I do believe that dreams can have meaning beyond the dream, something having to do with what’s going on in your life. I also believe that they can just be regular dreams without any meaning.
I would say that reoccurring dreams would tend to be your brains way of telling you something. I’ve had a few in my life.
The first one is falling. I will occasionally have a dream about falling and then when I wake up, the bed is moving and I swear I was levitating over the bed and fell on it to cause that movement. I used to have that one a lot more when I was in high school and a little bit before The Boy came along. I will still have that dream, probably not even once a year now, when it used to be pretty frequent, perhaps once a month?
The chasing dream, too. Same as above; I had this dream more often when I was younger and now, not so much.
Not being able to see someone’s face. I’m usually shorter than everyone standing around me and I go to look up at a face and I’m blinded by the sunlight and I can’t see. It’s very strange. Haven’t had that one in awhile. I don’t remember the timeline of that one either as much as the other ones.
Another dream I used to have was that I could lift up my upper lip, see like a block of molars in the shape of a square on my gums and I would put my palm on it. Gross. I hated that dream and I don’t know what it was about, but I’m glad it’s gone. Blech.
This is one that I cannot even believe that I remember, and I don’t remember any details, but I used to dream about being in a red hot air balloon. It is so strange because I have never been in a hot air balloon, but my brain has come up with a very vivid concept of what it would look like. It’s in a remote area, where there is just tons and tons of green, no houses to be seen, all the way to the horizon it’s like this. And a very specific color of red. No design on it, and I swear if I saw a bunch of red samples put together I could pick out this color. And it was red every time. No thoughts of falling or being in trouble, just floating along looking at the ground is what I remember. I don’t know what that one was about, I probably had that dream every six months for a few years when I was really little, maybe seven or eight, again when I was twelve, and a few times as an adult. But I haven’t had that dream in probably almost ten years. I don’t know what it meant or what caused it to go away.
The dream/nightmare that I am having now is really uncomfortable and I hate it. It’s not going to be pleasant to read either, because it’s gross, so continue at your own risk.
I’ll preface it with the fact that I cannot stand bathrooms. I don’t like germs in general. I tolerate the bathrooms at my house, but I really truly loathe public restrooms, even the ones at my office, which are nice actually, as far as office restrooms go. I get all tense when I go inside of a bathroom, public restrooms are worse. I try to touch as little as possible, wash my hands really thoroughly, and use paper towels all the way out to turn off the water, open doors, etc.
So the circumstance of the dream varies, i.e., different locations, people, etc., but the theme is the same.
A couple of things happen:
First, I cannot get any privacy. It’s like one huge communal bathroom and there are no doors, just toilets everywhere. I sit down to go to the bathroom and people walk in or people are wandering around in the open space. I can’t go when I don’t have privacy (in real life and in my dream). I cannot imagine anyone being able to in this situation (except maybe guys because they do that?). Sometimes I’m in a house and there are two doors to the bathroom but only one of them locks. Or there is a bathroom with locks on all the doors, but there are windows everywhere. And whatever is going on, there are people all over the place.
Second is that the toilets are clogged. I’ll go into each stall and it’s just overflowing with gross stuff. I won’t even go into details here, it’s gross enough without it.
Finally, nothing is clean. There is water (urine?) puddled on the floor, the seat covers are wet and sticking to the seats, there is sand/hair/mud in the sinks. Mostly everything is wet and I don’t know what the “wet” is.
Ick, ick and more ick. I don’t know what these are about but if I could figure it out and deal with whatever it is, I would. I would take months off of work and go to therapy forty hours a week to get rid of this dream. I hate it. And I haven’t had it very long. Maybe in the last year, maybe eighteen months. I have it a lot though, as often as every night, as little as two or three times a month. Any ideas? Okay, you mull that over in your head while I go vomit. In the kitchen sink.
The focus in the dream is not the need to urinate. I don’t have to go really badly or anything. The problem is frustration with not being able to find a clean, private place to go.
I trying to find out the meaning of this dream, I found this site. The first two paragraphs were of use to me, but I didn’t read the rest (can’t be on the internet at work, remember?).
I also found these offerings:
“Any place that represents purification or refreshment to you. A messy bathroom may suggest an area of your life that requires attention or cleansing. Needing to cleanse or detoxify.”
Dream Lover Inc.
Now I’m off to detoxify myself. I’m not sure how, but I’m pretty sure it has to do with a nap, Starbucks, and my most recent issue of Domino magazine.
Monday, March 31, 2008
I do believe that dreams can have meaning beyond the dream, something having to do with what’s going on in your life. I also believe that they can just be regular dreams without any meaning.
The Man and I have birthdays nine days apart from each other (one year and nine days apart in age). The Man doesn’t mind his birthday, in fact besides this year, I would say he loves his birthday. He gets tons of attention from his parents, my parents, The Boy, me. He gets presents from The Boy and me. What’s not to love? This year he is turning thirty, and I think that number is hitting him a little bit harder than the others. I’m not sure what makes this year different for him. He usually doesn’t care about age and has said in the past that thirty wouldn’t bother him. Maybe it doesn’t bother him and I’m just reading into the things he says, where he means for them to be in jest and I take them seriously.
I don’t like getting older. I would say that since the age of twelve maybe, I have always hated my birthday. I don’t remember any birthday parties I have had; I remember looking at pictures. All it is to me is getting older. And for whatever reason, I think getting older sucks. Now that I have a kid, I realize that being a kid is great! Who wants to be an adult with adult problems; relationships, work, finances? Ick. I just want to play all day, have the energy to play all day, eat whatever I want without worrying if it will affect my weight, take naps, and have other people take care of me. Needless to say, I am not looking forward to turning 29 this year. I think it might be harder for me than turning 30. Because it’s the LAST year I get to be in my twenties. And I probably won’t even do anything great this year other than going to Disneyland. I will be working for someone who I feel is mean to me, I will stress about finances, I will have to send my one and only baby to kindergarten, I will probably owe income taxes, and although we will have more good times than bad, I won’t be the best mommy and I won’t be the best wife. Sounds like fun.
The Man’s birthday usually eclipses mine for several reasons:
1. His birthday happens first.
2. I handle the finances so I can surprise him with a gift. If he wants to buy me something, he usually has to check with me first.
3. I usually tell him not to get me anything.
4. That’s the way I like it.
This year my mom is planning a surprise with The Boy. Something about dinner and cake, The Boy tells me that’s all I’m allowed to know and that Daddy can’t know anything. My mom says she needs Star Wars figures to put on The Man’s half of the cake. She also said to tell The Boy my favorite thing. Because when she asked him what The Man’s favorite thing is, he came up with Star Wars (duh), but when she asked him what Mommy’s favorite thing is, he said purple. That’s all that either of them could come up with.
When she told me this, I was very sad. Not sad because neither one of them know my favorite thing, but sad because it’s true. I don’t even know my favorite thing. I don’t even like purple that much anymore. I like pink more now. I thought to myself, what do you spend your time doing? That should tell you what your favorite thing is. So here is how I spend my time if I am not sleeping or working:
1. Watching The Boy play Wii.
2. Playing Wii with The Boy.
3. Playing anything else with The Boy.
4. Watching television with The Man.
5. Reading the two magazines I subscribe to.
7. Listing things on eBay.
9. Reading anything I can get my hands on from the internet.
10. Writing blogs.
Items 1 through 4 involve doing something with/for other people. Items 5 and 6 are not really considered hobbies. Although I enjoy it, I do #7 to create additional income, and #8 is not something I do very often (seriously, twice a year?). Finally items 7 and 8 are not really hobbies that can be incorporated into someone’s birthday cake, and they involve staring at a computer screen, which, I don’t know, seems sad. I want there to be something that The Boy can point to and say, Mommy loves that, and have it not be a computer.
I used to; well I guess I still do, love Winnie-the-Pooh. I collected tons of his stuff when I was in high school and for the first few years of our married lives. After The Boy came along, I put most of it away for the sake of space and stopped collecting because we were spending money on diapers, formula, and baby clothes (and Star Wars stuff).
It’s more than just Winnie-the-Pooh though. I know that I allow myself to get lost in the Mommy role and the Wife role. I don’t keep my own identity. That makes this birthday difficult as well. At the age of 29, I think a person has had plenty of time to find themselves and create an identity for themselves. And I haven’t. I’m Mom or Wife and not ever myself. It makes me sad and I have no motivation to do anything about it. I want to be a good example of what a woman should be to The Boy so that he knows what to look for in a woman when he gets older. But I don’t know how.
I wrote the above portion of the post on Friday. Here’s the rest:
Over the weekend we went to the movies and to dinner with another family. During dinner, the other mom said that she asked her husband if he had any dreams of things he wants to do in life. His reply was, “I’ve already done them all.” She was amazed. Yes, his dreams were simple, but he did them and he made sure they got done. There was no question about it. He wanted to get married, get a good job, have kids, buy a house. Those things are all done. The Man said the same thing. He said with the exception of perhaps wanting to teach drums one day, all of his dreams had been realized. I think, too, he would like to travel more, but basically, he has achieved everything in life that he set out to do.
So this mom and I were like, well we still have stuff that we want to do. What’s stopping us? Being Wife and Mommy. Putting others first takes a lot of time, but also energy. Our day is never over. There’s the kids, works, dinner, laundry (which is sooooooooo never ending), cleaning the house, homework, soccer practice, birthday parties, etc. Who has time to do things for themselves? The guys do. I don’t know how they do it, but The Man does it. Once a week he goes out and plays with a band he started. Why then don’t I go out once a week and do something? Guilt! And I don’t know how to get over it. How does The Man get over it? I don’t think he has it to begin with.
This is totally inconclusive, there will be no resolution at the end of this post. I’m not going to change anything, which is not healthy. At least I acknowledge that, I mean that’s supposedly the first step, right? Not being in denial? It was really nice to hear that right after I was feeling these things on Friday that someone else validated my thoughts. Next step: Figure out how to do something about it.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Yeah, listen up Quiet Boss. Um, when you don’t tell me stuff – ME, the person who fields ALL the calls from nosy tenants and ALL the questions from nosy co-workers about the building we work in and oh yeah we also manage it – I find out about it anyway. So it would be very helpful if you could inform me in full of those things beforehand so that maybe I could have an answer ready? And then you may also want to inform CEO Boss because when I finally sent out an e-mail to everyone about what’s going on, he immediately replied to me in a panic because he didn’t even know what the heck was going on. Silly me for assuming he would be in the loop about such things.
Why am I so out of the loop on this whole thing, I thought? They must be firing me on Friday (always my first thought). It's nice to know that the big dogs are left out of the loop sometimes too, and not just me, the lowly peons.
It is difficult and frustrating to be a good, no amazing, assistant to someone who WILL NOT LET ME IN. I can’t help you if you don’t let me help you.
She even stayed until 5:07. I did not time her lunch though. Perhaps she worked a full eight today? Interesting.
I don’t shop at Costco. My mom has a membership and I used to have one but I never went because when I did go I couldn’t leave without spending at least two hundred bucks and I couldn’t afford that! If I want something now, my mom will get it for me and she lets me look through her coupons. In the last book of coupons, I picked out a coupon for sandwich bags. The giant box filled with smaller boxes of Ziploc bags is sitting on the pantry floor, waiting to be opened. It’s huge and in the way, so I’m not sure how I forgot it was there.
I used the last sandwich bag on Monday and have been using the quart size bags to pack lunches since then, making a mental note to pick up more sandwich bags the next time I went to the grocery store. Such an opportunity occurred last night and I grabbed a box and threw it in my cart along with my other miscellaneous items. I put the box away at home and then as I was making dinner, I left the pantry door open and walked out of the kitchen and on my way back into the kitchen, I saw the mammoth Costco size box of sandwich bags. I couldn’t believe it. I’m such a dork.
Female Boss came in at 8:07 this morning, a pretty unusual occurrence. Still not quite 8 a.m., but I’m wondering if she’s found my tiny little blog on the giant world wide web, figured out it's me, and tried to make a change to prove wrong my last post? Nah, that's a little paranoid and self-assuming, right? I really hope I don’t get fired. I want to leave on my own terms; not anyone else’s. When I’m ready and know what I want to do with my “job life.” I'm sure it’s just coincidence.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Yesterday, I got to work 10 minutes late. Not really that big a deal. My office is actually VERY understanding that I have a five year old and only one vehicle and that things don’t always go smoothly.
However, I have to clock in on my computer every morning and clock out when I leave and my pay is based on the actual hours I work. So if I clock in at 8:10 and still leave at 5, I don’t get my entire eight hours, and let me tell you, every penny counts. So I have to stay until 5:10 to clock out if I want all eight hours.
Here is what is unfair: Female Boss is on salary, not hourly like me, so she gets paid the same every pay period no matter what time she wanders in or what time she leaves. Here was her schedule yesterday: she got here at 8:30 a.m., took a 1 hour and 30 minute lunch, and left at 5 while I was sitting there strumming my fingers waiting to clock out in ten minutes. So she actually only worked seven hours but will get paid for eight.
I have to believe that the only reason she is able to do this is because of me. Before I started working here, it was just her. And she made such a big deal when I started about being here RIGHT ON TIME every morning (except for the occasional need to deal with The Boy). Although I have NEVER seen it in action, I must assume that she was here right on time every morning before I started here. Right? Otherwise it would be pretty hypocritical of her to say that (which wouldn’t surprise me either).
Some would say, well she’s a manager, she’s paid her dues, blah blah blah. I don’t totally disagree, but then she should also understand that I have to live by this law of time, just like I assume she used to. Of course, it’s different these days. When I first started working for this company (in a different department) nine years ago, everyone was on salary and we could borrow vacation time, trade sick time for vacation time, take a long lunch because we never took scheduled breaks. Of course someone took advantage of that or was fired and pissed and told whoever the worker people are that our company did not require breaks or some garbage and now we have to be super strict about all of it.
Today I came in 15 measly minutes early so that I could leave early to pick up some groceries before we have company tonight and she give me this snobbish “k.” Like, I didn’t check my personal schedule with her first, or even worse; I didn’t check with HER schedule. Like I’m trying to skip out on the last 15 minutes of work. I mean, she might have something super pressing going on during that time. I’m sorry, would she rather pay me overtime to sit on my tuckus for 15 minutes just to make sure I’m not leaving before her? Going by her philosophy of work, she should be able to waltz out of here whenever she wants. Why does she feel like she has to stay until five when she so blatantly does not follow any of the other time guidelines at our office?
I love all things pomegranate. I love the color, the taste. I love that you have to work to get the little seeds out. It is so worth it to do the work because of the reward. A sweet, tart, juicy seed. I love the way the color stains your fingers. And when it’s all gone, I yearn for more. There is no other fruit that I yearn for.
These are the things I love that involve pomegranate. I can’t get enough.
Pomegranate Acai Juice
Midnight Pomegranate Body Wash
Pomegranate Paint (for our bedroom maybe?)
Pomegranate Flavored 7UP
The finger paints from Land of Nod got here last week and the Easter Bunny gave them to The Boy for Easter. We have not used them yet because we have been so busy! All I want to do is finger paint! I want to feel that ooey, gooey, sticky paint squishing between my fingers and create something fun on clean white paper. I want to see his face when the colors mix together and make new colors.
When homework gets boring, overwhelming, or frustrating, I want to use the finger paints to create a fun learning experience for him. Addition in finger paint has to be way more interesting that with boring old paper and pencil.
The only day coming up that I see us being free enough to finger paint is Saturday. Dear Saturday, please hurry!!!
I don’t have enough work to do. Work is slow in general right now, but I am super fast at all of my assignments and I run out of things to do even during our busy times. I am currently almost done with my filing, which is the final thing I do before I am completely out of work. I will probably finish the filing this afternoon. A new month and the new quarter starts on Tuesday which will give me about two days worth of work to do that I can probably stretch out to three or four days. Quiet Boss was gone for three days so I am hoping to get some work from his pile of paperwork that accumulated while he was gone.
I ask for more work, I ask to do things that normally get pushed to the back burner (i.e., sort through plans, send files to storage, create new files, etc.), but now it’s all been done!
The challenge for me is to come up with things that appear to be work but are not actually work. Because I have a highly visible desk, I cannot go on the internet, lest people think I don’t have enough work to do (which I don’t!) and think I am disposable (which I probably am!). Why haven’t I been laid off already?
Here is what I have come up with so far.
Things That I Can Do At Work That Are Work Appropriate
1. Write blogs in Word.
2. Copy text from website, paste into Word and read.
3. Create eBay descriptions in Word.
4. Copy Sudoku puzzles into Excel.
Can you come up with anything else?
I have not signed Quiet Boss’ name yet, since he is fairly new here. Yesterday I had to sign his name, and before I signed the official letters, I pulled out a sticky note and practiced writing his name first and I had a total flashback of being in junior high. Remember in junior high when you had a crush and you would write your first name with his last name and then draw hearts and swirlies all around? Ah, true love.
Anyway, I am a professional so I didn’t do it, but I totally thought about using a heart to dot the “i” in his name (just on the sticky, not on the letters), and drawing hearts and swirlies all over. I mean it’s just going in the garbage and it’s for my own amusement, right? Paranoid thoughts run through my head, though, like his wife coming to dig through my garbage (she’s never even been to the office). That just wouldn’t look good at all.
So I had a little laugh inside my head picturing what it could look like, threw out the sticky, signed the letters and went on with my day.
The Boy has a little “girlfriend” although I refer to her as a Diva or sometimes Slut or the “B” word because she broke his little, teeny, tiny, fragile heart.
The two of them were inseparable from the age of two until the age of four. Then J became this little sassy diva. She stopped saying hi to The Man and I in the morning when we dropped off The Boy at school. She stopped playing with The Boy. She probably said some horribly mean things to him that nobody should ever have to hear, like, “I’m not your friend anymore,” or “I don’t want to play with you.”
J told The Boy that she was going to be sick on the day of his birthday party. So we knew she wouldn’t come, but we still invited her. Sure enough, J did not come to his party. Her mom didn’t RSVP or anything.
So I totally talk trash on her (behind her back of course, it’s not appropriate for an adult to trash talk a five year old). It’s mostly in jest but there is some truth to it because The Boy is hurt by her actions and I want to protect him.
J loves The Little Mermaid movie and all things Ariel. The Boy has a couple of Build-A-Bear friends and during our last visit to Build-A-Bear, he purchased an Ariel Mermaid outfit for one of his friends to wear and said, “Maybe if I buy this and take this to school J will like me again.” Oh. My. Gosh. Is that not the sweetest, most heart wrenching thing you have ever heard?!? How do you teach a kid that no matter what you do, sometimes you just can’t do things that will make people like you? And how can I repair the pain his little heart must be feeling?
Hunny Bear, that girl truly is not good enough for you. You deserve better, the love of a Real Princess who appreciates her Prince, like Ariel and Prince Eric. J may like Ariel and other Disney Princesses, but she has a long way to go until she reaches Princess Status in my book. You keep looking.
Friday, March 21, 2008
I would just like everybody in the world to know how incredible I am at my job. I am a freaking rock star. Since I started working in this department in 2005, we perform this fairly complex audit annually, and for the past three year (2005, 2006, and 2007), Female Boss was training me to do it and it took about six months to complete the entire project each year. I asked her, is this taking longer because she was training me and she said no, it took her about six months to do everything on her own, sometimes more because even though she was training me there were two people working on it instead of one. This year she felt that I could do the entire project on my own for the first time (obviously she would review it, but I would be doing all of the time consuming work). Do you know how long it took me to complete the audit from start to finish?
That’s right. One teeny tiny little month. She was shocked. And then she started making excuses. Well, she was SO busy in the past, she was always interrupted and given different priorities, we’re really slow right now, and you aren’t doing much else, blah blah blah. I’m sorry, but to cut project time down by 83% is not due to being busy or interrupted, unless your priorities were changed from doing the audit project to racing snails around the entire Earth. I increased productivity because I am smart, efficient, and organized. You’re welcome.
By the way, we’re driving safely now. The Man’s parents were super worried about us driving on thin tires and lent us the money the second they received their tax return, which was so thoughtful of them. We have since paid them back, but I am really glad we didn’t have to wait to get our tax return to buy new tires.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
I’ve heard them called masthead, title block, blog banner, header, and I don’t know what the proper term is, but it’s the thing at the top of the page that says, “What’s That Mystery?”
I asked The Man to come up with something; he’s an artistic type. I gave him probably a very vague idea of what I wanted. He said it would take awhile to do because it’s complicated. Then he surprised me today and said it was ready. I LOVE IT!
It’s like when you watch LA Ink and the people come in with an idea but basically let the tattoo artist have creative freedom and the final product comes out better than the person could have ever imagined. That is how I feel! This is way better than anything I could have ever created on my own as an idea for him to go off of.
Thank you, Darling. I love you!
My parents have done this before, so I am not just harping on The Man’s parents in the following story.
The Man’s dad calls him today and asks if he can come over for lunch tomorrow. He says that he and The Man’s mom want to talk to him. The Man asks if everything is okay. The Man’s dad says everything is great actually, but did not go into more detail.
Now why in the heck do our parents do that? Why can't they just tell us over the freaking phone or just say hey can you come over for lunch like they want to hang out with us so we aren't all paranoid and in anticipating the worst for two days. Jeez.
His mom has been out of work for months now and we are hoping that they are great because she finally got a job. But the only way I’m not going to be pissed that they did this to us is if they won millions of dollars and they are giving half to us.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
I tried a lip plumper. Once. It burned so badly I thought I was going to die. Why would anyone do that to themselves I wonder? Perhaps plump lips are a priority to some. Having said that, it never would have occurred to me to keep it away from children.
This mom found out the hard way that lip plumper should be kept far away from kids. I feel so bad for her and her poor little guy. As you can see from her commenters, she is supported, and I agree with them. I always put on my lip gloss and then kiss The Boy. Why should lip plumpers be any different?
So be careful out there!
It is very difficult to be able to describe Female Boss. It's much more than just always being right. Here is where one can go to get a partial grasp on what I'm dealing with. Not to say that I don't have some of these issues. The difference is that I am aware of these problems and I am working on fixing them. AND, I don't do every single one every day to everyone I come across.
It is my true belief that black crows are the devil and will eventually take over the world. Has one ever looked at you? It is as though they can see right through you, into your soul. I hate them and I know they can sense my fear.
The way they congregate is unnatural. They don't fly in a flock like other birds. But they do "hang out" a couple feet away from each other, as if to appear nonchalant, but I know they are plotting against the human race.
I might die one day because crows pecked me to death. If you ever see a flurry of white in the middle of swarming black crows, please stop and try to save me.
Honey Bear, money sucks. It makes the world go ‘round is the saying, and it’s true. Money will rule your life until you die; you will make major life decisions and minor life decisions based on things related to money. Unless you figure out how to rule over it, which if you follow in our footsteps, you will not. I truly hope that you do what we have not been able to do and beat the system. Make your money work for you; don’t work for your money.
If there is one thing I can ask it is that you please don’t ever misuse credit cards. It is a mistake that can haunt you for years. YEARS. And then money will truly rule your life during that time. I cannot wait to be free from our mistake of misusing credit cards. I look forward to the day when I can be debt free and feel that freedom, instead of what I currently feel which is fear, worry, and stress. Please learn from Mommy and Daddy’s mistakes about this one thing.
I’m not sure how, I know we aren’t doing it now, but I want to teach you that instant gratification of having material possessions is not as important as working for something and waiting for it. That is a much greater reward. Trust me.
I went to the real grocery store Monday night. When I got to the freezer section, the lights were off. I just thought that they must need to change the bulbs, but how odd that an entire row would go out all at one time. As I turned down the aisle, the lights came on as I walked by them. It was like that on the next aisle, too. So the lights turn off when nobody is around, and then they have sensors so that the lights turn on when there is movement. I think it’s a good idea. Does anyone else have this at their grocery store?
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Have you seen the Spongebob episodes where this guy shows up? He is so strange. I don't get him at all. Why mess with something good? If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
*I probably shouldn't be letting my kid watch Spongebob, though. I mean it is totally inappropriate. I've got to send him over to my friend's house where the kids are much more sheltered. I mean, I don't let The Boy watch any of the CSI shows. What kind of mother am I?
*Note: That is all sarcasm right there baby.
When I was a teen, I am sure I said things that my parents never said when they were kids, and also things that annoyed them because they don’t make sense. Dude, like, cool, sweet, tight, fresh (my brother used those last two, not me). I wonder what word The Boy will use that I will not understand. Will he speak in text language? I’ll say, “Hey dude, it’s time for dinner.” And his reply will be, “OMG, thx Mom.”
Or maybe he will use a term that I heard for the first time last night. I was watching television and someone on the show used the word “bevie” instead of “beverage” or “drink.” What. The. Heck. For whatever reason I found that to be so totally irritating. Yes, the show is probably marketed toward a crowd younger than myself, however, the characters are adults with jobs. If I asked Quiet Boss if he wanted a “bevie” I’m not sure what would happen.
Sigh. And I thought I was going to be The Coolest Mom Ever.
The Boy watched the movie Madagascar for the first time when we went to Tahoe on vacation. I think he was three. After that trip he started saying, "I told you big-la." We did not know where this was coming from and asked him. He said from Madagascar. We watched it again with the purpose of finding this line. It was there, but The Boy misheard it. They say, "I told you it was bad luck," but we've been saying, "I told you big-la" ever since.
Big-la. I love it.
The Boy received a cheapie wind up dinosaur toy in a goodie bag from a birthday party over a year ago. We keep it in his toy box in the car and he got it out this morning and said, "Why doesn't this work?" The Man told him that you have to put it on a flat surface. The Boy said, "Uh-uh. Watch, here Mom." I take it, wind it up, and let it go on the center console in the car. The dinosaur waddled around until the winding mechanism was all done. When it stopped, The Boy points at it and says, "See? I told you it doesn't work!"
The Boy refers to vision as "eyelashes."
I can see in the dark because I have good eyelashes.
Mommy can't see good because she has bad eyelashes.
On Sunday he said he had good eyes and I know the days are coming to an end when he says eyelashes so I wanted to write about it before I forget about it.
My guinea pig family liked the dinner I made for them. Whew!
Monday, March 17, 2008
We were thisclose to relaxing this weekend, and then the circuit breaker at our house zapped that dream from us when it started buzzing.
Here’s what we did:
Friday night, after a very long and busy week, I zipped on over to the next town with dinner I made for this family. Our family was going to go over there and play games and eat dinner together, but they all have bronchitis so I just dropped off the food. I never made this recipe before so I hope they liked it. Normally I wouldn’t treat people like that, but the whole thing was kind of last minute and I didn’t have time to buy and make a familiar recipe. I haven’t heard from them about the meal, but I saw them at church on Sunday so I know I didn’t kill them.
Then Saturday morning we get up and go to church for a planning meeting, afterwards we went to Toys R Us to buy a present for a birthday party we were going to at 2 p.m. We picked up lunch and went to my office to eat lunch and check out a security breach situation (it was nothing), wrapped the present at my office, and went to the party. When the party is over we go home and WHEW! Time to relax, right? Wrong! Our friends call and say we’re bored, come over. So we go over and decide to go to our friend’s restaurant for dinner, where our children thoroughly annoyed the couple at the table next to us. Then we went back to their house and the kids played Wii until they had a meltdown and we finally took The Boy home and we all went to bed.
Up on Sunday morning, The Man notices that the circuit breaker is buzzing, so he switches it off, we take The Man to worship team practice, grab Starbucks for The Boy and I on the way home, he eats while I shower, we both get dressed, rush back to church, get done around noon, go directly to a BBQ. We invited new friends to this BBQ so that they could get to know other people our age and then I proceeded to hog all of their attention the entire time because we were so engrossed in our conversations. We go home and instead of relaxing like we thought we would, our electrician friend comes over to assess the situation with the circuit breaker and finds what we already knew, which is that all of the wires have been painted and are causing the unit to constantly overheat. And it exploded on him or something and I see this flash of light reflect on the wall and he says, "Ouch, dammit!" It was funny, especially because this guy is SO quiet and reserved. So the electrician friends takes The Man and The Boy to the hardware store where they buy a new circuit breaker and now ALL OF OUR LIGHTS WORK!!!
We all fall into bed and now it’s Monday. Five loooooooooooooooooooooong days until the weekend.
I blog a lot. About everything. The Man is more selective, probably because he has less time to blog than I do. The other morning he called dibs on two topics for blogging and I had to let him have them because I usually write about a topic before he gets to it. They are utterly comical stories, so be sure to check them out here and here.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Grandma was blowing bubbles while giving The Boy a bath and he caught one on his hand.
Grandma: “Can you see yourself in the bubble?”
The Boy: “No.”
Grandma: “Can you see the pretty colors?”
The Boy: “No.”
Then The Boy says, “God is like a bubble.”
Grandma: “What do you mean?”
The Boy: “You can’t really see it, but you know it’s there.”
Does anyone else do this? I was curious about it so I signed up and then I had to wait three agonizingly long months to do my first paid post!
That’s what this is – my first paid post. I signed up because I would like to add to my current income, and possibly use advertisements on my blog and things like PayPerPost to be my main source income. PayPerPost received good reviews wherever I went, and it seems pretty simple.
I hope to spend the money I earn on the things I don’t have enough money for now. Extras like the movies, pedicures, stuff for The Man, etc.
I have not made any new friends on PayPerPost since I was just accepted today. I don’t know what kind of community it is – is it like MySpace? If so, then I’m looking forward to meeting interesting people and reading their blogs.
I have learned that waiting three months for something you want can feel like a really long time even though the time actually flew by!
After I’ve done a few more of their projects I’ll let you know how it’s going and let you know if I recommend it!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
I was looking through a file today and I found a sticky note on some sign specifications. The note said, “A – You are my sign person. See me. – R.”
Seeing this note made me hurt. I hate change and I was so happy the way things used to be at my office. I was working for my favorite boss ever in the whole wide world. He was light-hearted and care-free, he liked to joke around, he had a great personality, and he appreciated what I did for him. He knew that he could get away with more golf, more long lunches, more personal errands, if he had me doing his work. Some might say, oh he was taking advantage of you. I disagree. I welcomed the challenging assignments he gave me. I would not normally be considered “qualified” to do the work, and yet I did it correctly. I was happy to make his life more enjoyable because he appreciated what I did for him. I also trusted him because he truly loved his wife and I never feared that he would hit on me, as all of my past male bosses had done. And he never did.
A time came where there was so much work that I could no longer do it all. I am told that he did not step up to the plate, he fell behind on projects, and eventually he was let go. That was almost two years ago and I still miss him.
I got a new boss, and she was strange, I cannot even explain how bizarre she was. I didn’t have time to adjust, though, before she was gone. Laid off with the rest. And now I have Quiet Boss. No joking, or he makes odd jokes that I don’t get, he doesn’t give me fun projects, there isn’t a lot of work to do so I do a lot of filing and spend most of my days trying to look like I’m busy. The morale in the entire office is totally different now.
I saw this note and I was transported to My Happy Place. At one point in time, I was worth something to someone and someone appreciated my knowledge, even if it was just knowledge about signs. There it was in writing – I fit in. I belonged in the office right then and there; there was a need and an appreciation for the information I had in my head. I was his sign person.
I have never claimed to be a good writer, and I often times find it challenging to put into words the things that happen in our lives, especially voice inflection, because not only can you not hear me, you can’t see my facial expressions or body language either.
When I wrote this story, I knew it was not accurate and my thoughts were not coming across. With some ideas from The Man, I am going to attempt telling the story again.
I’m not going to delete the old story. When The Boy read these posts, I want him to see that everybody makes mistakes. I also want to be able to go back one day and see what I did and then look at how I was able to improve on it. Here we go:
The other night at dinner, we were talking about favorite things. The Boy listed his favorite things: “Video games, Pokemon, Disneyland, the Wii…no no wait, that is a video game, just kidding…that Star Wars Walker made of Legos…”
When he finishes his list, he looked over to me and says, “Mom, what are your favorite things? Well, I know you like me, but is there anything else?”
I love the sound of an airplane flying overhead on a sunny day. Even when I’m sitting at my desk, if I close my eyes, I can imagine lying in the grass, the cheerful rays kiss my skin, the prickly strands of lush green grass poke my arms, and the sound of the plane’s propellers tickles my ears. No bad thoughts, just warmth and remembering of a time when I just had peace. Hmmmmmmm.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Last night The Boy declared at dinner that he would like to watch Fireman Sam before bedtime. Because his friend, T “Boo-skiii-dious,” loves fire trucks. Fire trucks are T’s favorite thing.
The Boy looks over and asks me, “Mom, I mean, I know you like me, but is there anything else?”
This girl, RG, who was laid off last year, has remained in touch with me, much to my surprise. I was expecting to keep up a friendship with another person who was laid off, but that person has not made the effort. It was a pleasant surprise to me that RG would want to be friends with me. We go to lunch about once a month; we e-mail each other a lot, and talk on the phone occasionally. Her new job is in the same building so we see each other during work time sometimes as well.
I am truly super happy for her that she found a new job quickly, one that gives her flexibility and more money that her job with this company. But just like everyone else who was laid off, I am a little jealous that she has new opportunities and learning experiences. I have worked here for almost ten years and I am ready for something new. I feel like it is one of those times where God has a plan and I just can’t see the road ahead. If it has anything to do with the fact that we only have one car, and The Boy attending kindergarten three blocks away from my office, I am on board with The Plan. But if The Plan is to see how much I can take before my head explodes, I’d like to renegotiate or reevaluate The Plan.
Anyway, the part about feeling left behind is that she goes to Taco Tuesdays with her co-workers every Tuesday. I don’t even like the restaurant they go to, and even if I did, I probably wouldn’t even go to Taco Tuesdays, but the fact is that I don’t even have the opportunity to do it.
Okay, I’m done whining now. I’m glad I have a job.
The Boy’s food consumption normally consists of one color. He ate something like this for dinner the other night and as I looked at his plate I almost feel asleep from boredom.
Green Apples with Peanut Butter
Mozzarella Cheese Stick
The only color in that meal is green from the green apples! It’s not even a vegetable. He will barely even allow vegetables on his plate, and certainly not without making everyone aware that he’s not going to eat it and he doesn’t want it on his plate.
I seriously hope he will grow out of this but it has been going on for so long that I’m at the point where I’ve convinced myself that he is never going to eat a vegetable and he will always be a picky eater with a food palate existing of approximately ten items.
I’m sorry, isn’t that just dirty? I cannot say, think, or write the name of this grocery store without giggling like a hormone driven junior high boy. Jeez!
Boss Man went down south on Monday and Tuesday to take pictures and research this company as we may want to work with them in the future. I had to send him an e-mail attaching the photos he took and for the Subject I wrote “Fresh & Easy Pictures” and I laughed so hard in my head. I really wanted to write something like, “just like Female Boss in high school,” “not suitable for children,” or “not your run-of-the-mill grocery store.”
Of course I didn’t because that would be TOTALLY inappropriate and unprofessional. At least I can share it here, although if The Boy reads this one day, he’ll probably be totally mbarrassed and think, “Ew, gross. Mom is a sicko.”
I love this picture that The Boy drew for homework. He had to draw himself in the hot air balloon. Then he had to draw what he saw looking down on the Earth from the hot air balloon. Here is what he drew:
1. clouds – silver circles at the top of the page.
2. rain – blue lines coming out of clouds.
3. trees – large because they are closer to the hot air balloon that the items that are closer to the ground.
4. water – blue along the bottom of the page.
5. green fish.
6. Mickey Mouse – directly beneath the hot air balloon. We had to get out his stuffed Mickey friend to properly identify how many fingers Mickey has.
7. Minnie Mouse – next to Mickey, you can tell it’s her because of the bow in her hair.
8. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse – below Mickey and Minnie.
He put so much effort into this drawing. It is so precious to me.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
I read this article about how gasoline is cheap compared to other household liquids.
I have heard this before, and I’m sorry, I think it is just garbage. We don’t use any of the items on this list as much as we use gasoline. If I used 13 gallons of Krazy Glue each week, this would be a fair comparison. I don’t think I could use 13 gallons of Krazy Glue in ten lifetimes, unless it was my goal in each life to glue together everything I see.
And someone who uses gallons of Charcoal Lighter Fluid each week should probably see a therapist for arson addiction or something.
Besides the fact that I’m supposed to feel sorry for these poor multi-billion dollar oil companies?!? Oh, they ONLY get to charge $3.43 per gallon for their precious gas, poor babies.
Now, if only I could find a way to make my car run on Arrowhead bottled water…
The first item is because I never have business cards with me when I need them and I used to carry them in my purse but they always looked all chewed up. I don’t remember where I first saw this business card holder, but I think it is SO cute and appropriate. It’s not all cutesy pink and sparkly, it’s feminine but still professional.
I read about the second item on this blog and I’m just interested to read it. I love the cover of it, which is so cliché, but I like pin up style artwork because it’s sexy without being trashy (usually). And I’d love to eat like a Hot Chick because right now I just eat like me and it’s not really working out for me.
The last item I found while looking for the business card holder. It’s totally funky and I don’t know, I guess I’m into birds or nautical things right now. It’s not expensive so I wouldn’t care if it gets trashed (which it will), and it’s practical enough to use a lot.
I don't remember what these html codes were for, so I'm publishing them on here and then I'll blog about whatever it turns out to be.
My authentic japanese name is 小泉 Koizumi (small spring of water) 弓美 Yumi (beautiful bow, as in bow and arrow).
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Monday, March 10, 2008
I don’t know what is up with my hair. I was in a hurry this morning and did not get to blow it dry all the way, but normally it’s fine. Not today. Today it is a frizzy, wavy mess. I’m sure I’ll be pulling it back into a pony tail before the end of the day. Maybe it’s time to break down and get it trimmed. I’m growing it out so I hate going in to get it cut because I think it’s like taking a step backwards. But if it is going to start acting like this on a regular basis, it’s on. I’ll let my girl go to town on you, you little wayward strands! Do you hear me?!? You had better start behaving.
I love The Man. With all my heart. And he shows his love by doing the dishes, taking out the garbage, and cleaning the bathrooms. He also shows his love by performing random acts of kindness. Like sending flowers to my office for no reason. And printing “I Love You” on a million pieces of paper and then carefully placing them all over the floor at our house so when I came home, the entire floor was covered in “I Love You.” That’s one of my favorites. The best part about his creativity is that often it is free. You don’t have to spend money in order be romantic.
There was one time when his sweetness did not work on me. It was before The Boy came along, and perhaps even before I began taking medication for depression and obsessive behavior, so we may have been married for as little as one or two years. I feel really badly now about how I responded and I want to say that he should certainly receive an A for Effort for this act of kindness.
I was probably stressed out at work, or maybe I was sick. He made a bubble bath for me. I’m sure he lit candles and had soft music playing, too. What a sweetheart, right? He surprised me with it. And I really love the thought that was put into it.
What’s the problem, then? I FLIPPED OUT. I’m sure you think that’s a rational response to someone fixing a bath for you, right? I do not like baths. Other than when I was a child, I have maybe taken five baths as an adult and I probably hated three of them. I think baths are disgusting, sitting in your own filth, most likely in a filthy to begin with bathtub. Ugh. It gives me the shivers right now just thinking about it.
I don’t remember exactly what happened, and I’m sure The Man didn’t know what was going on. I think I told him I didn’t like baths, that they were gross, and then yelled at him for using half a bottle of my favorite Bath and Body Works shower gel. I was so disgusted at the idea that I didn’t even stop to think what was behind all of this – that he was just trying to do something nice for me. Since then we have discussed it several times and I laugh at how I reacted. I don’t think he laughs. I think I really hurt his feelings and now I feel terrible about how I responded. I feel guilty every time I think about it. So this is the end of the guilt. I want the entire world to know that I acted like a maniac when my husband tried to do an extremely nice thing for me.
Darling, I am sorry that I yelled at you for fixing me a bath. It was a very thoughtful thing for you to do, and I appreciate that you were trying to show me you love me.
There. Done with the guilt.
I’m inventing a new language. I can’t decide what to call it (see options above). It’s a cross between German and Spanish, and sure, throw in a little English, too. I took four years of German in high school (why you ask? to spite my parents of course). I used it on a two week trip to Europe in high school and also to converse occasionally with my old pastor and the random person I meet who speaks German. Other than that, it’s useless to me in my current life. I still (surprisingly) remember a lot of it, and it is emerging as I learn Spanish. I often use the German word instead of the Spanish word, especially if I cannot remember the Spanish word. Unfortunately, this is not very effective when trying to speak Spanish to Spanish-speaking people. I tried this one:
Ich brauche vas a la tienda y buy ten batteries.
I need (in German) you to go to the store and (in Spanish) buy ten batteries (in English).
Yeah, they didn't get it.
Ever since high school, I wanted to learn Spanish (yes, my parents were right, just don’t tell them, okay?) because it is a most helpful language to know when living in California. My friend opened a Mexican restaurant and I have worked for him a time or two and found it very frustrating to not be able to communicate with the kitchen, who speaks Spanish only. Also, many of my vendors’ workers speak Spanish, and a guy at work speaks Spanish. He actually speaks English very well, but he lets me practice and doesn’t laugh (very hard) at my terrible pronunciation.
No need to get started on if you live in America you should speak English, blah, blah. I don’t totally disagree, but I appreciate that the people I come across are trying to be a benefit to society and don’t just live off our government. And the truth is that learning and knowing two languages is good for your brain.
Back to the story; I think my new language will be very beneficial because then Germans, Spaniards, and Mexicans will be able to effectively communicate with each other. And that really improves everyone’s life, doesn’t it?
I am trying to teach myself Spanish. It’s something I have wanted to do for awhile, but I did not want to take the time go to school. After The Boy received his DS for Christmas, I found this game that teaches Spanish. It really works, too.
Anyway, that only explains the title of this blog, which means “Worried.” The reason I am worried is because The Boy goes in and out of seeming like he cannot hear very well. The Man thinks that he’s not listening, and although I have certainly witnessed plenty of not listening, I see a difference. During the times I am thinking of, he mentions that he can’t hear the television or the music in the car. He can be sitting right next to me, not really involved in anything else (i.e., zoned out playing video games), and I will say something and he does not hear me.
It comes and goes. For a month he will be fine and then one week I swear his capacity to hear goes down three notches. I want to get his hearing tested, and I don’t want to wait until his annual check up in May. He could be deaf by then. Is it probably nothing? Yes. But if it’s not nothing, and I don’t do anything, I would feel extremely guilty for ignoring it.
I hope it is nothing because I really need to get Spanish under control before I can even begin to think about learning Sign Language.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Remember how I said that I wanted to start taking pictures of the food that I make? And then I posted a picture of bacon? I had made these really great cupcakes, all from scratch, the fluff and everything. They were so good, but too much work for me. I never got to take a picture of them.
Please keep in mind that I made those the weekend before Super Bowl Sunday (Jan 22nd). After I made the post about taking more pictures (Feb 21st), The Man surprised me by telling me that he looked in his food supply at work and found one of my cupcakes. He took a picture for me. Isn't that sweet?
Please note that it did not hold up the yummy look in the month it was kept at The Man's office. He was so sweet to take the picture that I am going to post it and pretend I'm not grossed out.
Friday, March 7, 2008
I feel like I’m losing it. I NEVER loose things. Very literally, I am not one to lose or misplace anything. Everything has a place and if it is moved from it’s place, I know where it’s going. I have lost/misplaced the following items in the last two weeks:
Cough drops (later found in The Boy’s backpack from a day trip we took).
****** *** ** *** ******** I work in (that’s really bad and I probably shouldn’t publish it – don’t tell my bosses).
Literature on a fee management collection agency.
I was making a PBJ sandwich for The Boy and I put the PB in the fridge and the bread in the pantry (they should be switched). Fortunately I found it that way before The Man did and made fun of me, although now he knows anyway!
No, it’s not a lot of stuff, but these are some pretty major things, and I originally thought I knew exactly where it all was. I had it together, you know? And now I’m just some flaky person who looses stuff and it makes me feel unreliable. I wonder if it has anything to do with the dipping fixation?
Recently, I have been in the mood to dip my food into things. Apparently. Meals in the past two weeks have included:
Asparagus dipped in mayo.
Artichoke dipped in mayo.
Fries dipped in ketchup.
Apples dipped in peanut butter.
Pita bread dipped in hummus.
Graham crackers dipped in chocolate frosting.
What does this mean? You tell me.
Yesterday was an emotional day. The Man and I went to the memorial service of our friend who died last week. Something that hadn’t occurred to me is that she actually died on February 29th. I wonder what that will be like for her family when they remember her each year. I know that the pain will still be there, but I wonder if every fourth year their pain will be a little more intense when the actual date of February 29th hits.
Anyway, in my opinion, a good form of grieving is retail therapy. I have been itching to buy stuff. We went shopping in San Mateo on Saturday and I wasn’t quite ready to shop. This week we received one of our tax returns, so now I really feel ready. Although we are saving our tax returns for Disneyland, receiving the money somehow makes me feel like we have additional funds.
I’d really like to buy some clothes for The Boy because he is quickly growing out of his clothes and I’m sick of sending him to school in high-water pants. However, he is going to be starting kindergarten in five short months. I’d like to wait until August to buy his uniform clothes for school as I’m pretty sure he’s growing an inch each month right now. So I guess we’ll try to start a trend of capris for boys until summer gets here, and then we’ll start the trend of short shorts being cool for boys.
I also need new make up. This one should be easy, right? I recently read though that not all make up is safe. In fact, I read that some make up has chemicals in it that are known to cause cancer and reproductive problems. So now I want to be very careful in what I select to apply to the largest organ of my body every day. Finding the motivation to care about what kind of make up I purchase is not easy either (note to self: check under couch cushions for motivation). Normally, I like one brand and I’ll stick with that until I’m tempted to try another brand.
The Man wants some stuff, too. As much as I want to get these things for him, he does not need new drums heads, or an Incubus shirt in order to function in daily life (though he may tell you differently). I do think he needs new headphones in order to be the most productive and the least irritated at work. He will certainly be getting the one thing he asked for when his 30th birthday comes around since he’s not letting me throw him a party. Something about “it costs too much money.” Whatever, I’ve never had a reason to throw you a party before and you know it would be the BOMB because I am an AWESOME party planner.
So I’m stuck on what to spend money on. I know, giant problem, right? Seriously, though, it is very frustrating. I just want to get on with my retail therapy without having all of these issues. Shopping should not be this hard, people!
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
The way we drive to work every day, we go through a residential area. We drive by this one house, and in my head, I call it The Shoe House. It’s a normal house, I think it is painted green blue, it has a black wrought iron fence in the front, nice landscaping, and I often see who I assume to be the homeowners out front, pulling weeds, mowing, or taking out garbage. They are meticulous and obviously care about their yard.
So what’s the problem? There are shoes IN their landscaping. The first time I saw it, I thought, that’s strange, there is a shoe in their landscaping. I figured they had kids or something and someone lost their shoe while playing in the yard. I was surprised that they would let their kids play in such a nice yard. A couple of weeks later, I noticed that there is a plant growing from inside the shoe. Ew. It’s been at least six months now since I first noticed The Shoe House, and there are now three shoes in the landscaping, all with plants growing in them. What. The. Heck.
It really bothers me. To the point where I have to grip the door handle to restrain myself from jumping out of the car, clumsily climbing over the black wrought iron fence, certainly scraping my legs in the process on the pointy ends, grabbing the shoes, and running back to the car. Where I would then have The Man speed off in our get-away car, dump the plants out the window as we go, and throw the shoes in the dumpster when we get to my office.
If we lived closer to The Shoe House, I would sneak out of the house at night, tiptoe over to The Shoe House, go through the black wrought iron gate (so as not to leave a bloody trail from climbing over the fence), snatch the shoes, dump out the plants on the way home, and throw them away in the garbage once I got home. Then I would check the garbage every day to make sure they were still in there until garbage day. Then I would watch the garbage man put the shoes into his truck and then I might be able to sleep.
I guess it’s a good thing they have a black wrought iron fence and that we don’t live closer. And that I’m on medication and in therapy, so that I only think those things instead of actually doing them.
Seriously, though? What IS that? Like an Ode to Shoes? Do they worship some sort of shoe god? Maybe it’s good Fun Shui and it helps their financial life. I just wish I understood.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
On the way home from school:
Mom: “What did you have for lunch today, hunny?”
The Boy: “Oh, Mom! It was the worst food ever!”
Mom (stifling giggle): “Really? What was it?”
The Boy (totally disgusted, gagging as he spits out the words): “Tuna sandwich, green beans, and peaches.”
I mean really? Are they trying to kill him? I’m going to have a talk with those “teachers” of his!
It is amazing the desire that you have to make your kids happy and fulfill their every dream. At least I have that desire. Am I the only one?
Anyway, the extent of this desire was revealed to me when The Boy said that he wants to go to the jungle (thank you Stanley on Playhouse Disney). I immediately run to the computer and go online to see if that is an actual possibility. How much does it cost? Are there tours? When is the best time of year – you know, to avoid all the other tourists visiting the jungle.
And then I realize what I am doing. I don’t want to go to the jungle! Nor do I think it’s actually a safe or feasible adventure for a five year old! But here I am, frantically researching, just because he said he wants to do it.
It’s a good thing kids don’t realize how much power they have over us parents. If they did, I think we’d be voting for some kindergartener for President come November, instead of McCain or Obama.
The Boy tells me, “Mom? I only like to play with blonde haired girls.” Which I am flattered by because I am (100% naturally) blonde (The Boy has blonde hair, too). Then he continues, “But I still like Isabella and she has black hair.”
I’m glad I’m not raising a kid who is prejudice against someone because of their hair color. He’ll still settle for playing with Isabella, the girl with the black hair.
When we first got our Wii – over a year ago I think? – we played WiiSports a lot. The game uses all of the tennis scoring terminology. The Boy heard differently and here is how he scores the games:
Deuce = Juice
Love = Bucks
All = Nalds
I wish I actually did get juice and bucks when I played tennis.
We went to the park this weekend to play tennis outside (The Boy has a Spongebob tennis racket, it is so cute), and he kept saying:
“I’ll get it!”
“I hit that like a grrrrrrown up!”
The Boy LOVES to play sports. I think baseball might be his favorite right now.
He is very good at remembering the rules and names of things, like double play, strike, grand slam, etc. One thing he cannot remember is “foul tip,” which is when the bat makes contact with the ball, but hits at a funny angle and either the catcher still catches it, or it goes off in some random foul direction.
The Boy calls this a “tip foul.” We have tried to correct him, but he will have none of it. And if we say foul tip, he corrects us!
Also, we do not play by any of the rules. There are just three of us and The Man and I don’t care if we get to hit the ball so we mostly just let The Boy hit the ball as much as he wants. So everything he misses is a strike, but he keeps counting since he never gets “out,” so he could have like ten strikes and it’s still his turn.
The other day when we were playing baseball at the park, I don’t remember what was happening, but it didn’t fall into the normal rules of baseball. The Boy declared, “That’s not how to REALLY play baseball, is it?” It really struck me as funny that he just has what appears to be random ideas for the rules, but then one minor thing and he’s all about the “real” rules.
That same day, a little boy came over and asked if he could play with us. Of course we let him and The Boy was such a good sport, sharing hitting time, and fielding this kid’s hits. When the boy’s parents came over and said it was time to go, The Boy ran over and said, “High five” and held out his hand. It was SO adorable.
The Boy was having a difficult time listening one day and we asked him what was going on? Why wasn’t he listening to us? His reply: “Mom, my ears are so tired.”
Awww. Oh, ya, it’s cute the first time. But using this as an excuse every time doesn’t cut it anymore dude!
Monday, March 3, 2008
There was a death at our church and I wanted to write something about it before I continued writing about anything else.
It wasn’t one of these old geezers who are practically dead already – those happen all the time. No, this time it was a lady, perfectly healthy, she was 45 years old. Okay, I’m going to be that old in about 17 years, which means I’m more than half way there. It’s not old at all. And she has three kids, two in high school, one I think is in jr. high? She home schooled all of them until they get to high school. Then they go to the private high school that our church hosts. The husband was youth pastor at the church for a really long time, and now he is the discipleship pastor. She was involved in a lot of stuff with the kids, and was in general nice and unassuming.
I’m not sure I ever heard her say anything negative, and I’m being serious. I’m sure those who knew her really well could say otherwise. I was thinking about her journey through heaven and how God would judge her life and I’m thinking, what’s he going to judge? They’ll just skip that part, or go over the one thing that initially made her a sinner, since everyone does sin. But what else could there be?
It was so strange when I heard it. “SS died this morning.” What?!? Those words like don’t go together. I don’t understand. As if they were speaking a foreign language.
She died from complications of the flu. I guess the actual cause of death was dehydration. I can totally see her going about her normal life, not letting on how sick she actually was, and then it was too late.
Part of me is jealous because I would just love to leave this awful, sinful planet and be in heaven for eternity. I would never take my own life or wish that my child grow up without a mother. I’m just saying that heaven is going to be like Disneyland times a million ALL THE TIME and normal life just sucks compared to that.
I wish that I could protect her kids. I just want to grab them and hold them and shield them from all of this awfulness. I cannot even imagine what they are going through right now. And there is nothing anybody can say or do to make this better. Only time will partially heal their emotional wounds, but unfortunately I fear that this kind of pain will never completely go away.
If it’s not a close friend or a family member, I think it’s harder when people die if you are an adult. As a kid, unless it is a parent, you don’t usually have a grasp on life yet. As an adult, you realize that you are not invincible and that this could be me, they weren’t that old, what would happen if I lost my spouse, or what would happen if my spouse lost me?
On another, not completely separate, note:
The husband of another couple I know, who I’m no longer close with (the family moved to Minnesota over ten years ago) died last Monday. He was also young, maybe as old as 50 or 55? He was driving in the snow and ran into a snow plow. That’s what I heard anyway. She was mostly a stay at home mom with two girls, about 11 and 8, and worked part time as a teacher as it fit into her schedule. The fortunate news is that he was always really good with their money; their house is paid off, I seriously doubt they had any debt, and they certainly did not live beyond their means. The unfortunate news is that he let his life insurance policy lapse in December. Three months ago. And then he dies. It’s astonishing that he would do that; nobody can put their heads around it.
This lady from our church was a stay at home mom, and not to deny ANY of her efforts, I know she worked her tail off, but there will be no loss of income. However, I think life insurance could still be useful in this situation. The dad could stay home for awhile until everyone gets adjusted to the new situation. Or they could hire a housekeeper to help out around the house for awhile. It could pay for funeral costs, or therapy sessions. It’s not totally excessive. Having only one income, though, I understand the difficulty that may have on their finances. And I don’t know what their insurance situation is – maybe they do have it.
The moral of the story is that if you can afford it, life insurance is a benefit no matter what your life situation is. Think about it.
I have been through enough by now to know that God indeed has a plan and that everything happens for a reason. I have seen the reasons, sometimes immediately, and sometimes years later. But I always wish I knew the reason right away. I’m so impatient that way.