Let's chat about technology, shall we? I realize that without it you wouldn't be reading this or any other blog. Thousands of nobodies like me would continue about our lives. No one would know a thing about our personal or private lives, and instead of writing witty bits for strangers, we'd be doing something more productive - like dusting, ironing (which I detest), or weeding our gardens.
Today, however, I'm lost.
I raised my phone to snap a photo of the Hurricane wearing her Daddy's OSU hat (her cuteness rivaled anything a baby - human or otherwise - could conjur). Just as the flash pulsed, my phone went black.
DEAD.
Resurrection has not yet occurred. I'm still holding on to hope though.
Now, I'm utterly dumbfounded. How will I contact my friends? I haven't bothered to memorize a phone number since I first met my husband 6 years ago. The only other phone number I'd deemed worthy enough to memorize before that was my ex-boyfriend's from 3 years prior to that! Calling hostesses to confirm trunk show dates? Following up with ladies who want to be stylists? Fuggedaboudit!
UGH! What's worse? No Scramble with Friends. No mobile photos to upload, and no way to Facebook stalk while my husband plays an uber-important game of Civilization on our home's only computer.
I've been without my trusty sidekick for 3 hours now, and I'm already getting the DTs. Can I go on? Am I going to make it?
Doubtful.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Those 3 Little Words
There comes a time in every parent's life when your child says something that moves you. Moves you to tears, hysterical fits of laughter, or just plain moves you off your tucchus because your kid just said something that requires parental action!
My time came only yesterday, when my almost 3-year-old sponge looked up at me with her big blue eyes and breathed, "I hate you." No sarcasm or true hatred dripped off her tongue with this sentiment, mind you. I don't really even remember her being reprimanded for anything which could even warrant this devastating news. It came out as nonchalantly as it possibly could have - as though she was merely trying it on for size...just to see what I would do, perhaps?
"I hate you."
Really? Already? Quiet, meek even - yet it rattled me to the core. Yes, folks, my heart broke just a bit that day. My mini-me had cut me to the quick. Does she even know what "hate" means? Surely not! She does, however, know where she learned these words, and she saw what happened to the child who dared utter such a thing in the presence of said child's parents. Yet, the true princess decided to try it out herself anyway. Was she testing the boundaries as any good little almost 3-year-old should? But of course! (read: I sure as heck hope so!)
Lordy, the worst thing I recall telling my mom was that she was embarrassing. I guess I'll have to agree with the experts on this one - today's parents have it rough!
"I hate you." At age 3? I wonder what gem she'll throw my way at 4. At least, in my childhood days, we had the common decency to wait until our teenage years before we spoke such harsh words.
My time came only yesterday, when my almost 3-year-old sponge looked up at me with her big blue eyes and breathed, "I hate you." No sarcasm or true hatred dripped off her tongue with this sentiment, mind you. I don't really even remember her being reprimanded for anything which could even warrant this devastating news. It came out as nonchalantly as it possibly could have - as though she was merely trying it on for size...just to see what I would do, perhaps?
"I hate you."
Really? Already? Quiet, meek even - yet it rattled me to the core. Yes, folks, my heart broke just a bit that day. My mini-me had cut me to the quick. Does she even know what "hate" means? Surely not! She does, however, know where she learned these words, and she saw what happened to the child who dared utter such a thing in the presence of said child's parents. Yet, the true princess decided to try it out herself anyway. Was she testing the boundaries as any good little almost 3-year-old should? But of course! (read: I sure as heck hope so!)
Lordy, the worst thing I recall telling my mom was that she was embarrassing. I guess I'll have to agree with the experts on this one - today's parents have it rough!
"I hate you." At age 3? I wonder what gem she'll throw my way at 4. At least, in my childhood days, we had the common decency to wait until our teenage years before we spoke such harsh words.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
That's the Story of the Hurricane
Do you want to know why there's a virtual dust-bowl going on right in my very own home? 2 words: Hurricane Hayden. Are you looking up Hurricane Name Lists right now, or checking the local weather report to see if you missed a big weather-related event? Don't bother. "Hayden" won't appear on any of those lists, and no, a true hurricane did not just happen...at least at YOUR house it didn't. That name does, however, top my "list" once in a while, and recently, it's been there daily.
Instead of clearing the hot spots in my home, dusting or vacuuming when the girls go down for their naps, like any good stay-at-home mom should, I'm scrambling around picking up broken crayons, remotes that have been picked up from one room and tossed into another, toys from the playroom that have been exiled to new and exotic locales like the pyrex dish cabinet or the fishbowl, and de-soaping the bathroom sink. And, since Hurricane Hayden doesn't nap for more than an hour before crying out for "Mommy" or fooling me into thinking she's "stuck" in the rails of her crib, that's about all I can do in my "spare time." So, the dust just sits and sits. More dust comes along to join the party, and it all just sits. Throw in some cat hair tumbleweeds and we've got a real dust-bowl showdown!
I was unaware that people in a house with carpet in only one room could create so much dust. Apparently, I was wrong. I suppose I'll be able to tame the tumbleweeds soon enough. Hurricane Hayden, well, she's another story altogether.
Instead of clearing the hot spots in my home, dusting or vacuuming when the girls go down for their naps, like any good stay-at-home mom should, I'm scrambling around picking up broken crayons, remotes that have been picked up from one room and tossed into another, toys from the playroom that have been exiled to new and exotic locales like the pyrex dish cabinet or the fishbowl, and de-soaping the bathroom sink. And, since Hurricane Hayden doesn't nap for more than an hour before crying out for "Mommy" or fooling me into thinking she's "stuck" in the rails of her crib, that's about all I can do in my "spare time." So, the dust just sits and sits. More dust comes along to join the party, and it all just sits. Throw in some cat hair tumbleweeds and we've got a real dust-bowl showdown!
I was unaware that people in a house with carpet in only one room could create so much dust. Apparently, I was wrong. I suppose I'll be able to tame the tumbleweeds soon enough. Hurricane Hayden, well, she's another story altogether.
Monday, March 19, 2012
An Earnest Explanation
First, allow me to apologize for the extended hiatus. It’s hard to be witty and funny when someone you love is going through a life-threatening illness. Last August, my Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer. He went into the hospital the day before my oldest daughter’s 2nd birthday. He fought the cancer and won! As of Thanksgiving, his cancer was declared “in remission,” and we all had something for which to be extremely thankful. Good spirits abounded, and I was well on my way back to bloggerdome. Astonishingly, a month and 4 days later, my Dad passed away from complications that his cancer treatment caused. I won’t go into much detail, as any of you who have watched someone pass away right in front of you know, it’s not a pretty sight or sound. In fact, I’ve neglected to dream since December 29th because I don’t want to hear or see those images again…ever.
The positive side is that we were all there to say goodbye to my dad. We each held his cold hand, told him we loved him, mom kissed him, and we waited until he took his last breath.
Having that image and those sounds seared into my brain for the past 3 months has made being funny, witty and even interested in sharing anything a daunting task. However, I’ve recently felt the urge to write again. I find it cathartic and that it gives me a voice when I so desperately need one but can’t find the words to say. Thank you for indulging me and letting me share my family’s tragedy with you. No one may ever read this, and that’s OK with me. I know someone in Heaven who is smiling down on me, knowing that I’m finally back to doing something I love, which must mean I’m somewhat back to my normal self. I sure am glad about that, because I’ve missed her.
If you are interested, below is what I wrote about my Dad. It was printed on the back of the program for his Memorial Service.
My Father, My Hero
Saying that I loved my Dad is an understatement. "Love" does not encapsulate just how much I adored, revered, and almost idolized him, and honestly, I still do and always will. He wore a cape under his suit and could leap tall buildings in a single bound as far as I was concerned. Where most children have heroes like Superman, Wonder Woman or a fireman, I had Daddy.
When my 4-year-old eyes saw him come home from work one day, I ran down our walkway and took a "leap of faith" (as Daddy referred to it) off the steps and into his already fully loaded arms. He somehow managed to catch me. When my tender teenaged heart would get broken by some boy and I thought my world would fall apart, my Dad managed to put it all back together every time and somehow made me a stronger person in the process. When I was old enough, I learned about and truly understood all the challenges Daddy faced in his life, some on a daily basis, and most no one should ever have to deal with at all. He overcame each and every challege that was thrown at him, confirming his heroic status in my eyes and showing our family that strength, love and faith can get you through anything.
Now, I am relying on that strength, love and faith to get me through the challenge of a life without my hero. Although it feels like my heart is broken and my world has been shaken to the core, I can eventually put it all back together and become stronger in the process. I also know that when God calls me and it's my time to take a "leap of faith" off this Earth and into Heaven, Daddy will be waiting there to catch me...and just maybe, along with those angel wings, he'll also be wearing his cape.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
My Lost Moment of Zen
There comes a time in every stay-at-home mom's day where the stars align, the dishwasher and washing machine softly hum their tune in harmony, and the whining grows silent. That's right...I'm talking about NAP TIME. The solace that nap time brings is unrivaled by anything else. No matter how cute your children are, how much light they bring to your life, lights out time is something we look forward to, and sometimes long for, on a daily basis.
So, when said nap time is rudely interrupted, or, far worse, boycotted by a loud toddler who talks more than you do, it's earth shattering - to say the least. How on earth am I supposed to think clearly while checking Facebook, email, and posting to my blog with the sound of a 2 year old's heels banging on the floor reverberating in my middle ear? She's sick, I'm sick, and we both need to nap; she needs to nap so she doesn't whine all afternoon, and I need to nap so I don't lose my mind when any little mishap occurs before Daddy comes home from work/hunting/butchering deer. Seriously...I'm not ready for her to totally give up her afternoon nap, but I think I'm alone in this fight.
So, as I try to finish up this blog post and work on the family photo calendar, I'll try to make the best of the soundtrack that my lovely daughter is providing on this gorgeous afternoon. (See...I'm thinking positive. For now.)
So, when said nap time is rudely interrupted, or, far worse, boycotted by a loud toddler who talks more than you do, it's earth shattering - to say the least. How on earth am I supposed to think clearly while checking Facebook, email, and posting to my blog with the sound of a 2 year old's heels banging on the floor reverberating in my middle ear? She's sick, I'm sick, and we both need to nap; she needs to nap so she doesn't whine all afternoon, and I need to nap so I don't lose my mind when any little mishap occurs before Daddy comes home from work/hunting/butchering deer. Seriously...I'm not ready for her to totally give up her afternoon nap, but I think I'm alone in this fight.
So, as I try to finish up this blog post and work on the family photo calendar, I'll try to make the best of the soundtrack that my lovely daughter is providing on this gorgeous afternoon. (See...I'm thinking positive. For now.)
Friday, November 4, 2011
We are Under Attack
"Don't look now, but there are gigantic vultures on your roof. Don't let the kids out to play by themselves."
That post on my Facebook wall, or something to that effect, started my day. Lordy, Lordy! After dealing with the dead deer a mere 48 hours ago, I'm just not ready for this kind of natural experience. After loitering on my roof for who knows how long, they descended upon some decaying creature in the creek bed in front of my house. Secretly, I am, at this point, hoping it's that darn cat we've exiled. Sadly, I see said cat on the back deck and my hopes are dashed.
Now, I had no idea the turkey buzzards were on the roof to begin with. Normally I have bat-like hearing. Apparently, my ears failed me this morning, for I didn't hear their claws on the roof or any sort of noise they may have made. Can you imagine what my neighbors must have thought? I'll tell you...they think we're crazy. It's not good to be the talk of the neighborhood, especially when that discussion is caused by a scene out of the Hitchcock movie "Birds." Seeing giant, black birds swooping in front of my windows, my curiosity got the best of me, and I looked out the window. Wrong move. That's when I finally saw the 10 turkey buzzards waddling around my front yard. I've never seen such large birds! They could eat my kids for sure! Unable to peel my eyes off the fiasco, I observed the activities of the buzzards; they swooped into the ditch and back into the trees with a wingspan I can't even begin to estimate except to say that it was WIIIIDE. Thank goodness for whatever it was that spooked them that finally got them out of my yard...at least for now.
So, after dealing with the deer the other night and now these nasty, giant birds this morning, I'm about to change my name, cover my house with a giant tarp, and not come out until Spring.
That post on my Facebook wall, or something to that effect, started my day. Lordy, Lordy! After dealing with the dead deer a mere 48 hours ago, I'm just not ready for this kind of natural experience. After loitering on my roof for who knows how long, they descended upon some decaying creature in the creek bed in front of my house. Secretly, I am, at this point, hoping it's that darn cat we've exiled. Sadly, I see said cat on the back deck and my hopes are dashed.
Now, I had no idea the turkey buzzards were on the roof to begin with. Normally I have bat-like hearing. Apparently, my ears failed me this morning, for I didn't hear their claws on the roof or any sort of noise they may have made. Can you imagine what my neighbors must have thought? I'll tell you...they think we're crazy. It's not good to be the talk of the neighborhood, especially when that discussion is caused by a scene out of the Hitchcock movie "Birds." Seeing giant, black birds swooping in front of my windows, my curiosity got the best of me, and I looked out the window. Wrong move. That's when I finally saw the 10 turkey buzzards waddling around my front yard. I've never seen such large birds! They could eat my kids for sure! Unable to peel my eyes off the fiasco, I observed the activities of the buzzards; they swooped into the ditch and back into the trees with a wingspan I can't even begin to estimate except to say that it was WIIIIDE. Thank goodness for whatever it was that spooked them that finally got them out of my yard...at least for now.
So, after dealing with the deer the other night and now these nasty, giant birds this morning, I'm about to change my name, cover my house with a giant tarp, and not come out until Spring.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
It was THAT kind of day
To fully comprehend the end of this little story, you must, first and foremost, know that I do NOT like nature. (See previous post...Not a Nature Girl.) During a fun trip with friends to Smith Mountain Lake, a tiny black snake slithered into the kitchen while I was in there getting beverages for everyone, and I pointed at it screaming, "Nature, Nature" at the top of my lungs while simultaneously jumping on the nearest chair. (I did not spill a single drop of adult beverage though!) Before my husband and I got married, I ate venison one time and about puked. I've never seen a dead animal up close and was just fine with that. Do you get how much I dislike nature? OK. Now I can continue.
The day started like every other...get up before the girls, shower, make breakfast and lunch, etc. Then, it went right down the drain.
-both girls cried or whined during the entire ride to preschool (20 minutes)
-drove 10 minutes out of my way to patron a new, snazzy grocery store only to find I'd left my wallet at home. This also means no Starbucks, which I'd been craving all morning. Now I've got a decision to make...get wallet and go grocery shopping at the nasty local store, or postpone that activity in favor of my daily hour-long walk. Ugh. I get cranky when I don't exercise.
-decide to go home to get wallet and get groceries
-ketchup falls out of cart and top breaks. Deli counter employee sees the whole thing, so I can't stealthily switch out defective ketchup with a new one.
-ONE checkout line open for the whole store...baby starts crying her liver out b/c now she's an hour past bottle time
-get home, open tailgate, bag with ketchup falls out onto concrete below...buh-bye ketchup.
-go pick up oldest at preschool and get her very first bad report - hitting and pushing her school buddies. ARGH! Discussion with teacher lasts too long, get home for naptime very late.
-pull into driveway, after listening to baby crying and toddler whining (yet again) and get a call from a friend who would like to stop by on her way to an appt. SURE!
-late naptime results in NO NAP for either girl...subsequent weeping and gnashing of teeth ensues...decide to go for that hour long walk...with iPod to drown out the noise.
-while taking double stroller out of car, I break both thumb nails below the quick...blood everywhere, now sporting twin Dora bandaids.
-while putting the oldest down for bed, husband finally comes home from hunting with blood all over his pants. "Do you want me to rock her to give you a break?" Me: "Not in those pants. Go change and you can take over." Husband: "I need you to help me with something, so I can't change my pants yet." CRAP. All I wanted to do after this hellacious day was take a nice, long, hot shower and drink a beer while watching something mind numbing on TV. Apparently my husband has other plans for me...think back to my dislike of all things nature-related.
I come downstairs from finally getting the toddler in her bed, and I immediately wish I had just stayed upstairs. My husband trudges into the garage dragging a deer by the antlers, creating a blood trail I've seen only on TV shows with CSI or SVU in the title. He cuts part of its leg and puts a rope thought the hole. Then he says to me, "I need you to help me hang him." Um-excuse me? "Just hold the rope tight when I lift him up." Meanwhile, I can't stop staring at its face...it's staring back at me and its tongue is sticking out of the side of its mouth. Like passing by a car accident, I just can't look away! Well, this "quick" event took almost an hour: the deer was too heavy for the hook in the garage and the hook broke, and it took us 30 minutes of creating more blood trails all over the driveway and yard trying to figure out where to hang the dead guy before finally deciding on our pergola in the backyard. So, instead of ending my "awesome" day with a relaxing shower and a beer, I ended up bloody and even more irritated. On the plus side, my helpfulness won me brownie points with my husband and all his huntin' buddies.
The day started like every other...get up before the girls, shower, make breakfast and lunch, etc. Then, it went right down the drain.
-both girls cried or whined during the entire ride to preschool (20 minutes)
-drove 10 minutes out of my way to patron a new, snazzy grocery store only to find I'd left my wallet at home. This also means no Starbucks, which I'd been craving all morning. Now I've got a decision to make...get wallet and go grocery shopping at the nasty local store, or postpone that activity in favor of my daily hour-long walk. Ugh. I get cranky when I don't exercise.
-decide to go home to get wallet and get groceries
-ketchup falls out of cart and top breaks. Deli counter employee sees the whole thing, so I can't stealthily switch out defective ketchup with a new one.
-ONE checkout line open for the whole store...baby starts crying her liver out b/c now she's an hour past bottle time
-get home, open tailgate, bag with ketchup falls out onto concrete below...buh-bye ketchup.
-go pick up oldest at preschool and get her very first bad report - hitting and pushing her school buddies. ARGH! Discussion with teacher lasts too long, get home for naptime very late.
-pull into driveway, after listening to baby crying and toddler whining (yet again) and get a call from a friend who would like to stop by on her way to an appt. SURE!
-late naptime results in NO NAP for either girl...subsequent weeping and gnashing of teeth ensues...decide to go for that hour long walk...with iPod to drown out the noise.
-while taking double stroller out of car, I break both thumb nails below the quick...blood everywhere, now sporting twin Dora bandaids.
-while putting the oldest down for bed, husband finally comes home from hunting with blood all over his pants. "Do you want me to rock her to give you a break?" Me: "Not in those pants. Go change and you can take over." Husband: "I need you to help me with something, so I can't change my pants yet." CRAP. All I wanted to do after this hellacious day was take a nice, long, hot shower and drink a beer while watching something mind numbing on TV. Apparently my husband has other plans for me...think back to my dislike of all things nature-related.
I come downstairs from finally getting the toddler in her bed, and I immediately wish I had just stayed upstairs. My husband trudges into the garage dragging a deer by the antlers, creating a blood trail I've seen only on TV shows with CSI or SVU in the title. He cuts part of its leg and puts a rope thought the hole. Then he says to me, "I need you to help me hang him." Um-excuse me? "Just hold the rope tight when I lift him up." Meanwhile, I can't stop staring at its face...it's staring back at me and its tongue is sticking out of the side of its mouth. Like passing by a car accident, I just can't look away! Well, this "quick" event took almost an hour: the deer was too heavy for the hook in the garage and the hook broke, and it took us 30 minutes of creating more blood trails all over the driveway and yard trying to figure out where to hang the dead guy before finally deciding on our pergola in the backyard. So, instead of ending my "awesome" day with a relaxing shower and a beer, I ended up bloody and even more irritated. On the plus side, my helpfulness won me brownie points with my husband and all his huntin' buddies.
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