Home > Haute Mamas
Glory Glory Hallelujah!
I haven’t been a faithful blogger my dear readers, and for that I apologize, but I just spent a crazy week dealing with you know, EVERYTHING.
First there was this electrician and inspector who would rattle off things in electro-speak and I had NO CLUE what they were talking about. I could never figure out why they were even asking me stuff because um, let’s see, that’s why we hired a professional in the first place. Just do it, make it right, pass the code, and make sure my house doesn’t burn down, FFS.
Then there’s this obsession I’ve had with my MoJo numbers lately. I check the stats just about every three hours to see what people are reading and what they like. My new best friend, Cecil Smith, turned out to be a great guy and a great read. He insisted I try a few Rubik’s cube moves and watch a little T.V. with him. And, apparently you’all love Mega Wraps, except for that one dude but whatever.
And the kitchen is still shattered. The hubby has taken to a seven-day-a-week working schedule which put our project on hold for the time being.
What else? Normal stuff: bills, pre-school, potty-training, breastfeeding and life insurance. Some technical issues in the lift-off of my new blog — RichieAnn.com. Have I mentioned that yet? Well, it’s not ready, so we’ll talk about that later.
I guess what I’m saying is that I’ve been super-super crazy busy.
But one good thing was shoved through my back door this morning:
And all I can say is “Glory Glory Hallelujah!” No more laundromat for me.
TGIF everybody! You know what I’ll be doing this weekend!
Permalink | Comments (1) | Post your comment | Categories: Richie
*itch, *itch, *itch
Maybe it’s the full moon. Maybe it’s the time change. Maybe it’s because it’s dark by like 3:00. But man-oh-man, whatever it is seems to have turned the mood afoul of more then one Grand Valley resident this week.
Then again, maybe it’s just me. I am GRRRRUMPPPPY. There are lots of reasons for that - my son is giving me a major case of teenager-dumbasserus, my dad’s insurance company is run by a bunch of chimpanzees (nice ones, but still chimpanzees) (did I mention he was in an accident? more on that later), my HTB yelled at me! (can you believe it? at ME?), I can’t find any shoes I like in this whole valley, (well, I found a pair I liked but they cost half a pay check) and my estrogen levels seem to be shrinking by the week.
Hmmm, maybe that’s it. Oh boy - that nagging feeling of “It’s all over and now I can just sit and watch my mustache grow.” Seriously - as soon as I get up the nerve I’ll be posting about the joys of being peri-menopausal. There you go - something to look forward to.
All trivial gripes in the grand scheme of the world I know - but come on, be honest. Weren’t there a lot more heavy sighs, short tempers and frustrations this week?
Be careful how you answer.
Permalink | Comments (4) | Post your comment | Categories: Lynn
Bullet Boy and the Spooktacular
In preparation for getting in shape for the Moab Winter Sun, I ran in the Holy Family Spooktacular 5K this past Saturday. All I really wanted to do was beat my best 5K time, a slow but steady 31:49. (That was in last year’s Harbert Lumber GOTR 5K, a mere week before the Rim Rock Run.) Well, really I wanted to come in first, but that would mean I would have to be the only one running in the whole race.
It was a very sunny and cold morning and the race was a great one. Very pretty route with just enough hills to keep your interest - including the one at the very end. Several runners were in costume which made it fun too. I crossed the finish line in 31:44, shattering my own PR by 5 seconds! Ha!
After the 5K they had a Fun Run for the youngsters on a route around the school grounds. The older kids were stationed to hand out candy and treats along the way. I had planned to run it with my 8 year-old nephew Sam. He shivered and shook in the cold - all 45 pounds of him - as he waited for the race to start. As soon as they said “GO!” that boy took off faster than I had any hope of catching him. He never slowed down and finished in third place, barely out of breath. He didn’t even stop for candy along the way - miraculous for a boy who lives on water and cake frosting.
I have since nick-named him Bullet Boy. I’m pretty sure there’s a cross-country scholarship in his future!
Bullet Boy and his favorite Aunt Lynn
I gotta tell you - we have some seriously fast runners in this valley in the “not even old enough to stay home alone” 5K age category. At least a dozen of those kids turned in times of 8 minute miles or less. An 8-year-old boy ran it in 24:23, followed by another 8 year-old in 24:51! Holy hot feet! That’s a fast time for a 5K for little legs. Even for big legs.
So on to next week’s Girls on the Run 5K, then a Turkey Trot or two and then on to Moab, right Julie?
Permalink | Comments (3) | Post your comment | Categories: Lynn
Happy Halloween!
Happy Halloween from all of us at The Daily Sentinel! As usual it was another crazy costume day as we were visited by Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin, ACME Comics, clowns, monsters and Revnooers.
Just goes to show you that everybody loves to be somebody ——- else.
Be safe and have fun!
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment | Categories: Lynn
Washington D.C. photo essay
We had the opportunity once again to visit Washington D.C. this year. It’s been such a great opportunity for Margaret to get to see things she wouldn’t normally in our wee Grand Junction. Plus I love it, too.
We love museums and staying in a nice hotel. We love eating different food and being in the big-city environment.
This is what our trip looked like this year.
Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment | Categories: Robin
The Ashcrafts at the pumpkin patch
The Ashcraft’s went to the pumpkin patch Sunday morning.
The pumpkin patch is just all around good family fun. You wouldn’t think that wondering around a field would be supreme family bonding time, but there’s something about it that is just downright enjoyable for all ages. Thank you Studts for the beautiful Sunday morning.
Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment | Categories: Richie
Oh My! DIY
The great Redecorating Project of 2009 started with a bathroom rug. A couple months into my maternity leave I woke up one morning thinking it really was time to buy a new bathroom rug. After I bought the rug I thought to myself, “Huh, it’s amazing what just a little thing like a new rug can do for a house.” Then I took a stroll from room to room looking at things with my newly unveiled mommy eyes.
Wow, was I surprised at what I finally saw. These past three years I have been so immersed in diapers, uncommon rashes, breastfeeding, Bob The Builder, tiny socks, toy trucks, toothbrushing, bathing, and whatever ever other kid related verb you want to add here, that I hadn’t really had much time to think about my house other than to clean it. I finally SAW and realized that the bottom third of every wall was dirty from itty bitty baby hands. The rugs were faded. The shower curtain was stained. The hems were falling out of the drapes. I hate to admit it but my house had that REALLY lived in look. We needed a makeover while I still had time to DIY.
I’m an action kinda gal. I immediately loaded up the kids and headed to the hardware store. I picked a color right off the shelf breaking all the painting rules. I almost didn’t pick the color I went with because it has such a ridiculous name. It’s called CORN DOG. Uh Huh. I painted an accent wall the color corn dog. It’s a peachy sand color. Not tan, not peach, just corn doggie.
Pass the ketchup.
I immediately went home and started painting. I painted every afternoon while the boys napped. It took me a week, one wall a day plus trim, to paint the living. Then I bought new curtains, a HUGE expense but with incredible payoff. I selected these curtains in the color clay.
I couldn’t have been more excited. The curtains tied my corn dog colored walls to my furniture perfectly. They also had the POP that I was really looking for. I was giddy thinking to myself “Hey, lookit me, I decorated!!!!”
With my new found decorating diva confidence I started painting every room in the house, getting up at 5 a.m. to finish before the boys woke up. I put new curtains in the bedroom (which are so nice but make me oversleep). I stayed up late buying shower curtains and wallpaper online from my Blackberry. I threw a bunch of stuff away or donated it to Salvation Army.
Where’s the soap on a rope?
The next and probably the best thing I’ve done in a long time was create a little boy sanctuary with a Spiderman theme, of course. I painted the walls a slate gray. They need a bunk bed but are still too small to really sleep on the top bunk. And then, what about Marek? Although a baby right now in less than a year he’s going to want to sleep with his brothers too. So the bed had to have a double on the bottom and a twin on the top. I opened The Daily Sentinel classifieds and right there was a red metal bunk bed in that exact configuration!!! GO DAILY SENTINEL CLASSIFIEDS!!!
I found Spidyshop.com where I bought a yellow Spiderman border to be used as a chair rail. I bought a giant Spiderman sticker from Target.com. Did I mention how I love to Internet shop because I don’t have to drag my three sons from store to store looking for the right wallpaper? Love me some Internet shopping.
I had a vision for the Spidy room. Yesterday my niece and nanny, God I love her, finished painting the web for me. I think you’ll agree that my boys have a pretty cool room now. It turned out exactly the way I had pictured it.
Spins a web, overhead …
My decorating motivation was contagious leading the loverhubby to start re-doing the kitchen. A major task that includes electricians and new washing machines and drywall. I don’t know when that will be done but when it is I’ll be sure to share the final product with you.
Permalink | Comments (6) | Post your comment | Categories: Richie
Pre-School Blues
I’ve got this problem with my kid. We were humming along just fine with the preschool routine. No problem whatsoever.
I’m a notorious oversleeper. I can’t help it. I recently bought these light blocking curtains for my bedroom—awesome—but SO bad for getting up in the morning. A couple of weeks ago I overslept. I jumped out of bed, popped down a piece of toast, pulled Soren from bed, got him dressed while he was still dazed, popped the toast in his hand, grabbed his backpack and rushed out the door. It took about 15 minutes to get us from bed to school.
When we arrived the poor dazed kid started to cry. He cried and cried. Being such a horrible mom I just left him there on the floor while he begged me not to go. I went straight home to the coffee pot.
Fact: that is bound to happen over and over again to my kids because really, I oversleep all the time. It’s a big flaw in their mommy and they’ll probably need years of therapy over what kinds of problems its going to cause.
We went back to the normal routine and I haven’t overslept in over two weeks. But, regardless, every single time I drop Soren off at preschool he crumbles to the floor and cries. One day he hung to my leg while I dragged him across the floor. His teacher, God bless her patient heart, grabbed my crying child and wrestled him back into what he thinks is the abyss preschool hell.
The scenes made me feel really bad for a week or so. I felt bad all the way around, for him, his teacher and the other children. But, last time it just ticked me off. Soren is a smart kid. I think he’s figured out that if he pitches a fit, he A) will make mommy feel bad, B) he’ll get special attention from his teacher, and C) he won’t have to do his schoolwork for awhile.
Uh. Huh. I ran my theory by the teacher and she agreed that it probably had a lot to do with trying to get out of doing his morning journal. (Journal is the first thing they do when arriving at school. They copy their name and draw a picture of their day.)
So now what do I do? I want to lay it down right now that pitching a fit will not get him out of going to school. Bribe? Hmm, I’m not thinking the bribe would do much for me in this case and might send the wrong message. Just keep putting up with the tantrum? I don’t know.
Any suggestions?
Permalink | Comments (6) | Post your comment | Categories: Robin
Random Thought
What do you think the interviews will be like at Hooter’s?
Permalink | Comments (3) | Post your comment | Categories: Lynn
How I know I love Jonas
Poor Jonas. You may think he’s the neglected middle child. I’ll admit there aren’t as many stories posted about him. And, there haven’t been nearly as many pictures either.
The picture thing is easy to explain. He’s a nudist.
The story thing is a little harder to explain but basically he’s shy. I was chastised at the doctor’s office for using that word. What I’m supposed to say is “he’s a little slower to warm up.” Whatever. The kid is much more quiet than anyone else in the family. It makes telling a story about him harder because he is all gesture. A man of few words really.
The loverhubby and I laugh often at him because he is a total raccoon. He loves to ransack ever nook and cranny, pulling out things, putting them on his head, drawing on his nekkid body, eating random things like baking soda out of the fridge. He loves to pour any kind of liquid into any other container than the one it is in. Much to my annoyance he spills five or six times a day. He’s the boy with rocks in his pockets and half a jelly sandwich hidden under his pillow. Ripped jeans, boogers and fart jokes through and through.
And, he’s bound and determined to kill me via heart attack. He’s that son. I understand every mother of boys has a son like that. The daring one who’ll probably end up a free-diver or a base jumper, JUST TO GIVE HIS MOTHER A HEART ATTACK!
We recently went to a parade. I turned my back for a split second and he was gone. I cannot even describe the feeling of sheer panic, so scary I was blinded, literally, and could not see him standing 100 feet away from me. I was, I’m not even kidding, blinded by fear.
Then last weekend I heard a muffled scream coming from my bedroom. I thought he was locked in a closet and casually crossed the house. Once again my heart stopped when I saw my bedroom dresser tipped over and realized that my 20-pound son was pinned underneath it. My head spinned a horrific picture of him bloody and broken underneath. Kids die from these kinds of parental mistakes and my heart was pounding in terror. I immediately started to cry, pulled the dresser off him, stripped him naked to check for broken bones and internal bleeding. “No tickle me mom,” he laughed. A red shoulder and a teeny tiny scratch on the head. He popped up off the bed and ran away, naked, throwing his Spidy web down the hall. I nearly puked. I checked him over and over, looking searchingly into his big blue eyes for signs of dilated pupils and concussion.
Then I mentally yelled at myself for being so stupid. Why didn’t I secure that dresser to the wall? Stupid stupid mom.
I could tell you how I kiss Jonas a hundred times a day. How I forgive every milk spill and stained shirt. How when he does speak it is most often to say “I love you” followed by a big hug.
These things would be proof of my love for my son.
But I think that overwhelming fear, an emotion only a parent would understand, of something terrible happening to him says so much more.
Permalink | Comments (4) | Post your comment | Categories: Richie
Things you can learn at the library
Have I mentioned lately how great my job is? No? Well, it is.
Right now I’m working at the public library, one of the greatest most weirdest places on earth, where everyone thinks they are so smart because THEY ARE AT THE LIBRARY! It makes sense. If you are hanging out at the library, regardless of whether or not you actually read the books or are there just to use the free Internet, well, that must mean you are a lot smarter than those who are not in the library right now.
I love to work at the library because while I work I can also eavesdrop both for my own enjoyment and just in case I hear of a good story idea, which has totally happened. Sometimes the conversation of others are just so entertaining, admit it, they are.
I just heard two men whispering loudly (cuz their conversation is so intelligent they don’t need to use their library voices) and I overheard one of them say “So you’ve heard of the cattle mutilations right?”
Who doesn’t prick up their ears at the words “cattle mutilation.” If the next sentence was to be “in Fruita,” I would have been loaded up and gone to some remote cattle farm in a hot second because that’s what a mojo does and wouldn’t that be a story!
“Oh and the human mutilations,” added his friend. Then they added that the public would never know because a) did you know we were at war in two places just so nobody will find out, and b) because (and this is where the conversation turned really loud!) MOST PEOPLE ARE JUST NOT SMART ENOUGH TO PAY ATTENTION.
Then he went into a graphic detail of how to dismember a corpse using gross words like colon and spleen.
At this point I’m really wondering what in the world these guys could be talking about. Is this something I should know about but somehow missed. I’m thinking Rowanda or some other terrible genocide had taken place in the world.
Then they shake hands and the one says to the other “yeah, be careful man, there’s a lot of bad aliens out there!”
I nearly laughed out loud. Guess I’ll have to keep looking for story ideas but if anyone’s seen a good UFO please give me a call.
Permalink | Comments (1) | Post your comment | Categories: Richie
Tan I Am
We don’t have many pictures of Alex as a teenager with a full-on smile, so it’s no surprise that when I took this picture of him and his dad, there were no teeth showing. Still good-looking though!
A week or so ago Alex had a tennis match at the high school. His dad was in town from Denver and came to watch his son to play. I arrived at the match to find Alex, a friend of his (we’ll call him Joe), and his dad sitting and chatting on the bleachers. (I don’t know - do guys “chat”? Maybe they were talking about their fantasy baseball teams, or girls, or talking trash in general.)
We went through a ritual round of the head-bob whatsup greeting. I looked at Joe, smiled and then head-bobbed and whatsup-ed him. He seemed kind of hesitant until Alex introduced me, “Yeah, that’s my mom.”
Joe looked at me, looked at Alex and exclaimed, “Dude, your mom is white!?”
I burst out laughing. It was such an innocent, honest, refreshing outburst. The picture above is what Joe saw when he was chatting with Alex and his dad. When I showed up, he saw the rest of the story.
I couldn’t resist goofing on Joe and said, “What are you - some kind of cracker? You don’t like white people?” We all laughed and then Alex grabbed my arm and crossed it over his dad’s arm.
“See,” he said. “You take this, and mix it with that and you come up with this. Tan.” he explained as he pointed to his own arm.
Good explanation. And then everyone went back to chatting about tennis. Or whatever.
The differences in skin color were duly noted, remarked upon, laughed about and then dismissed. That was it. The Aryan Nation didn’t march. Al Sharpton didn’t show up. There was no hurling of racial epithets or hate speech or white guilt or skin heads or Black Panthers.
If only the rest of life could be that simple.
An innocent remark from an innocent kid. Yes, your skin color is different. Yes, I noticed. Yes, it surprised me but so what.
Why does it have to be anything more than that? Yes, we’re different. Yes, we’re the same. (Yes, of course there are complicated and long-held historical implications.) But when we remark upon those differences and similarities in a respectful - and in this case innocent - way, it doesn’t mean we’re racist. It just means we notice and acknowledge it. And IF, big important IF, we go on chatting, then life is good.
Life doesn’t have to be about black and white.
Sometimes it can just be tan.
Permalink | Comments (7) | Post your comment | Categories: Lynn
Oh, I feel your pain, Loretta
Lynn sent me an email the other day saying something like “How can you have three kids with no kitchen?”
In my head my snarky reply was “How can I possibly have three kids at all?”
I mean really. My husband and I are deep in this family thing. I try not to think about it too much because to sit and analyze the situation makes it really overwhelming. I mean, I have a preschooler, a potty trainer, and a breastfeeder. And a Job. And a marriage. And in-laws. Most days of the week I have to stop to say, “Oh My God! How did I get here? I can’t do this … breathe breathe.”
How’s that old country song go? “One needs a huggin’ and one needs a spankin’ One needs a cookie and the other a changin’” Loord, my life is a Loretta Lynn song. Fer reals.
But then I look at the faces of these little boys who call me mommy and realize that my life is AWESOME, even without a kitchen.
Permalink | Comments (5) | Post your comment | Categories: Richie
Polanski and child sex abuse
Roman Polanski raped a 13-year-old girl. He admitted he did and then he ran away from his punishment. Now just because many years have passed, people are saying that he should be let off the hook for his heinous crimes?
No. He should pay for his horrible acts and he should pay dearly.
It’s important to us as a society that we never allow such actions to be justified.
Don’t take my word for it, click here to read a survivor’s word for it.
So long as children are still being raped, no abuser should ever be allowed a free pass.
Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment | Categories: Robin
Washing machine videos: You can’t watch just one
It all started with a bathroom rug and now we’re neck deep into the Ashcraft 2009 Home Redecorating Gone Wild! I haven’t forgot my promise to update everyone on all the painting, and tiling, and curtain shopping I’ve been doing just as soon as it finally gets done. But, somebody come stop us because we’re going crazy with the home projects. No nevermind, really don’t come over right now, because it’s a complete disaster.
We haven’t had a washing machine, or a stove for over a week due to a do-it-yourself tiling of the kitchen floor. My fridge is sitting smack in my living room, which is kinda of convenient when you need a glass of milk but don’t want to miss a second of Rome on DVD, but it doesn’t look so good when company comes knocking.
Which does lead me to the point of this post—thanks for hanging in there with me. The final appliance for us to buy, (which has taken us a couple of years to update the fridge and stove,) is the washer and dryer. Pricey and thus the last on the list. We spent some of Sunday checking out stackable sets because as I mentioned our house is so small that the kitchen has to serve as a laundry room as well.
We’re looking at the Bosch models. The salesman of course said it was awesome, quiet, low water, nice spin, hot dryer, (big fat commission check for the him). I had to Google it because it’s a huge chunk of change for us. I’ve bought cars that cost as much as these babies. And I would never buy a car without a little research.
My washing machine research led me to the weirdest and yet strangely intriguing video on YouTube—washing machine videos. Lots of them.
People are actually taking video of their washing machines and even stranger is that people are watching. I mean really, is that not the weirdest thing ever? At one point my whole family was gathered around to watch the spin cycle of our potentially new machine. Then, by some strange perversion I clicked on other washing machine videos, some of machines moving across the floor, knocking down kitchen appliances or overflowing with suds.
Dude, what is wrong with us?
But, I will say that I’m giddy about the idea of my new machine sounding like a Learjet taking off. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nwkdN2wuXaM&feature=related Go ahead, check it out, but I’m warning you, you can’t watch just one!
Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment | Categories: Richie
Time Warp
Alex has no brothers or sisters but he has bunches of cousins. My sister Robin has two kids, Forrest and Archer, who are close to Alex in age. (She actually has four kids - but that’s not the point right now.) Robin and her family moved to Grand Junction several years ago but would come for a visit every now and then whilst they were stationed overseas or wherever.
Monday night we were at the high school watching Alex, Forrest and Archer receive their academic letters and afterwards I took a picture of them together. They were cute and flirting with girls and texting during the ceremony and being all teenagery.
When I got in to work the next morning I was rummaging in my top desk drawer for something and came across this photo of Forrest, Alex and Archer that I took probably six or seven years ago when they came to visit.
Don’t ask me why I had it in my desk at work. I only have two pictures in there.
I tried to download the pictures I took from the night before because I was having deja vu all over again. But for whatever reason my camera wouldn’t function and after much to-do (as anyone who works in my vicinity will testify), and a person at the Kodak help desk who was actually helpful (and spoke English!) I was finally able to retrieve this photo of them.
I know! Weird, huh? Standing in the same order too.
Just a little taller and with more expensive smiles.
P.S. Forrest is also featured in this story about Fruita’s homecoming week activities.
Permalink | Comments (3) | Post your comment | Categories: Lynn
Thank you for being a friend
Things have changed around my house since my mom came to live with us in July.
First, Bill and I remodeled our formerly disgusting teenager room/dirty storage dump of a basement into a surprisingly comfortable bedroom.
Yes, we have stackable washer and dryer machines in our closet, but we’ve also got privacy and new carpet and a memory-foam mattress topper and a TV in our own room. (And it’s remarkable how convenient it is to do the laundry right before I got to bed and never have to leave my room!)
In our almost 10 years of marriage, Bill and I have never had a TV in our bedroom before. What a luxury! I mean, I could totally live without it, but man oh man, it’s so nice to be able to do my nightly yoga et al. while watching reruns of Top Chef in the privacy of my own room. (Yes, I do watch TV while I do yoga and it probably does spoil the centering/earthy goodness of yoga, but it’s how I roll … plus it’s better than lying there eating tiny box after tiny box of Junior Mints while watching TV.)
I no longer have to worry about the neighbors making the unfortunate mistake of glancing in our windows while I’m in the middle of downward dog … yeah, it’s not a pretty sight. All those months of indulgent eating has made one wide, Haute-Mama derriere.
One of the best things that has happened is that Margaret no longer comes into our bed anymore.
No, silly rabbit, she didn’t start sleeping in her own bed. That would be some kind of child torture to make that girl sleep in her own bed (according to her, anyway). Now, she sleeps in my mom’s bed.
And you know what, I think it’s great.
All those years of her stealthy moves getting into our bed and sleeping on the tiniest of slivers of mattress has made Margaret quite a decent bed companion. She stays on her side of the bed, leaving ample room for my mom and she’s not bothered by my mom’s TV.
Being that my mom still spends a lot of time in bed due to the pain in lower spine and hip from that stupid cancer, she had the TV on a lot for distraction and entertainment.
When it’s time for Margaret to go to sleep, my mom doesn’t have to turn off the TV. Instead, she simply tells Mar it’s time bedtime and Mar dutifully places one of her stuffed “guys” over her eyes and goes to sleep.
Really.
It’s crazy, but it works.
And I don’t have a kid in my bed anymore.
Hallelujah!
But there has been one strange side effect from Mar sleeping in my mom’s bed. Margaret has developed a taste for old reruns, most notably “Golden Girls.”
You know, the sitcom from the ’80s with Blanche, Rose, Dorothy and Sophia.
Yeah, that one.
In the mornings when I come up out of the basement on my way to work, I often find Margaret eating her breakfast in the living room watching “Golden Girls” instead of “Ben Ten.”
It’s not really appropriate for a 9-year-old girl, but the bawdy humor mostly goes over her head and Sophia’s zingers make Margaret laugh out loud.
Plus she and I like to sing the theme song in duet. Let’s all sing along: Thank you for being a fri-end, traveled down the road and back again …
Permalink | Comments (6) | Post your comment | Categories: Robin
Blisters
I just finished running around Mesa State College in my brand new shoes, Clarks no less, and now I have two gigantic blisters on the big toe and pinky toe of my left foot.
Funny thing is I bought another pair of shoes in my usual size last month and they did the same thing.
I’m starting to think that perhaps it’s not the shoes but my feet. Could they have actually grown with my last pregnancy? Could I no longer be a petite size 7 but maybe a 7 1/2? I’ve heard of this happening but always thought it skeptical.
Anyone else have big old post-natal feet? And did it cost them two pairs and $100 to find out?
These are the kind of things that moms want to know so please share.
Permalink | Comments (5) | Post your comment | Categories: Richie
Decorating by Stan Lee
I live in a house of boys which for the most part I’m okay with because they are pretty tolerant of the few very feminine things I own and do. I’ve schooled each and every one so far not to touch mommy’s girl stuff, not the pretty flowers from daddy, not the pretty wooden pumpkins decorating the bookshelf, and never ever mommy’s mascara.
But the trade-off is I have to live with trucks, a plethora of tools both plastic and steel, talk of boy parts and farts and poop jokes, and Spiderman. So much Spiderman that I find myself begging for a princess movie and a pedicure with peel-off polish. I like Spiderman, thank God, but I tell ya I never knew this superhero was going to permeate every corner of my house.
And I mean that quite literally as I just finished creating an entire Spiderman room for the boys complete with gray walls, red bed, and Marvel Comics posters. Stan Lee would be proud, crawl into the bottom bunk and feel right at home lying under the 3 foot wall sticker of the masked man. I’m planning on sharing some pictures after the web gets painted and my kitchen stove moves out of the boys’ room. (Total home remodel post is in the future!)
The boys want to be Spiderman for Halloween, run naked with only Spiderman slippers on, wear Spidy underroos, carry Spiderman backpacks, wear Spiderman tattoos, ONLY color Spidy coloring books, and will only eat fruit snacks with Spiderman on the box. When the box is empty they get their kid scissors out and spend a 1/2 hour cutting Spiderman out and taping it to their bedroom door. Soren won’t wash his hands after breakfast because the syrup makes his fingers sticky like Spidy. Don’t I LOVE it when he tries to climb the walls with his sticky fingers.
Soren nearly wet his pants when I announced that I had ordered wallpaper from a site called Spidyshop.com. Now he begs everyday to go to SpidyBOP.com. We are starting to get such a collection of memorabilia that I might as well just send Mr. Lee a check every month to line his fat pockets with.
Bob The Builder is out and Spiderman is SO in.
Today, in the midst of the home remodel, Soren suggested we get one of those web couches like Spiderman has. And, I must say that a web couch, suspended 10,000 feet above NYC as Spidy and Mary Jane rest romantically together gazing up at the stars, looks pretty comfortable and probably wouldn’t look too bad suspended from corner to corner of my living room. And, it would be a lot easier to keep clean than the one we have now.
Anyone want to come play princess with me while sitting on my web couch?
Permalink | Comments (5) | Post your comment | Categories: Richie
Alex
The biggest lesson I’ve learned from motherhood is there are times to bite your tongue and times to hold your breath. There have been lots of breath-holding moments in the teen years. But it seems like lately I’ve been able to let that breath out slowly, but surely.
College applications will likely be in the mail in the next few months. Financial aid is being applied for. The oft-confusing course of setting sail for adulthood and a career is underway. My baby will soon be leaving the nest.
He can’t wait. And although I will cry buckets of tears, I can’t wait either. He is so ready to move on and I am so excited for him. This will be a year of “lasts”. His last high school homecoming dance. Last high school yearbook. Last year I bang on his door to get him to wake up. Last Christmas at home before he goes away to college. OK - maybe I’m not so ready.
But I am dang proud and impressed by him. He started last month working as a Certified Nursing Assistant at a local nursing home. He works every weekend and one night during the week. He enjoys it and really likes the “old guys” and their stories. He writes in charts. He takes blood pressures. He helps with bodily function stuff. Pretty cool, I think. He wants to get his nursing degree and then become a nurse practitioner. I don’t know where this talent came from. Nobody on either side of the family is in the medical profession.
He’s playing tennis for high school. He likes playing JV because he says it’s less competitive and more fun but he’s won his doubles matches three out of three times on varsity. He mostly remembers when to tell me they are leaving for away tournaments and overnights. (He is still a teenager after all.)
And this Monday we are going to an academic awards ceremony at school where he will receive an award. I don’t know what for exactly and neither does he, but an academic award? Right on. And it’s semi-formal dress for students! I love that part. (And if I act fast and I’m sneaky I might get a picture of him.)
Please understand that I am not taking credit for any of this. I’m simply amazed by it. This little baby who kept me up all night is now ready to venture out on his own. This little boy who I know so well yet is still such a stranger. Doubtless he will still keep me up at night holding my breath, hoping he is just fine. I guess they leave the house but never, ever your heart.
Permalink | Comments (7) | Post your comment | Categories: Lynn
The dangerous letter “L”
I’m back, ya’all. Did I just say ya’all? Yes I did!
I’ve spent the last couple of days trying to get my mojo back—ha! I finally got through the over 800 emails I had, many of which announced various baked goods at the newsroom roundabout. Boy my coworkers at a lot this summer!
I have post after post bouncing around in my head so I’ll just jump right in.
Soren started preschool and as mentioned before I did cry but only a little and when nobody was watching. I’m completely confident in my preschool choice. I think his teacher is spectacular and the program is top-notch. So I didn’t cry out of fear for leaving my child, as a matter of a fact Soren couldn’t wait for me to go and actually would only give me a cheek to kiss in front of his new classmates (already I only get a cheek?), but I cried because he’s just already so big and it’s going so fast.
His teacher said he didn’t need any adjustment time. He’s doing great, following directions, no potty accidents, and he uses his manners without being prompted. She loves that about him.
But…..
Yup—there’s already a BUT.
Buuuttt, she says, he chewed his cracker into the shape of a gun and was shooting his classmates with it. “We told him that was inappropriate and we really frown on violence in the classroom.”
Uh, well of course. I felt like I had to justify my parenting skills at this point. I said “Yeah, we don’t have any toy guns in our house because we don’t believe guns are toys. They have never been taught cowboys and Indians or anything remotely like that.”
She added, “Well, I know, they get stuff from T.V. and who knows.”
Um, there’s no network T.V. in my house but I didn’t even go there because that would lead to the no microwave conversation and the urban homesteading conversation and pretty soon I’d be the Teva wearing hippie mom who brings granola for snack day. I’m not ready to divulge so much of myself to the teacher yet so I just let it go.
When we got into the car I reinforced the fact to Soren that “we DO NOT even pretend to shoot people, and NEVER EVER in school, ever.”
He replied, “No MOM, it wasn’t a gun, it was an L.”
I am so screwed.
Permalink | Comments (4) | Post your comment | Categories: Richie
Latest comments
I have been a much more neglectful blogger than you and you seem to have more on my plate. Hopefully, guilt will encourage me to write whether I’ve got the time or not.
Enjoy your new washer and dryer. I still love mine. They are so quiet
... read the full comment by Robin | Comment on Glory Glory Hallelujah! Read Glory Glory Hallelujah!
Depression is more prevalent during the winter season. With darkness coming earlier our brain signals our body and as with some animals, they hibernate. Notice how you seem to want to eat more recently? Animals eat more and then hibernate. People should
... read the full comment by coloradolady | Comment on *itch, *itch, *itch Read *itch, *itch, *itch
Full moon definitely makes a difference…but I too have been on edge this week Lynn! Lack of Vitamin D now that the sun is sinking low at 5 p.m…
... read the full comment by Julie | Comment on *itch, *itch, *itch Read *itch, *itch, *itch
full moon and pre-mene. Wow! Trust me it really was the full moon. People are just mean during a full moon. But Dan? What’s up with that! Full Moon?
... read the full comment by mary | Comment on *itch, *itch, *itch Read *itch, *itch, *itch