Christmas Carols According to my kids

Ivy: "Dec - O - Rate with boughs of holly"

Ivy: "Rudolph with your nose so bright, won't you GUARD my sleigh tonight"

Jackson: (My nephew, 17 y) "Holy IMBECILE, tender and mild." (He was utterly shocked when my sister corrected him! She told him that he sang that song with his 5th grade class and would've thought that he knew the words. He then replied, "Good thing I didn't have a solo"!)

Almost One

I have an almost one year old.

He started in the one year old room this week. He has been taking his nap on a cot. He has adjusted seemlessly into the realm of toddlers. Add in some grey hairs and dark eye circles onto my face, please.

Who is this kid?

I got a photo alert on my phone from one of his teachers yesterday showing me how he was napping on his own big boy cot. I forwarded it to Chris. When we were talking about it last night I think that he got a little choked up at how big the baby is getting.

Wow. what a year.

Who is this woman?

I hosted Thanksgiving last week. The night before I had a couple of people over for drinks. The day after I had two of my sisters over for leftovers. Tonight I'm hosting a "happy hour" for Chris' birthday. AT MY HOUSE!

Could my inner Martha be showing? Do I have an inner Martha? (Let me really think on this as I'd really like to come up with another example of a perfect hostess) Should I be lying on an exam tables, having my brain scanned?

I'm not stressed out, I'm excited. Not too many people, mostly family. Not too much cooking, mostly frozen stuff. The house isn't clean, but it's picked up. I can do this.

Happy Friday! (Man, did I really just write this?) Seriously, who is this woman?

uncomfortable

One of the things that I dislike about having a flexible work schedule, is that it falls to me to wait on repairmen, installers and any other workers that need to come to the house.

It is a very uncomfortable situation for me. And now I'll tell you why:

1. Chris is very precise about things that he wants done. He will tell me what he wants done and then I have to relay those things to the person doing the work. It puts me in the middle and I hate that! I always forget something and then when I'm supposed to report back to Chris, he always wants all of the details that I couldn't care less about. It is frustrating.
2. Then when they show up and start to work, what am I supposed to do? Do I stay by them in case they need to ask me something? If I do that, then I feel like a dork watching them work, like I'm waiting for them to mess up or something. Do I go about my business? Then I'm always wondering what they are doing and how long it's going to take. Then they have to track me down to ask me questions. If that happens, I'm always either watching television, where I feel like I'm being lazy while they are working or I'm putting on makeup or folding laundry, which is kind of a private thing in my mind. Then I feel kind of embarrassed.
3. Then there is the issue of a stranger in my house. A STRANGER in my HOUSE. I'm always wary and on edge. What if they try to kidnap me or something. Did the company do background checks on these people. Am I in the room with a serial killer or a theif? Are they staking out my house to come back later and steal my stuff? Are they eyeballing thatdigital frame that is sitting on the mantle? Are they focussing a little bit too much on the photos of my kids?

Can you tell that I'm waiting for the cable guy right now? My stomach hurts.

What?

Got the big kids ready to go to the park this morning. We were over there playing, running around, etc. Ivy turns to me and says, "Mom, I'm calling you all different names today. Know why, 'cause you are really boring. Like you just like to walk and sleep and stuff." To which I replied, "Gee Ivy. That sucks." On our way home from the park Ivy says, "Hey, mom. You are getting a little bit funner." I guess I'm not going to be buying into any child education business franchises, 'cuz I'm gonna call my kid a name in this post.


Whatever, you little meanie head!

11/26/09

came home tonight from having dinner with a couple of my sisters to find that my husband had cut MY BABY'S HAIR OFF. No one should talk to me for a while. I'm going to go cry. And maybe have a Dutch Master cigar to calm my nerves. I can see his scalp. He looks like he has been shaved for lice and it has grown back partially. Why didn't he use the scissors at least? Why the clippers????

Letting go

I love the song "Let it be". I sing it to myself when I'm stressing out. Considering the terms of my term life insurance, the interest rates on our credit card and the upcoming schedule of craziness for the week are just some of the things that make that song play automatically in my head.

Bec's DS loss has been causing me great grief. Isn't that insane? I have so many other things to worry about, yet, that stinking DS is always on my mind.

So I've decided to be a bit zen about it. If it is meant to be in our lives, it will show up. I can't look for it anymore. I have to let it be.

Easier said than done.