Sunday, October 28, 2007

I mean, it MUST be hormones (or something)

Maybe it's the 90 minutes I've spent going through old pictures of family & friends, maybe it's the great conversation we had a church today that reminded me (yet again) that I am so damn lucky to have such a special community, or maybe it's just hormones.

I don't know, but something about this video left me in tears, longing for the pre-Bobby Brown/Dionne Warwick's Psychic Hotline days when big hair and bigger shoulder pads were style achievements, when Luther Vandross (poor Luther) could wear those rhinestone suits and somehow not look ridiculous, and when Stevie was, well... he's always just Stevie. I was so young then. So much has changed. I wouldn't trade any of it away, but sometimes I'd just like to go back to that mid-80s me and let myself know that time flies. Don't waste a minute of it -- it's gone in a blink.


Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Mee-voh

This is how Sara says "evil," and it is probably what saved me (her) tonight.

Well, evil itself didn't save us -- that would just be wrong, don't you think? Really it was the act of her saying it, in that adorably wrong way, that did it for me (her). Kind of like she says "Noh My-Kuh" for John Michael and "Tayes" for Hayes and "An-see PANTS" for Aunt Nancy, which my sister hates but I think is fantastic. It's just sweet, you know?


But really nothing else has been sweet lately. The Mama Well of Patience is running perilously close to dry these days. I am tired of fighting every time she needs her diaper changed, every time she needs to get out of the tub, and every time I need to clean up her tray. I am tired of her bolting for her room and crawling under her crib so I can't reach her. I am tired of wearing oatmeal, finding half-eaten and rotting apples rolling around under my seat in the car, and scraping purple crayon off her tongue for the 80-zillionth time. I am tired of getting drenched every time I give her a bath. I am tired of getting hit in the head because she hasn't got the communication skills to explain why the hell she's so mad.


I guess what I'm saying here is that I am tired.


Now, five years ago if I had come across a blog post like this one, written by some woman who was lucky enough to have found someone she wanted to marry (and married him), had a healthy, happy child, and a roof over her head to call her own -- well, I would have wanted to kill her. I mean, come on -- GET A GRIP ALREADY. It's life! It's motherhood! This is what you sign up for!


But still, I am tired.


And even when I think back to this time a year ago when things with Dad got impossibly hard and all I wanted was to be out from under it? Yes, I am quick to remind myself that this is certainly much better than that. This is what I was waiting for, right?


Yes. And even so -- I am tired.


Don't get me wrong. I love my daughter, and most of the time (OK, some of the time, usually) I love being her mother. I love watching her jump and march and gallop around, listening to her mimic everything she hears, seeing the lightbulb come on when she learns something new. I love seeing pieces of me, and Rob, and my mom in the way she moves or thinks or holds her mouth. I love all of that. And I am all too well aware of how very little time there really is to spend with her and I refuse (refuse!) to wish away a single second of it. What I wouldn't give for one more second with my mom. (Nothing. There is nothing I wouldn't give.)


But that doesn't mean I have to actually like every second. Or that I can't be tired. Right?


Deliver me from mee-voh, Lord. And if You could throw in an extra dose of patience that would be great.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Growing up at 36

Just finished updating my resume. Spent, I don't know... maybe 45 minutes or so, mostly on formatting but also on adding, deleting, general tweaking. It looks good, I think.

Then I realized that now is the time that I would show it to Dad, to get his opinion. I'd listen to some of it, discard a good deal of it -- he was so out of step, I assumed, and his government background seemed so foreign to my healthcare experience. Still, I always wanted to hear what he thought. (Read: I always wanted to hear his praise.)

I've decided I'm not going to run it past anybody this time around. Dad's gone; time to grow up. It's a strangely big deal to me.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

To market (or, the other way around)

Seriously considering this.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Mind purge

Barium is really kinda hard to get out of your clothes.

I love having finished my filing. I mean really, I LOVE it.

But why are there still so many stacks on the desk? Hmmmm.

Rob is a hard person to shop for.

Strollers:Starbucks Orange Mochas::Blenders:Frozen Margaritas

I am really enjoying the Orange Mochas these days.

Good walking weather. Nice stroll through the Village yesterday. Actually, just a nice day in general yesterday.

Sometimes, when I look at Sara, I swear I am going to burst. I love her that much.

Sometimes, when I look at Sara, I swear I am going to go to prison, she drives me that crazy.

Mostly though, I love her.

I hate clutter.

There is so much clutter.

We have great neighbors. And I think Oscar is a great playmate for the Bear. Just the right speed.

I have my dishes back. Now I have to unpack them. (sigh)

Thrify Threads is sooo cleaning up with our house purge. I love it.

My love my friends (you know who you are -- and yes, I mean you).

So tired. Off to bed. Perhaps some Tylenol PM...

Thursday, October 04, 2007

Dove (no, not the bar)

Although that does sound good right about now. Who am I kidding. When doesn't a Dove bar sound good.

But I digress. I realize I'm not hawking anything new here, but I just checked out the Dove campaignforrealbeauty website and I have to say, I'm impressed. There seem to be lots of resources there -- and most of them not even really "beauty" related, from what I can see. Check out their two short films, too. Scary. Makes me want to ban all forms of media from the house until Sara is about 40. Cause you know, I'm not going to let her even think about leaving til she's at least 40.

Only 40 minutes til this season's second episode of Ugly Betty. I can't wait!

Monday, October 01, 2007