Tuesday, November 30, 2010

I Make My Own Fashion Shows

Stayed home from school today and already called out for tomorrow due to a little thing called lack of voice. I considered doing all my lessons in sign language then remembered a) I don't know sign language and b) my class needs plenty of "voice intervention."

Too many cups of honey-infused tea has me jittery and sleepless... and oh yeah, still voiceless, thus I was able to enjoy the Victoria's Secret fashion show which was on an hour past my usual bed time. Watching all those glittery "outfits?", listening to the catchy beats, and catching glimpses of so many celebrities had me pretty captivated. I felt like Houston watching his morning episode of Thomas the Tank Engine: colors, music and British accents.

I imagined how much greater my life would be if I too, was a VS model. Except for my small boobs which I happen to like. And the fact that I can't walk in a heel over 1/4 inch. And the fact that I could probably never eat a cheeseburger EVER again. Or my Friday chocolate glazed doughnut. Or take cream in my coffee. And I could never just chill out in granny panties because even when you feel like crud, you'd probably have to don something glittery and floss-like. I'm not cut out to be a model.

I'm not going to lie, sometimes when I'm walking down the halls at school, I feel the need to strut it a little. Those hallways are long. And if you don't look too long in the mirrors along the hallway, you can trick your brain into thinking you're hot stuff. And sometimes my mom's words come into my brain, "Danielle, what if you were in an accident and they had to cut off your pants?" There's about 3% natural model running through my veins. But it's a all a bit too much maintenance for this girl. And I really like my Friday doughnuts. Those poor models don't know what they're missing.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Simple Pleasures

Let me tell you about today... first day back to school after a delicious four days off, lost my voice with a class of kids that you just can't lose it with, picked up my little man feeling exhausted and irritable, came home craving chinese food leftover that my brother in law ate ALL of, fed the baby, scrounged up some turkey (for the 5th night in a row), watched as the baby picked up my glass of diet coke and dumped the contents on the hardwood floors, proceeded to watch as the baby smashed said glass on said hardwood floors, got aggravated, changed diaper, put baby to bed...

and then, this moment of bliss.

As I was getting ready to hoist my rapidly chunking toddler into his crib, I asked, "Do you want mommy to rock you for a while?" To which he responded, "Okay."

It's been months, maybe even a YEAR, since I rocked a lively baby into complete submission.

We talked for a couple minutes, we sang multiple rounds of "You are my Sunshine" (our personal favorite) to which Houston continually asked after my raspy rendition, "More?"

And then he was asleep. It took all of 7 minutes. But it was bliss at the end of an otherwise disaster of a day. God, I need to figure out how to get more of this in my life...

What simple pleasures do you have in your life that prevent mental breakdowns? Chocolate? Wine? Baby loving? Do share!

I need to get some of these Etsy prints in my life.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Thanksgiving in Pictures



Houston chills out (with his last bub EVER) watching the parade



Thanksgiving centerpiece... a little ribbon, and some Hannaford flowers go a long way :)

Turkey's in the oven! 6 hours of total cook time...



5 minutes later... Hew decides he needs an early nap.
Dad doing dishes in my Vera apron


Ross rockin' out to Beatles rockband

Trapped between Gigi and Meemaw...

Houston busts loose, ditches the sweater and dances off his turkey

Saturday, November 27, 2010

You know it's Thanksgiving when... (a look back)

So obviously once people started showing up at my house, it became rude to log on to update my "You know" list.

So here is a belated update: You know it's Thanksgiving when...

- You're forced to come up with some creative centerpiece, only to be one-upped by your sister who hand-made turkey-shaped candle holders.

- Everyone is ready to eat, but can't, because gram (who happens to have all the pies, AND multiple dishes that need to be re-heated) decided to take an extra long shower and show up one hour late.

- Despite dozens of combined hours of cooking, your son's Thanksgiving dinner consists of one bite of turkey and one Oreo.

- Your father dons your Vera Bradley apron in order to finish washing dishes.

 - Everyone in the family is included in a round of Wii Beatles rockband.

 - The pies are toothpick-labeled with individual names.

- Too much ice cream from doting family = baby running laps in the living room... for 45 minutes.

- Despite the hours, the stress, the anxiousness, the chaos, you look back with a little sigh and say, "Now that was fun."


... pictures coming soon :)

Thursday, November 25, 2010

You know it's Thanksgiving when...

You're forced to eat a lean cuisine because you've been up since 5am, and although you've tried your darndest to wait until 2 to eat lunch, you find yourself with a case of the hypoglycemic shakes.

You know it's Thanksgiving when...

Your mom hears you swear for the first time, because for the second time in 20 minutes:

You know it's Thanksgiving when...

as a good, Christian girl, you find yourself elbow-deep in a cavity of any sort.

It's HERE!

Throughout the day I will be updating on the status of my first EVER hosted family holiday, which just so happens to coincidentally be the holiday in which people expect lots of delicious food, which as you know just so happens to be my arch nemesis.

This is me, in my dream world, in about 5 hours.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Prepping for D-Day, err... T-Day.

T-4 days until Thanksgiving. Did I mention that we're hosting this year? First time ever? Yeah, about that. We are having 11 adults and Houston eating at our house, which my husband and I learned, is about one adult too many to fit in our dining room. Aside from hoping someone cancels, we reluctantly re-set the dining table and realized it just wasn't going to work in our small little room. Currently there are two 8-foot tables set up side by side in our kitchen. And abouuut that... I just returned my mega tablecloth to target to get two little ones to fit the folding tables. Justin said the tables were 6-feet each. Now I need to go back to Target to re-buy the big one I just returned, and pray to God that it has a match tablecloth to buy too. I can't help but wonder, if setting up is taking this much effort, how is actually FEEDING these people going to turn out? Namaste.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Gross/Gorgeous

I'm on day 4 of what has turned into a progressively disgusting cold. I'm at that stage of "coldness" where a face transplant is something I might actually consider (especially if Dr. Alex Karev were performing it, right?). Regardless, writing = too much time with my hands off of tissues. Thus, I leave you with this:
Hello, I'm here for your face transplant.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Oh Hey There, Soapbox.

I was at a workshop today that turned out to actually be worth my time, a rare gem lately. The presenter was talking about the "diversity" of kids in the classroom today. Aside from race, and language, and ethnicity, more babies are being prematurely now than ever before. More babies are born with drugs in their veins than ever before. And more children are being diagnosed with ADHD, autism, depression and anxiety disorders than ever before. Today's children come to school over-tired, poorly nourished (if at all), and from "print-free" homes. Some homes have more televisions than books - which would be absolutely shocking to me if I weren't reminded of this daily by children's reactions to being allowed to take my books home with them. I'll never forget at open house when a child in my class this year proudly showed his father his desk, including his school library book, to which his father responded, "This ain't a real book. It ain't got no pictures." Motivating, isn't it?

I thought of my own little munchkin at home, and how much he absolutely loves reading. And it's not just one book he's into... it's dozens. I should know, they are currently scattered all over the living room floor. He loves his "Daddy book" - a lift the flap book that's love is shown by it's haphazard flaps hanging precariously on each page. He loves Puff the Magic Dragon so much, he bawled when he accidentally ripped a page, crying "Oh noooo. Oh NO!" He loves books with textures and books with bright pictures. We go to the library almost every week - in fact, Houston's first real conversational sentence was in reference to me asking if he wanted to go to the library: "YESH! More books. Please?"On top of gazing at his favorite pictures, Houston has even started recognizing letters in print, excitedly scanning those little black letters in his favorite stories for "O"s. At one and a half years old, my son has had more exposure to literature than some students in my class who are 8 years old. It's no wonder our schools are failing.

As much as we say, "kids these days," kids these days really are different. And as much as I may feel like a "dunce" at home, there are certain times in life when I have to stop belittling myself and instead give myself a hearty slap on the back. Our kids are our responsibility. Not their teachers'. I can only hope that Houston's love for books always outweighs his love for "Sprout TV."

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

What Would You Do...

...if you could do anything and not fail?

This was a question on a recent health form I was asked to complete. Such a deep question for a standard health form, right? I have this issue with forms in that as soon as I see an empty form, I need to complete it immediately. Some deep-rooted OCD issue or something. So when I came to this question, it frustrated me that I had to stop and think.

What would you do if you could do anything and not fail?

A flurry of answers swirled in my mind. I could be a writer. No. You don't have the time. You're not good enough. You'd lose interest. I could start that business I've always thought about. No. You don't have the money. You don't have the experience. You'd lose interest.

But wait... you would not fail.

What would you NOT do if there was no risk of failing? You could literally do or try anything, and have a positive result. I would sit down and finally write that book. Because I wouldn't run out of money ahead of time. We would not have a health-related issue that demanded health insurance. I would not be denied by that major publisher and lose all self-confidence. I would not lose interest because it would be such a riveting topic, and there wouldn't be those "you should really be doing something more practical, like laundry" thoughts going through my mind. And I really could open my business for toddlers and parents because I'd have a booming business and loads of start-up money. I could bring my son to work with me and finally balance every aspect of my life that is important to me. Successful thoughts are exciting... but are they realistic?

Someone "professional" told me recently that I spend too much time conjuring up worst-case scenarios, and then dwelling upon them. But isn't that easy? Isn't it easy to think of all the things that could go wrong, and instead living in a state of comfortable "stability?" In real life, failure IS an option. A scary one. Especially for type-A perfectionists with a flair for OCD.

But the question remains, in black and white, what would you do if you could do anything and not fail?

Monday, November 15, 2010

What's your fantasy?

I bet it doesn't involve agonizing over professional football players' weekly capabilities. I bet it doesn't involve scrutinizing the waiver wire to find the best hidden gem to replace your injured wide receiver. I bet it doesn't involve hours in front of "StatTracker" on Sunday afternoons, evenings and Monday nights to keep updated on your players' progress minute by minute. I bet it doesn't involve wishing a concussion or broken limbs on your enemies...

unless you're a boy. Or me.

I have become OBSESSED with fantasy football. I can't help that I am a competitive girl by nature, but there is something about playing a "boy's game" that somehow makes it more intense. My current league is comprised of 14 teams, 11 of which belong to boys. I'm proud to say that my hours of dedication have landed me in the top 3 of my league consistently, and even allowed me a one-week debut at first place.

I think it stems back to 7th grade gym class... I was playing co-ed floor hockey and managed to score THREE times on a boy-goalie. It was perhaps the best day of my physically semi-active life. It lit some sort of crazy competitive spark inside my brain. Watching that boy cry, yes, cry, felt really REALLY good. Playing fantasy football is kind of like that. Beating boys feels really REALLY good. When your quiet, it feels good to trash talk sometimes AND to have the skills to back it up. We don't get those chances very often, do we?

And thus, weekly, you will find me hunched over my Mac, making line-up changes, picking up new players, scrutinizing stats, and analyzing performances. And please don't be surprised or offended if you stop by my house on a Sunday afternoon and hear phrases like, "I hope that jackass gets knocked unconscious." Because my 13-year-old self still relishes the day that I made a boy cry.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Christmas...already?

Did someone forget to tell me that Christmas is December 1st this year? I guess I missed the memo.

Is it me, or is Christmas making an appearance earlier this year? Obviously the malls are decorated with music blaring insanely early per usual, but Santa already? Really? Shouldn't he be busy with the elves this month? (Wow, that's a lot of questions.) My mailbox has become bombarded with advertisements, lights are popping up all over my tiny neighborhood, and friends are updating their statuses with their latest holiday preparations - your Christmas tree is up and decorated? What?!

As I stroll the aisles of Target, I can't help but feel bad for the fall decorations, ruined with red clearance stickers an entire month before they should be. But I smirk a little too as I gently place them in my cart. Don't worry little accessory, there's a place for you at my house. And I love your cheapness.

I have always made a mental goal of ignoring Christmas until Black Friday, but this year I can't help feeling just a teensy bit of pressure to start cheating on Thanksgiving.

What about you? When's an acceptable time to start your decorating/shopping/holiday panic attacks? Let me know below!

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Whoopsie.

Everybody has those pet peeves... little things that drive you absolutely crazy. And that's usually what they are, little things. My pet peeve is when people chew with their mouths open. Seeing as I have lunch duty at school right now, I am confronted with my pet peeve on a daily basis. Of course there are other things too, but that really is right up there in my top 5. One of my friends can't stand when the timer on the microwave isn't cleared out. Mine says :08 right now. If she were here she'd probably be twitching.

It's very easy to list everyday annoyances, but have you ever thought about what YOU do that annoys other people? My husband and I have had this conversation, carefully, in the past. It's kind of a touchy thing, to tell someone that their habits really piss you off. Honestly, I've been blessed with a very neat, laid-back man to call my husband. Maybe it's time, or maybe he just knows me all too well, but there are really very few things I could think of that irritate me. And also I don't want to blast him on blogger. Love ya, Smit!

But I had to laugh as I was thinking about what to write about this afternoon. As I sit at the kitchen counter, his pet peeve is glaring me directly in the face:

Justin's Major Pet Peeve... wuh wuh.

Open cabinet doors. 4 of them. Of course after taking this picture I had to rush over and close them before he noticed my delinquency. It's hard to be told or "reminded" of your faults. But if you are going to live so closely with someone for presumably, the rest of your life, I guess it's important to be conscientious of those little nagging things that drive each other crazy.

Although I totally blame this one on genetics. Hang out with my dad for a few hours and you'll think there are no cabinet doors in the kitchen at all, because they're all permanently left open. Sorry for blasting you on blogger, Dad.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Babies are fun

So apparently Houston finds the word "gentleman" hilarious. Therefore, I've trained him to kiss my hand every time I call him gentleman. 

The past 10 minutes have consisted of the following:
Me: "Oh Houston, you are such a gentleman!"
Hew: giggle giggle, kisses the back of my hand, "More?"
Me: "Oh Houston, you are SUCH a gentleman!"
Hew: giggle. kiss. "More?"

Repeat x 212.

Ahhhh... babies can make you feel so good about yourself.


Thursday, November 11, 2010

Oh, Nate.

I have always been a big fan of Nate Berkus, but have to say I'm not so much a fan of his new talk show. He's really, really, really boring... and sometimes awkward.

BUT, he did recently have a really good segment on clutter - my biggest nemesis. You can watch the video  here on clutter personality types. There are 5 types: distracted, procrastinator, bargain shopper, sentimentalist, and perfectionists. He doesn't really go into detail though on what happens if you happen to have all five types. Errr... shit. I mean, namaste.

It's that time of year again...

You know, the time of year when you go from waving pedestrians across the street with a friendly smile, to wanting to break their legs with the front bumper of your car?

Harsh, much? I know, I know. It is. But it happens to me every year - usually not this early. You go from doing your regular errands, to flicking people off in Target parking lots. Holiday shopping is in full force, and it's already starting to stress me out.

The difference is that this year, I am going to have a little buddy in the backseat who not only is fully conscious of what's going on, but has turned into a little parrot. For example, while attempting to buy bath towels at Bed Bath and Beyond (which by the way, who DOES during holiday shopping?) I found myself whisper yelling, "WALK you IDIOT." Upon which I heard a resounding, "WALK 'IT'!"from the back seat.

It's time to chill. While the "ITS" of the world are out like crazy people shopping in NOVEMBER (idiots), I need to remember to relax. Take a sip of your coffee, put on a fake smile, and relax. As Houston's baby yoga DVD says, "Namaste."The madness has begun, but it doesn't have to be mine... until December 20.

May you all find your own "namaste" this holiday season. The "IT" attitude can be contagious (even for babies).

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Eenie, Meenie, Miney...

This was my night: a wonderful, glorious HOUR of uninterrupted sleep, followed by multiple episodes of Super Why, bottles, and baby snuggles. Houston had decided he just was not going to sleep last night. He'd pass out in his crib and just as I would drift out of consciousness, I'd hear, "Mommmmma. Dada. Dada? WAHHHHH" in the monitor. Every half hour. To the minute. Now, at 2:00 am, I lose my normal, cordial personality and turn into something like the Incredible Hulk with turrets. Covers fly. There are groans. Swears. Tears. I'm not proud, but that's me. Sometimes hours later, in the rationality of daylight, I think back upon something that came out of my mouth and feel embarrassed or even like I was dreaming - that awful person could not be me... right? But you know the feeling. Watching the clock, feeling exhausted and realizing that you have 6 more hours, 5, 4, 3, 2 hours left? That's about when I fall into the inevitable stage of sleep that involves war dreams and cold sweat. The best sleep ever. For 2 hours.

Now here is where I have an issue. Most people can roll out of bed, drive to work, and sit in front of a computer or do some kind of "pretend" work for a portion of the day. You know what I'm talking about... you can make it through the day without a whole lot of mental effort then come home and take a nap or go to bed early. OR, an even better alternative, just call in sick. In some jobs, if you're sick, there's no replacement. Life goes on without you. In other jobs, a substitute is called in - another nurse, another cashier. Someone who's trained to do the exact same job you do - someone who might be pissed off that they are getting called on their day off, but at least someone who has some indication of what to do on the job.

And then there's teachers.

I could have called my assistant principal for a sub today. But then that would require writing sub plans. Imagine trying to tell someone you've NEVER met, who may or may not have ANY teaching experience how to do your job, with your kids whom they have also NEVER met. When you're sick, or your kids are sick, and you're not planning for a day off, writing sub plans SUCK. I'm not the kind of teacher who can leave a schedule that looks like: 9:00 - Math, 10:00 - Science, etc... (and there are those teachers out there!). I'm the type of teacher who writes things like: 8:20, walk to the white board in the front of the room, resting on the chalkboard, and use a black dry-erase marker to write the date at the top in large letters - the long date AND the short date. Do not write in cursive.

And the real lesson description hasn't even started yet. Then I have to add things like, "Joe won't do any work in math, but don't call him on it because then he will throw his pencil box at you and run out of the classroom." You know, little tidbits like that. Or, "Jessica might look like she's not listening to you, but if you say her name in class she'll start crying, and don't worry anyway, because just when you think she's not going to do a SINGLE thing, she'll race through the page and get them all right." Try to imagine describing how to do your job to someone who's never met you or your co-workers, has never stepped in your office, and has no experience doing your line of work. And do that while you're sick. At 5:30 in the morning. And try to remember where you left all your teacher manuals from the day before, because they're probably NOT on your desk. In fact, they're probably in your bag... on your kitchen counter. Eff.

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE subs. They have saved me on my roughest days. BUT, it's kind of interesting to me that anyone off the street is qualified to "be me" for the day. People who have never stepped foot in my school, never mind my classroom can come chill with my kids. It creeps me out a little. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers. But tired teacher moms can. Annnnd I choose sucking it up and lots of "silent reading time" vs. explaining my life, minute by minute between episodes of Super Why at 4 in the morning.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Cooking Zen

It's taken me 27 years to realize my cooking zen. I think part of my cooking anxieties come from feeling rushed, cluttered and inexperienced. And aside from the inexperience part, I have realized that I can control my cooking environment to make the process a lot less stressful.

First of all, I need solace. My best meals have come on weekends with Justin around to entertain the babe, or with Houston fully occupied in an episode of Super Why. I cannot cook with someone weaving cars between my legs, whining, or reaching for pots from the stove top.

Second of all, I need time. I cannot cook under pressure. Ever. I have to start dinner at 4 in order to have any sort of accuracy or creativity. I am too ADD to feel rushed.

Thirdly, I need peace. Wine + Music = peace. Lately, I've been simmering to Adele or Ingrid Michaelson.

We're waiting for this barbecue chicken recipe to come out of the oven now. Although disclaimer: Houston woke up from a nap mid-preparation, crying. So if some ingredient is missing and dinner turns out to be a wash, blame the mishap on my meditation interruption.
Are you an anxious cooker? Have you found your "zen"? What's your favorite cooking music? I need an expanded playlist... so leave suggestions below!

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Hurricane Houston... and Danielle. And sometimes Justin.

I was blessed with a husband who cleans. Honestly, if Houston and I were left alone with each other, I don't know how long it would take for our house to look like someone from "Hoarders." But sometimes the house gets to a point, even with my cleaning husband, where it is much easier to blog about its disastrousness then to actually do anything about it.

From where I sit at my kitchen counter, I can see Houston's jams from last night, strewn around the living room. There's a suitcase in my dining room from the time, last month, when we went to visit my sister in Burlington. Houston figured out how to work the zipper, so there are even more clothes heaped in a pile around his kitchen set. That damn kitchen set. There are plastic potatoes, and spatulas, and hot dog buns all over the place, and a sleeve of Ritz crackers, mostly gone, sitting in his kitchen sink. I don't want to know what I'd find if I opened his fridge.

There are dishes in the real sink. Toys all over the kitchen floor. Random bits of tupperware littered everywhere. Bills on my counter (ugh). Bananas in the fruit bowl that I keep telling myself I'll use for banana bread, but not sure if they're really still edible or not. And that's just what I can see. Here. Without moving.

I keep telling myself I just need to look up ONE more thing on the computer before I start. Facebook statuses, my Fantasy Football team, my email, my blog stats. But in the back of my mind the question remains, what if your mother-in-law stops by RIGHT now?

Time to chug the rest of my dunks, turn on Itunes, and just start... sigh. What's your motivation for cleaning when your living space becomes too cluttered to go on living? What inspires you? Leave love below!

If I was a single woman and liked animals... maybe?

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Just some big, expensive shoes. Sigh.

I think it's funny sometimes when I go shopping and scan clearance racks and sale shelves to find the cutest yet cheapest item I can buy that "mostly" fits, but yet don't think twice when buying clothing for my son who will likely outgrow his wardrobe in 3 to 6 months. Last week I spend $24.99 on a pair of brown shoes I desperately needed for fall, while spending double on my son's shoes last night. $50. Now granted, Houston's walking needs are a little different then mine - I don't want to permanently stunt his growth by skimping on shoes, but $50. Eeks. This is when I'm glad I have a little boy who can get away with one pair of shoes (gasp!) and not a little girl who needs dressy black shoes, brown shoes, casual shoes, sneakers, etc. Our income could not withstand TWO women buying shoes. Even if one DOES shop clearance.

Justin and I took Houston to Stride Rite last night to get some new sneakers and couldn't believe he was a size SEVEN. And guess which category that puts him in at the shoe store... PRESCHOOL!! Now, I know my kid has always had bigger feet than his playgroup pals, but PRESCHOOL-sized feet!? He's not even 2! yet. Ugh. Poor kid... looks like he's inheriting ONE of mommy's traits. And clearly not my finest.


Hew's new kicks

And can I also say, saleswoman at Stride Rite, when I am obviously and outwardly shocked after you measure my son's foot, can you at least pretend to smile or reassure me? I know your boyfriend is in the store waiting for you to get off work, but c'mon, please pretend to be amused by annoying mothers with big feet.

Friday, November 5, 2010

What Should I Do With My Life?

is the title of the book on the bookshelf that's glaring at me. I've had it since college, and kinda hoped that there would be some secret answer in there somewhere. A sentence that said, "Danielle, you should be a _____." Well, I guess it might as well have said that, because at that time in my life the book had relatively no insight.

I dug it out again recently, as I sullenly passed by dozens of pregnancy and baby books that Houston and I had developmentally outgrown. Lately, there have been situations in life that have me asking that question again: What should I do with my life?

I love this quote by Po Bronson:

"Your calling isn't something you inherently "know," some kind of destiny. Far from it. Almost all of the people I interviewed found their calling after great difficulty. They had made mistakes before getting it right. For instance, the catfish farmer used to be an investment banker, the truck driver had been an entertainment lawyer, a chef had been an academic, and the police officer was a Harvard MBA. Everyone discovered latent talents that weren't in their skill sets at age 25. Most of us don't get epiphanies. We only get a whisper -- a faint urge. That's it. That's the call. It's up to you to do the work of discovery, to connect it to an answer. Of course, there's never a single right answer. At some point, it feels right enough that you choose, and the energy formerly spent casting about is now devoted to making your choice fruitful."

I tried to imagine a life in which money had no bearing and health insurance was a moot point. What WOULD I do if I had true freedom? I wish I was the kind of mom who would say that I'd just stay home with my kid all day. Truth is, as much as I love my son, I don't think he or I would fare well with that scenario. I DO want to be home more with Houston, so that is a factor, but I definitely need my creative space and adult time. I think my dream life would be snuggling with Houston in the morning until about 9, dropping him at Meemaw's for lunch and naptime, and picking him back up again at around 2. From 10-2, I could go to Borders, have a coffee and a danish and just write. I wonder if it means I'm a fatty that two important elements of my job involve food? Food, flexibility, baby time, jammy time, creativity and maybe a little fame... too much to ask for? I don't think so. Well, maybe the jammy time.

So... the question begs to be asked: What should YOU do with your dream life? Leave comments below! :)

Need help deciding? Check out this link for ideas... it's now bookmarked on my comp.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Who's the Dunce Now?

Nothing makes you feel smarter than working with kids. I mean, it's awful that part of the joy in my life comes from using children to boost my own ego, but it's the truth. Especially since my knowledge of sex ed came from a children's book my mom handed to me when I was 7 that said babies come after mommy and daddy "do a special cuddle in bed." Talk about confusing, right?

So you can imagine my joy at hearing other kids' takes on baby making. Especially now that, 20 years later, I can proudly say that I know what "cuddle" reallllly means.

I was trying to review a math problem today with my kids that had to do with averages... the problem said, "If a new student joined the class how many brothers and sisters would you expect him to have? Explain." I heard a few random answers then got this little gem: "I would expect the new student would have 3 brothers and sisters because their mom probably took 3 pills and then, poof, 3 babies!"

Someone's going to be traumatized when they get their first headache...


Tuesday, November 2, 2010

If there's one thing to be smart about...

it's voting.

Now I admit, when I was 18 and stoked to vote for the first time, I picked all the females on the ballot and colored in their ovals painstakingly. Since then, I'm pleased to report that I've grown up a bit (although if worse comes to worse and I have absolutely no clue, I have to admit that I resort to the "girls go to college to get more knowledge, boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider" approach). I did some research and was ready to vote with confidence.

Without getting into a political rant, because let's face it - it's November 2nd and we're all a BIT tired of that, I can't overstate the importance of making time in the day to hit the polls. And it's even more important to me to show my son how vital it is to vote. I was fortunate enough to have the day off from school today, so Houston and I hit our voting ward early.

Houston, all 19 months of him, is not a novice to voting. He's been traipsed into the claustrophobic booth with me, and juggled from hip to hip for as many elections as there have been. Although he's definitely becoming astutely aware of how bizarre the whole process is. After being removed from his car seat prematurely, with chocolate munchkin still in hand, he reached up for my hand with a chocolate-glaze smile, always a good sport for whatever adventure awaits. We walked down the long wheelchair ramp into the musty smelling church, and before we had even made it inside were interrupted by a creaky, "Who arrre youuuu voting for, little boyyyyy?"

That's when Houston dropped my hand, and smile, and looked urgently at me saying, "Up, up?"

From car to booth, back to car, there was no shortage of little old lady eager to ask Houston who he had voted for. Which to me is a) inappropriate to ask, and b) aggressive interaction with a toddler. We eventually made it into the booth (okay, now I know I'm no chunk, but seriously - does anyone consider that people may need more than 1 square foot of room to vote comfortably?), and juggled Houston over to my right hip so I could write freely with my left hand. He looked anxious, so I said, "Okay Hew... time for momma to color." To which I heard from the booth on my right, "Well that's a fun way to look at it. She told him she was going to color."

Okay old lady, as I tell my 7-year-old students, MYOB. And also, who else was in HER booth? Kinky.

We made our way out of the booth to deposit our ballots, only to be faced with (you guessed it) another old lady. Houston knew the routine at this point though, and hid behind my legs, gently pushing me out the door.

As I strapped him back into his car seat, he looked at me with those green eyes and asked, "All done?" I said, "Yes. All done!" He said, "Okayyyy! More munka?" Poor kid.... all that work for another chocolate munchkin.

Love that kid.

"Who are youuuu voting for, sonnnny?"

Monday, November 1, 2010

....back!?

So about the past 7 months (and yes, I did, despite knowing better from my 2nd grade reprimands, count those months on my fingers)... yeah. About them. As Houston would say, "Ummmm..." It's a bad habit that I've passed on to my newly-verbal little man. I have no explanation, except to say, "life." And we'll leave it at that. Kay? Kay.

So I've been stressing out because November has been approaching and last year I participated in my first ever Nanowrimo (national novel writing month). It was great to get back into writing but also kind of a huge time commitment. At that time, Houston was just a little nugget I could stick in the corner somewhere and he's bat around at mobiles and springy toys precariously suctioned to a nearby wall. Now, he's older. And way more fun. And way more work. And not to mention, Justin's working way more hours. So like I said, I've been stressing. The thing is, I WANT to continue writing, but the problem is at this point in my life, I just don't have time. Hence, here I am! :) I'm back and ready to continue sharing my adventures in cooking, organizing, creating, and well... life.

Don't worry. I'm still a dunce. There will be lots to read about my cooking adventures. But a lot of things have changed in my life forcing me to make some pretty drastic alterations to my lifestyle. Please join me, again, my loyal friends, as I share some of these new and exciting elements of my life with YOU... dunce to dunce. No offense.