Dinosaurs and disillusionment
Not that I ever had any grand illusions about this, but I can't spell. This is a recent rather disheartening discovery. If we're being honest, I can't say it's entirely recent as I've been attempting to find comfort in blaming my deteriorating mental state on motherhood for quite some time now--and yes, there has been a serious decline in brain functionality since Little's been around; however, apparently my problems are much deeper. I hit a new low when, while walking in the baby clothing section, I had an epiphany (as much as I wish it weren't the case, the amount of awe and shock I felt can only be classified that way). There is a word, not a very common word, but one everyone knows (read: should have known how to spell from the third grade). A word seldom seen in print, but simple enough to be placed on a baby's t-shirt. A word that has caused me to question my existence as a college graduate. A word that I am way too embarrassed to actually mention. I took one look at that little baby shirt with aforementioned word printed on it and realized that my entire life I've been spelling it wrong, and not just wrong, egregiously so. It starts with a completely different letter for heavens sake! Now, I recognize that this post is ridiculously over-dramatic, but there really is no doing justice to the trauma I felt when faced with the staggering reality of my mental state. Ok. Dramatics done. Simply put: I would lose horribly if I ever played "Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?" and I find myself wondering how on earth I expect to write a book (or even a coherent sentence) in my current state.
Welcome to Spring
We've been doing some serious spring cleaning. And by "we," I really mean I semi-conned Bryce into staying up until all hours of the night rearranging and cleaning out for days on end. He did get a new desk out of it, not to mention a much better feeling house, but all the same... For him it ended up being less of a "Hooray! Spring break!" and more of a "Spring break... now get to work!" Being the fantastic husband he is, he never complained and we got everything cleaned, rearranged, and bought a few little things to spruce up the apartment. It's amazing what a few new pillows can do for the sanity. Anyway... the point is that this spring cleaning extravaganza has made me realize just how much junk I haul around with us. Bryce and I have the same conversation every move (and plenty of times between moves):
Bryce: "Hey, lets get rid of everything we own when we have to move again and just get all new stuff." (When we actually have a job of course)
Me: "But that'd be so expensive!"
Bryce: (insert some reminder about the cost of moving and storage)
Me: "But...but...but..."
and so forth and so on. I always win of course, but not because I have any sort of logical reason to keep any of it. I mean, yes the furniture works, but none of it fits together in the least. Yes, the kitchen stuff is limping along, but most of it is really worn out and crappy. Yes, the bookshelves are great for storage, but what bookshelf isn't? I don't have any excuse for most of the stuff in the basement storage, so that I win on pure sentimentality--which would be fine if it was all pictures and love notes, but most of it is extra kitchen stuff and decorations, or that thing that I keep saying "someday I'll use" but never have yet. I realized the other day that with every move, and every thought of moving, Bryce wins me over to his side by doing nary a thing; he just sits back and lets logic slowly seep into my brain (which is far more difficult than it should be).
My conclusion: the sentimentality/usefulness of a thing is directly proportional to a: the distance it has to be moved, and b: the amount of times it has to be moved.
Also... Dear Spring, I'm so glad you are here again. Oh! How I've missed you!
One happy little man
I officially have a one year old today. Crazy! If you would have told me a year ago when I was completely miserably in labor that I would barely even remember it now, I would've called the loony bin on you, but I really don't. I can tell you how many hours I was there and how much I hate pitocin, but only because I remember thinking that at the time, not because I remember feeling it or being uncomfortable in the slightest. So strange. From the second they put him into my arms the world started changing and even on my worst days knowing that I have my amazing little man makes things not so terrible.
We didn't do much for him today (other that Bryce sharing his ice cream sandwich which made Little happier than I've ever seen him); we're postponing birthday shenanigans partially because we are all sick and partially because we are headed up to my sister's on Saturday for a real celebration (pirates included of course). Holidays are going to get a lot more complicated when he actually starts understanding how dates work.
Anyway... Little has been in the happiest of happy moods lately, bordering on cloud 9 constantly if not there. He squeals and giggles himself to sleep, shouts at me ecstatically all day long, is always laughing at his own private jokes and/or me (which is great for the self-esteem), and is pretty consistently being a goof ball in some way or other. We are loving it. Truth be told he's normally a happy little camper, but lately he's been taking it to a whole new level.
My favorite part of this? When I come to get him in the morning, as soon as I crack open the door he scurries (literally scuttles along his bed) to the other side of the bed as fast as humanly possible, throws himself on his back, and pretends to be asleep (eyes wide open with a goofy little smile on his face, but fake snoring all the same) until I say his name and he bursts out laughing like he is the funniest person on the planet. I suspect that may indeed be true.
Good news for goals
Anyone who has read this blog more than once will realize that I make a new goal practically everyday and end up with a list of goals as big as myself; and not just little I-want-wear-socks-everyday goals, but big overarching ones like writing a novel, or becoming a master cake decorator (at least passable), or learning every species of bird out there. Turns out goals like that take a lot of time. Anyway… the point is that I make all these goals and try to work on them one at a time, but find myself slowly taking on more and more until I am working on thirty-six life altering goals simultaneously and not able to focus on a one of them and I end up feeling like I am not improving at any of them. Not to mention the lack of time issue. The other day I was lamenting this fact and thinking, “Man alive! I’ve got to get a better system.” However, it dawned on me, through this frenzied goal extravaganza I really have made some improvements.
Cooking-wise I'm miles from where I was. The other day I whipped up some complicated recipe for falafel which may not seem amazing to some, but something that was entirely out of my casseroles-are-my-only-specialty hands a few months ago, and I’ve been making my body weight in some seriously rockin’ desserts lately (go to http://www.bakerella.com/ for the best/easiest cake balls of all time), we’ve had more variety in our food (and healthy food at that) than ever before, and I use fresh ingredients whenever I can these days. I don’t decide what to cook based on easiness factor anymore. I don't shy away from recipes because they look complicated. I even find myself taking those recipes and making my own improvements and experimenting. Fantastic. As it turns out, food is much better when you make it just the way you want it. And for the record, always cut the garlic in half for pesto recipes and fondue is one of the easiest things in the world.
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| Idea from: http://cfabbridesigns.com/blog/ A fabulous blog for non-crafty crafters like me. |
I’ve had an influx of those cutesy crafty ideas coming my way and tried quite a few of them to pretty passable success. As a result, the house is actually cute. Not kitschy cute, but legitimately cute. Some of the outcome of these crafty escapades will never see the light of day, but most of them I’m actually quite proud of.
The other day at church my skirt split right up the back so I rushed to the bathroom, whipped out my handy-dandy sewing kit, and patched it up before anyone was the wiser.
I saw an adorable little crocheted head wrap in our wanderings the other day and decided to have a go at making some thing akin to it myself. At first it was a semi-disaster, but with a few flowers and some fiddling it actually turned out wearable. There are some seriously cute craft ideas out there and I've always been afraid to try them, but let me tell you that Valentine's Day gifts (or any holiday for that matter) are much easier when you aren't afraid to make things. Especially when you don't have much of an income.
I wish I could say that I've made some serious progress with my writing, but that remains to be seen. I have definitely learned a lot though.
I have been working with my blog and trying to get it formatted the way I like and fix all the little details of it. Surprisingly enough, with a vast amount of research and lots and lots of fiddling I managed to almost get it the way I like, including dealing with all that—as we’ve not so affectionately termed it—website “garbledy garble” (aka html). I admittedly had to send out a plea for help for some of it, but still… I managed to figure most of it out all by my onesie.
Anyway... this has turned into a long list just to say that this has made me realize: I can do things! Hooray! I am making progress, I just don’t notice because I’m in the middle of it. And yes, the system would be 10 times as effective with a little revamp/simplifying, but at least it’s hobbling along. Eventually, I will write my novels one word at a time, I will meet my neighbors one cakeball at a time, I will become a crafty person one craft at a time, etc, etc. Just because it is slow progress, doesn’t mean it isn’t progress.
The latest
So... we just got back from a week of vacation. A glorious family-filled, don't-manage-to-get-dressed-until-noon-most-days vacation. Bryce was studying away and had a big paper do so me and Little hightailed it to visit the family. Hooray! So we spent a week and a half surrounded by family and friends and doing whatever on earth we wanted to do.
Little learned some very important life lessons while we were there.
1. How to strike fear into the heart of your younger cousins (and sometimes the older ones too) 2. Jack Jack will come when called (even if that means he gets whacked repeatedly with whatever object happens to be at hand)
3. Grandmas, aunts/uncles, and cousins are the best (all the way home he was crying for "ba-ba" aka: Jack Jack and mmmm-ma aka: grandma)4. It's only exciting when someone else is doing it (a lesson that proved very unfortunate for me)
5. Hugs often mean strangulation and/or getting an eye poked out for both parties, but that doesn't seem to matter much 6. What real snow looks like (thanks to the huge storm that blew right in and out again while we were there)
7. How to be a concert pianist (he takes his music very seriously) 8. Who needs toys when you have water bottles and spoons? Leaving me to question: Why on earth did I pack all those toys and what nots?So in essence, hooray for trips and families and fun.
There is still no cure for the common birthday. ~John Glenn
Confession.
My birthday has always been a deep dark secret. I avoid thinking about it at all cost, steer clear of anyone familiar on the day of, go to unimaginable lengths to keep it hidden, etc. But here is my confession: today is my birthday. And I don't even care who knows it. I think I'm growing up.
Also, my aunt got this form me when I was about 7 years old: http://www.captainzoom.com/personalized-birthday-music-CD.html I made Bryce listen to it this morning and discovered that not only do they still make it, they have wedding, anniversary, and Christmas versions as well. Hooray! One guess what Bryce is getting for our anniversary this year.
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