets fed up with it.I die of the cuteness. NOTHING warms my heart like seeing them play together.

They also think that riding Fezzik like a horse is the funniest thing EVER. One day I'm going to grow enough arms to take a picture of them while holding them safely up on him WHILE making them wear the cowgirl hats from our dress-up basket. SOMEDAY.

Joey and I were having a Serious Grown-Up Conversation the other day while going somewhere, when suddenly Ariel piped up from the back seat, "I NAKIE." And she was, all kinds of nakie!

Related! I was threatening Joey with bodily harm yesterday while we were going somewhere, if he ever repeated something I had said, and Ariel jumped in with, "An I spank you, Daddy!" Us girls stick together around here.

Nessie loves popcorn, is a recent discovery we've made. Also a recent discovery we've made? Nessie digging day-old popcorn out from between the couch cushions and stuffing it in her mouth QUICK before anyone could interfere.

We bought the girls matching sparkly pink shoes on sale at Babies R Us the other day while they were at Kanga's house. I was resting when Joey got them up from their naps later, and so he showed them their NEW PINK SHOES OMG and obligingly put them on. When I got up twenty minutes later, Nessie was playing by the back door, clad in a t-shirt, diaper, and pink shiny shoes. I called her name and she turned and began practically hyperventilating, babbling "Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma!" and pointing frantically at her shoes. The subtext was very clearly LOOK MAMA! MAMA! SHOES! NEW SHOES THAT ARE SHINY AND PINK AND ON MY FEET! LOOK AT THESE! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

Ariel watches entire movies standing rooted in one spot. This is clearly not something she gets from me. I HATE standing upright.

(No, she never IS wearing pants these days. Because of potty training, and also I feel that if you're young enough to get away with wearing no pants you SHOULD because it is REALLY HOT OUTSIDE THESE DAYS.)

Nessie has started BITING the couch. Not like chewing on it, I mean like clamping down with her teeth and pulling away as if she is determined to take a piece of it away with her.

Sometimes we call her the Nessie Monster and she says "Raaawr Rawwr RAWR!" In the cutest, raspy little monster baby voice you can imagine.

Ariel is just about one hundred percent when it comes to peeing in the potty and what's even better, TELLING ME when she needs to. Mostly because she loves candy and I will only give it to her if she is successful in this. But pooping in the potty? Eh, not so much. The other day we were dealing with the aftermath of... an incident...with Nessie screaming her head off on the other side of the bathroom door because ALL ALONE OH NO! and I decided to let Ariel see that I didn't, in fact, enjoy rinsing out poopy underwear. "Oh, I don't LIKE cleaning poop out of your panties!" I complained. "It's GROSS and I'm tired of doing it! If only you had TOLD ME that you needed to poop, you could have pooped on the POTTY and I wouldn't have to clean this GROSS MESS. That makes me SAD!" I rambled on and on until everything was set right, and she listened very seriously. Then we left the bathroom and she said, "Okay, Mommy, now candy?"

And oh, about a thousand more little things that will slip away before I even realize they don't happen anymore, before I ever remember that I've forgotten them.

Fatherly Love

2011-08-18T08:56:00.001-05:00

Hosted at Hyacynth's today!

Last weekend we spent some time at Joey's parents' house. He and his dad talked fantasy football and Kanga helped me brainstorm some writing ideas. I mentioned offhandedly that after school starts Joey agreed that I could get a shiny little netbook for writing. Since our desktop computer is in our bedroom - which is by no means babyproof- I've been using an ancient teacher-issued laptop for writing. The beast weighs at least ten pounds, has no battery life AT ALL (which means I have to stay next to an outlet all the time and keep Nessie from tangling herself in the power cord), and enjoys freezing up and crashing at critical moments. I'm not a fan, as you can guess.

Tuesday night, Joey's dad came over while we were eating dinner to "drop something off." Turns out, it was this:

A shiny new netbook, just because I wanted one.

If you've grown up with a loving, caring father, you may not be able to understand how a 'just because' present can be unfamiliar and overwhelming and heart-filling. If, like me, you haven't grown up with a father like that, I bet you can imagine. Balm for an old, old hurt in my soul.

Also? SHINY!!

Anatomy Of A Fight

2011-08-16T08:13:00.000-05:00

source

In case you've been wondering to yourself, "Do Lucy and Joey EVER fight about ANYTHING? Or are they just sickeningly adorable love-birds all the live long day?" I feel that I should clarify. We have exactly ONE fight, the same one, every few months. You'd think we'd get bored with that one and find something new to fight about, but this is pretty much all we can think of. And it is a classic, the Equitable Division Of Household Labor fight. Joey's job is to take out the trash. My job is... everything else. I'm usually fine with this, until I'm not.

Then I ask him to do a chore I'd normally do.
Then he agrees, but doesn't do it yet because he's Going To Do It Later.
Then I wait.
Then I wait some more.
Then I can't stand looking at the undone chore any longer, and do it myself.
Then he notices how I'm doing the chore and glaring daggers at him while he charts fantasy football stats. Then he protests, "Leave it! I'm going to do it!"
Then I say how I needed it done three hours ago.
Then he says how I have to have everything my way.
Then my head explodes. "MY way?" I demand.
Then I list all of the not-necessarily-fun things that I do every day.
Then an hour later, when I have finished listing, I say, "And does that sound like I have anything MY WAY?"
Then he admits that no, it does not. Not if you say it like that.

You'd think that this would be the end of the fight, but we're really just getting started.

Then he reminds me that he'll do anything I ask, I should just TELL him when I'm feeling overwhelmed and he will GLADLY help me out.
Then I take great offense, because a.) he won't do it when I need it done and I'll end up doing it anyway, except with greater frustration, and b.) I don't want his HELP we are in this together and why can't he just take care of stuff like a responsible adult without me giving him CHORES I am not his MOMMY and what does he want a CHORE CHART WITH STICKERS? WHAT WOULD THIS HOUSE LOOK LIKE IF I WAITED AND ONLY DID WORK WHEN SOMEONE ASKED ME TO?
Then he takes great offense at my tone and attitude. I have challenged the Alpha Male, you see. But in the interest of domestic tranquility, he says (in the least convincing way you can imagine) that he is sorry and will try to do better.

Here's where things begin to heat up.

Then I point out that he says that EVERY time we have this argument, yet we have this argument like clockwork, every three months. AND he doesn't even take out the trash without being reminded half the time.

I'm not entirely sure why that's relevant, but I feel compelled to throw it in there.
And there I've gone and done it, rejected his (half-hearted, grudging) apology.

Then he says something about how there isn't any point in him TRYING because he doesn't get credit anyway and he DOES TRY and I don't ever APPRECIATE THAT and WHAT ABOUT WHEN HE HANGS BLINDS AND DOES STUFF LIKE THAT? BUT NOOOO, THAT DOESN'T COUNT SO WHY SHOULD HE EVEN BOTHER?.
Then I say something about how he's totally right, hanging blinds ONCE is EXACTLY as much work as cleaning an entire house and cooking meals and doing laundry EVERY SINGLE DAY. And he's also right, he totally SHOULDN'T bother trying, there's no reason for him to make an effort. He knows I'm going to stay with him forever and he knows I won't live in a disgusting filthy pig sty, so he MIGHT AS WELL just sit around and focus on REALLY IMPORTANT THINGS like fantasy football.

And so on.
And here's the thing, I NEVER keep the upper hand in a fight, EVER, ~~regardless of the fact that I am clearly right~~, because I ALWAYS lose my temper first. Every single time. He has the ability to say, in a perfectly calm way, things that infuriate me beyond reason. Things like, "But I said I'd do your dishes for you." Things that might SOUND perfectly innocent and conciliatory, even. But he KNOWS they will make me see red, and I KNOW he KNOWS and after a few remarks like that I'm all, "FINE. YOU WANT TO POKE MAMA BEAR? FINE! LETS GO!"

Then I do something mature like grab his phone so he can't play spider solitaire while fighting with me. No multi-tasking, buddy, please focus on the task at hand.

And so I totally lose my righteous edge, because now I'm being a jerk, too.

Then the fight escalates.
Then I storm off crying.
Then I get mad that he didn't follow me and I'M CRYING HERE.
Then I storm back and say the most incendiary thing I can think of.
Then he yells back.
Then we realize that we're (mostly me) acting out of control, and cool it down. We're still mad, but now it's ICY COLD ANGER.
Then I coldly do MY dishes, exuding icicles and glaciers and planning how to cope with a loveless marriage of servitude for the rest of my days, while he seethes quietly in his armchair. We look shockingly like a 1950's couple.
Then he says something, in a normal tone of voice, unrelated to any fight-topics.
Then I ignore him, because ICY GLACIERS OF RESENTMENT.
Then he asks, "Did you hear me?" and I answer, in my most frozen tone.
Then he comes over and hugs me and begins to apologize for real.
Then I thaw a little.
Then he says things like how he can't stand seeing me upset and knowing he's made me sad and it ISN'T fair for me to do all the work and he loves me and he really will try to do more things around the house without being asked, really he will and he'll do anything I ask him to and if I want it done right away I should tell him do it now and he will and has he mentioned how he looooooves me?
Then I hug him back and apologize for stealing his phone or whatever immature temper tantrum I threw and calling him names.
Then we kiss.
Then we finish the dishes together.
Then we go make up some more.

You know, that fight?
That's seriously such a stupid fight.

And I'm really not sure why we ever let it happen. I know FOR A FACT that if I just made a sad face and sighed and cuddled up my head to his shoulder and said in a very small voice how overwhelmed and tired I am and it makes me feel sad and unappreciated when he doesn't help out around the house more and could he please help me? If I did that? Same exact end result.

And he knows FOR A FACT that if (when I complained in a grouchy voice) he hugged me and kissed me and tickled me until I PROMISED I wasn't grumpy any more (a form of persuasion he has down cold) and then apologized (the nice apology, not the finewhatever one) and asked what he could do right then? Same exact end result.

Lots of times we DO take those nicer approaches, so I'm really not sure why we occasionally feel the need to be jerks. Sometimes feeling tired and unappreciated makes me WANT to snap at him. And when I have a less-than-sweet voice it makes him just HAVE to exert some dominance by not giving in. And then I'm doing this fiery temper thing and he's doing this calm controlled alpha male thing and we're both pushing each others buttons ON PURPOSE. Which is stupid, because we love each other more than life itself. You would think that that would mean we wouldn't occasionally want to torture each other into insanity.

But no, apparently not.

Ah, l'amour.

In Which I Overuse Figure Skating Analogies

2011-08-12T08:36:00.003-05:00

I have a confession to make.

You know how I've been kind of AWOL this week? Well...see...

...I've been cheating on my blog (and my Google Reader, and oh, is it angry!) with...

...fiction.

There, I said it. And what's more? I like it a lot. I might even love it.

I know, I'm just as surprised as you are! I really had thought that I would forever regard fiction writing from a distance, kind of how I regard figure skating. Like, it's impressive, and obviously I can't actually DO it. I thought I'd forever poke fun at any timid little writing aspirations that dare to show their faces. Right here on this blog, like I always do. I guess later, if I happen to fall on my metaphorical ice skating behind, I'll at least have more poking-fun fodder!

We have Joey to blame for this whole affair, what with his sweet confidence and patient encouraging and subtle prompting and helpful chaining of me to the laptop. No, not really. Mostly.

I just woke up on Monday morning and thought, it's time to try. So I rolled my eyes at myself and wrote down most of an outline (I'm still not sure about the end, which is probably not a great sign) and that didn't hurt too much, so I went ahead and thought of a first line, and I survived THAT, so I sat down and wrote the first bit.
(side note: I do pay attention to SOME basic grammar rules. Just not the ones that get in my way.)

Then I just... kept on writing. It's fun, which confuses me. Isn't this supposed to be agonizingly difficult? Toe pick? And shouldn't I be having a crisis about these babies never give me a second to myself, how can I concentrate ON MY ART??
But no, I set up my laptop at our dining room table, right in the middle of all the chaos, and write merrily away while our favorite Pandora station blares and Ariel chases Fezzik around the living room with a water gun and Nessie walks herself round and round the coffee table, squawking mightily, and Joey plays a football game on the 360. And I get interrupted a million times because Ariel needs to potty and Nessie's gotten stuck under the high chair again or is playing in the dog's water dish AGAIN and Joey is telling me funny stories about the kids he tutored that day.

I haven't felt even the least bit temperamental about any of it. Actually, it's better than trying to read a book in the midst of the madness, because it's so much easier to find my place again.

My worst crisis has been the usual Am I Neglecting My Precious Babies crisis, which I have regularly whether I am writing a novel or doing preschool activities with them and taking them to the park. I didn't let myself write at all on Tuesday, and that was the day I ended up feeling grumpy and resentful and seriously you need to pee AGAIN?
But I had a brief epiphany Wednesday morning, when I was back to writing because Lord help me, I wouldn't have a day like Tuesday again! Writing? Makes me happy. I have been unspeakably buoyant this week, Tuesday excepted. I'm a better mother when I'm happy. Much better. I have this fear that if I'm not in my children's faces all the time then I'm a bad mother, but I just don't think that's true.

I looked around the other day and thought, well, what if this very moment represented their childhood and my abilities as a mother? Would that be so bad? The sun was shining, the living room was reasonably clean, the music was playing. They were happy, playing with each other, all their needs met. When they wanted something from me I gave it to them. And I was happy, too. I was even modeling doing something creative! Ordinarily I would discount anything involving a computer as bad modeling, because Dependence On Things With Screens = BAD. But if I tried to hand write this thing it would take forever. AND they would steal my pen and write on each other. So sayeth the voice of experience.

So to sum it up, writing is not so scary as I'd thought it would be (maybe it's editing that makes you want to die a little? I can see how editing could be rough) and Mamas should do things that make them happy, because maybe they CAN figure skate, after all, and maybe they can't AT ALL, but they're nicer people if they let themselves try. Oh, and I want a wee little notebook, or at least a laptop with some BATTERY LIFE. And also, Joey really does always get his way. He wants you to write a novel? You will write a novel. It's very mysterious. I think he's tracking my word count (16,500 when I shut it down last night!!) like he does his players' stats.

Now I have to go make up with Google Reader. Oh, and my email. Hold me!

The Winner Is...

2011-08-09T07:56:00.000-05:00

Alright! Thank you SOOO much to everyone who voted for the Charis Project! I'm no longer feeling like Sad Mustache Baby AT ALL!

(by the way, so am I the worst mother ever, since I NOT ONLY stuck a mustache on Nessie - it was during our very long road trip to the Grand Canyon and I was very, very bored - and when it made her cry I took a picture before removing said mustache, BUT ALSO because it's one of my favorite pictures of all time.)

ANYWAY! The winner! Of the giveaway that I've been nagging you all about for so long! Well, according to the combined powers of Random Number Generator and my numbered list of entries from various posts, the winner IS...

Gina!

AWESOME. So hit me up, Gina, and tell me what book you want and I will recover it all pretty just for you!
Thanks again for voting, everybody!!

A Tearful, Mustachioed Plea

2011-08-07T14:48:00.000-05:00

Okay dearies, I'm going to close my giveaway (what giveaway? Oh, the one to help orphans in Thailand where you just go vote and tell me about it and then you win and I MAKE A PRESENT FOR YOU? That one? Yes, that one.) tomorrow. And you should go vote and tell me about it and then win and I WILL MAKE A PRESENT FOR YOU.

Because there really aren't nearly as many entries as I was hoping there would be and it's for ORPHAN BABIES and the voting doesn't hurt one little bit, I promise, and so the lack of voting/entries makes me feel exactly like...

...wait for it....

THIS.

Mustache and all. Actually, the crying I wouldn't mind so much, but that mustache tickles something fierce! So go vote now, please. I'll be over here, sniffling pathetically and trying to get crumbs out of my mustache.

Mama Has Had Enough

2011-08-05T09:04:00.000-05:00

Dear Very Hot Hot Heat Wave Of Hotness,

Enough is enough. I think I've been patient, you know? I haven't complained very much about you and your record-breaking streak of consecutive 110 degree days. I've just been going with it, telling myself that this is summer and Texas and yes, it will be very hot, but I wanted to enjoy summer anyhow. I was TRYING to have a good attitude about you.

See? I've been going with it. Making it fun, even. I had to bust out the bubble machine and the misters just to make swimming in the pool bearable, but we were HAVING FUN very determinedly.

I really think I've been a good sport. And when my husband came home sick with heat exhaustion because he played basketball for three hours in all your triple digit glory, did I blame you? No. Because really, that was kind of his own fault. See, I don't think I'm unreasonable.

But Heat Wave, I've had enough. Yesterday? When we couldn't get in our pool because the water was - really, it WAS- the same exact temperature as PEE? I had a horrible realization. We are trapped. Trapped in this air conditioned house and according the weather people, things aren't changing anytime soon.
There isn't anything we can do outside of the house. Ever. Except go to someone else's house, which is pretty much the same thing.

And Heat Wave, this makes us grumpy. all of us. My babies are grumpy and bored and that makes them significantly less fun to be around. I am grumpy and bored and that makes me significantly less patient with them. And my husband is grumpy and ill because he's out IN your horrible heat, doing construction-worker type projects to install new basketball goals at the school.

You're even affecting my blog, Heat Wave, because I can't THINK of anything to write about except how it is too.stinking.hot. And that is boring.

So this is my official notice. I have had enough of you and I want you to go away. Sorry to be rude, and I know you were counting on our Southern hospitality, but you've just worn out your welcome.

Kindest Regards,
Lucy

Another Form Of Therapy

2011-08-03T15:38:00.000-05:00

I had a lot of crafty projects that I was planning to do this summer. Instead of doing most of them? I've been sewing things. Kind of. I don't know what I'm doing, like AT ALL, but once the costumes for the school play were all finished I felt kind of... sad. That was fun, figuring out how to make all those costumes. I don't know how to use a sewing machine (nor do I own a sewing machine) so nothing I'm doing counts as actual grown up Sewing.

I buy stuff at thrift stores. I rip it up. I sew it back together differently.

And somehow sewing by hand is so very relaxing for me! Probably because I don't have the fine motor skills to knit. And I don't have the fine BRAIN skills to follow a pattern. But I still want to be...MAKING something. Also I like clothes. Also, I can pretend that I'm all bohemian and authentic and cool, wearing my reconstructed thrift store clothes, even though we all know that if I had the money, I'd just go and buy everything from Anthropologie.

But I don't have the money, and so I enjoy the planning and imagining and cutting and it-doesn't-matter-if-I-ruin-this-it-only-cost-a-dollar and the swish in and out of my needle and the happy rush when I put something on and it looks good and I (kind of!) made it all by myself. It's very fun.

I'm planning to make a quilt this fall - doesn't a quilt sound like a nice autumn-y project? and I KNOW it would be a million times faster if I borrowed a sewing machine, but... I don't want to give up all those seams, curled up in the living room, watching movies with Joey after the girls have gone to bed, trying to make each stitch more perfect than the last, but not really having to think TOO hard. I don't want to relinquish that to a sewing machine, which is silly, but I get to be silly when I want to.

Here's an example of this bootleg/thriftstore/re-purposing that I do. This is by no means a tutorial, because I'm sure I didn't do it exactly right.But it was fun!

A sundress I found at a thrift store, for about three dollars, I think. You can't see the details on the neckline very well in this picture, but I liked them a lot, and I LOVED the color. So I got it, even though it was too short. Because you can fix too short!

Lucky for me, this dress has one of those attached slips. So I decided to just add a ruffle to the bottom of that for a more decent length. I measured how many inches more I would need of this dress to be able to bend down and pick a child up without exposing myself, then I measured the circumference of the slip. I knew I wanted the ruffle to be longer than that so it would...ruffle. I ALSO knew that I'd rather use something with an existing hem, because that's less work and would probably look a lot better.

I have a box of stuff we don't use or wear any more that's just waiting to be re-purposed, and in it I found... a bedsheet! This sheet was the wrong size for any of our beds, and it had a ridiculously low thread count so it wasn't comfy to sleep on anyway. BUT the low thread count gave it a nice texture to LOOK at, and it was plenty long and had more than enough hem. So I cut it out and pinned it to the slip. I pinned in little tucks every few inches so it would be ruffle-y-er.

Like so! Then I sat on the deck with some tea while the girls played, and stitched away to my little heart's content.

And just like that, I had a NEW sundress that only cost three dollars and I can bend down in and everything!
I put a camisole under it and a little brown sweater over it in this picture, because I needed to look somewhat respectable that day and my cleavage is a little...spectacular... in this dress.

My definition of 'somewhat respectable'. Leave me alone, I'm bohemian!

A Hot Day!

2011-08-01T10:11:00.001-05:00

Hello dearies! Here are a few things in list form, because this is not a real post, because my real post today is a guest post in the lovely Kim's A HOT Day In The Life series. So,

1.) You could maybe go check it out over there!

2.) THANK YOU a million times over for all the sweet, sweet birthday wishes!!! I love you all and would like to give you cookies and hugs and, and... RAINBOW PONIES! But instead, you'll have to settle for just a regular old THANK YOU!!

3.) Did you know I'm on Twitter? Kind of. I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident, but there I am and sometimes I remember to say things. I mean, Tweet things. I'm not good at this Twitter stuff yet. ANYWAY, if you want to check out the awkwardness, I'm @lucythevaliant. I keep forgetting to mention this in a post, so now seemed like a good time!

4.) Now. If you haven't entered my giveaway yet...um, may I ask WHY? Do you not like clicking things? Voting for things? Helping orphans? Getting presents? Yes, you do too. You like all of those things. You can't fool me! *Stern Face* (which would be much more effective in person) Now go vote, for heaven's sake, it doesn't hurt and it just takes a second and I WILL MAKE A PRESENT FOR YOU! Do I have to take a picture of my Stern Face to scare you all into voting??

(Please don't say yes, my Stern Face is actually mostly atmospheric and does not photograph, so it'll just look like my regular face, and then I'll have to try and take an Extra Stern Face picture to get my point across, which will just look silly and I won't be able to stop giggling, which will not be effective AT ALL!)

27

2011-07-28T12:16:00.002-05:00

(Today's Bigger Picture Moments are at Melissa's!)

Today I am 27.

(I keep wanting to say 28, because I like the number better. I don't like numbers that end in seven. Apparently I am more concerned with being a number I approve of than with aging.)

But today I am 27.

Thinking about that fact, as I did dishes and set the potty timer and made scrambled eggs and picked up toys this morning, I came to an interesting conclusion.

I am 27. Every last bit of me is. But somehow, somehow I expect myself to be something else.

I expect myself to be a 27 year old woman, to have this sweet, sweet life of pretty babies and dreamy soul mate husband and interesting job. I also expect myself to have the body of a 17 year old girl. But maybe with the breasts of a nursing 26 year old mother. The skin of a 20 year old girl . The sheer joy and open-heartedness of a two year old child. The financial stability and perfectly appointed home of a 50 year old woman. The patience and knowledge of a 65 year old woman. But the passion and optimism of a 15 year old girl. With the wisdom and accomplishments of an 80 year old woman. And the light of almost-on-the-other-side that you see in a 99 year old girl's hazy eyes. The wonder and innocence of a five year old child. The optimism of the very young and the grace of the very old. The beauty of on-the-verge-of-womanhood and the power of motherhood, all at once.

I expect myself to posses the best attributes of every year, but none of the negative ones. It's good to aspire to beauty and grace and patience and wisdom and security and joy. It is.

But I? I am 27.

And for my birthday this year, I give myself permission to be 27. Maybe 27 drinks too much coffee and still cries easily and has a house that isn't completely decorated and furnished according to her vision and gets frustrated more often that you would think possible and doesn't really look good in a swimming suit and has to clean up an awful lot of toddler pee puddles and isn't always thrilled to do so. But 27 also encompasses a lot of those good attributes, it's just that it's still learning some of them and trying to remember others. And that's good. It's human.

So I am 27.

And I will let myself be.

The Waterworks, They Have Commenced

2011-07-27T10:19:00.000-05:00

One year ago today, it was unbearably hot. I was tired and huge and a million years past due. One year ago today there was the least cute birth story ever.One year ago today was the best one-day-early birthday present I've ever received. One year ago today we fell madly in love. One year ago today the world became a much, much better place.

One year ago today they met for the first time.

(taken right when we brought Nessie home, just a few hours after she was born)
(also, supposed to be a LOT longer, but alas, technology is not my friend today!)

Every day since has been pretty wonderful.

Happy birthday, my Nessie! I'm going to go cry now!

Chapters 7-9 Giant Otter Alert!

2011-07-26T07:02:00.000-05:00

Oh happy day, more Out of The Silent Planet!

So where we left off last time, they were just entering the atmosphere of Malacandra. And Ransom knows he's going to be sacrificed to the sorns that live there. Not cool. But he isn't entirely terrified, either, because there's so much to see! I love that Ransom expected Malacandra to be ugly, and was surprised by it's beauty. Malacandra is described kind of gradually throughout the chapters, but I'll go ahead and sum it up for you - pink clouds and vegetation, blue water (REALLY blue, which I guess means that if you scooped it up in your hand it would still look blue) that is warm and drinkable, and less gravity than Earth so that everything (plants, land formations, animals, people) is very tall and thin and would probably fall right over if they tried to come to Earth, is my guess.

Right away, they all have to unload the spaceship and put the stuff in a building that the bad guys set up last time they were there. They have time for a meal, and THEN! The SORNS show up. Across the lake. They aren't giant bugs, which is a relief to me, but tall droopy "spooks on stilts" and Ransom thinks they are even scarier than he imagined. Weston and Devine start to drag him to the sorns at gunpoint but then something pops out of the water and attacks Devine. And I hope it bit him really hard, but I don't know for sure because Ransom very wisely took advantage of the situation and ran AWAY. Smart thinking.

So he gets away, but then what? He's pretty much just wandering around a strange forest on an alien planet with no idea of what is dangerous, what is food, where to go, or anything. Understandably, he starts to go a TINY bit crazy at this point and starts thinking he is two people. Which makes sense to me, you have to have SOMEONE to talk to about all the new-planet stuff, right? He wanders, sleeps, wanders some more...and then sees a sorn in the distance and starts running all crazy-like again. Right into some water. Right into a ... seven foot tall otter?

C.S. Lewis describes it as "something like a penguin, something like an otter, something like a seal." Which is a genius description of a foreign creature, in my opinion! Don't you have a pretty clear picture in your head? Ransom is pretty sure he's going to die now, and pretty much resigns himself to it, but then the thing starts TALKING. Not English, because that would just be silly, but TALKING. And Ransom is a language guy, remember? So he forgets about being scared or dying and starts thinking about all the groundbreaking linguistic books he will publish about alien languages. He and the penguin-otter-seal slowly make each other understand that they COME IN PEACE, PLEASE DON'T ATTACK ME, and then Ransom learns his first Malacandra words and phonics rules (the penguin-otter-seal is called a hross) and gets something to eat!

I love the hross. I think I remember more about it from when I read this a long time ago, and I'm pretty sure it reminds me of Mr. and Mrs. Beaver. CUTE!!! Ransom has a slight freak-out moment because hey! he's hanging out with a gigantic, hairy...dude. But then he realizes that it's really a matter of perspective. IF you look at the hross as a gigantic, hairy dude, then yes, that's kind of creepy. BUT if you look at it as a cute, cuddly animal THAT CAN TALK!!!! then it isn't creepy at all, just awesome. I wish animals could talk, too, Jack! Probably because I read your Narnia books at a very impressionable age! That's also probably why we have conversations like this at my house:

Lucy: Awww, Fezzie-wezzie WUVS me!
Joey: Um. He 'wuvs' you?
Lucy: Mmmmhmm. Fezzik can't say his 'L's
Joey: Why not?
Lucy: Because he's a DOG, silly!

Duh! But seriously, I would LOVE it if Fez could talk. I'm pretty sure he would be super cool. On the other hand, I'm kind of glad that the Schnauzer can't talk. He'd probably be all, "Aaahh! Scary Lady is scary! Scary Lady! Yikes! Aaah! Love meeeee! More than them! The most! Oh no! Have angered Scary Lady! Run Awaaaaaaay!" Which would be annoying to listen to, is what I think.

Okay, I've been completely derailed by the whole Talking Animals thing. Completely. The end.

Read along and link up, dearies! And don't forget to check out Lenae's take on it, where probably she won't go off on a long tangent about... her dog... or something silly like that....

First Birthday Madness

2011-07-25T08:07:00.003-05:00

You know what is a silly idea? (if not, you certainly came to the right place to hear one!) To plan your child's first birthday party for the day after a HIGHLY intensive, four-day classical education conference. Very. Silly.

I love this conference because even though I don't understand two-thirds of what the speakers are saying, the third that I DO catch is fascinating and thought-provoking and inspiring. And it's fun to wander around and hear people discussing Dante's Inferno the way you and I would discuss an episode of Friends. Plus Joey went for the first time (FORCED! by our boss! bwahaha!) and it was hilarious and awesome to hear his reactions to everything. But it's also very tiring, somehow. Even though you've sat still (and very uncomfortably so) all day long, your BRAIN is tired. Having a tired brain makes you sleepy just as much as a tired body! So getting up early and putting Nessie's birthday party together the day after the conference ended was... a challenge. But we did it! I was in bed, sound asleep, by nine o'clock last night and there is still a terrifying mess to clean up in my living room, but we did it!

(I ~~stole~~ was inspired by a bunch of birthday ideas from this lady and this lady. Because they are awesome. And their parties were much more cute and fancy than this one. But I aspire! And now I'm going to post a zillion pictures of Nessie's party so that other people can ~~steal~~ be inspired by them. Mothering is like teaching in that you can totally steal each others ideas and it's all good because it's FOR THE CHILDREN!)

(Also? I'm not going to get all emotional about HOW IS SHE A YEAR OLD ALREADY?? today because her birthday isn't actually until the 27th. Which means she isn't technically one yet, which means I don't have to cry for...two more days.)

Nessie had a pink ladybug themed party, inspired by a play on words we do with her real name (sometimes we call her Lainey-bug) and this party dress given to me at Ariel's baby shower, which is one of my favorite party dresses of all time. If the dress had had a red bow instead of pink, this would have been a regular ladybug party, but it didn't. Which complicated things a bit, since red ladybug type things are significantly easier to come by than pink ones.

I made the ladybug wings (which amazingly stayed on for the ENTIRE party) and the headband (which not surprisingly, did NOT) and actually, most of the stuff for the party. Summers are tighter, financially, for us, and I knew I couldn't spend much on a birthday party. So I spent quite a bit of time and energy figuring out how to make, or at least, ghetto-rig, everything I wanted. I haunted the Dollar Store and thrift stores for supplies. And you know, I felt like this party turned out a lot cuter than Ariel's parties where I just went a little crazy at Party City. This comes as a surprise to no one, I'm sure. Handmade is better! I started out feeling sad that Nessie wouldn't get as nice a party as Ariel, and now I'm sad that Ariel hasn't had a party as nice as Nessie's. Motherhood, oy. But hurray for handmade!

For instance, I made this cake! All by myself! except for those icing roses that I bought at Hobby Lobby because I was scared to try and make icing roses myself.

Never before have I made a cake. I was very nervous. Mostly I looked at pictures of ladybug cakes, then figured out how to recreate the different parts of them that I liked. This is my system - look at pictures, then figure out how to do it myself. It's highly ~~plagiaristic~~ scientific.

Kanga made cake pops for the party, and they were delicious! I made the base for them with a gift box, some scrapbook paper, florist foam, daisies, hot glue, and pink and black Sixlets. Actually, aside from the balloons, those Sixlets were the single most expensive thing I bought for this party! They were six dollars per bag at Party City. I probably could have found jelly beans somewhere for a lot less, but I was completely out of time and just needed SOME kind of color-sorted candy! Also, yes that IS a ladybug stamped onto the cup, all the cups in fact. HOWEVER, don't do that at YOUR party because the ink, she runs. Alas.

I also served tea sandwiches. THIS idea, at least, I did not knowingly copy from anyone. It isn't original, I'm sure, but I thought of it myself. If that makes any sense. Strawberry and cream cheese tea sandwiches decorated with icing to look like ladybugs.

Basket of favors and basket of ladybug-antenna headbands. That yes, I made. And Ariel made everyone wear one. There's all kinds of making.

And I made a banner.

And a LENGTHY slideshow of pictures from Nessie's first year. Actually, I realized after titling it "A Year of Nessie" that it is more than a year, since I stuck some sonogram pictures and belly shots in there.

Oh, and bouncy balls! Also kind of my own idea! I got these at the Dollar Store and painted them to look like ladybugs and hot-glued googly eyes on them. I think the paint will scratch off pretty easily, but they were perfect for the party. I scattered about ten balls around the living room floor and Nessie was pretty sure she was in heaven. Usually she is more shy and reserved around larger groups of people, but somehow she knew it was HER party and she turned into the biggest ham. It was hilarious! She figured out that she had a roomful of people totally focused on her, and that whenever she did something cute everyone would react. So the child went crazy!

The car was a present for Ariel from my mama. I was kind of worried that Ariel wouldn't handle this party gracefully. She's pretty adamant that EVERYTHING in the world is hers these days, so we've been preparing her for the last few days, talking about NESSIE'S party and how NESSIE will get presents because it will be NESSIE'S birthday and YOU HAVE TO BE SWEET, ALRIGHT?? They'll have to share all the new toys, just like everything else, of course, but I wanted Nessie to have her moment, you know? And Ariel did GREAT! She was absolutely wonderful about the whole thing. The only time there was a problem was when Nessie picked up a toy from Ariel's favor bag and that apparently just added insult to injury. But it was quickly resolved and I was SO proud of her!

Ariel was definitely very involved in the present-opening process, though.

And then we let them eat cake!

My little barbarian.

Nom nom.

Nom.

And finally, the birthday message board, which was too wonderful an idea to resist copying from Katie. I tried, but I could not resist.

The pink tulle in the background is actually part of Glinda's skirt from our school play. I had made it so that it would wrap around and tie over the big crinoline, so it was easy to untie it and hang it up in a doorway for a backdrop. Technically I suppose that's school property, but I DID make it, after all. I also borrowed the tulle wrap and put it up in the window above the birthday banner.

So... a little bit overboard for a birthday that she won't ever remember? Maybe. Probably. (Any time Joey pointed out to me how overboard I was going I replied that it wasn't like I was renting a pink pony! Little does he know that I am in fact planning to rent a pink pony for a future birthday party. Maybe Ariel's fifth birthday, they'll both be old enough to go crazy over it at that point. Ponies are surprisingly cheap to rent here in Texas! And they really dye them pink!)

BUT I really LIKE doing stuff like this, so it was fun. And more importantly, someday she'll look back at these pictures (and really, what is a first birthday party but one giant photo opportunity?) and know how much we celebrated her. I want to be sure that she'll know that. Joey decided that he was glad I went a little overboard and told me repeatedly that I did a good job, and that made me very happy. So even though now I have to put on a full suit of armor and vanquish the terrifying monster that is our living room and kitchen apres-party, it was all worth it!