Thank you Def Leppard, now all my neighbors think I'm crazy
Sometimes I sing. Sometimes I sing at the top of my lungs. Sometimes I sing at the top of my lungs to 80's rock ballads. Sometimes I sing at the top of my lungs to 80's rock ballads and forget that the window is open and all my neighbors--who already think I'm a nut--can hear until my husband comes home and informs me that he could hear me two parking lots away... literally. Sometimes I feel sheepish.
The only good part in all of this is that I've never seen Little laugh so hard.
These Boots are Made for Walkin'
We went to church yesterday and there was a little girl--probably around 9 years old--with the cutest boots on. The sad part of this story? I own the exact boots. Not similar boots, or the adult version of the boots... the exact boots. Probably the same size too if we're being strictly honest. Bryce and I were laughing every time we saw her.
Time Is On My Side (at least it is when I say it has to be)
This just in: I will never ever have time to write again in my life. There is just way too much going on in life and that looks to be the case for at least the next 50 years. Thus I have decided that I am going make time. As much as I wish this meant I could open a few cans from the storage cupboard and whip up a good batch of time to use whenever I run out, it doesn't. This essentially means that I have proclaimed one day a week project day. Wherein I work on whatever projects have been sitting around waiting to be done because there is always and will always be something more pressing and/or requiring immediate and all encompassing attention.
I have a bunch of lovely magnets* to place on my calendar board every day/week that tell me that today is laundry day, or floor cleaning day, or errand day, etc. and they really are lovely (everything is better with cute magnets to move around). They do keep me on track concerning the never ending household to dos for the most part, but today I added the newly deemed all important "Project" magnet and I'm pleased as punch. I really think this is going to give me a shot at getting at least one of my books done as I will likely use this largely for writing.
So research has commenced and I'm writing again. I've checked out my body weight in helpful books from the library** and it's full steam ahead (for at least one day a week). All-in-all I think this is going to be a very helpful development both for my writing and my sanity.
*Thank you Shannon for the fabulous idea. It may or may not have literally saved my life.
**Thank you to anyone who commented on the best advice books/advice on my previous blog post and if anyone has anymore ideas they are still very welcome.
Best Baby EVER
It’s official, I have the best little boy in the world. He calls me (or growls at me) whenever he needs something rather than crying, he informs me when his diaper needs to be changed, he tells me when he is done eating rather than spitting it out, he listens when I tell him no, and the latest? He asks permission. If he is going for something he knows he is not supposed to have he turns to me and lets out a quick “Uh?” to double check and if I give the go ahead he’s in attack mode, but if I tell him it isn’t ok he just sits patiently in front of the object of his desire and asks again. Granted he does this about 50 times before he gives up and finds something else, but he usually doesn't go for it when I tell him it’s off limits (This of course doesn’t mean that he stays away all the time when I’m not in the room, but I’ll settle for what I can get). I don’t know what I did to deserve such a good kid.
Goodbye Bink
We decided the other day that it was about time to do away with the binky. Not that we think Little is too old or that a pacifier is a terrible thing or anything; it just seemed like it was time. He doesn't really need it anymore and the only time he ever wants it is nap time, so... out with the binky.
I thought this was going to be a horrid process of weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of what few teeth we have. As it turns out, no. It is not. I put him to bed last night sans binky and he did his usual thing--a few moments of whining that turns to growling that turns to half hearted grunting that turns to sleep. Not a peep about the absent binky. That has been the trend all day today as well. In fact for his afternoon nap he laughed himself to sleep. Fantastic. I have a sneaking suspicion that I have the best baby in the world.
Also, speaking of said adorable little man...
This is how he spent the ride to the temple and then back. Sheesh! He's cute.
Granny Godiva
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| Granny Godiva in the marble |
My mother told me I'm not allowed to go running around naked in public, but it's ok because Bryce volunteered to do it by proxy. Granny Godiva would be so pleased.
Greeks and Germ Warfare
I had hoped to have more time to work on my writing this year. In fact, that was one of my big goals. I'm not going to lie... at this point it doesn't look terribly promising. So far this year we've had a lovely cold that turned into the croup, some sort of a stomach bug, and currently what may or may not be roseola, not to mention having been in a state of teething constantly. Poor Little can't catch a break. I end up shaking my fist of fury at nothing in particular quite regularly these days so that these silly bugs will lay off for a while at least. Not surprisingly, it has done no good thus far. (For the record, we are on the mend now and miraculously only have some residual sniffles from the aforementioned croup cold and are waiting to see if the roseola rash shows up or another illness comes our way, but other than that we've come out with lungs intact, significantly more tired, but relatively unscathed.)
Anyway... as a result of the lack of time (which I don't see improving anytime soon even without every germ in the world in attack mode) I've come to the conclusion that I want my stories to write themselves. How is it that you can have the contents of an entire book in your head, but not seem able to get it onto paper? It seems a bit messed up. Maybe part of my problem is that I want to read my books more than I want to write them. I mean, I love writing, but sometimes I wish my books would spring forth out of my forehead fully formed Athena style.
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