There's that saying, "The grass is always greener on the other side." Yes, it's one of those idioms and yes, I hate idioms. I hate it when I contradict myself. I still try to remove excessive idioms from my speech, but they invariably crop up. They just so blasted useful in their succinct way of conjuring up a mental image.
But back to the grass... It's natural to think that what someone else has or some situation or some thing might be better than what you have. I think it's our way of evaluating life's situations. Sometimes we can let it control us in a negative way, and other times it's a useful tool to make goals or decisions or to even inspire.
I have a friend though, let's call him Mister X, who seems to be stuck in The Grass Is Never Greener land. He seems to be disappointed by most situations, maybe they didn't work the way he had hoped, or they had, but the result wasn't what he expected. I just get the distinct impression that nothing is ever really satisfying and that he's never going to be happy.
Could it be depression, you ask? I asked myself the same question. It could be, but I can't say. He's a happy enough person, and yet life never seems to bring happy results. I hope I'm wrong.
It got me thinking. I was going to title this blog, "Nothing to Complain About" so that I remembered every post that I'm not here to whine. But it must be hard to be positive all the time when you think everyone and everything is failing you.
The Big Boy Update: For the love of ball. Everything is still ball. Or it's bye. Or it's duh-kee. And when that just won't do it's dukadukadukadukaduka for added emphasis. His understanding of words continues to grow rapidly, but his spoken vocabulary has yet to catch up.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Arms out for balance! She likes to hold her arms way out to the side for balance. She doesn't hug on to you when you hold her, she's in airplane climb mode. Maybe it's helped her to sit up and balance so well, or maybe she just doesn't trust us to hold her steady.
Right-size Countdown: 0.0 pounds to go
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Saturday, May 12, 2012
The Gaddy Rationalization
We are rationalizing beings. We can be rational, but what we do even better is rationalize. Have you ever talked yourself into something over time that, in retrospect, was completely unreasonable?
I remember being in Cotillion as a young girl. We were taught manners and ballroom dancing. We were mortified with the whole prospect of touching a member of the opposite sex at the beginning, but we had to do it, and we had to be polite, without fail, no matter how distasteful we found the person to be.
At the end of each year we went to the Cotillion Ball. We got formal invitations, wore fancy dresses and even had dance cards. After making it through the first year, some of my friends and I decided we liked ballroom dancing. We came back and did multiple years more. We learned fancier dance steps and the male partners became more likeable as we matured.
The elegant lady who taught the classes was Mrs. Gaddy. She was always poised, had great advice and was someone I looked up to and respected. She was the owner and master coordinator of the whole program.
After we had aged out, we were still good friends with Mrs. Gaddy. Sometimes she would need extra boys or girls at the balls to balance out the dance cards. We loved to go as alumni.
One year, my boyfriend was asked, but I wasn't. He and my friends and I talked it over. Eventually we talked ourselves into a lost invitation in the mail and were even confident i was invited.
When I arrived the first clue should have been no dance card and no flower waiting for me at the table. I was getting concerned. When I fully realized that I had talked myself into something that made no sense, I tried to leave, but the proctors wouldn't let me go sit in a car. I went and cried in the bathroom.
Eventually, the word got out and one of the proctors came in and said, "I don't think Mrs. Gaddy would want you to be in here crying the whole time. Why don't you come out and sit with us." Mr. Gaddy, a well-known news caster, came and asked me for a dance. I was embarrassed and felt foolish but I did dance with him. I remember he smelled like cologne, something the boys were too young to wear.
Later I spoke to Mrs. Gaddy and apologized, explaining how our logic had been poor and our thoughts unreasoned and I had no one but myself to blame and I felt foolish because she had been so kind to teach me manners. She was gracious and kind and I still remember her fondly to this day.
It's interesting how we can talk ourselves into anything if we want it badly enough.
I remember being in Cotillion as a young girl. We were taught manners and ballroom dancing. We were mortified with the whole prospect of touching a member of the opposite sex at the beginning, but we had to do it, and we had to be polite, without fail, no matter how distasteful we found the person to be.
At the end of each year we went to the Cotillion Ball. We got formal invitations, wore fancy dresses and even had dance cards. After making it through the first year, some of my friends and I decided we liked ballroom dancing. We came back and did multiple years more. We learned fancier dance steps and the male partners became more likeable as we matured.
The elegant lady who taught the classes was Mrs. Gaddy. She was always poised, had great advice and was someone I looked up to and respected. She was the owner and master coordinator of the whole program.
After we had aged out, we were still good friends with Mrs. Gaddy. Sometimes she would need extra boys or girls at the balls to balance out the dance cards. We loved to go as alumni.
One year, my boyfriend was asked, but I wasn't. He and my friends and I talked it over. Eventually we talked ourselves into a lost invitation in the mail and were even confident i was invited.
When I arrived the first clue should have been no dance card and no flower waiting for me at the table. I was getting concerned. When I fully realized that I had talked myself into something that made no sense, I tried to leave, but the proctors wouldn't let me go sit in a car. I went and cried in the bathroom.
Eventually, the word got out and one of the proctors came in and said, "I don't think Mrs. Gaddy would want you to be in here crying the whole time. Why don't you come out and sit with us." Mr. Gaddy, a well-known news caster, came and asked me for a dance. I was embarrassed and felt foolish but I did dance with him. I remember he smelled like cologne, something the boys were too young to wear.
Later I spoke to Mrs. Gaddy and apologized, explaining how our logic had been poor and our thoughts unreasoned and I had no one but myself to blame and I felt foolish because she had been so kind to teach me manners. She was gracious and kind and I still remember her fondly to this day.
It's interesting how we can talk ourselves into anything if we want it badly enough.
Wedge Work
I'm getting good at something I've named, "wedge work." When you have two children that need mostly constant attention, it's hard to get things done that you could quickly do otherwise. Cleaning up the table after the toddler is done eating can take twenty minutes as you change him, check on her, tell him to not hit her in the head, find where he went, give suggestive toys to distract him, bring him back down from half-way up the stairs, clean her spit-up off her face and floor, etc. You get the picture.
Wedge work is what you have to do to get the regular things in life done while you take care of the children. I am getting good at knowing just how long I can leave them or have them out of sight before I need to check up on them.
It's also good to have tricks. My son likes to play on the deck with the hose. He can entertain himself for long periods of time safety and I can get lots done.
I'm slowly figuring out how to be a mother of two and be efficient at the same time.
The Big Boy Update: Sometimes, I have no idea how much he eats. This morning I was doing things while he was eating breakfast. I was trying some new items out to see if he'd like them. He usually isn't into something, but then either likes or hates it in short order. But if you aren't watching him, you don't really know how much he accidentally or more likely, intentionally shares with the "duk-ee" (or dog,) He knows she's there and he likes to feed her. She brings the term, "hovering" to a whole new level of intensity.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Sitting up, talk babbling and her general level of awareness make her much more of a little lady lately than a wee baby.
Right-size Countdown: -0.8 pounds to go
Wedge work is what you have to do to get the regular things in life done while you take care of the children. I am getting good at knowing just how long I can leave them or have them out of sight before I need to check up on them.
It's also good to have tricks. My son likes to play on the deck with the hose. He can entertain himself for long periods of time safety and I can get lots done.
I'm slowly figuring out how to be a mother of two and be efficient at the same time.
The Big Boy Update: Sometimes, I have no idea how much he eats. This morning I was doing things while he was eating breakfast. I was trying some new items out to see if he'd like them. He usually isn't into something, but then either likes or hates it in short order. But if you aren't watching him, you don't really know how much he accidentally or more likely, intentionally shares with the "duk-ee" (or dog,) He knows she's there and he likes to feed her. She brings the term, "hovering" to a whole new level of intensity.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Sitting up, talk babbling and her general level of awareness make her much more of a little lady lately than a wee baby.
Right-size Countdown: -0.8 pounds to go
Friday, May 11, 2012
6-26-40
Six months ago I had my daughter. It's always hard to believe when time has gone by quickly. Baby time is the same. Six months ago I didn't have a daughter, now, life without her is hard to remember. It's been a happy six months.
Twenty six weeks ago I was having a baby. I weighed the most I've ever weighed in my life. I was happy to be that weight but very glad to be losing a good bit as being pregnant and weighing more is taxing on your body.
Forty pounds. Gone, lost, delivered. Baby weight, water weight, milk weight, body fat weight. It's all gone. If I pick up my two children at the same time, they almost weigh forty pounds. And they're heavy! I don't want to carry them around all day. It's no wonder I was tired and out of breath all the time.
Weight-loss diet is almost done. Weight-maintenance diet is about to start. I feel great.
The Big Boy Update: Here is Elmo. He brought Elmo to his sister and tried, in vain, to explain why Elmo should be important to her. The introductions have been made though.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: No more hand sucking. She has made a complete transition to a pacifier. From time to time she likes to suck on material, but that's usually a wardrobe issue and is easily avoided. I'm glad she's not going to have a thumb-sucking habit as she gets older.
Right-size Countdown: -0.8 pounds to go
Twenty six weeks ago I was having a baby. I weighed the most I've ever weighed in my life. I was happy to be that weight but very glad to be losing a good bit as being pregnant and weighing more is taxing on your body.
Forty pounds. Gone, lost, delivered. Baby weight, water weight, milk weight, body fat weight. It's all gone. If I pick up my two children at the same time, they almost weigh forty pounds. And they're heavy! I don't want to carry them around all day. It's no wonder I was tired and out of breath all the time.
Weight-loss diet is almost done. Weight-maintenance diet is about to start. I feel great.
The Big Boy Update: Here is Elmo. He brought Elmo to his sister and tried, in vain, to explain why Elmo should be important to her. The introductions have been made though.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: No more hand sucking. She has made a complete transition to a pacifier. From time to time she likes to suck on material, but that's usually a wardrobe issue and is easily avoided. I'm glad she's not going to have a thumb-sucking habit as she gets older.
Right-size Countdown: -0.8 pounds to go
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Proud... Of My Friends
I was saddened by the passing of the constitutional amendment yesterday but I found out some things about friends I didn't know. And I am proud of my friends.
I believe people have a right to their own opinions and beliefs, and many people have different beliefs from me. That's okay. I have some great friends. But unless a friend insists on trying to force their beliefs on me, I generally like the person or not based on the whole person.
I have friends that I wondered about in relation to the amendment vote. I didn't know how they felt. I hoped they would be against it, but based on some things they'd said in the past, I wasn't sure. I had friends I was pretty sure were against it, but I didn't think they had any personal stake in the vote and I didn't expect they would make the effort to go and vote in a primary just for the amendment.
I spoke with several friends yesterday and heard about some other friends. I was so proud to find out that not only were they all against the amendment, they had taken the time to go vote and were saddened and/or angry that it had passed.
It turns out even though I don't keep politics and religion in the forefront of conversation—I decidedly avoid it—the friends I keep close with are of the same mind when it comes to equality and telling someone who they have a right to love.
The Big Boy Update: So cold. He wanted to play with the hose again today. It wasn't that warm and the sun wasn't out. I waited until close enough to nap time and then let him have a go with his pants on. He got himself wet but played on. He was cold but he played on. Then he would look at me and whimper and cry a little, but he would play on. Finally he'd had enough. I wrapped him in a towel, dressed him in snug, soft clothes and put him to nap with three blankets. He's still asleep.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Talking? I am telling you, her babble is sounding a lot less tiny baby and a lot more like she's trying to say things. It's eerie because it sounds like a much older baby and I keep thinking my toddler is babbling. She's going to make it to kindergarten before him if she keeps this up.
Right-size Countdown: -1.6 pounds to go.
I believe people have a right to their own opinions and beliefs, and many people have different beliefs from me. That's okay. I have some great friends. But unless a friend insists on trying to force their beliefs on me, I generally like the person or not based on the whole person.
I have friends that I wondered about in relation to the amendment vote. I didn't know how they felt. I hoped they would be against it, but based on some things they'd said in the past, I wasn't sure. I had friends I was pretty sure were against it, but I didn't think they had any personal stake in the vote and I didn't expect they would make the effort to go and vote in a primary just for the amendment.
I spoke with several friends yesterday and heard about some other friends. I was so proud to find out that not only were they all against the amendment, they had taken the time to go vote and were saddened and/or angry that it had passed.
It turns out even though I don't keep politics and religion in the forefront of conversation—I decidedly avoid it—the friends I keep close with are of the same mind when it comes to equality and telling someone who they have a right to love.
The Big Boy Update: So cold. He wanted to play with the hose again today. It wasn't that warm and the sun wasn't out. I waited until close enough to nap time and then let him have a go with his pants on. He got himself wet but played on. He was cold but he played on. Then he would look at me and whimper and cry a little, but he would play on. Finally he'd had enough. I wrapped him in a towel, dressed him in snug, soft clothes and put him to nap with three blankets. He's still asleep.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Talking? I am telling you, her babble is sounding a lot less tiny baby and a lot more like she's trying to say things. It's eerie because it sounds like a much older baby and I keep thinking my toddler is babbling. She's going to make it to kindergarten before him if she keeps this up.
Right-size Countdown: -1.6 pounds to go.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
I Am Ashamed of My State
I am ashamed of the state I live in: North Carolina. I've lived here all my life. I was born here, went to school here, work here and now have children that are being raised her;e. Sometimes, I'm frustrated because people from other areas of the country or other nations think I live in a land of hoe downs, clogging, pig pickings and general backwardness. People's perception of the southern states is largely due to television and movie portrayals and I understand that. That doesn't bother me.
However, yesterday my state voted to pass a constitutional amendment making same sex marriage illegal. It was already illegal, what did we need a constitutional amendment for? The door was already shut and locked, and yet people wanted to put chains around the whole building to make sure nothing could possibly happen that would offend their personal beliefs of what is right? I am disgusted.
I have often thought of a quote from my favorite author, Robert Heinlein, about laws from the book, The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress. In relation to this amendment, I have thought about it quite a lot:
Why do people want laws passed that don't hurt them at all? Why is there a need to pass laws to make other people do, or not do, something that has no affect on them personally? I do not understand.
I am saddened and angry at my state. The only consolation I have is that my county and several others around me as well as some counties with larger cities voted in majority against the amendment.
The Big Boy Update: The first big battle of wills has commenced. He wants milk. He wants it in a bottle. He hates, HATES, milk in a sippy cup. We've transitioned him to a special sippy cup from his Aunts Adrienne and Brenda for his bedtime milk. It has a silicone spout and he will drink that. It's not even the cups that he hates, it's the milk in the cups. Juice in any of them? No problem. Yesterday morning he was begging for milk, crying and pitching a fit for milk. We offered him milk in three different sippy cups at once and let him choose. He screamed and refused all of them and tried to throw them on the floor while at the same time pointing to them saying, "more." He ate breakfast without liquid. We have an added challenge because he sees bottles all day long because of his baby sister. We know that's making it harder. I called a mom friend and asked if we were doing the right thing. SHe said if he's drinking liquids well through the rest of the day to stand strong. That, we can do. I will not be out-stubborned by a seventeen-month-old.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Help, I've rolled over again, WAAH. She forgets how to roll back over and needs help in the middle of the night, or more commonly, the early morning. If she wasn't in a room with her brother or if she just whimpered instead of escalating to full-on scream, I'd let her work it out. As it is, we may have to lend a hand with some flipping over help until she gets a little older.
Right-size Countdown: -0.8 pounds to go.
However, yesterday my state voted to pass a constitutional amendment making same sex marriage illegal. It was already illegal, what did we need a constitutional amendment for? The door was already shut and locked, and yet people wanted to put chains around the whole building to make sure nothing could possibly happen that would offend their personal beliefs of what is right? I am disgusted.
I have often thought of a quote from my favorite author, Robert Heinlein, about laws from the book, The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress. In relation to this amendment, I have thought about it quite a lot:
Must be a yearning deep in human heart
to stop other people from doing as they please.
Rules, laws – always for the other
fellow. A murky part of us,
something we had before we came down out of the tree, and failed to shuck when
we stood up. Because not one of those people said: “Please
pass this so that I won’t be able to do something I know I should stop." Nyet, tovarishcee, was always something they
hated to see neighbors doing. Stop them
“for their own good” – not because speaker claimed to be harmed by it.
I am saddened and angry at my state. The only consolation I have is that my county and several others around me as well as some counties with larger cities voted in majority against the amendment.
The Big Boy Update: The first big battle of wills has commenced. He wants milk. He wants it in a bottle. He hates, HATES, milk in a sippy cup. We've transitioned him to a special sippy cup from his Aunts Adrienne and Brenda for his bedtime milk. It has a silicone spout and he will drink that. It's not even the cups that he hates, it's the milk in the cups. Juice in any of them? No problem. Yesterday morning he was begging for milk, crying and pitching a fit for milk. We offered him milk in three different sippy cups at once and let him choose. He screamed and refused all of them and tried to throw them on the floor while at the same time pointing to them saying, "more." He ate breakfast without liquid. We have an added challenge because he sees bottles all day long because of his baby sister. We know that's making it harder. I called a mom friend and asked if we were doing the right thing. SHe said if he's drinking liquids well through the rest of the day to stand strong. That, we can do. I will not be out-stubborned by a seventeen-month-old.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Help, I've rolled over again, WAAH. She forgets how to roll back over and needs help in the middle of the night, or more commonly, the early morning. If she wasn't in a room with her brother or if she just whimpered instead of escalating to full-on scream, I'd let her work it out. As it is, we may have to lend a hand with some flipping over help until she gets a little older.
Right-size Countdown: -0.8 pounds to go.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Hand Sanitizer Paint Scuff Cleaner
This is a crazy tip I discovered. It may be a well-known fix that's been on the internet for decades, but I randomly discovered it and I'm so thrilled to have an easy solution that does exactly what I want it to.
We have a new house with new paint. New paint that doesn't stay new with clumsy adults and busy toddlers. From time to time we get marks on the walls. For the first year, we knew there would be a repaint coming as things settled and we noticed needed fixes from the initial paint. At a year, we blue-taped up the whole house and added in our biggest booboo's to be fixed. That time has not passed. Any messes now, we're stuck with.
There are Magic Erasers. They do magically erase the mark. But they very un-magically leave a shiny spot where you used them if you have flat paint. I am far more annoyed by the larger shine spot than the initial scuff. So I was biding my time until I had enough to call the painter back in to do a big overhaul.
Then one day there was a large mark made by an upholstered chair my son rubbed into the corner of the wall. I wanted something that would dry, not leave residue on the wall while not being too abrasive. I considered the bottle of hand sanitizer gel in the bathroom. It would dry easily because of the alcohol content and would probably be something I could use to gently rub the paint with.
And it worked. It worked amazingly well. It pulled the mark off and didn't leave a noticeable residual area that looked "fixed." I thought it was a fluke. I tried it on another, different type of mark and got the same great results. I got brave and tried it on a mark that was in sunlight a lot of the day in a very visible spot going up the stairs. I had been annoyed by that spot for months. I realized a week later that I didn't notice it and had completely forgotten it was there. Great Scot, this solution works!
If you want to try this—and I make no guarantees—squirt a blob onto some tissue. Gently rub at the spot back and forth. You will notice that some of the paint comes off, but the mark does as well. Let dry. Celebrate and dance.
The Big Boy Update: Yucky. He can say "yucky." And he can say it in the proper situation—when his diaper is yucky. He will tell you his pants are yucky when you're in the middle of changing him. Yeah, we so already had figured that out. I am hoping soon he will be able to tell us he is yucky before we notice. Then I'll really celebrate and dance.
The Tiny Girl Update: She can sit up now. She didn't do the tripod thing like I had expected. She has been practicing so much in the Bumbo seat and the scoot-about that she's got a lot of torso balance. She wobbles all around, but she can stay up for minutes at time. I need to catch this on video. Maybe I'll go do that now.
Right-size Countdown: 1.0 pounds
We have a new house with new paint. New paint that doesn't stay new with clumsy adults and busy toddlers. From time to time we get marks on the walls. For the first year, we knew there would be a repaint coming as things settled and we noticed needed fixes from the initial paint. At a year, we blue-taped up the whole house and added in our biggest booboo's to be fixed. That time has not passed. Any messes now, we're stuck with.
There are Magic Erasers. They do magically erase the mark. But they very un-magically leave a shiny spot where you used them if you have flat paint. I am far more annoyed by the larger shine spot than the initial scuff. So I was biding my time until I had enough to call the painter back in to do a big overhaul.
Then one day there was a large mark made by an upholstered chair my son rubbed into the corner of the wall. I wanted something that would dry, not leave residue on the wall while not being too abrasive. I considered the bottle of hand sanitizer gel in the bathroom. It would dry easily because of the alcohol content and would probably be something I could use to gently rub the paint with.
And it worked. It worked amazingly well. It pulled the mark off and didn't leave a noticeable residual area that looked "fixed." I thought it was a fluke. I tried it on another, different type of mark and got the same great results. I got brave and tried it on a mark that was in sunlight a lot of the day in a very visible spot going up the stairs. I had been annoyed by that spot for months. I realized a week later that I didn't notice it and had completely forgotten it was there. Great Scot, this solution works!
If you want to try this—and I make no guarantees—squirt a blob onto some tissue. Gently rub at the spot back and forth. You will notice that some of the paint comes off, but the mark does as well. Let dry. Celebrate and dance.
The Big Boy Update: Yucky. He can say "yucky." And he can say it in the proper situation—when his diaper is yucky. He will tell you his pants are yucky when you're in the middle of changing him. Yeah, we so already had figured that out. I am hoping soon he will be able to tell us he is yucky before we notice. Then I'll really celebrate and dance.
The Tiny Girl Update: She can sit up now. She didn't do the tripod thing like I had expected. She has been practicing so much in the Bumbo seat and the scoot-about that she's got a lot of torso balance. She wobbles all around, but she can stay up for minutes at time. I need to catch this on video. Maybe I'll go do that now.
Right-size Countdown: 1.0 pounds
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)