All That Leisure Time

I really do like my life.  There are people all around me who are frustrated with where they are in life.  Maybe they wanted to be more successful than they've been able to be.  Maybe the want to find the right person, fall in love and live happily ever after.  Maybe they're unhappy or depressed or, maybe they are happy, but they could imagine being happier, and that makes them a little bit sad. 

I'm not unhappy.  I have great, supportive family members.  I have friends long-standing friends and new friends and friends from different periods in my life, and they're all great.  I've got good health (shh, I'm trying to not think about my spine) and my children seem to be healthy and on track for normal mental and physical development. 

I'm also busy.  I've written about being busy of late a lot.  Sometimes the business gets the best of me because I don't have a chance to sit down and catch up on a television show.  But I'm also busy because I want to be.  I love my children and all the new, interesting, exciting and challenging things it's brought to my life.  I wouldn't change anything, because I'm glad to be here. 

But about that leisure time I don't have.  I don't really expect to have it at this point.  I have completely forgotten what it's like to have lots of leisure time.  But I saw plenty of leisure time happening while we were on our Disney vacation.  I have to say, it boggled my mind. 

We have friends who don't have children.  They were on vacation and they were relaxing.  When we weren't at a park they sat around and did different leisure things.  One friend read her eReader for hours and hours.  I don't think I've had an hour uninterrupted during the day, that I can remember, in a long time. 

We have other friends who love to be at their computers or smart devices while watching hour upon hour of television shows.  These folks know all the shows.  They watch them all.  If I need to get a suggestion on what's a good show to watch, these are the people I'd ask. 

On the last day of the trip I was packing, cleaning the kitchen, taking care of my daughter, taking care of email, writing a blog post, doing lots and lots of laundry.  I was busy.  But at one point I had nothing to do.  "Hey," I thought, "I could do something relaxing like read a book now."  But it wasn't in me I suppose after all the busy busy busy I seem to be in the midst of all the time.   What did I do, you ask?  I brought my friend's laundry loads up to their room and laid out three loads of her families laundry so it wouldn't be wrinkled.

Way to go with the relaxing.

The Big Boy Update: "Water.  Outside.  Open.  Make on." We didn't know he knew what the water diaper bag looked like, but he did.  While in Florida he found the bag of water diapers, said to daddy, "water water water."  Daddy followed him downstairs, to the sliding glass door that led to the pool outside and he said, "Outside.  Open.  Open. Outside."  Then, because clearly daddy wasn't getting the message that he wanted to go swimming, he held up the water diaper bag and said, "make on."  Daddy was trying not to laugh, because this was some impressive communication from him.  So he pulled out a water diaper and put one on.  Over his shorts.  With both legs in one hole.  That's when I came around the corner and started to laugh.  Think he likes swimming much?

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Holding the bottle.  She's about to be done with baby bottles as she's getting close to turning one.  Has she ever held it for herself?  No thank you, momma, you're doing just fine.  She hasn't ever shown a real desire to hold the bottle.  Or the sippy cup.  She is old enough now to tell us when she's thirsty and to ask for more, "jooce" but she's not yet motivated enough to make an effort with the cup. 

Fitness Update:  I finally made it to a run this morning.  5.5 miles and I sort of forgot I was running for most of it as I was catching up with my neighbor and all that's been happening in her life.  I got great tips for children's birthday parties, which I needed, because we have two impending birthdays and very little idea how kids parties usually go.  She has four children, she was in the know.

The Giant Pencil

While we were at Disney, we saw stores with Disney clothes, Disney coffee mugs, Disney candy, Disney back scratchers, Disney nose hair trimmers, Disney pretty much anything you can think of  with a Disney character or story theme.  Personally, it was Disney overload.

I got a mug that was as understated Disney as possible.  We got my daughter some cute pajamas (or "night nights" as we call them,) and my husband got a shirt.  The children already have lots of Disney clothes and things, so we didn't overdo it.  But there was one thing that brought me back to my childhood.  A giant pencil.

I looked at the stack of fat, foot-long pencils sitting temptingly at the checkout line, targeted at people with poor impulse control.  It looked like, for lack of a better word, fun.  Why did it look like so much fun?  It was just a pencil.  It was colorful, it had a huge eraser to match and there was a giant pencil sharpener attached to it via a string.  But it was unwieldy.  It wouldn't fit comfortably in your hand, it was heavy and you'd need to build up extra muscle strength in your hands just to sharpen it.  So why did it look so exciting?

At some point in my childhood, I think I got a pencil like the one I was looking at.  I felt like I was the coolest person in my class because I had such an amazing pencil.  I'm not sure what happened to that pencil, but my memory of it and the level of "coolness" it conveyed has stuck with me.

The Big Boy Update:  Knock knock knock.  He learned how to knock at a closed door the other day.  Now he likes to close doors, knock, say, "knock knock knock" and wait for an answer.  Even if there's no one on the other side of the door.  On the physical front, he got on the scooter poorly just a bit ago and hit himself right between the legs with the handlebars.  He was upset, he was crying, he didn't understand.  Daddy told him that happened to boys and next time he'd better be more careful.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  "Jooce, Jooce"  Not only does she know the word "juice," she uses it in the proper context and as a request.  If she's thirsty, even if there's no juice around, she will ask for it.  We've missed this several times and then realized that's what she was saying.  She will also ask for it if it's sitting on the table and she wants a drink while she's eating her food.  Today, she had a good time asking for "jooce" every time I set the cup down.  She got that she could request and her request would be answered.

Someone Once Said:  A thousand reasoned opinions are never equal to one case of diving in and finding out.

Prince Valiant

When my children were born, they were perfect.  We were fortunate to have two children who were delivered healthy, robust and "normal" in almost every way.  Shortly after birth, that "perfect" child becomes somewhat less than perfect.  And that's okay.  Every individual is different and every person has their strengths and weaknesses.   What has struck me is that as a parent you immediately have to start accepting what is, and what will never be with your children.

For example, my son was born with a small mole on his elbow.  Yikes! This is a terrible situation.  It must be corrected quickly, because I envisioned it growing along with his tiny arm and being quarter-sized and frightful by the time he got to junior high.  He would be shunned, he would never have friends.  The sky is falling type of thoughts went through my head.  It was one of the first "unperfect" moments I had with my son.  Today, I've forgotten all about the mole.  I think it's still there, but it may have faded.  I haven't looked in a while.  He also had cradle cap, continues to have eczema, is plagued with an egg allergy and is knock-kneed.

But he's still got all the potential a "perfect" child has.  He could discover a cure for cancer or become the president or develop a method to reverse the increasing greenhouse gasses.  Or, he might be a super dad and make his children very happy.  He can still do all of that, even with a mole and an egg allergy.

As he grows older, instead of broadening what children can do or become, the list will slowly shrink instead to what they will do.  That vast potential, including what I'd like them to do, will become focused on what they decide to do, or can do.

I think that can be a tough thing for parents.  I don't think as a child we can even begin to appreciate what our parents go through as they watch their children grow.  They have to continually re-evaulate what their child will be capable of.  Some of it is easy, "Whew, my child doesn't want to be a lawyer." And some of it can be terribly difficult, "My child has been diagnosed with autism." 

As an adult, I can look back on my life and see some things my parents did as they accepted who I was and who I was becoming.  Some things stand out, just little things.  For instance, my father is an avid collector of ... stuff.  Things.  Good things.  Interesting things.  He's got "the eye" for something of quality or something of value.   He also likes to collect just for the sake of collecting, because having a great collection is a lot of fun.

I got the collecting gene from him.  It's not really a gene, but the instinct is strong in me.  I remember being in the basement one time and seeing a cardboard box full of cut-out comic strips from the paper.  Reading the comics was something I did on Sundays.  I read most of the comics, but there were a few that were too old for me.  One of them was Prince Valiant.  It wasn't funny, there wasn't a punch line, or if there was, I didn't get it.  It was little bits of a story it seemed, and those bits were boring.

My father had been cutting out and keeping those comic strips for years.  To me, it seemed like it must have been forever, because the box was full.  I asked him about what they were and he said he was saving them in case I might want to read them someday.

I never read them.  I suppose he threw them out at some point.  I don't know if he was sad that I never became interested in Prince Valiant.  Perhaps it was one of those things a parent does when they accept the reality of the future instead of the future they'd envisioned.

Speaking of my father, he's a magician and I love to watch magic.  It's fascinating how the tricks are done.  To me, it's far more impressive to know what has to happen to make a trick work effortlessly than the supposed "magic" of the illusion.  Hours and hours he'd practice.  I don't know if he ever had hopes I'd become a magician; if he did, he never pressed magic on me.  I look at my little boy who has this intent look on his face when he's trying to figure something out and I wonder if maybe he'll want to do magic and carry on my father's art.

My children are young, the oldest isn't even two yet.  But I've come to realize as a parent, from the day they're born, you begin accommodating yourself to what your children actually are, not what you imagined they'd be.  And you do so a little bit every day.  Life is largely about accepting what will never be, and being grateful for what things have become.

The Big Boy Update:  Talk the talk.  Suddenly he's saying far more recognizable words and is making short, descriptive sentences.  Within just the past few days he's seemed to verbally explode.  Words we didn't know he knew, verbs to describe things we didn't know he understood. 

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Walk the walk.  Suddenly yesterday she decided the thing she wanted to do more than anything else, was walk.  She could walk a few steps, but preferred to crawl in most cases.  She cruised around with great ease, but she didn't seem intent on walking until yesterday when toys weren't interesting, only walking from one place to the next and then back to the first place.  There is still a good bit of falling down and she likes to hold her hands above her head for balance, which is all kinds of cute, but she's definitely more upwardly mobile.

Fitness Update:  Sandy the hurricane sent some rain and wind this way, not to mention colder weather and no running has happened yet.  Less than a week until the half-marathon.  

Someone Once Said:  Life consists in accommodating oneself to the Universe.

Enjoyabler and Enjoyablerest

I have a pet peeve.  Okay, that's not exactly accurate.  I have a lot of pet peeves.  This post is about on in particular, let's call it the, "funnest" pet peeve.

Many years ago I was teaching a class at IBM with two of my colleagues.  They both had masters degrees from Princeton in physics.  They were both interesting to talk to and sometimes formidable to keep up with.  If you've watched the show, The Big Bang Theory and seen some of the fun games Sheldon likes to play, then you'll get an idea.   But they were fun to be around and we worked hard together.

As we were walking into the classroom one day—why is it I can always remember exactly where something happened but not what the person looked like—I said something and used the word, "funnest" in the sentence.

Ben told me that wasn't a word.  What?  No.  I don't believe it.  But he was right, both funner and funnest aren't correct.  The -er and -est suffixes work in most cases, but there are exceptions.  Ben also told me it was always correct to say something was "more X" or was "the most X" so when in doubt, take the safe route.

This past week I heard my friend correct her daughter when she used the word "funnest."  I had felt like I'd found a comrade in words.  We talked about how both funner and funnest were becoming accepted lately and how we preferred the correct way.

I wonder if "enjoyabler" and "enjoyablerest" will become accepted sometime in the future?  I hear from my friend that "ginormous" is now in some dictionaries.  Unexpectedly, even the inflexible spell check tool used in the browser I'm typing in now didn't balk at ginormous.

Language is an evolving thing, even for those who want it to stand still.

The Big Boy Update:  Coffee and Pee.  He was a barrage of words this morning at breakfast.  He was naming things left and right and when I picked up my coffee mug he said, "coffee" quite clearly.  He's never tried the word before and I had no idea he knew what my coffee cup had in it.  Maybe momma should drink less coffee.  Also, pee in the potty.  Just a bit ago.  Was it a mistake?  Was he finally tired of wetting through his underpants?  Was it a fluke?  Check back soon for more updates.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Here, take this.  She has a new strategy with her brother.  If she likes something, he comes and takes it from her.  If he wants to own all the doohickey toys, she can't have any, even though they're piled all around on the floor.  So her new strategy is to pick them up one at a time and hand them to him.  It works well because he gets tired of taking all the proffered doohickeys and goes off to play elsewhere.

Fitness Update:  Hoping to run tomorrow.  Also, it's weigh-in Monday.  I had a week of food and drink excess at Disney.  Did I mention the food and wine festival that was there the whole time?  I fear the scale.

Someone Once Said:  She has a whim of steel.

Your Job is Silence and Smiles

Lots of people like babies.  When you have a small baby or a toddler or a young child who's being cute, it's not uncommon for another adult to want to interact with your child.  It can be very sweet to see your child respond to another person and it can make you smile to see your child—who is obviously the cutest kid on the planet—making that other person grin and ask follow-on questions.   Without children, I never noticed this happening much; with children, I see it happening all the time. 

These type of interactions strike me as a hard thing to do right as a parent, though.  You want that person who is talking to your child, or asking for a high five, or a hand shake or other interaction request, to know that your child is smart and friendly and knows just what to say and do.  "Yes, my child knows that's the moon up there and he knows what a dog says, but for some reason he's being shy or quiet right now," you think.  So what do we do?  We answer for the child.

Or, we might explain to the person that he or she is having a quiet day.  We might even encourage the child to respond appropriately by adding more words into the conversation.   But here's the thing, as an adult, you're not part of the conversation.

Sure, you can make yourself part of it because you're the parent and it is your job to protect your child.  But that nice person who is talking to your child isn't really talking to you.  They're talking to your child most likely because your child is cute or interesting or funny, not because you are.

I find it difficult, and yet important, to just sit there and smile.  Smile because you approve of the interaction and you know the person is being friendly.  Smile and say nothing, because any helping you do at this point is reducing the learning opportunity for your child to forge through the conversation himself.

Does that other adult know children rarely perform, or are commonly shy, or sometimes don't answer at all?  Most assuredly they do.  So I have been trying to sit back and enjoy the interaction, without inserting myself in the middle of it.  I've been surprised how much nicer it is to watch my children with other people and how impressed I've been at how they've handled the situations.  And also how cute they can be in the process.

The Big Boy Update:  Behind the scenes.  He tried to get behind some built-in scenery at one of the Disney attractions the other day.  He didn't fit, but his arm did.  And out from this wedged space came an old bag of Doritos.  Whups. "Can you take that over here to the trash can for mommy?  Thank you."

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  "That red baby is cute."  We were at a mammoth excavation site (sand pit for children) at Disney and both children were having a great time digging through the "almost sand-like substance."  My daughter was in red and another little girl around age five was beside her for a while.  When they left, the father leaned over and told me his daughter said, "That red baby is cute."

Someone Once Said:  Avoid making irrevocable decisions while tired or hungry. N.B.: Circumstances can force your hand. So think ahead!

My Immune System

My immune system, unlike my spine, seems to serve me well.  I think I get it from my father.  He is rarely sick.  I don't seem to get ill often.  Or not nearly so often as I see other people getting sick around me.

We're experiencing the toddler plague now because it's both fall and the weather is growing cooler and also because my son is in school and everything is passed around rather viciously between the immune-immature toddlers.    I've been told by so many parents that this is a good thing for the immune system and that it will pass in time,but it is tough to see your children suffer through congestion, cough and fever regularly.

A sick child who needs direct contact from an adult to change diapers, wipe noses and administer hugs is a prime target for getting whatever the child has.  Toddlers not only don't cover their mouths when they sneeze, they will sneeze right in your face and not even know they've possibly just sentenced you to days of ill-health as a result.

Even with all this, I don't seem to catch what's going around that often.  I may get a little bit of a scratchy throat, but whatever it is, mt immune system seems to be able to get on top of it before it takes me down.  I don't know what makes some people's immune system stronger than others, but I a glad that I seem to have an immuno-fortified instead of an immuno-compromised or immuno-mediocre system.

Update:  I pre-wrote this post prior to going on vacation.  I did catch the latest round of funk, but I have seemed to weather it without that much difficulty, which is good, because it's been busy here on vacation.

The Big Boy Update:  Off the stool.  Ouch, he was helping my husband make pizza dough for dinner and when daddy looked away he slipped off the stool, fell back and hit his head on the floor.  He is fine, but I hear after he was over the shock of the fall, he was quite unhappy that he hit his head.  Slowed him down for almost four minutes.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Down the stairs, at a tumbling pace.  She is fast.  I had no idea she had even made it to the front staircase, much less followed her brother up most of it as I was cleaning her lunch tray.  Thump, thump... thump, thump, thump.  "What tha?  Oh no..."  As I ran full speed into the foyer, she fell down three more stairs.  She was falling slowly and catching herself.  She also is fine, but she was mad and upset for a few minutes after the tumble.

Someone Once Said:  Why do women have this compulsion to confess? It is not a typical male vice.

My Job is More or Less to Be Helpless

This past week we had my son's first parent-teacher conference.  His two teachers are a delight, both so bubbly and enthuiastic and we discussed not only how things were going, but funny things my son was doing in the classroom and with other children.  We also talked about scratch-and-sniff stickers, but that's a topic for another blog post.

One thing I want to do very much, is continue with the good behavioral expectations they set at school.  Sometimes, just hearing a phrase they use at school makes a huge difference in how we work through things with my son at home.

For example, when he was being evaluated, he was asked, "do you need help?  Can I help you?"  He responded well to this, he was given help, and he was able to accomplish the task he had been intent on doing.  Just those few key words and my husband and I immediately adopted them at home.

In short order, my son was asking for, "help, help" all the time, because he knew what to ask and we knew when he wanted help, as opposed to wanting independence to discover or figure it out by himself.  We continue to ask him if he needs help and he regularly requests help.

So at our parent-teacher conference, I asked if there was a book that gave a summary or list of phrases to use with your toddler so that you can communicate in a mutually beneficial fashion.  We were pointed to a book, but there's not just a handy list, say for the pressed-for-time moms to absorb.  Still, we got some good tips.

First of all, the phrase, "You'll be ready when..." has benefits all across the board.  For example, "you'll be ready to finger paint when you've cleaned up the toys you pulled out." Or, "you'll be ready for dessert when you've finished your broccoli."

Other words and phrases include: "gentle hands," "personal space," "your turn and my turn," and "respect."  We're already using every one of these at home.

But the best tip I think I got was one his teacher said sort of as an aside.  She said, "My job is more or less to be helpless."  Wait, what?  You're the teacher, I thought.  And then it all made sense.  She said she goes around the classroom all day and says to the children, "Amos, can you show me where this tray goes?" or "Eliza, can you help me to clean off the tables before snack?"

This is empowering to a child.  A toddler is inferior to adults.  That's the way it just is.  But the toddler wants to be in control, wants to be useful, wants to be needed.  An adult who is helpless, but helpless in a structured manner with direction and purpose, is exactly what can help a child develop most.  Brilliant. 

I'm going to have to work on being helpless more.

The Big Boy Update:  School update:  He's doing well, is very social, likes to get right into other children's personal space, but is learning how to be respectful.  He is still working on toilet training with a little more success at school than at home, but there is clearly more work to be done.  The key seems to be to get him to find wet underpants uncomfortable.  He doesn't seem to care.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Hair.  Her hair is growing, but it's growing so slowly.  She has pretty, straight, blonde hair and I'm looking forward to seeing what it will look like when it's longer.  I think it's going to be a while at the rate her hair is growing though.

Someone Once Said:  When I find myself a Stranger in a Strange Land, I savor the differences rather than suffering shock.

The Potty, The Stain and the Missing Poo

Potty training is still happening  There are training pants being worn, training pants being soiled and training pants being changed.  The potty is visited, sat on, looked at and dragged across the room.  And yet for all the potty "training" that's happening, we don't seem to be getting anywhere.

At my son's recent parent/teacher conference we asked if there was more progress being made at school.  Not so much, we found out. He's going to the potty regularly.  But he's not being successful at the prime potty objective.  We continue to forge on.

The other day after lunch I sent my son to the potty.  Usually I sit in the area with him and talk encouragingly to him about all things potty but in this case I was busy finishing getting his sister cleaned up and down from her high chair.   I thought, "what could happen? Nothing ever happens, so he'll just spend the time doing the nothing he usually does."

The next thing I notice is he's out in the living room without pants babbling at me in a "come see" kind of way.  I follow him into the bathroom and the first thing I notice is some stains in the potty.  Stains in multiple places.  Stains down deep in the potty that can't be from transfer alone.  But the potty is empty

Oh no, where is the poo?!  I am running around the bedroom, bathroom and closet frantically looking for some poo when I notice he's sitting on the bath mat.  Ugh, he's probably dirty and he's naked and he just sat  on the brown mat.  Add another load of laundry to the list

Urgent looking around continues.  I turn around just in time to see him get up on the bed...and sit down.  &%*^!!!  Snatch him off and swear at myself for not cleaning him up first and being more worried about him, or me, or my daughter stepping in a pile of poo.  Curse again because I am not thinking clearly and I have failed at prioritizing cleanliness and messiness threats.

I clean him up, get him re-diapered and then re-asses the situation.  Where is this mystery poo?  The original diaper was clean, there was enough in the potty to merit more than just skid marks.  So did he actually go?  Did he go, and then do the thing he knows you do next, take the insert over to the big potty and dump it in and then flush it?  He's done all of these steps multiple times and he knows the whole process.  He did come out from the bathroom to the living room looking excited.

I don't know.  I'm almost too scared to leave him alone to try again though.  It may remain the mystery of the potty, the stain and the missing poo.

The Big Boy Update:  After this entire process, he asked for the door to the linen closet to be opened.  He wanted to pull out the stool, drag it to the sink and then wash his hands--just like he does at school.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Grinding her teeth.  Or is it her tooth?  She now has opposable teeth and she's discovered she can grind them.  She might only be able to make contact with one tooth on the top and bottom, but it still makes me cringe every time I hear her do it.

Someone Once Said:  I always feel animistic about a computer. The Pathetic Fallacy – I know.

Wait to Fun Ratio

I haven't spent much time at Disney in my life.  Very little time it seems when I talk to other families and friends.  I don't feel like I missed out on Disney as a child.  My family went on a summer vacation every year to a different city because of my father.  He's a magician and every year for the fourth-of-July week, the International Brotherhood of Magicians has their annual convention.  We went wherever that year's convention was and explored the city.  Each evening, there was a magic show to cap off the day.  I had family summer vacations, they just weren't at Disney.

Every year I love to go to the state fair.   I love the state fair but I'm not a fan of the crowds.   There are definite times that will be very busy, like Saturday and Sunday.   But there are times you can get in, get everything done and not have to deal with the hassle of line, crowds and slow-moving traffic like Tuesday morning.  With the Sate Fair, there are less-busy options and I know how to maximize the fun in a given amount of time.

Disney is not quite the same.  First, people from all over the world are all trying to determine when the best times are to visit.   I don't know many people who love long lines and big mobs of people.  Apparently, the week we're visiting Disney is one of the better weeks.  But it's still busy, packed and hectic.

I have a certain tolerance.   It's what I call the "wait to fun ratio."   I'm willing to wait a certain amount of time for a certain level of fun.   But at a certain point, I would rather miss out on the fun, because the wait time or travel time is too high.   I remember one trip to Kings Dominion with friends.  Three hours drive there and three hours drive back for a day trip.   Wait times on each ride were over an hour-and-a-half.   Food?   Mediocre at best.   It was Halloween season and the park was extra busy.   I believe in the entire day we rode four rides.  It was close to five hours of, "wait time" for each two minutes of, "fun time" and I vowed never again.

The first day here at Disney we went to Epcot and enjoyed lots of little bites of food and drink at the food and wine festival.  The ride lines weren't to bad, but we didn't ride much, In the evening we went to Hollywood Studios and had a so-so meal of pizza and two of us got to ride one ride while my husband watched the children.  Ideal fun?  No, but the parks weren't that packed, the weather was nice and the children didn't seem too terribly bored.

We do have a problem with the smallest child though.   She doesn't walk more than a few steps, so you have to carry her when she's not in the stroller.   So even an attraction with a twenty minute wait involves holding her for twenty minutes in line.   If you put her down on the concrete or other floor of questionable cleanliness she will either a) scamper off across rows of people or b) try to eat whatever is on the floor.  She is not trilled about being held for long periods of time either and she lets the entire line know it by complaining (crying) loudly if she's just had enough.

We've done several shows that are 3D and require 3D glasses.  My son cares not too much, but he likes to see the great big screen and there are surrounding effects like wind blowing, bubbles appearing, water splashing to make the effect even more realistic.   My daughter, after waiting in the boring line, is just looking at another television screen and she doesn't care.   One show, she threw her pacifier on the floor three times. The nice lady beside me kept helping me find it.   (I forgot the pacifier attachment that time but won't next time.)

We had to leave one line because she was just too angry, tired and mostly tired of being in one seat or lap or set of arms after another all day with no chance to move around and get some exercise of her own.  It was late and it was after bedtime and I didn't blame her.

But wait, the next day's park was going to be the Magic Kingdom.   That park is targeted towards small children.  Surely she will have a wonderful time there.  Can you sense the sarcasm?  Do you hear the impending mommy breakdown?  Fear not, it's coming.

The day started out well as we got into the park early and went straight to Fantasyland and got in three rides before both children fell asleep for a morning nap.   It's a Small World was charming, the Peter Pan ride was floaty, dark and fun and the Philharmonic Disney experience was a nice 3D show, even if my daughter was determined to get out of my arms.

With them napping we had a snack and then met our friends.   Wait here, closed ride there, bathroom break all around for twenty minutes, and we have two antsy children, one who just wants to be active and not constrained.  Time for lunch.  Counter service and we have to leave the stroller outside.   Note here that you have to leave the strollers everywhere.   The only use they really are is for getting from one area to the other.   There is lots of carrying and holding and getting a toddler to walk when he wants to make you drag him.

Long line at the counter service.   Very long wait.   My daughter is screaming and I drench her in sticky apple juice giving her a juice box she can't quite drink so she'll calm down some.   My son is playing in a puddle of goo on the floor and when our food is finally being delivered I try to drag my son and daughter out in the mob to find our friends and get a seat, any seat, because I don't think we're going to get eleven of us at a table together, even if we managed to all find each other.

My son doesn't want to walk.  Thank you again to one of the nice parents at Disney (and these nice parents are everywhere and they are always kind and you just want to hug them,) who bent down, told my son to be a big boy and walk with mommy to go eat.  He listened and we found Jen.

My arm is about to drop my daughter and my son is being incorrigible.   Jen asks how things are going and I explode and say, "I hate Disney!"  At that point, all I wanted to do was go home to the house.   The wait to fun ratio was so heavily weighted on the wait side that I would rather be anywhere other than Disney right then.

We made it through lunch and eventually got back to the house.  It's important to add here that even though your house might be, "ten minutes from Disney," it is going to take an hour to get in and an hour to get out from door to park gates so factor that time under, "great exercise pushing the stroller but not so much fun for anything else."

From talking to some of our friends we're here with, Magic Kingdom is one of their least favorite parks because of the crowds, the large amount of small children and the narrowness of the pathways.

Somewhat refreshed, we went back out for dinner to a restaurant in Epcot and both children slept through the meal.  Today, we went to a grandiose buffet at an Animal Kingdom Resort hotel and are going to spend the afternoon at the house, in the pool and daddy is making baked ziti for dinner for everyone.

Add some years, independence and mobility to the children and I think Disney will be a more enjoyable experience for the whole family.  Overall, I don't hate Disney. But Magic Kingdom is certainly not on my list of relaxing, fun experiences with two toddlers, either.  I am fairly certain with the food and wine and beer and giant, "bast-et-bawl" at Epcot that my son can see from almost any direction, it's going to be my favorite park, bar none.

The Big Boy Update:   He likes stickers.   He's been given stickers recently while at Disney and he understands you peel the sticker off and then you put it on your shirt.  Or your arm.   Or your hair.   Regardless, you put it lots of places and as soon as you've put it one place, you must immediately remove it from that place and try it on another place.  That is, until the sticky loses it's stick or you wad it up. He got a sticker after lunch today and went over to Shealyn, who is eight, and asked for, "help, help" because he doesn't know how to peel of a sticker yet.  What he also doesn't understand is that only one side is a sticker.   After he puts the sticker on his shirt, he likes to try and put the backing on his shirt.

The Tiny Girl Chronicle:   Flamingos.  After lunch we went to the pool area to look at some of the wildlife. There was a small area with lots of flamingos.   My daughter held on to the bamboo bars and looked at them, turned around and smiled, and then looked some more.  Then she did the bounce up and down happy stand.

Fitness Update:  Four to six miles each day with a stroller is working my leg muscles in a different way.  It is not working off enough calories to merit all I'm consuming.  I may be the most food-driven person I know.

Someone Once Said:  Mama told me gently that logic had little to do with keeping a husband happy and anyone who “won” a family argument had in fact lost it.

That Blue Bin

Normally, I wouldn't be so excited to talk about a plastic bin, be it blue or any other color.  But in this case, I am very happy to be talking about a missing blue bin.

Our city is moving from small, green recycling bins to large, blue, lidded bins.  They're also moving from weekly pick up of recycling to once every two weeks.  The changeover for each route happens when the bins are delivered, along with information on when the first pickup will be with the new bins.

We saw bins delivered to our neighbors.  They were all sitting in front of their houses, shiny and not sticky or dirty or dented.  We didn't get one.  We waited.  Perhaps the truck ran out of bins and will be back on their next delivery day.

We waited until it was almost blue bin first pickup day and then we called.  They were very nice, they made sure we got a bin before the start of pickup because we were already two weeks out on recycling and we didn't want to think about four weeks of recycling piling up.

A week or so after the first pickup, a second blue bin arrives.  There must have been some confusion but we'll make good use of it.  Then they called the next day and said they wanted it back and could we please leave it at the street.  Sure, not a problem, it'll be out there waiting for your truck.

So it sat.  It sat for a week and we called.  It sat for two weeks and we called again.  Again it was still there at three weeks and another call.  At that point, I talked to a nice lady who said she understood the problem.  Because we had initially asked for a recycling bin to be delivered, the notes in the ticket were confusing.  The truck was coming by, seeing we already had a new bin sitting there, freshly delivered, and they drove off.  They did this more than once.   She corrected the ticked and said it would get picked up.

Four weeks and we still have our blue bin friend.  We're moving it around on the grass so it won't suffer from lack of sun.  I leave a voicemail for the same lady and she must have done something because the bin is finally gone.  My husband and I were standing in the kitchen when we saw them drive up and pick it up.  We were so happy we high-fived each other.

The Big Boy Update:  Does he know the word, "yes?"  We're not sure he does.  He only answers questions with, "no" and we even had a hard time tricking him into saying yes by the normal means of getting him to repeat new and interesting words.  It must be a toddler thing.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  pat pat, clap clap.  This stair climbing thing is going to get us.  My husband and I were at our computers and we thought we had the stairs blocked off, but we didn't.  In the distance, we hear a, "pat pat" sound that only sounds like that when a baby is patting on hardwood floors.  Hardwood floors that aren't on the level we're currently on.  We both launch out of our chairs and run to the basement stairs.  She sees us, from the top of the stairs, grins and claps her hands while we come upstairs to grab her and hug her and feel bad because we weren't paying attention as parents.

Someone Once Said:  ‘Random’ and ‘chance are not related. ‘Random chance’ is a nonsense expression.

The Fanny Pack

Remember back in time when "fanny packs" became popular?  They were a small pouch on a belt in which you could store things.  It was a sort of purse or wallet alternative.  They came in different sizes and there were all sorts of configurations of pockets.  Some were quite the bulge around your waist.  And I hated them.

Did you see one cool person wearing one?  Not in my opinion.  Did you find them on the models in fashion magazines?  Not that I saw.  Were politicians, movie stars and rock musicians wearing them?  Nope, non and nyet.  They epitomized uncool to me.

But were they useful?  Undoubtedly.  They were compartmentalized so you could find your things quickly, they were in the center of your body mass and were strapped to you so you had your arms free to do other things.   It's just that they looked so silly.  Also, they had the word "fanny" in their name and I just didn't like that word.

I've been years and years since I thought about fanny packs.  I've been doing a lot of running lately and I got an arm band to hold my phone, which I bring along to track my workout, listen to audio and be available if anyone needed to contact me.  I liked the arm band okay, but it had some disadvantages.  I replaced the armband with a belt pouch that fits the phone nicely.  I've been running with it for some time and I don't even notice it's there when I'm out running.  It does it's job perfectly.

For Disney, I thought the belt pouch might come in handy because I could put things into it including my phone and I wouldn't have to carry a purse.  And then as I was getting packed up to go to the park this morning by loading up my running pouch it hit me, "I have a fanny pack.  I've HAD a fanny pack!  I love my fanny pack.  I am so uncool...  Ah, who cares."

The Big Boy Update:  The Monkey Backpack.  We got him a little monkey backpack to wear around,  It straps on to his chest and has little monkey feet at the front.  But the best thing about the monkey backpack is the tail.  It's long.  It's so long that it takes mom or dad or an adult to hold it to make sure it doesn't drag on the ground,  Also, it keeps the child from running away.  Leash, you ask?  Shhh, don't tell.   

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  She will climb stairs if you ask her to.  Just sit her at the bottom of them and stand behind her and up she goes.  She will also walk with you if you hold her hand and move forward.  She needs your support, as you hold her arm above her, but she can make good progress and she's walking better in this assisted-fashion than I would have expected her too at this stage.

Fitness Update:  We went to two parks today on our Disney vacation.  The first, Epcot, I walked about three-and-a-hal miles.  That's not too bad when you're pushing a stroller a lot of it.  In the afternoon, we wen to Hollywood Studios and walked another two-and-a-half miles.  Slow miles.  But fun miles.

Someone Once Said:  You can’t peddle nonsense to be by claiming to be fresh out of sense.

The List and The Check

Different people work differently.  I work from lists.  I got this from my mother.  Without my lists, I would be lost.  I have lists with check boxes, I have lists on paper, I have lists in emails, but be assured, if I want to make sure it gets done, it's going to have to be on a list.

On the one hand, lists are great.  They're ways to keep track of things without forgetting them.  They're great over time and they're great across people and situations.  But lists can be a crutch.  I firmly believe I rely on lists so much as an adult because I never developed the ability to make mental note of a list of things.  Expect met to remember more than two items?  I'll probably forget at least one item on the list.  Or, more likely, I'll forget I had things to get done at all.  So lists are good, but lists can be a handicap.

For someone who likes lists, checking things off the list can be rewarding.  Say I have twenty things to pack for the trip to Disney for the children.  Ha ha ha, okay, that was funny.  Twenty things, how ridiculous.  Let's start again.  Let's say I have seventy things on a list that need to be packed for the trip to Florida—that's more like it, right?—I usually print out the list so I can mark off the completed items as I go.

I like checking off items.  This is a known phenomenon.  If you're taking a personality test, a question along the lines of, "do you like to make lists just so you can check off items?" will likely be on it.  I don't like to make lists just to check things off, I like to make lists because I'm worried I'll forget something.  But even so, I still like checking things off. 

Speaking of Florida and Disney, my husband and I have been packing and preparing for days.  Guess who had a list all made up and printed out?  This list sat on the counter and as I got things done, I checked them off.  I was making good progress too.  Of those seventy things, I had over fifty of them accomplished.  But there was one nagging item my husband had said he'd do and it just sat there, not being done, not being checked off.

It was an easy thing.  Write a check for the cleaning lady who will be coming while we're traveling.  It felt like days went by—it wasn't that long—and that item was still on the list, not checked off.  I mentioned it to my husband and he said, of course, he was going to get that done, not a problem.  But later that day the item still wasn't checked off.

My husband works in a different mode than I do.  He doesn't NEED to have that item checked off on the list because he knows he'll get it done and he's not worried about it.  In my crippled, list-dependent state, I wanted to see that item checked off.  And here's the crazy thing, I wanted to see it checked off so badly that I was almost willing to write a check for the cleaning, even though it was his turn, just so I could mark it complete.

Lists are great.  But don't let your lists control you.  Take my advice on this point.

The Big Boy Update:  Popo.  What is a popo?  He's been saying this for a while, but we didn't understand what he meant until tonight.  We're on vacation and he was in his crib and he kept asking for "popo."  Finally, daddy realized he was pointing to the big pink pillow on the twin bed.  He gave him the pillow and my son's eyes got huge and he grinned and lay down hugging the "popo" and went to sleep.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  The pen is back.  The child pen, in the basement, that blocks the baby in the closet that we call, "The Harry Potter Closet" because it's under the stairs.  The pen sticks way out into the room, but it keeps her in the realm of closet toys and also keeps her away from those stairs she's so keen on climbing lately.  We're taking the pen to Florida because I hear there are stairs in the rental house.

Fitness Update:  Around the house.  I downloaded a pedometer app today while I was packing for the trip to see how far I walked.  6727 steps as I complete this post.  Estimate distance of 3.2 miles.  In the house?  I knew I got around, but wow.

Someone Once Said: The ability of the human mind to rationalize its deeds—and misdeeds—cannot be measured.

The Little Athlete Icon

I got a new scale a while back that not only tells you how much you currently weigh, but other interesting statistics based on small electrical currents that run through the soles of your feet.  It's nifty.  It's relatively accurate, but even if it isn't perfectly accurate, it's a good gauge over time of how you're doing as the numbers change proportionally.

About twice a month I wait for the scale to go into it's longer measurement cycle and then I write down the results on a piece of paper.  I now have about five months of data including weight, body fat percentage, muscle percentage, hydration percentage and bone mass percentage.

The number have changed over time, most notably the muscle mass, which is the one I'm the most interested in.  It's not changed by much, but just going up one percent for every hundred pounds you weigh is adding a full pound of muscle.  It's been nice to see the numbers creep up in one direction and creep down in the body fat percentage direction.

The measurements are based on some baseline data you enter initially.  Your gender, your age, your height and your fitness level.  These bits of information get wiped out every now and then because my son can somehow stand (or bounce or hop) on the scale and get it into configuration mode.  But aside from a quick check to make sure I'm not six feet eleven inches or aged fourteen, it's very consistent and has been performing.

The one setting I'm not as sure about any more is the fitness level icon.  The manual says if you exercise ten hours or more per week you qualify for the, "athlete" setting.  Otherwise, just pick the normal setting.  I don't know that I've ever met the requirements but I have it set to athlete.  Even if I was running five miles every day and taking an hour to do so, that's only seven hours in the week.  At this point I'm doing three to four runs each week and even counting the long runs at two-and-a-half hours, I'm still only exercising around five hours.

It is so silly, but it makes me feel better thinking I would qualify for that little icon of the runner instead of the little icon of the lady in a dress.  I may have to drop it back to the dress lady come winter if I don't get a chance to pick up the pace and get some more exercise in.

The Big Boy Update:  pet zel.  Did you mean, "pretzel?"  "Petzel, petzel," points at pantry shelf, "petzeeeeeeeeel!"  He likes pretzels.  A lot.  If you give him a few pretzel sticks in a little bowl he will carry, very carefully, the bowl over to the table, put the bowl on the table and then climb into the chair and sit quietly while eating pretzels.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  The formula dilution.  It's time to get her off formula for good and move on from the bottles.  She doesn't like the taste of whole milk because it's significantly different in flavor from her formula.  I've gotten her to sixty percent milk at this point without balking.  Hopefully by the time she's a year next month we'll be done with formula.

Fitness Update:  Packing.  Up and down stairs.  Not fitness so much, but lots of activity.  I need to look for a pedometer app for the phone and find out how many steps I take in a given day and how far that equates in distance walked.

Someone Once Said:  Don’t indulge in wishful thinking or never argue with the weather.

Fifteen Smoke Detectors?

It's been about two years since we've moved in this house and it's starting to be time to replace the smoke detector batteries.  We had one go into beep mode a few months ago and another one two nights ago.  Instead of waiting for them all to go out incrementally, we went for replacing all the batteries at once.

My husband got six nine-volt batteries and we started the process yesterday.  We started this with a very upset dog.  She does not like beeping things.  This stems from a traumatic experience she had many years ago when a solenoid went out on one of the alarm sensors on a door.  For hours and hours she sat in a house with a, "beep beep beep" that happened anywhere from ever ten seconds to every two minutes, but was usually closer to ten seconds.  We fixed the door, but she takes personal issue with any beeping things in the house.

When the smoke detector went beep in the middle of the night, she did something she never does, she went in the house.  And when my husband went upstairs to fix the problem, he stepped in poo, in the dark.  He wasn't happy.  The dog was even more unhappy.

Current problem fixed and all is well.  Carpet cleaned and no beeping.  That night we start the battery replacement process.  My husband on a tall stool or ladder, me handing him the new battery and taking the old, my son repeating, "this" and pointing to the old battery so he could had it to the already full stack he had in his hands.

Then, we ran out of batteries.  Now I know there is a good reason for code purposes to have a smoke detector in multiple locations across the house.  But we had more than we realized.  One for every bedroom, one in the hall, no, wait, two in the hall?  That's interesting.  And then there were the ones by the master.  There is a four foot hall leading into the master.  Code says you have to have one in that, "hall" and also one in the bedroom.  We have two smoke detectors three feet apart.  We also have additional, redundant smoke detectors that are with the alarm system.  And then there's a bonus one in the mechanical room.

We had to find more batteries.  We still didn't have enough because we have fifteen smoke detectors?  If there is smoke, we're going to know about it, I feel sure.

The Big Boy Update:  The ubiquitous "this."   Just like the word "green" means every color, the word "this" means everything.  He says it all the time.  He points.  It's not that helpful.  Usually we can figure out what he's saying, but it's commonly not until after twenty or so "this's."

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:   She understands, "sit down."  Her brother likes to stand up in the tub.  He's not suppose to.  We ask him to sit down and he does.  We didn't realize that she knew what we were saying and what it meant until she recently started standing up in the tub.  You ask her to sit down, she looks a little guilty and sits right down.  Every time. 

Fitness update:  Fourteen mile long run with my neighbor.  This time, she had one of the gel/goo packets and I didn't.  I can say now that they do help.  I was more tired at the end of the run and much more tired after than I was when I ate the energy boost packets.

Someone Once Said:   Kettering’s Law: Logic is an organized way of going wrong with confidence.

Body Part Updates

First, the mammogram results are back.  I told my husband when I looked at the pictures on the technician's screen that I saw something that looked like nice even marbled, fatty meat.  I didn't see anything that looked irregular.  But I'm no expert so I've been waiting for the radiology report.  I got that today and it said, "No suspicious masses, microcalcifications, or areas of architectural distortion."  I like the sound of that.

On the eye front, it's been two-and-a-half weeks since the PRK/LASIK combo procedures.  Since I had different things done on each eye, the healing process and vision improvement is significantly different for each eye.  The LASIK eye is coming in line, but won't have great vision for another two to three weeks.  The PRK eye is super amazing astounding for close-up vision, say six inches from my face, but I can't see the big E on the top line of the eye chart across the room because the distance vision is, well, awful.

Over the next few weeks both eyes should continue to heal and improve.  He said both eyes were as he expected them to be at this point.  Hydration will help improve both my current vision and the healing process.  He put another round of temporary tear duct plugs in, as the first set from five months ago has dissolved.  I'm happy about that because I'm going through quite the quantity of eye drops.

Verbal Storyteller

I consider myself a storyteller.  I like to tell about events that have happened in my life or about interesting things I've heard, read or have imagined.  If there is ever a lull in conversation, you won't have to wait long before I start talking about something; and I'll tell about that something in a story-like fashion.

Over the years I've tried hard to build a balance in my story telling.  A story shouldn't be too long, shouldn't have too many details and yet should be entertaining.  I struggle with length, too many details, order of events, sidetracking stories and punchline delays.  I think I've improved over time, but there is still much room for improvement.

I learned not that long ago that in telling a story, the exact details do not have to be told exactly as they happened, as long as you're not doing anyone a real disservice.  Making a story interesting doesn't mean telling every single detail or using the exact words the person said.  That doesn't mean misrepresenting the story, it does means keep it short, get to the point, and tell the salient points that made the story interesting in the first place.

I've also learned that while telling a story verbally is something I've always enjoyed doing, it isn't too different from telling a story in written form.  The wording in writing may be different, but the essence is the same.

This weekend, my mother-in-law brought an article from their local paper written by her next-door neighbor.  It was a charming story about relaxing and hearing the pine cones fall in her yard.  It was well-written and compelling.  What I took away from the article was that what I write about here in this blog, isn't all that different.  This does not mean I style myself as a writer, I am far from qualified for that.  But it did make me feel like I'm going in the right direction with my writing.

The article wasn't long, perhaps as long as many of the blog posts I write here.  It wasn't about anything serious, just someone's thoughts and ideas and memories written in a way that was enjoyable to read so that other people could share those thoughts and ideas.  So the article was a nice encouragement to me.

I struggle with writing though.  Well, perhaps struggle isn't the word that accurately describes what I mean.  I work to use good descriptive adjectives and I think about my friend, JoAnn, who said that adjectives can make or break a good story.  And she's right.  The language and vocabulary in a story is just as important, if not more so, than the idea being conveyed.

Detail is another important component of a good story.  Not enough details and back-story and you don't feel connected or invested.  Too many details and the story seems to never get going and you're drowning in minutia.  For example, when Mrs. Brizzle comes to visit, it might be nice to know she is a friendly, portly woman wearing a large faded yellow hat.  But knowing about  her shoes, the material of her dress, her perfume, makeup, etc., can take away from the main story of the visit.   So I try to balance enough and yet not too much detail.

I also think about the tone when writing.  Is this a serious topic or is it something that can be told with humor?  Or, is it a serious topic that will be made better by telling it with humor?  Humor is hard for me.  I'm just not that funny.  I may have been born without wit.  That part, I can definitely say I struggle with.

I am looking for my voice in words.  After 307 posts, I might be getting somewhere.   

The Big Boy Update:  "Happy Kica."  Today is a birthday celebration for one of his two teachers, Kica.  As is the school's tradition, each student brings a flower to present to the teacher so that together, those flowers make a lovely bouquet from their students.  We worked on saying, "Happy Birthday Kica" in the car this morning, but he could only get two words in a row.  As "birthday" was the most challenging for him, we practiced, "Happy Kica" again and again.  I don't know if he understood he was suppose to say that when he handed her the flower, but I have a feeling we'll hear what happened tomorrow at our first parent-teacher conference. 

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Stairs.  Unexpectedly yesterday, she figured out how to climb stairs, all at once, and suddenly.  The most she'd ever done was two steps before and that was after long bits of trial and error.  Yesterday while we were eating dinner she went over to the stairs and in no time was up four steps.  I jumped up, turned on the phone camera and in less than two minutes she was at the top of the flight.  A half-hour later she climbed them again, in even less time.  In other news, she has croup confirmed from the trip to the doctor this morning. 

Someone Once Said:   If you are part of a society that votes, then do so. There may be no, candidates and no measures you want to vote for but there are certain to be ones you want to vote against. In case of doubt, vote against. By this rule you will rarely go wrong. If this is too blind for your taste, consult some well-meaning fool (there is always one around) and ask his advice. Then vote the other way. This enables you to be a good citizen (if such is your wish) without spending the enormous amount of time on it that that truly intelligent exercise of franchise requires.

Dort Narina

When I was a child we'd go to the state fairgrounds for many reasons.  The flea market was there and my father was—and still is—a flea market enthusiast.  There was the fair once each year.  And then there were other events throughout the year in the different buildings across the grounds.

At the fairgrounds, there is one building that looks entirely different from the others.  It's like two intersecting parabolas that make a saddle-like shape.  It's a very dramatic building.  I've seen it every time I've gone to the fairgrounds for my whole life.  Sometimes we went into it for sporting events or concerts.  And it had a neat name.  It was called, "Dort Narina."  Or so I thought.

When I got old enough for my parents to realize I was mispronouncing the name they told me the name was, "Dorton Arena" no doubt named after someone named Dorton who had helped fund the building's construction with a significant donation.   As a child I thought this was absurd.  No, not the naming after or the donating of money parts.  But, "arena?"  What kind of strange word is that?  Narina sounds much better.  Why would they name a building using a word as awkward as "arena?"  But so it was named, and now I understand why.

That wasn't the only word confusion I had as a child.  Imagine my surprise when I discovered we were packing a "suit case" for our trip to visit my grandparents instead of a "soup case."  What was a suit and why would you need to take it with you?  Soup would make sense on a trip because you might get hungry.

I remember my mother had the pull-down ladder to the attic and was bringing down our suitcases when I learned this bizarre fact.  I asked her if she was sure it was called a "suitcase."  She assured me it was.  There was nothing to do but believe her.  Her explanation of suits and why someone might pack them was reasonable.  But I don't think I was able to bring myself to call it a "suitcase" for several years to come.

And there was the big argument over idear.  My neighbor and friend, Veda, told me I was saying, "eye-dear" instead of the correct pronunciation of, "eye-dee-uh."  This wasn't a friendly discussion because that just sounded dumb to me.  She didn't know, I thought.  Surely she was wrong.  We appealed to her mother for final judgement and as it turns out, there isn't an "r" at the end of the word idea.  So I had to adjust to that too.

I've notice my son mis-pronouncing words as he's moving from unintelligible baby babble into baby talk and I wonder what words he'll get confused with as he gets older.

The Big Boy Update:  Ellie.  He has a friend I didn't know about named Ellie.  She's in upper elementary and she walks my son in to his classroom from the drop-off line in the mornings.  I didn't know she did this or who she was until this weekend when we were at our all-school social event at the park (the one with all the food) when she shyly came over with her mother and introduced herself.  She has red hair and is very cute but her most charming characteristic is her smile.  She is sunshine with red hair.  I realized I had met her once when I was walking my son in and she offered to take him in, but he wasn't ready to let go of my hand so I took him on in.  She seemed to be a little disappointed and I didn't understand why.  Now I do.  She said really likes him and I think she was sad he didn't want to walk in with her.  But now that I know her, I wave to her every morning and tell her, "hi!" through the open door as my son is removed from his car seat.  I ask my son about seeing his friend, Ellie, on the ride to school and he says her name and looks happy.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Hoarse.  She doesn't have the cough, but she's definitely got a vocal chord thing going on because when she babbles it's all raspy.  I am hoping she's getting close to the end of this round of immuno-building contagion she's caught from her brother, the table at the restaurant, the floor of the fitness store, the piece of trash she found and put in her mouth, the hugs from the lady at the chiropractor or, well, fifty-odd other places she could have caught it.

Fitness Update:  The highway is louder than you think.  My father told me the ambient sound (or decibel level) of the highway was significant.  I never cared as a child, but I agree that it's nicer to live away from the loud noise if possible.  I got a very good lesson in this when I was running the fifteen miles this weekend.  I was in the park, in the woods, with my audio book playing on speaker from my belt pouch.  I knew I was getting close to the highway overpass in a mile or so.  Eventually I barely heard the sound of the highway.  Shortly later, before the bridge was even in sight I thought my volume had been turned down.  Nope, still full on.  I got closer and I realized the noise from the road alone was so significant that it was dampening out the phone on full volume.  By the time I got to the bridge, I couldn't even hear the phone.  So dad was right.

Someone Once Said:  The only important rule is not to hurt people… which very often consists of not talking unnecessarily.

Pot Luck Love

I love pot lucks.  I love food other people make.  I especially like events where there are lots of people and each of those people or families has brought their own special dish they find delicious or tempting or different.  I will save up more for a social event that has only appetizers and snacks brought by the attendees than I would for a fancy, expensive meal at one of my favorite restuarants.

Food is an adventure.  I love food.  I like trying new things.  There's something that's fun about experiencing a new food item or dish.  I like the show, "Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern."  He does go to extremes with some of the cuisine and delicacies he tries, but he tries them.  Many of them he really likes.  I'm not as adventurous as I'd like to be with food and I admit there are lots of things I don't like, but I still enjoy trying new things. 

Pot Lucks are a big adventure to me.  You can get a plate and you can fill it with a single bite of many different things and get lots of different tastes.  Each of those dishes was made by someone and they are probably willing to tell you all about the dish and even share the recipe if you liked what they brought.

It's also a great place to eat some classics or traditional foods (okay, locally traditional) such as deviled eggs or seven-layer bean dip or pigs in a blanket.  And if I'm there, you can bet I'm trying all of the items.

Desserts.  That one word is worthy of it's own sentence, because it's so important it can stand alone.  Desserts at social gatherings come in two varieties.  The first are something routine and ordinary like brownies bought at the grocery store, still in the plastic container.  These kinds of items you can skip because they're brought by someone who didn't know what to bring or didn't have time or doesn't cook, so they went and bought something.

The second type of dessert is the kind that's someone's favorite recipe or is something they personally love to eat.  Maybe it's a mango with sticky rice tart.  Or it could be pumpkin spice mini-cupcakes with orange zest cream cheese icing.  Either way, be sure to save room because dessert is where it's at.

Balance it all out with a few pieces of cheese with crackers and a grape or two.  Maybe work in some cauliflower and dip from the vegetable tray.  But don't spend too much time there, because the home-made dishes are the main attraction.

I've always loved pot luck.  With my son starting school I've had more opportunities for pot luck of late.  Also, there's been more wine.  But the wine is going to have to wait for another post.

The Big Boy Update:  Danger Boy.  He is a danger to himself.  He knows no fear, just like all little children, and he's constantly on the verge of getting himself hurt or hurting something else or hurting someone else.  That someone else is usually his sister.  She is always in his way.  I think he likes her.  I hope he likes her.  There is the phrase, "baby-proofing a room."  I believe that's possible.  I'm not certain you can, "toddler-proof a room" because a toddler is supremely skilled in finding ways to misuse things to hurt someone or cause damage or create a mess that you would have not thought possible.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Hazard Girl.  She is a hazard to herself.  You'd think she'd know by now that her brother isn't the most delicate or gentle person.  Aggressive hugs, ripping away her toys, jumping up and down on her and ramming his, "choo choo" into her just because.  But she wants to be everywhere he is.  She wants to crawl right on top of his space and his toys to see what's he's doing because it's more interesting than everything else to her.

Fitness Update:  Five miles early this morning after the fifteen miles yesterday.  Twenty miles within a twenty-four hour period.  My legs are tired.  But they're really not that bad.  We went to the fair this evening and walked another three miles.   The more I exercise the more I don't seem to have to exert myself as much.  I just realized that of late I don't have that really tired period for the first two miles that I used to have when I start a run.  I'm also getting a little faster when I run.  Not a lot faster, there will need to be specific training for that I speculate, but a bit faster. 

Someone Once Said:   I am always confused when a man explains how he is going to do me good. Suppose you tell me instead how this is going to do you good.

The Stars Wars Watch

There are times in your life where your parents are cool.  And then there are times in your life when your mom or dad (or both at the same time) are so uncool you don't know how you could possibly have them for parents.  But this post is all about the cool.

I went through the worshiping years where my mommy was the greatest person on the planet.  She knew all the answers, was the smartest person I knew and she was also the prettiest.  My dad was also a really cool dad, because he was a magician and it doesn't get cooler than that, and he was always working on something exciting in his basement that involved lots of parts.

Every now and then though, something would happen that was beyond cool.  For example, I got the game Pong for Christmas one year.  At the time I didn't realize how exciting this was, nor did I understand how impressive the technology of the day was to make this very early video game, but I was thrilled.  We played and played and played pong out.  Dad could beat us all as I recollect, and I could miss the ball more often than I could hit it.  Good times.

The best though was the year I got my Star Wars watch.  Star Wars had come out recently and I had seen it, it being my first PG movie ever, and we thought all things Star Wars were cool.  As a family we had the soundtrack records.  There was the main record with the big hits, the Cantina song being my favorite, and we also had the second album with the less-popular songs.

I had the R2D2 remote-controlled toy and probably a bunch of other great Star Wars things that have mentally been filed in the, "forgotten childhood" drawer.  But the one thing I'll never forget is my Star Wars watch.

Dad outdid himself in coolness when he got me that watch.  It wasn't like the watches of today with all the fancy things on it.  It was black plastic and had a star wars figure on the face.  Interestingly, I don't remember which figure.  I think it was Darth Vader because his head is black and the watch was black.  Strange that I remember where I was on the playground while I was checking the time one day and not what the watch looked like.

Moving along... it was a digital watch.  I was one of the only kids with a digital watch.  I was one of the few adults with a digital watch I'm pretty sure.  And it was all mine.  The watch did two amazing things.  First, it told the time in very bright red LED segments.  Not unlike the red alarm clock digits, only smaller.  And second, it killed watch batteries.

The first time the battery died, which I think was about three days after I got the watch, we were perplexed.  Maybe it was a bad battery.  Second, not-inexpensive battery inserted and in less than a week, boom, Darth Vader had taken a second victim.  It turned out that those bright red LEDs burning through batteries.

So, cool as it was, I had to lay the watch aside after a short while.  That, or start a lemonade stand business to afford regular battery changes.

Years later when I was in sixth grade, the watch technology had advanced.  Unlike my Star Wars watch which could only tell the time and show the seconds if you pressed a button, my Space Invaders watch had a video game on it.

It was a rudimentary game on a little LCD screen with two buttons.  The invaders (or really one invader at a time) would move left and right and then drop down and you pressed the left button and the right button and tried to time your lefting and righting with the movement of the three pixels that was the invader so the autofire bullet would take him out.

That watch was fun on the bus.  The best was watching someone hold my watch in their two hands and lean left and then lean right as the beat on the buttons trying to outflank the invader.

I had some cool watches as a kid.  Thanks mom and dad.

The Big Boy Update:   The snake in the box.  There is a decorative leather box that sat in front of the fireplace for a long time.  It got relocated to higher ground when my son got old enough to cause trouble with it.  I decided to put it back down on the floor today and see if they noticed it.  Pretty soon he'd come over and figured out how to unlatch it as well as unsnap the two leather straps.  I didn't think much of it until later when I came back and discovered he'd re latched it.  He put his stuffed snake in the box.  He'd wound it all up and made it fit and then made sure it couldn't escape.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  "Has walked" versus "walking."  There is a difference.  When a child takes their first steps you can say that they, "have walked."  That's an entirely different thing than a child who "is walking" regularly, to and fro, here and there, all day long.  My daughter is in-between the two.  She likes to walk, but she's not walking everywhere yet.  She's not walking anywhere that's farther away than four or five steps.  But she is walking more often and she seems more interested in walking to really go places as opposed to walking just to bridge a gap. 

Fitness Update:  15 miles, longest run yet.  Well, 15-ish.  I was running two fitness apps and they were slightly off but impressively they were with .15 of a mile to each other after fifteen miles.  Best half marathon time today too, beating my last run by six minutes.  That's not bad considering I stopped to drink at three watering holes.

Someone Once Said:   It is good to have an open mind, but not so empty that the wind blows through it.

Sprout Sandwiches

When I was a child we would go to my parent's best friend's house in the mountains several times each year.  I have the best memories of staying at their home and being in the crisp mountain air, looking out at the misty mountains in the morning and having warming conversations by the roaring fire.

We went to this house for Thanksgiving for many years.  We'd be there for a day or so before Thanksgiving, but it always seemed magical how the house, which was a regular house every other day, had the atmosphere of a happy party when it grew close to time for Thanksgiving dinner.  Appetizers would be put out on the coffee tables and end tables, we'd all get dressed in our nicer clothes in honor of the occasion, and the fire would be stoked even warmer.

Then there were the smells of dinner cooking.   The turkey or roast wafted around the house for hours.  There were bottles of beer chilling out on the cold, dark deck and shortly before dinner, friends who were also visiting the mountains would arrive to join in the celebration.

I also remember my special room.  I got to sleep under the stairs on a military cot that I could get to after shimmying past the washer and dryer.  Talk about cool sleeping spots.  Years later I was older and they added a room on and I was too big for the cot at any rate, but I think I loved those under the stairs-sleeping years the best.

I also remember running up and down the stairs and touching the stone that ran up the entire center of the house, because it was the back side of the chimney.   Richard, probably the closest thing I had to a brother, explained that after enough time, the rocks would warm all the way through and we could feel it.  

At the end of each trip, we'd get up on Sunday morning and start packing and cleaning up.  As a child there wasn't much of the cleaning I did, but I knew the trip was mostly over.  We'd leave early because getting home on Sunday before dark meant time to prepare for the next week.

We usually stopped for fast food on the drive back.  Except for a few years when my parents and their best friends got into this healthy, bean sprout-growing phase.  Initially, it was exciting.  They had these round plastic trays.  They were green and you could see through the stack of them and watch bean sprouts growing.  A "crop" would take about a week to grow (from what I remember.)

But a crop would take about two weeks to eat... unless you put sprouts on everything and maximized your sprout-eating opportunities so that you'd be done with your current batch when the next batch was ready to harvest.

They were good, but not every meal.  I was a kid.  I wanted french fries.  I didn't want a sprout sandwich.  I'm not sure how long we ate sprout sandwiches, but I was very glad when the phase passed and we could return to our standard meal of Hardees lunch on the way home.
 
I have so many memories of my parents best friend's house and the good times we had.  My parents must have loved it just as much because not only did they buy a vacation home in the same town, they retired there.

The Big Boy Update:  You can still feed him if he doesn't notice.  He is going to feed himself that whatever-it-is, no matter how difficult it is to get into his mouth; that is unless he doesn't notice you're feeding him.  He doesn't want you to spoon feed him unless he's distracted, say by a toy or Mickey Mouse on the television and then he'll baby bird and open right up.  In these situations—especially when we're pressed for time and he's in no hurry to eat—it's time to shovel in full spoonfuls as fast as possible.  Eventually he realizes what's happening and your window of expedient food consumption is over.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  We have top teeth (not to mention drool.)  She's got three teeth on the bottom, two which have been there for five months.  Now she has two top teeth.  She acts like the rest are about to bust out as soon as she can gum through her, well, gums to get to them.  If she's unhappy for an unknown reason lately, it's probably her teeth.  Or it could be snot.  Snot that makes it hard for her to breath at night frustrates her.  Last night she had a bit of an unhappy night.  And guess who slept through the whole night and never made a sound while she complained loudly?  Her brother.

Someone Once Said:   Your best friend is the person who brings out the best in you.  (I saw this at the Chiropractor's office this morning)

A Day of Excess, or The Fair

My favorite time of year is the fair.  My favorite holiday is Halloween, because any holiday with candy and the color orange just can't go wrong in my opinion.  But the fair is where it's at for me.  Some people look forward all year long to Christmas.   I love Christmas, but I don't count down the months until Christmas.  I do count down the time until the fair returns.

For all my life I've lived near the state fairgrounds on which the state fair is held each year.  I have memories from my young childhood of the atmosphere, the smells, the food and the rides.  I remember asking my father how the roller coaster goes upside down and the people don't fall out.  As I got older I remember the games that take your money because there is no way you're going to win the little stuffed animal.  I remember being older and going with friends from school without parents.

When I got to junior high it was a fun time because you could go with your boyfriend.  You got to hold hands, stand really close so you wouldn't get lost in the crowds and sit even closer together on the rides.  Oh the fair and the memories.

As I grew older the fair became more about the food and the exhibits than the rides.  The exhibit buildings that were so boring as a youth now have interesting or even funny displays.  There's always the largest pumpkin to see and there are samples to be had and there are wares to be sold.

But it is about the food for me.  I have a route I like to take that is completely food-driven.    The foods include, in order:  Grist mill hush puppy sample, fresh squeezed apple cider, roasted corn, crawfish bites, mini-donuts, fried tilapia, peanut sample, House Autry hush puppy sample, large pickle, maple syrup cotton candy sample, honey cotton candy sample, Wisconsin cheese bites, deep fried twinkie and State Fair ice cream.  Sometimes not all of these things happen because there's only so much room in my stomach, but I try to fit them all in over a few visits each year.

Each year there are new items, sometimes strange, some delicious sounding.  A few years ago it was the Krispy Kreme donut hamburger and the year after that it was the "pig licker" bacon dipped in chocolate on a stick.  This year features some new deep fried delights including, deep fried girl scout cookies, deep fried swiss rolls, deep fried cupcakes and deep fried cinnamon roll with bacon. 

My in-laws are coming to town now so we can all go to the fair today.  My parents came to town yesterday so my father can do his yearly fair trip.  I'm only a few short hours away from the fair.  And I'm hungry thinking about all the food there.

One year during fair week I gained five pounds because I went six times and overate every single time.  It got me thinking.  I plan on overeating today.  I plan on overeating on Monday when we go back with our friends.  What happens when you submit your body to more food than it needs in a day?  We know the body turns that extra into stored fat.  But is there a threshold in which the body can't convert it all and just sends it down the line?  Surely the competitive eaters that are thin don't turn all fifty-six hotdogs into fat.  How does that works?  I don't know, I don't want to know.  I have prepared for today's trip by running eleven miles and planning to run hopefully fourteen more this weekend.

So fair food, beware.  Here comes my stomach.

The Big Boy Update:  The Midnight Monster.  What have we created?  He was unhappy last night feeling poorly, so my husband went up to check on him.  We knew he was unhappy because he was yelling.  When my husband left him a few minutes later, he started screaming.  Screaming that was truncated because his throat is raspy with his croup so it sounded like partial screams.  I think we're trying to help, but we're sometimes making it worse by being too responsive.  He's going to have to learn how to self-soothe when he wakes up at night.  His sister, the champ that she is, never woke once with the screaming.  It's a perfect example of how you get something right with the second child because you see how you messed it up with the first child.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  The Cookie Machine.  We have a little cup with a rubber lid you can reach into and pull out crackers or cookies.  My daughter is just learning how to use it.  This morning she was so happy sitting on the floor, pulling out crackers, dropping some on the floor for the dog, shoving the rest into her mouth.  It was like she had a cookie machine that magically kept giving out cookies. 

Fitness Update:  Five miles with my neighbor this morning.  Lately, we're running in the dark the whole time, with just a bit of light as we finish.  Daylight savings time is coming soon so we're hoping in a few weeks we'll be able to run in the park again and not be stuck with the boring neighborhood loop.  Incidentally, we have a shy street lamp we run by regularly.  It turns off when we pass it.  The first few times it seemed like coincidence, but it's happened so many times now that we're wondering if it's sending us a message in lamp-code saying, "Go back to bed.  It's too early."

Someone Once Said:  Reward people with stupid stuff and they'll do almost anything  

Catch Up Thursday

It's one of those days when I've sent myself seven or eight emails with things I want to write about here.  And at that rate, I'll never get to next week's ideas because I'll still be working on this week's ideas.  So several short, unrelated topics today so I don't get too topic swamped.

Forceful Ignoring -- Have you ever tried to forcefully ignore a child that's crying or screaming or behaving badly and you know that the one thing the child wants is to get your attention, any type of attention, because that's why they're behaving that way in the first place?  Oh it is so hard.  Don't look at the tantrum happening in the high chair, because that might be the push your child needs to throw the whole plate of pasta onto the floor.  Don't look back after taking away the toy that was being used to whap the other child, because there's a good chance knowing your looking will cause your son to push your daughter onto the floor and jump up and down on her—and laugh while he's doing it.  This whole child rearing thing can be so tricky.

The Unused Checkbook -- It's in my desk.  I'm not sure why I got a whole box of check books when I moved.  I suppose I did because you can't order just one book, but I'm going to have to live here for over a decade to use up the box.  It's great how digital we've gone.  I love online banking.  That's not to say that I don't like getting checks.  Although those fifty-eight cent rebates aren't the thrill they were when I was in my twenties.    

Erasing Sounds -- I realized while I was in the tub this morning that I've been erasing sounds.   We all do it, we take it for granted that we can ignore certain sounds if they're not pertinent or important.  I was sitting there in the tub and I noticed the clock on the wall above my head was ticking.  It ticks?  Yes, it's been ticking for the past two years, I just stopped noticing it.  I also don't notice planes when they fly overhead, but my son does.  They're things to say, "bye bye" to.  My neighbor and I were running today and her brand new shoes were squeaking every step.  We laughed and noticed it.  Then, forty-five minutes later I discovered I'd forgotten they were squeaking, even though they were squeaking away. 

Crap, my eye -- Everything is going well with the LASIK (on the one eye) and PRK (on the other eye) recovery.  Then yesterday as I was putting my daughter into her crib her arm hit my eye.  Not the lid, the eye.  Panic, screams (mine), fretting, excessive blinking and administration of drops followed by calling the eye doctor.  Put ice on the eye, continue with the drops and if it's a scratch, it will heal and it will hopefully be fine.  In the meantime, my vision isn't fine, it's regressed.  It's been such a long haul since April when I started this eye adventure.  A little over a day later and I think there isn't anything majorly wrong, but I'm not sure it's all right either.  Holding my breath until next week's checkup.  I don't know if I can hold my breath that long so if I fail at that form of worry, I'll just continue the fretting I've already been doing.

The Big Boy Update:  Double the age.  Today my son is twenty-two months old.  His sister is eleven months.  He is for the first and only time is his life double her age.  He didn't seem to find it that remarkable when I explained it to him.  Ah, youth.  But, he surprised me with some extra politeness today.  No, I don't mean when he wound up and whacked his sister on the head, intentionally, with the plastic toy.  I mean when I was walking him down the stairs, holding his toy in one arm and his hand with my other arm and he said, "Thank you mommy."

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:   Eleven months today and exactly one-half her brother's age for the only time in her life.  She celebrated by teething, trying to walk, and getting in her brother's way whenever possible.  She does seem to be sensitive to him being upset.  I've seen her hand over her pacifier to him just because he was complaining while in the car.  Sweet baby.

Fitness Update:  My neighbor and I have missed running the past two mornings for various reasons.  We've decided to add some P90X into our workout regime as we get into colder weather.  Our plan is to meet in the basement here and put out the cool workout mat my husband just ordered and get a nice hour or so workout in before we have to get the children up for the day.   More updates when that actually happens.  Right now, less than a month away from the half marathon.   Yikes.   Update.  My neighbor texted me that she suddenly was off early and did I want to do an afternoon, before dinner run so we got to run six miles this afternoon.  Thanks to daddy and my mother for being kind enough to keep the kids for a last minute run.

Someone Once Said:  Man is a political animal. You can no more keep him from politicking than you can keep him from copulating—and probably shouldn’t try.

Time Cynic

It's important to have time to yourself.  Everyone needs to have a portion of their day or week that's just for them, doing just what they want to do.  I do a lot of things during the day that need to be done or that I've committed to do so many I have very little time left that's just for me.  Sometimes I think the most important time of my day is that small amount of time I have remaining for doing something lazy, something silly, something relaxing and most important of all, something for me and no one else.

I've written before about all the things that take up the day like laundry, dishes, feeding, making meals, cleaning up toys, playing with children, restocking, driving to school and other activities, shopping for children things, shopping for groceries, shopping for other necessities.   A large portion of my day is taken up with things that are related to being a mom and keeping a household running.

There are other things in my life that I've made a commitments to do.  By making those commitments, I am committing my time.  I'm always glad I've made the commitments overall, but sometimes it can feel like work even though it's elected work.  For example, I have unintentionally gotten myself elected as the neighborhood coordinator.  So now that I have the position, until I can hand it off to the property management company, and it takes up time.  There are rewards to the "job" because I've met great families and we're a closer community as a result.  But it's lots of emails and conversations and it can be tedious and I frequently find myself saying, "I should have never started this."

I also believe strongly in participating, volunteering and taking an active role in my child's school.  This also involves lots of time commitment doing things like cutting pictures out of magazines, making sewing cards, being the New Parent Liaison and Room Parent and, of course, lots of emails.  It's not "my time," buy it's important to me and I continue to sign up for additional ways I can help at school.  Rewards?  There are many.  I've met some great people and I have a far better understanding of what happens at my son's school and I feel like I'm contributing to his education.

I'm also a layout editor for a journal on magic and science.  This is a fun as well as frustrating job.  It's fun because the content of these journals is always interesting.  It's challenging because I'm learning how to do things in laying out a magazine or "copy" that I wouldn't have learned otherwise.  And it's frustrating because Microsoft Word likes to taunt me by it's quirks and "features."  But overall, it's been a very rewarding experience.

I have personal commitments too.  Every day I write a blog post.  I would like to say it only takes me ten minutes, but with five sections and my verbosity, it seems to take me longer.  It's a nice part of my day though because I get a chance to write something I've been thinking about and I know that if I write it down today, I'll be able to go back and read it much later on.  I always wanted to be a journaling person, but I just don't like to write in a journal.  The blog medium, combined with the desire to document my children's development has been the motivation I needed to start writing.

I also have two web sites with pictures of my children I maintain monthly.  It doesn't take that long to get them done, but it takes longer than I'd like them to because I coordinate pictures and videos across multiple cell phones and DSLR.  I have to find the best pictures and videos across hundreds of options, come up with captions, upload videos and then send an email to family.  I am thinking of doing this every other month next year, but for now, the beginning of the month has me scrambling to get the, "picture pages" done.

Where has all of this gotten me?  I think it's turned me into a Time Cynic.  There is only so much time in the day, and I would like for a little bit of it to be for something I want to do outside of commitments and obligations, be it sit in the tub, go shopping for pants that fit, run, watch a TV show or just play a little game on my iPad in bed before I fall asleep.

I've found that I'm getting jaded.  I'm reminded of a Henry Rollins Spoken Word concert in which he says, "People are killing me one minute at a time.  It's like they're jabbing me with teenie tiny knives, killing me slowly."  He tells a story of the line at the airport at the metal detector and how people seem to be confused that they need to remove metal from their person so they can pass through successfully.  He likens every minute of his time that's wasted by these people as minutes of his life that's being wasted when he could be doing something else.

I find myself frequently thinking the same thing, however it's about "interesting articles" or "amazing YouTube videos" more today.  I know there are tens of thousands of great articles and scads of videos on YouTube that I would laugh at, love, want to share with my friends and overall enjoy.  But there's just not enough time to watch and read them all.  I wrote here a while back about being, "food obligated" when someone gives you food and how I feel obligated to use the food, even if I don't like or didn't want the food.  I have the same response with articles and YouTube videos.  People email me them frequently.  Many days all I want to do is clear out my inbox so I can get the other eleventy-twelve things on my list done so I can finally watch one TV show or have a relaxing bath before falling asleep.

The other day my husband was across the room watching a video he said I had to see.  He described it and it did sound very good, just like something I'd like.   But I was so pressed for time.  I find myself getting frustrated because at the end of the day, I just want a little bit of time to myself, and I don't want to be YouTube obligated, even if the video is sent by someone who only sent it to me because they knew I would like it and appreciate it.   So... I deleted the email from my husband and I didn't watch the video.

I told him about it the next day and explained why.  He was great, he said it was something I didn't need to see and in fact, it was longer than he had expected it to be.  I have to tell you though, it was freeing to delete an email and not watch the video.  I don't have friends and family who send me random articles and videos.  The all know how I feel about this, and I always appreciate their consideration.

I'm even having to be a time cynic with myself.  I like to run.  Running takes a minimum of an hour.  It can take three hours to run a long run on the weekend and then there's the twenty minutes afterwards for a shower.  If I want to run, I'm going to have to cut out other things in my life because there are just not enough hours in the week.

And what about Television?  The shows of today are well-written, compelling and the actors are all great.  There is so much to choose from and I would love to watch more.  This past monththe new seasons have started.  We're only a few weeks in and already we have twenty hours of shows that we're behind on on our DVR.  My husband and I talked about what we cared about the most and what we could cut.  For posterity's sake, here are the shows I record:
- NCIS
- CSI
- Criminal Minds
- Castle
- Fringe
- The Big Bang Theory
- Doctor Who
- Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe
- Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern
- The Best Thing I Ever Ate
- The Best Thing I Ever Made

If there is a new episode of each of these every week, that's ten hours of television I need to make time for every week.  It's not going to happen.  I watch the two "Best Thing" shows in the morning because they're food-based and my son will happily eat his breakfast during these upbeat food shows, but the rest of them I have to find time for.  At the end of last year's seasons we were hours and hours behind and we dropped some shows.  Yesterday I dropped some more.  I really like all of the ones above and hate to drop any, but I might have to.

The good news is, watching one of the shows above is part of that "me time" because it's relaxing and it's just the sort of thing I like to do at the end of a night.   That is, if I have enough time to watch a show before I need to get to bed so I can get up at 5:40AM to get a run in in the dark before I have to get the children up.

So where did I start and where have I gone with this blog post?  Because I'm sure you've got to get your dinner made at this point and I'm still yap yapping.  I have found that I jealously guard any time that I can have just to me, irrespective of commitments I've made in my life.  I've realized there is very little time in the week left after everything else gets done.   And because I value that time so much, I'm reevaluating everything to see where I can make more time, such as YouTube and television shows.

I'm suppose to be positive thinking here.  I'm not mad or upset that my life is the way it is.  I could volunteer less, leave the house a mess, not go running, not worry about the picture pages or this blog, but those things are very important to me.  I just need to make sure I make a little time, just some time, where I don't have anything that needs to be done.  And keep in mind that it's good to be busy.  I've been bored before and at first it's fun, and then it's steady hell.  So I'm happy about my busy life.  It makes me value and appreciate that little time I have just for me even more.

The Big Boy Update:  Line it up, Choo choo!  He likes trains—what little boy doesn't—but he associates things in a row with the phrase, "choo choo."  Last night he lined up three books on the coffee table and said, "choo choo" to daddy, pointing to his work.  Today he's out of school with a low fever from last night and a cough.  He's going to the doctor this afternoon to confirm it's nothing of concern.  The fever is mostly gone, but it seems prudent to have the cough checked.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Will walk for food.  She's got new shoes.  She looks so much older in her shoes.  She is getting better at standing and will take several steps, but she's only interested in walking from time to time.  This morning after her bottle, she was interested in her brother's food.  I did some tests.  She was willing to stand and follow me all around the kitchen, standing, taking a few steps, falling and then getting back up, as long as I would continue to hand her pieces of cereal.

Someone Once Said:   I used to think I was serving humanity… and I pleasured at the thought. Then I discovered that humanity does not want to be served; on the contrary it resents any attempt to serve it. So now I do what pleases me.