It's the weekend baby! The last weekend before I start full time work and turn into a complete hermit! I really want to go out tonight but have run out of sitters. It happens.
Noah is incredibly cute at this moment in time, and also incredibly maddening. I think to the degree they are cute they are also to the same degree crazy monsters. Just a theory.
I call him "Sticky Fingers" because if it is in his reach he will squeeze, pull, dump, break, smash, or throw it. Wherever he finds himself I find myself doing a mad rush to clear everything out of his grasp. He'll eat almost anything, besides food. The other day he gave me a big toothy smile full of purple crayon.
Crayon!
But Mac and Cheese just doesn't do it for him.
Currently he's sitting by me at the table filling my check book (yes! my check book!) up with thin, one-and-a-half year old pencil scribbles. I guess I'll be spending the rest of my afternoon erasing them. This is the type of stuff that makes the crazies set in, btw.
But he's so dang cute you kinda just look over it. The way his cheeks puff out like rolls and his long, fair eyelashes, and of course that goofy grin. Like he just put a whoopie cushion on your seat and he's waiting for you to sit down on it.
It's Thursday. Thursday is when I get to scrub my toilet bowls. You'd think I'd hate Thursdays but I don't. There is something wonderful about getting the whole house cleaned all at the same time, or at least in the same day.
OK, that's happened like once since I've lived here, but it was really nice that one time.
This morning as I lay half asleep in my bed and Ethan came in like he always does to tell me he's awake (so nice of him) and that he is going to go get breakfast (Good! Go!) I had a warm moment in my heart and snuggled up with him. He smelled really good, like strawberry yogurt, so I told him, "You smell good!" to which he replied, "You don't!"
I promptly told him to get out of my bed.
Later I tried to skype with my sister on the other side of the world but certain munchy munchkins weren't cooperating, so we kept it short.
Then we went to the park where we braved the wind to see an old friend and her crew. It really wasn't as bad as I had anticipated it to be, I just couldn't see where in the heck my kids were because there was so much hair blowing in my face.
Today is a special Thursday though because it's my husband's birthday. It's also the anniversary of our very first date.
We went to a trendy little place called De Gru Nez or something french like that to watch their open mic (I'm sure it was spectacular!) and what I remember about that first date is that he ordered coffee and I ordered water. Water! What a cukeball! I must of still been anorexic at that point, obviously.
Even with my obvious issues he still wanted to date me after that, and here we are. I still have obvious issues but at least I eat somewhat normally.
I'd love to write some mushy gushy thing on here for him but what I know he would really like for his birthday is for me to NOT write about him on my blog, ever.
So- HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY! the end.
I start the new job on Monday. And no, I do not have my outfit picked out yet (but I better go do that!)
Other than all that I am looking forward to the weather being somewhat consistently warm. All this cold, windy nonsense makes me grouchy.
It's supposed to be sunny and warm by the weekend which is great because we are going to Little League Day and the Aces. I can't wait! I will take pictures and be sure to post something. Now I need to get back to scrubbing those toilet bowls. Yipee!
This little guy has been spotted running all over my house...
...in my yard...
...everywhere!
The mastermind behind the mask.
Ethan lives in Superhero World. It's alright by me. Right now he really can't decide what he is going to be when he "gets big" : Superman, a baseball player, or the garbage man. If he chooses the third option, he says I will have to come out of the house and watch him dump our can when he drives by. I said OK.
We bought this cape in Vegas for him after much debating whether it was worth thirty bucks. Being emotional saps for parents after a whole three days away we decided to splurge. It was, of course, worth every shiny penny it cost.
I can tell Vegas was a really good vacation because when I came home and started doing the normal stuff I have to do everyday I felt a familiar tightening in my chest which I have otherwise not paid any attention to. Having it be gone and then coming home and feeling it come back and settle in my chest I realized how awful it actually is and that I probably should be on some sort of anti-anxiety medication. It's like I am living with a fucking** gun to my head!
**F-bomb explained below**
But of course I'll just keep plowing through having fits of anxiety every so often during the day, especially around wake-up time, nap time, meal time, go to work time, come home time, and bedtime.
The transition from non-mommyhood to mommyhood is more like a metamorphosis of some sort: one day you are a normal, young person and then suddenly you are a...a...I haven't quite figured it out quite yet. What I do know is becoming pregnant is a little like a pretty little frog being put in a cold pot of water, only to have someone turn up the heat nice and slow. You don't even know anything is happening or changing until one day you look like this:
and find yourself on a vacation in Vegas realizing you are living with a whole load of stress and anxiety everyday which makes you bite your fingernails and the surrounding skin around them and you have more acne than you ever had going through puberty and you grind your teeth at night when you finally are able to go to sleep after tossing and turning from worrying about everything from what it costs just todrive to the grocery store to the fact your rear-end is looking more and more like your mothers everyday and you are starting to get headaches like all the other people out there who live with their buttcheeks squeezed so tightly they have to manually release them at nighttime while they sip a glass of wine. If I don't do the medication I should probably look for my purple silky blankie from when I was a little tiny girl so I can go in the corner whenever I need to and suck my thumb.
Besides that frightening revelation Vegas was amazing. Downtown reminded me of home, just bigger with boobie flashcards all over the sidewalks. I affectionately started referring to it in my head as "Las Boobes" or "Titty Town". There were boobies just about everywhere, except on my chest of course. The good Lord just skipped me over in that line. I have tried to make up for it by using the "Bandeau" type bikini but really I think the stylists just have it out for us non-chested women because I swear those bathers just make it worse! They flatten you at like your just been pressed and ironed and they somehow seem to do this both ways, horizontally and lengthwise.They don't just make your chest look smaller they make it seem like it doesn't even exist. Or if it does it's on the same level as piece of angel hair pasta wrapped in pretty flowery material. Kind of a side note but thought I'd better let any other little boobie sisters out there know: stick with the padded halter tops. One hundred and fifty billion million times more flattering.
Our hotel was beautiful with winding walkways surrounded by lush green grass and leafy lush bushes all right in the middle of the desert (I am so sorry to whatever po-dunk community Vegas is stealing all the water from, but for this weekend I really appreciated it. So for all your dying crops and cows, THANK YOU!)
There were two pools and two hot tubs which I soaked in to my heart's content. I rushed my tan like I always do and ended up looking like a red-spotted leopard by the first evening but thankfully I have at least one good gene and that is that my sunburns usually tan up within a day or two.
I'll tell you what though, I learned my lesson. Day two I loaded up on SPF30 three or four times, just like my husband Joey does and has done for the last ten years or so, making sure to get everywhere, especially all those places that seem to burn up like a piece of unattended broiled toast(the hips, around the breasts, the forehead, my scalp, and, of course, my nose. Hello Miss Rudolf the Peeling Nose Reindeer!)This is the first time I have ever applied sunscreen in any sort of grown-up way, ever. And guess what?! It works!!
On the night after the race we went out with some of the other runners and I was just a little teeny itty witty bit out of place. Just a little though.
OK, OK, I sat there all night like a fucking bump on a log. But I did learn how to use the F word, if you haven't noticed. Being the obedient, people-pleasing, pastor's-daughter I am I never learned how to use it properly. It took a lot of observation and practice in my head but I think I finally have it! At first I couldn't get it straight: do you drop it at the beginning of the sentence, or the end? Or both? And can I call the ladies the B word or is that just for the guys? And how many words are there for male genitalia? 100? a million? I'll never learn them all!
Still, I love love love love love spending relax time with my husband. The daily grind leaves so little time to get away. We get about a weekend a year. I cherish it.
Coming home was great thought too. I couldn't help but drop to my knees the moment I walked into my parents house to pick the chubalubs up: I just had to get down and as close to their little doughy faces as possible. Noah acted like I was delivering the mail and completely ignored me. Ethan at least said hello before going back to whatever he was doing. Eventually, though, we were all in a big group hug and I think I may have cried.
And even still, a whole twenty four hours later, everything they do is incredibly precious and cute and I think I have taken more pictures in the last day of them than I have over the last year.
The whole thing-going, coming home-makes me want to do more of it. The other day some fifty year old geezer guy I ran into said that because of the economy they just can't take their kids (almost the same age as mine) to Hawaii every year anymore. "It's more like every three years or so. It's too bad. We leave on Thursday for ten days, but man, it's been forever. Last year we had to go to Mexico instead and we didn't feel safe there."
I was, like, feeling so sorry for him. And his poor kids. This damn economy! Hawaii every three years instead of annually! How sad! And to have to use unsafe Mexico as a substitute! Just awful!
I'm hoping for a maybe **crossing my fingers and my toes and my eyes** trip to Hawaii with JUST my husband in about ten years. But I'd take Mexico. Joey does carry a gun and all.
I will post pictures as soon as I get some uploaded. Viva Las Vegas baby.
My husband and I are going to Vegas and the thing I am looking forward to the most is sitting by the pool in anything warmer than fifty one degrees in utter quietness.
For the most part I am going to be solo because Joey is running in this crazy race and I am looking forward to not having to talk to anybody unless I want to. Teaching preschool and having young children at the same time means that you say approximately 4 million billion words a day; that is to answer the thousandth question and also to tell them to "Stop it!" for the umpteenth million time.
Ahhhhhhhhh.
I can almost feel the tranquility.
I plan on spending most of the time napping in the sun on a lawn chair while watching my white, wintery skin slowly turn a delicious brown and then the other shopping for the rest of my shoes and bags that I most absolutely need for work.
Oh and maybe sip on a refreshing mojito and stuff myself with restaurant yummy food. Probably shrimp. And crab. Lots of crab.
If you see me, don't talk to me.
Ethan's first game was awesome! He hit three balls off the T and got to run all around the bases to home too! I am sure he asked the coach if he could be the catcher-he's been trying to get us to buy him a catcher's mask for about a year now. Here's some pictures of the little champion:
Go Big E!
At one point he tried to bend over to actually pick up the ball but, alas, realized with all his special gear he could only bend over about an inch. O well.
That looks says one thing: DETERMINATION.
In the midst of little brother running around the baseball park like an absolute mad man I managed to get one picture and there's nothing really to say about it, only that I love it more than Christmas, more than winning the lottery, more than anything in the world.
Can I get that tattooed on my back?
I forgot to mention it was freezing and the kids play for AN HOUR AND A HALF. As soon as Ethan saw me after the game he started to cry he was so cold but then coach called them over for a pep talk and without my prompting he pulled himself together and went over to the team with a great sense of purpose. Made mama so proud!
A long long long time ago I was pregnant. I went to this art show and being the sentimental, hormonal, irrational first time pregnant girl I was, I spent way too much money on this print:
I think I almost cried when I saw it. I had all these visions of Joey playing baseball with our unknown baby in a beautiful muted sunset, wild flower field. You pregnant women know what I am talking about. It's been hanging in Ethan's room since the day he was born, and all of a sudden in the midst of life this picture is happening.
Ethan started T-ball a couple of weeks ago and his anticipation is about ten times any emotion you get from the above print. He is pumped. Unfortunately due to the wonderful spring weather we have been having in the forties the last three games have been canceled.
Everyday he wants to wear his uniform to church, or school, or Nawnie's house. He has to show everyone. And if he is not wearing it, he is talking about it: what the bumps on the bottoms of the cleats are for, how to squeeze your mitt to catch the ball, what his first hit off the T is going to be like.
Cooking his pre-game breakfast.
This morning he was up at six, already fully dressed and ready for his game, which is not until eleven thirty. I told him he can't wear his cleats in the house (it's like someone hammering on my kitchen floor) and we had to take the bat, mitt, and ball away until game time because the boys could not stop fighting over them. Otherwise, though, it's completely awesome. Better than anything I could have imagined five long years ago.
So the boys went over to my friend Lillian's house for a play date yesterday because Lillian is Mother Teresa of 2011. I swear if I had any power whatsoever I would make her a saint. Not just for yesterday but for twenty five years of love: first to me when I was young and now to my boys. Boggles me.
Anyway, I had about four hours to myself and Lillian lives very close to my favorite place in Reno: THE LEGENDS!!!!!!(on and on forever).
I went to work on my work wardrobe. Seeing as I have almost nothing that would be appropriate for the office, I have a lot of wonderful days of shopping ahead (all spread out over my entire career of course. In case any of you -Joey-were wondering).
I went to the GAP because I was looking for basics:
A black pencil skirt (check!)
A white button up (check!)
Slacks in black, grey, or brown (check!)
Fitted blazer (check!)
Closed toed pumps in gray or some versatile color other than black, which I already have (not yet).
Professional bag (My hobos send a very bad message, or so I've read. So sad).
I spent a whole crap of money and then went to F21 (how could I have ever doubted?) and found a bunch of the same stuff only cuter and for half the price. So then I went back to the Gap and returned about half the stuff I bought. You know the sales person loved me.
I took some pictures for all ya'lls pleasure. I am so pumped. This is by far the most fun part of getting the new job (much to my husband's dismay, but I digress).
So here we have a ruffled sleeveless top (F21) with black skinny jeans (GAP). These are my first skinny jeans ever! I am so hip! And to finish off we have some black pumps (I think these are pumps? Still learning the lingo. Pumps sound like white eighties tennis shoes).
Here's that same little outfit with a navy blazer (F21). I plan on wearing this pretty thing with everything since I am cold until we hit mid nineties or so. I am especially excited to wear it with all my little dresses I have collected with over the years that otherwise would not be so office friendly.
Switched up the top here with another little ruffle blouse. I love this look. Everything is nice and basic and then you get to throw in a girly, flirty, pattern.
I am so excited about this pencil skirt (GAP)! It's soft and fits my body and height perfectly! The jacket was a steal at F21. You'd probably be able to get an even better effect of the professionalism oozing from this out fit if 1.) I had some hose on my white legs 2.) there wasn't laundry that needs to be folded in the background.
This is my replacement for the traditional button up. Gap had one but it was thirty bux or something ridiculous on sale and it was just frumpy looking. Reminded me of the dentist for some reason. This shirt, although see-threw as a pair of sheer pantyhose, is girly and sweet. I think a white cami underneath will do the trick.
I think I have a great start! I got some other staples too-two capris, dark and light, a dark denim pencil skirt, and a long sleeve navy striped button up. The only essential things I am missing are some variety in my shoes. I told my husband I only need to buy one more pair but I may have lied. I also need to get a new, stiff bag. I have never had a stiff bag. To me they say one thing: Stiff. However, I guess they also say clean, organized and professional. My soft floppy (and messy) purses will have to be reserved for the weekend.
Operation Butt, Hips, and Thighs, which I affectionately call "Bottoms Up", is in full swing. I went out for my first run two? three? days ago and everyday since the charlie horses in both thighs have gotten more and more intense. What the ?
I forgot how it feels those first couple of runs after a whole winter of non-running: the ache, the stiffness. And of course I probably over-did it, as is pretty obvious from my "warm-up" three mile run which included two nice hills in itself. Heh.
So...by the time I got to my "work-out" hill I was ready to go home. I ran up it once, trying to lengthen my stride and go as fast as I could. I can tell you right now this is going to be good for me. I am so comfortable right now in what I normally do; mixing it up with hills, pushing myself, will be good, physically, mentally.
And then I went home.
Next time I will shoot for a mile or so warm-up, and then my goal will be to do the hill three times. Just writing it makes me wince.
My super-ambitious-crazy-over-do-it-kick-ass part of me wants to be able to run up the hill ten times in one workout by the end of the summer.
My newly-feeling-old-learning-to-pace-myself-or-else part of me thinks five or six should be sufficient.
We'll see who wins.
My family right now is in a transition as I prepare to change jobs, try to figure out childcare and kindergarten (nightmare!), and get my classes re-arranged. Instead of teaching 6 classes a week like I do now, I am cutting down to one for a while, and then going to add back two on Saturday. It's a lot of changes but I am looking forward to them.
