Oh y'all...I'm in bloggy withdrawal. I have flashes of inspiration and swirls of amusing thoughts that are crowding my mind. What's taking precedence, however, is an ever-expanding to-do list.
Saturday morning is JBB's 6th Birthday Party. We are hosting 14 children plus their parents. I am hoping it will be a good time had by all. I have to confess that I am nervous about it since I am not one of those women who just effortlessly hosts large groups of people every other weekend. You know those women...the kind who have at least five sets of dishes plus every kind of guest towel you can imagine. At this point, I will feel rather accomplished if we have plates with two super-heroes on them.
So, wish me luck. Saturday afternoon, if I'm lucky, I'll have a very exhausted and happy JBB and Pretty Girl, and I'll curl up with my beloved laptop and catch up on all of your fabulous blogs. I miss y'all.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Equal Opportunity
JBB loves Power Rangers. Guess what? I have earth-shattering news. Pretty Girl loves Power Rangers too. Since JBB graciously gave her one of his, we had to make hers a little...distinctive.
(p.s. my dear friend The Captain's Wife brought those dishes to me from Turkey...except that The Captain is now a Major and he is in Iraq...say a prayer tonight for our soldiers and another one tomorrow morning too)
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Came and Went and Back Again
Thank y'all for your kind comments about JBB's first day! I awoke with a start after very little sleep and I was just as wired, frazzled, and excited as when I finally drifted to sleep on the couch in front of the television.
Before I knew it, JBB was dressed in his uniform, and I was standing in the front yard in my ratty pajamas (and no bra...oops; well, I can't think of everything) and taking all kinds of pictures. Soon it was time to leave. JBB was very excited about wearing his new uniform, carrying his new backpack, and riding with Mr. Lipstick. Pretty Girl, however, was becoming increasingly confused and distraught. As she leaned in to kiss JBB goodbye, she grabbed on to the side of his seat and held on for dear life.
I have to confess that this was not the meltdown I was anticipating. Mr. Lipstick and JBB left for school and we went back inside the house. Pretty Girl had a complete toddler nervous breakdown. She screamed. She cried. She flung her beloved babydoll on the floor and beat her hands against the door. As she gasped for air, she wailed, "JBB! JBB! JBB!" Finally, I pried her away from the door and managed to distract her with her drink of choice: milk.
I was exhausted, sweaty, and my hair hung like little tendrils around my face. Pretty Girl was in much the same condition plus a nice layer of dirt she acquired from falling prostrate on the doormat in her moment of instantaneous grief over JBB's first day of kindergarten.
Fast forward to that evening and my sweet JBB gave me a detailed account of his day. He was delighted with his teacher, his new friends, the notebook that he gets to take back and forth every day, and even the little "I love you" note I packed in his lunch box.
Tomorrow is his second day (their first week's schedule is a little strange). I hope JBB has as much fun as he did on his first day. He has requested that I include not one, but two love notes in his lunch box, and as you might have guessed, I am more than happy to comply with that request. As for Pretty Girl...well, I hope she is a little more...composed.
Before I knew it, JBB was dressed in his uniform, and I was standing in the front yard in my ratty pajamas (and no bra...oops; well, I can't think of everything) and taking all kinds of pictures. Soon it was time to leave. JBB was very excited about wearing his new uniform, carrying his new backpack, and riding with Mr. Lipstick. Pretty Girl, however, was becoming increasingly confused and distraught. As she leaned in to kiss JBB goodbye, she grabbed on to the side of his seat and held on for dear life.
I have to confess that this was not the meltdown I was anticipating. Mr. Lipstick and JBB left for school and we went back inside the house. Pretty Girl had a complete toddler nervous breakdown. She screamed. She cried. She flung her beloved babydoll on the floor and beat her hands against the door. As she gasped for air, she wailed, "JBB! JBB! JBB!" Finally, I pried her away from the door and managed to distract her with her drink of choice: milk.
I was exhausted, sweaty, and my hair hung like little tendrils around my face. Pretty Girl was in much the same condition plus a nice layer of dirt she acquired from falling prostrate on the doormat in her moment of instantaneous grief over JBB's first day of kindergarten.
Fast forward to that evening and my sweet JBB gave me a detailed account of his day. He was delighted with his teacher, his new friends, the notebook that he gets to take back and forth every day, and even the little "I love you" note I packed in his lunch box.
Tomorrow is his second day (their first week's schedule is a little strange). I hope JBB has as much fun as he did on his first day. He has requested that I include not one, but two love notes in his lunch box, and as you might have guessed, I am more than happy to comply with that request. As for Pretty Girl...well, I hope she is a little more...composed.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Oh, How the Years Go By...
In just over seven hours, life is going to change. JBB's first day of real, official, formally recognized education begins tomorrow. Kindergarten has arrived. Of course, it takes very little calculating to realize that I am up late. Very late. This is because I am as wide awake as if I had just drank ten Red Bulls (which I did not, by the way).
I keep procrastinating odd things like starting the dishwasher and double-checking the list of things that should be in JBB's backpack tomorrow. After all, it is a highly complex list...an extra set of clothes for his cubby, a snack and a juice box. Naturally his meticulously ironed clothes are carefully laid out for him in an attempt to avoid morning chaos. This is sort of comical in a way because there is all manner of chaos everywhere else (like my closet or the toys on the floor or the haphazard placement of recently refrigerated items). My natural state of existence is one of entropy, but I do carve out pockets of perfect order from time to time. Even the camera is charged and ready to go.
Mostly though I just keep meandering around the house looking at pictures of newborn JBB and 3 month old JBB and 2 year old JBB...well, you know. I remember things like being put on bed rest for preterm labor and FREAKING OUT about it. Mommy and Daddy Lipstick raced here, went to Target, and bought all the baby stuff. I still have all those little shirts from the newborn days.
He had tons of fuzzy little hair. It would tickle my nose when I would snuggle with him, which by the way was all the time. People (eyeroll) used to say, "you're holdin' that baby too much." I just smiled sweetly because I'm Southern and that's how I was brought up. In my mind though I was thinking, "well, **** you." My hormones were raging, you know, just a tiny bit. I held him for hours on end. It was wonderful, precious...absolutely some of the best times of my entire existence.
Tomorrow begins something new. I had a friend once whose son was in his mid-twenties when JBB was just months old. She adored her son in the way that I adore JBB. I asked her what her favorite stage of childhood was. Her answer is one of the wisest comments I have ever heard, "Honey, my favorite stage has always been whatever stage he has been at the time." I guess as of tomorrow my new favorite will be kindergarten.
I keep procrastinating odd things like starting the dishwasher and double-checking the list of things that should be in JBB's backpack tomorrow. After all, it is a highly complex list...an extra set of clothes for his cubby, a snack and a juice box. Naturally his meticulously ironed clothes are carefully laid out for him in an attempt to avoid morning chaos. This is sort of comical in a way because there is all manner of chaos everywhere else (like my closet or the toys on the floor or the haphazard placement of recently refrigerated items). My natural state of existence is one of entropy, but I do carve out pockets of perfect order from time to time. Even the camera is charged and ready to go.
Mostly though I just keep meandering around the house looking at pictures of newborn JBB and 3 month old JBB and 2 year old JBB...well, you know. I remember things like being put on bed rest for preterm labor and FREAKING OUT about it. Mommy and Daddy Lipstick raced here, went to Target, and bought all the baby stuff. I still have all those little shirts from the newborn days.
He had tons of fuzzy little hair. It would tickle my nose when I would snuggle with him, which by the way was all the time. People (eyeroll) used to say, "you're holdin' that baby too much." I just smiled sweetly because I'm Southern and that's how I was brought up. In my mind though I was thinking, "well, **** you." My hormones were raging, you know, just a tiny bit. I held him for hours on end. It was wonderful, precious...absolutely some of the best times of my entire existence.
Tomorrow begins something new. I had a friend once whose son was in his mid-twenties when JBB was just months old. She adored her son in the way that I adore JBB. I asked her what her favorite stage of childhood was. Her answer is one of the wisest comments I have ever heard, "Honey, my favorite stage has always been whatever stage he has been at the time." I guess as of tomorrow my new favorite will be kindergarten.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
It Is Apparently Difficult....
to take two children to the swimming pool. Oddly, the aforementioned children remained ecstatic about the visit to the pool for hours prior to the event until the moment of departure at which time they commenced crying for no apparent reason. This mayhem nearly caused an abrupt cancellation of all activities. Cancellation plan was discontinued, however, due to concerns of accelerated and prolonged chaos. Crying ceased en route to the artificial, chlorinated body of water, and a good time was had by all. Children exited the pool two hours later without protest after a five minute warning was issued. Supper was provided by McDonald's, Inc. as Lipstick was too tired to cook.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
To Do: Marry the Perfect Man...Done.
This weekend Mr. Lipstick gave me a stunningly beautiful present. I hugged him tightly and kissed him passionately. Of course, I took some pictures to share with you (of the gift, not really of all the thanking). It begins like this
and then continues like this
and then finishes like this.
My gift may make a little more sense if you see it in its entirety and in context.
This retractable-removable-driveway-blocker is Mr. Lipstick's practical response to an afternoon of terror. We were outside talking to several neighbors, the children walked up the driveway to get some toys, and then to the backyard. I always have the driveway blocked off with a wheelbarrow, a trashcan, something...except for that day. We were standing...right there.
Just minutes after my children began playing in the backyard, a massive diesel truck pulled in our driveway. I frantically waved my arms for the man to stop, to slow down. He thought I was greeting him. I yelled at him, grabbed the kids, and ran in the house. I wept and screamed the sort of primal scream that emerges when the deepest pit of your soul has nearly witnessed your worst nightmare. I sat in a chair and cried for four hours. I didn't get better that night. I wasn't better the next day.
Mr. Lipstick took care of feeding and bathing JBB and Pretty Girl, answering their questions, dressing them and taking them to school. He took care of me too, and he built this wonderful gift for me.
A few weeks ago, I posted this verse and I wrote, "Sometimes things happen in life which terrify your soul. It is handy to know this verse. And believe it." One of my dearest bloggy buddies The Preppy Princess asked about the Scripture. This is the full story.
There are probably as many opinions about the intervention of God in human affairs as there are people on this earth. My feeling is immense, overwhelming gratitude. It is the sort of thankfulness that washes over you like a much too powerful wave in the ocean...the kind that takes your breath away, forces you to stop breathing for a moment, and focus on nothing but the surrounding power of the water and the wind, and of course, your own insignificance and lack of power.
When I pray, I try to thank God for protecting my children. Usually I can't form any words, but tears flow freely down my face, my chest swells with emotion, and I know that He knows.
and then continues like this
and then finishes like this.
My gift may make a little more sense if you see it in its entirety and in context.
This retractable-removable-driveway-blocker is Mr. Lipstick's practical response to an afternoon of terror. We were outside talking to several neighbors, the children walked up the driveway to get some toys, and then to the backyard. I always have the driveway blocked off with a wheelbarrow, a trashcan, something...except for that day. We were standing...right there.
Just minutes after my children began playing in the backyard, a massive diesel truck pulled in our driveway. I frantically waved my arms for the man to stop, to slow down. He thought I was greeting him. I yelled at him, grabbed the kids, and ran in the house. I wept and screamed the sort of primal scream that emerges when the deepest pit of your soul has nearly witnessed your worst nightmare. I sat in a chair and cried for four hours. I didn't get better that night. I wasn't better the next day.
Mr. Lipstick took care of feeding and bathing JBB and Pretty Girl, answering their questions, dressing them and taking them to school. He took care of me too, and he built this wonderful gift for me.
A few weeks ago, I posted this verse and I wrote, "Sometimes things happen in life which terrify your soul. It is handy to know this verse. And believe it." One of my dearest bloggy buddies The Preppy Princess asked about the Scripture. This is the full story.
There are probably as many opinions about the intervention of God in human affairs as there are people on this earth. My feeling is immense, overwhelming gratitude. It is the sort of thankfulness that washes over you like a much too powerful wave in the ocean...the kind that takes your breath away, forces you to stop breathing for a moment, and focus on nothing but the surrounding power of the water and the wind, and of course, your own insignificance and lack of power.
When I pray, I try to thank God for protecting my children. Usually I can't form any words, but tears flow freely down my face, my chest swells with emotion, and I know that He knows.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Watchin' TV
JBB is making paper airplanes and watching Spiderman at Mommy and Daddy Lipstick's house, Mr. Lipstick is somewhere behind a pile of law books, and Pretty Girl is snoring softly beside two Elmo's and three babydolls.
Of course, I am watching True Blood and I have been pausing and laughing and googling and now I am sharing this little gem. Funny, huh?
I tell you what...this is as close to "Wordless Wednesday" as I'm ever gonna get.
Of course, I am watching True Blood and I have been pausing and laughing and googling and now I am sharing this little gem. Funny, huh?
I tell you what...this is as close to "Wordless Wednesday" as I'm ever gonna get.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Ice Doesn't Always Melt
I had to run an errand this afternoon. The volunteer who assisted me never spoke a word, except to offer the price and the change due. Perhaps I was icy first. Perhaps she was tired, distracted. Perhaps I was just wrong.
Nevertheless, my impression was that she was icy, and unnecessarily so. It totally pissed me off. Someone classier than me like Three for Tippy or Hopsy or my all time idol Mommy Lipstick would certainly not be so crass as to say they were pissed off. They probably wouldn't have indulged their primal urge to return the iciness either.
On the way home, I couldn't resist examining why this bothered me SO much. I suddenly realized that I really hate icy people. In fact, I purposely surround myself with people who are the antithesis of icy. Recent example: Saturday night our neighbors came over and visited in our sunroom until 2 in the morning. There was much laughter, copious beer consumption, and the discussion of delightfully inappropriate topics. It was fun and comfortable, easy, and without pretention.
I hate pretention. I have been guilty in my life of putting on airs. I can remember those experiences vividly. They are stupid, ridiculous, filled with regret, pain, and humour. Thank goodness, I have tried to grow up. Some people are still doing that sort of thing far into adulthood. They are usually icy too, and boy, do I try to avoid them. It's no secret really; those people piss me off.
Nevertheless, my impression was that she was icy, and unnecessarily so. It totally pissed me off. Someone classier than me like Three for Tippy or Hopsy or my all time idol Mommy Lipstick would certainly not be so crass as to say they were pissed off. They probably wouldn't have indulged their primal urge to return the iciness either.
On the way home, I couldn't resist examining why this bothered me SO much. I suddenly realized that I really hate icy people. In fact, I purposely surround myself with people who are the antithesis of icy. Recent example: Saturday night our neighbors came over and visited in our sunroom until 2 in the morning. There was much laughter, copious beer consumption, and the discussion of delightfully inappropriate topics. It was fun and comfortable, easy, and without pretention.
I hate pretention. I have been guilty in my life of putting on airs. I can remember those experiences vividly. They are stupid, ridiculous, filled with regret, pain, and humour. Thank goodness, I have tried to grow up. Some people are still doing that sort of thing far into adulthood. They are usually icy too, and boy, do I try to avoid them. It's no secret really; those people piss me off.
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