I'M STILL STANDING!
Two weeks ago I came home from a disability conference to find that my computer no longer worked. I took it to the computer store where the guarantee was "Fixed in 24 hours". Nearly two weeks later I got the computer back with the advice to put my keyboard in the dishwasher (the problem was a dirty keyboard according to the computer geek at the computer store). I am a very trusting person...I put the keyboard in the dishwasher. One trip-to-the-store-to-get-a-new-keyboard later, I'm back on the Net.
I had no idea how much I depended on my computer until it was gone. I check email in the morning, do a bit of advocacy work, and read the news during breakfast. It was a habit that I sorely missed the past few weeks.
So nothing great to blog except to say I'm still standing. (now that song is in my head, its not even a good one....)
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Monday, April 17, 2006
Ah...The Fumes Of Spring
Spring has sprung. The grass is ris'. I wonder where the paintbrush is? Yes, it is that time again where mankind wants to declutter, renew, and redecorate. What is it about gorgegous spring weather that makes us want to stay inside with home improvement projects rather than go outside and enjoy the season?
The fever has hit at my house. It all started with wanting a bed. A real bed, not just a bed frame. I shopped for months online and in furniture stores and could not find exactly what I wanted. That is, until 2 weeks ago when I came aross the perfect panel bed in the perfect cherry color that matches the current funiture I have.
If I am going to have a new bed then surely I need to paint the walls, right? While looking at our walls, I also looked at the walls in the other bedrooms and the hall and decided that they all needed painting. (Kids do amazing damage to paint, it would be good to give everything a fresh coat.) Easy project, with just a little elbow grease.
Of course after looking at the walls I had to look at the floors. The carpet is 10 years old (it's amazing how kids can ruin the carpet beyond repair). Okay, let's replace the carpet upstairs. It means I'll have to rush the paint job but we'll get it done and things will look great.
Then I started looking at the main floor. (Kids are incredibly hard on carpet in high traffic areas.) What if we replaced the carpet there with hardwood flooring? It would look gorgeous! Of course, that means repainting the rooms before the flooring goes in... Oh, and to save money, we'll lay the floor ourselves. We did it in the kitchen when we built the house. Apparently 10 years is enough time to forget the agony of laying your own hardwood floor.
Then I came into the kitchen where the original hardwood is. (What was I thinking, laying hardwood in a kitchen when I have young kids?) The flooring looked worn and warped where the dishwasher leaked. I would love to have tile in here, let's do it! We can lay it ourselves to save on installation. While we're at it, lets paint the cabinets white and change the formica counter to something granite. This will be great!
*************************************************
I'm halfway through the first painting project. All the other materials are ordered and there is no turning back. While I am still excited for all the new changes, I'm looking out at the gorgeous spring we're having and I feel like I'm missing out. These fumes are getting to me. I think a walk with my kids this evening will clear my head. I hope the daffodils are still in bloom.
Happy Spring!
Spring has sprung. The grass is ris'. I wonder where the paintbrush is? Yes, it is that time again where mankind wants to declutter, renew, and redecorate. What is it about gorgegous spring weather that makes us want to stay inside with home improvement projects rather than go outside and enjoy the season?
The fever has hit at my house. It all started with wanting a bed. A real bed, not just a bed frame. I shopped for months online and in furniture stores and could not find exactly what I wanted. That is, until 2 weeks ago when I came aross the perfect panel bed in the perfect cherry color that matches the current funiture I have.
If I am going to have a new bed then surely I need to paint the walls, right? While looking at our walls, I also looked at the walls in the other bedrooms and the hall and decided that they all needed painting. (Kids do amazing damage to paint, it would be good to give everything a fresh coat.) Easy project, with just a little elbow grease.
Of course after looking at the walls I had to look at the floors. The carpet is 10 years old (it's amazing how kids can ruin the carpet beyond repair). Okay, let's replace the carpet upstairs. It means I'll have to rush the paint job but we'll get it done and things will look great.
Then I started looking at the main floor. (Kids are incredibly hard on carpet in high traffic areas.) What if we replaced the carpet there with hardwood flooring? It would look gorgeous! Of course, that means repainting the rooms before the flooring goes in... Oh, and to save money, we'll lay the floor ourselves. We did it in the kitchen when we built the house. Apparently 10 years is enough time to forget the agony of laying your own hardwood floor.
Then I came into the kitchen where the original hardwood is. (What was I thinking, laying hardwood in a kitchen when I have young kids?) The flooring looked worn and warped where the dishwasher leaked. I would love to have tile in here, let's do it! We can lay it ourselves to save on installation. While we're at it, lets paint the cabinets white and change the formica counter to something granite. This will be great!
*************************************************
I'm halfway through the first painting project. All the other materials are ordered and there is no turning back. While I am still excited for all the new changes, I'm looking out at the gorgeous spring we're having and I feel like I'm missing out. These fumes are getting to me. I think a walk with my kids this evening will clear my head. I hope the daffodils are still in bloom.
Happy Spring!
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
The Wisdom of a 5 Year Old
The following wisdom has come from DS#3 today during a 25 minute drive:
1. Eagles like french fries. They can smell them from miles away in the woods where they live. They like to fly down and bite them out of your hands. (Can you imagine, an eagle instead of a seagull chasing you down for your fries? Are you scared? We have just been informed that they like to bite them out of your hands. Or, bite your hands off.)
2. Teenagers can wear jetpacks to fly. They are responsible. They can also wear a ninja sword while they fly with their jet pack. (Would any of you trust your teen with a jet pack and a ninja sword? I didn't think so.)
3. People should share. They should plant gardens and grow food, like pumpkins that lay on the ground. Then you can eat pumpkin pie. Famers grow pumpkin pie, a whole bunch, and they give it to the stores. (It will be very interesting planning my garden this year. I wonder what he will want to grow besides pumpkin pie?)
4. Driving is, if you see a red light you stop. If you see yellow you slow down. If you see a green light you go fast. And if you see a blue light, you get to go super fast. (I truly hope he doesn't mean the blue light on top of police cars...)
I hope this has brightened your day. Everyone could use the wisdom of a 5 year old. (I knew I should have named him Solomon).
The following wisdom has come from DS#3 today during a 25 minute drive:
1. Eagles like french fries. They can smell them from miles away in the woods where they live. They like to fly down and bite them out of your hands. (Can you imagine, an eagle instead of a seagull chasing you down for your fries? Are you scared? We have just been informed that they like to bite them out of your hands. Or, bite your hands off.)
2. Teenagers can wear jetpacks to fly. They are responsible. They can also wear a ninja sword while they fly with their jet pack. (Would any of you trust your teen with a jet pack and a ninja sword? I didn't think so.)
3. People should share. They should plant gardens and grow food, like pumpkins that lay on the ground. Then you can eat pumpkin pie. Famers grow pumpkin pie, a whole bunch, and they give it to the stores. (It will be very interesting planning my garden this year. I wonder what he will want to grow besides pumpkin pie?)
4. Driving is, if you see a red light you stop. If you see yellow you slow down. If you see a green light you go fast. And if you see a blue light, you get to go super fast. (I truly hope he doesn't mean the blue light on top of police cars...)
I hope this has brightened your day. Everyone could use the wisdom of a 5 year old. (I knew I should have named him Solomon).
Monday, March 13, 2006
No One Takes Care Of Mom When Mom Is Sick....
I was in the doctors office, sick and hurting from the neck up. After the myriad of questions and the poking, prodding, cold stethescope with commands of "Breathe deep..again...again...again", this statement was handed to me along with a diagnosis of sinus infection and a double ear infection.
I had been sick for two weeks. I had been down in bed for the last two days of those two weeks when I decided I had had enough and called the physicians office for an appointment. During those two weeks my family was solicitous. The kids asked if they could get me a drink. DH did a medicine run at 10:00 p.m. Dinner ended up being You're On You're Own (known as YOYO at our house) more than a few times. My older boys helped with the young kids.
It is not that no one takes care of mom when mom is sick. A more appropriate comment would have been "Mom never takes care of Mom when Mom is sick". More often then not, I forgot to dose up to ease my symptoms because I was too busy being Mom. Instead of seeing the doctor in the first week, I waited til I was miserable with pain. DH often tells me that I am impossible to get to the doctor, not because I am afraid, but because I'm so busy that I keep putting it off. In fact, the only thing that got me to the doctor was the fact that I WAS IN BED. Wait a minute, don't I often wish I could just lay in bed and read? Or sleep? I finally get my chance and I was in too much pain to enjoy it.
4 prescriptions and 48 hours later, I am making Family Night treats, getting dinner ready, the kitchen is clean and the laundry pile is diminishing. My head still hurts, but not as bad and it is getting better. To be honest, I rather like getting back to the Mom routine. Here's to taking care of Mom.
I was in the doctors office, sick and hurting from the neck up. After the myriad of questions and the poking, prodding, cold stethescope with commands of "Breathe deep..again...again...again", this statement was handed to me along with a diagnosis of sinus infection and a double ear infection.
I had been sick for two weeks. I had been down in bed for the last two days of those two weeks when I decided I had had enough and called the physicians office for an appointment. During those two weeks my family was solicitous. The kids asked if they could get me a drink. DH did a medicine run at 10:00 p.m. Dinner ended up being You're On You're Own (known as YOYO at our house) more than a few times. My older boys helped with the young kids.
It is not that no one takes care of mom when mom is sick. A more appropriate comment would have been "Mom never takes care of Mom when Mom is sick". More often then not, I forgot to dose up to ease my symptoms because I was too busy being Mom. Instead of seeing the doctor in the first week, I waited til I was miserable with pain. DH often tells me that I am impossible to get to the doctor, not because I am afraid, but because I'm so busy that I keep putting it off. In fact, the only thing that got me to the doctor was the fact that I WAS IN BED. Wait a minute, don't I often wish I could just lay in bed and read? Or sleep? I finally get my chance and I was in too much pain to enjoy it.
4 prescriptions and 48 hours later, I am making Family Night treats, getting dinner ready, the kitchen is clean and the laundry pile is diminishing. My head still hurts, but not as bad and it is getting better. To be honest, I rather like getting back to the Mom routine. Here's to taking care of Mom.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
The End Of An Era
This past week we took down the crib. When we were first looking for a crib we had very little money. I saw a gorgeous sleighbed-style crib in an advertisement and made an off-hand remark to DH that I loved it. Next thing I know, he bought it for me. It was by far the nicest piece of furniture in our apartment. It was the only new piece of furniture in our apartment.
That crib was moved from apartment to house. It was a bed for 4 beautiful babies. It has seen its share of funiture abuse and has the resulting scratches and toothmarks to show for it. For 14 years it has been a part of our lives. I used to reach my hands in that crib just to feel my newborn baby breathing. I have a picture of my firstborn, with his white-blond hair sticking straight up, standing in that crib and waving to the world outside his window. I used to sit onthe floor beside the crib, reach my hands through the slats, and rub the head of my child that had a hard time sleeping on his own. I've watched my kids sleep at all angles in that crib and wonder how on earth that could be comfortable. I've even played peek-a-boo over, under, around, and through that crib with all four of my children.
For the past year, my DD has know how to get out of the crib. A contortionist of sorts, she lifts her leg straight up in the air and hooks her toes over the edge. Then this child (who is supposed to have low-muscle tone) lifts herself over with the grace of a gymnast doing a routine on the uneven parallel bars. She then hangs by her fingers on the other side until she can get her toes on top of the mattress through the bars and climbs down.
The only problem with this is that she can't get back in. DD has been know to wander into my room at all hours only to be put back in her own bed. We finally realized that she would get back in by herself if she could. So this past weekend we bought her a toddler bed. DD was so excited to see a bed just her size. She immediately grabbed her quilts and "made" her own bed with a flourshing "ta-DA!" thrown in at then end. She was very excited to have her own big-girl bed.
Now the crib is in pieces on my family room floor. I refuse to give it away as I want to save it for future visiting grandchildren. (That is such a strange thought. When I was 18, I could not imagine being in my 30's. Now here I am, on the upswing to 40, thinking ahead about grandchildren.) Today I will rub the wood with lemon oil and then wrap everything in a sheet and wonder where I will have room to store it.
I used to get excited about changes. Now, I am a little sentimental and I wish time would not have gone so fast. Sleep well, my little sweetheart. Don't grow up too soon.
This past week we took down the crib. When we were first looking for a crib we had very little money. I saw a gorgeous sleighbed-style crib in an advertisement and made an off-hand remark to DH that I loved it. Next thing I know, he bought it for me. It was by far the nicest piece of furniture in our apartment. It was the only new piece of furniture in our apartment.
That crib was moved from apartment to house. It was a bed for 4 beautiful babies. It has seen its share of funiture abuse and has the resulting scratches and toothmarks to show for it. For 14 years it has been a part of our lives. I used to reach my hands in that crib just to feel my newborn baby breathing. I have a picture of my firstborn, with his white-blond hair sticking straight up, standing in that crib and waving to the world outside his window. I used to sit onthe floor beside the crib, reach my hands through the slats, and rub the head of my child that had a hard time sleeping on his own. I've watched my kids sleep at all angles in that crib and wonder how on earth that could be comfortable. I've even played peek-a-boo over, under, around, and through that crib with all four of my children.
For the past year, my DD has know how to get out of the crib. A contortionist of sorts, she lifts her leg straight up in the air and hooks her toes over the edge. Then this child (who is supposed to have low-muscle tone) lifts herself over with the grace of a gymnast doing a routine on the uneven parallel bars. She then hangs by her fingers on the other side until she can get her toes on top of the mattress through the bars and climbs down.
The only problem with this is that she can't get back in. DD has been know to wander into my room at all hours only to be put back in her own bed. We finally realized that she would get back in by herself if she could. So this past weekend we bought her a toddler bed. DD was so excited to see a bed just her size. She immediately grabbed her quilts and "made" her own bed with a flourshing "ta-DA!" thrown in at then end. She was very excited to have her own big-girl bed.
Now the crib is in pieces on my family room floor. I refuse to give it away as I want to save it for future visiting grandchildren. (That is such a strange thought. When I was 18, I could not imagine being in my 30's. Now here I am, on the upswing to 40, thinking ahead about grandchildren.) Today I will rub the wood with lemon oil and then wrap everything in a sheet and wonder where I will have room to store it.
I used to get excited about changes. Now, I am a little sentimental and I wish time would not have gone so fast. Sleep well, my little sweetheart. Don't grow up too soon.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
5 Random Things About Me (a meme)
1. I was a very ugly baby: I was born 3 months premature, weighed 2 lbs and was blue and hairy. I never had a cute baby pic until I was 6 months old and even then my mom cut my hair into a flat top since it wouldn't lay down. My twin sis, on the other hand, was a darling baby. I learned very early that life isn't fair.
2. Nougat makes me nauseated: When I was 7 years old I found a bag of 3 Musketeers minis that my mom forgot she had stashed for Halloween. Sinced I didn't like chocolate at the time, I cut all of the chocolate off and gorged on the nougat. The entire bag. Haven't been able to stand the stuff ever since.
3. I've always wanted to run in a marathon: Those who know me will laugh because I hate to run. I just want to see if I can do it. I learned to run flat-footed as a child (it was the only way to keep my shoes on my skinny feet) and would come in dead last in every Presidential Physical Fitness race in elementary school. I think I'm emotionally scarred.
4. I love rainy days: When the mountains turn dark and exquisitely detailed with the clouds hanging low on them. It rained on my wedding day. KMN!
5. I have a very dry sense of humor: and use it with a straight face. People would be offended if my darling husband didn't traslate for them.
1. I was a very ugly baby: I was born 3 months premature, weighed 2 lbs and was blue and hairy. I never had a cute baby pic until I was 6 months old and even then my mom cut my hair into a flat top since it wouldn't lay down. My twin sis, on the other hand, was a darling baby. I learned very early that life isn't fair.
2. Nougat makes me nauseated: When I was 7 years old I found a bag of 3 Musketeers minis that my mom forgot she had stashed for Halloween. Sinced I didn't like chocolate at the time, I cut all of the chocolate off and gorged on the nougat. The entire bag. Haven't been able to stand the stuff ever since.
3. I've always wanted to run in a marathon: Those who know me will laugh because I hate to run. I just want to see if I can do it. I learned to run flat-footed as a child (it was the only way to keep my shoes on my skinny feet) and would come in dead last in every Presidential Physical Fitness race in elementary school. I think I'm emotionally scarred.
4. I love rainy days: When the mountains turn dark and exquisitely detailed with the clouds hanging low on them. It rained on my wedding day. KMN!
5. I have a very dry sense of humor: and use it with a straight face. People would be offended if my darling husband didn't traslate for them.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
I Hope You Dance
Today was a day that every mom should have with her daughter. My only daughter started dance class a month ago. It is a performing group full of kids with Down syndrome. This particular group is made up of preschoolers. Dear Daughter (DD) is the youngest and also the shortest by a good 6 inches.
DD knows when it is dance class day. She gets excited the same way she does when the bus comes to pick her up for preschool. She sings all the way, throughout the entire 30 minute drive. She insists on walking by herself through the parking lot. When we get inside she says hi to everyone, including strangers.
She knows to sit on her carpet square. She warms up along with the teacher. Kids with Down syndrome are very flexible so it is a riot to watch them stretch their muscles. DD spreads her legs into center splits and then flops her chest completely to the ground with no effort. She touches her nose to her knees with ease. The only difficult part of the warm up is when the class has to jump. DD hasn't mastered this skill yet so she goes up on tip-toe and then bends her knees and tries again.
Today DD managed to make it through the entire dance, participating in every step. She didn't even stop to run around the room in the middle of the practice. I was so proud of her. Part of the dance is to hold up two fingers when the lyrics say "two". It took DD four weeks to master a "two". We practiced every day and she wouldn't give up. Today she proudly held her "two" up and at just the right moment. Aww, small victories!
When we left, she absolutely had to hug everyone once, her teacher twice. She made sure everyone saw that she could "two" with the best of them. At the door, DD princess-waved goodbye to the entire room.
After dance class, we were given instructions for a dance uniform. Off we drove to The Glass Slipper, a dance supply store near her class. We had to special order a leotard as they didn't carry them small enough for DD. We'll purchase the ballet shoes when the leotard comes in. DD was enamored by the sparkly pink tutus by the register and the dance pictures on the wall. She wanted to touch everything silver, gold or glittery.
Today was a very normal, very satisfying dance day. When you get the choice to sit it out or dance......
Today was a day that every mom should have with her daughter. My only daughter started dance class a month ago. It is a performing group full of kids with Down syndrome. This particular group is made up of preschoolers. Dear Daughter (DD) is the youngest and also the shortest by a good 6 inches.
DD knows when it is dance class day. She gets excited the same way she does when the bus comes to pick her up for preschool. She sings all the way, throughout the entire 30 minute drive. She insists on walking by herself through the parking lot. When we get inside she says hi to everyone, including strangers.
She knows to sit on her carpet square. She warms up along with the teacher. Kids with Down syndrome are very flexible so it is a riot to watch them stretch their muscles. DD spreads her legs into center splits and then flops her chest completely to the ground with no effort. She touches her nose to her knees with ease. The only difficult part of the warm up is when the class has to jump. DD hasn't mastered this skill yet so she goes up on tip-toe and then bends her knees and tries again.
Today DD managed to make it through the entire dance, participating in every step. She didn't even stop to run around the room in the middle of the practice. I was so proud of her. Part of the dance is to hold up two fingers when the lyrics say "two". It took DD four weeks to master a "two". We practiced every day and she wouldn't give up. Today she proudly held her "two" up and at just the right moment. Aww, small victories!
When we left, she absolutely had to hug everyone once, her teacher twice. She made sure everyone saw that she could "two" with the best of them. At the door, DD princess-waved goodbye to the entire room.
After dance class, we were given instructions for a dance uniform. Off we drove to The Glass Slipper, a dance supply store near her class. We had to special order a leotard as they didn't carry them small enough for DD. We'll purchase the ballet shoes when the leotard comes in. DD was enamored by the sparkly pink tutus by the register and the dance pictures on the wall. She wanted to touch everything silver, gold or glittery.
Today was a very normal, very satisfying dance day. When you get the choice to sit it out or dance......
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
It is NOT all about me......
I have finally come to the conclusion that taking care of myself is a good thing. I'm not talking about regular appointments at the spa for a massage and facial (although this would be absolutely wonderful.)
I'm talking about a few things that I do just for me. Getting up at 5:40 a.m. to work out. I would rather not get up that early, but it is the only time I can schedule exercise and not have to bring my kids along. I've discovered that having that time to myself in the morning, sharing yoga or a cardio workout with other women in my neighborhood is a good thing. I feel better about myself when I am done.
My hair appointment at the salon is another. Not the cheap by any means. But it is okay to want to look good for my husband. It is okay to want to look good for myself.
Third would have to by my book club. I go out w/out DH or kids and let someone else cook dinner. The evening is full of conversation, debate, and (depending on the restaurant) really good food. DH loves book club night. He spends some Daddy time with the kids (along with a pizza, movie and game). He knows that I will come home happy, refreshed and relaxed. Not to mention it is nice to have new ideas to discuss with him. Real adult conversation. The very best part.
Why did it take me so long to finally understand this idea? When I take care of myself it is not all about me. A woman's choices affect everyone around her. Husband, kids, extended family, friends......a woman is naturally a nurturer. The energy it takes to be a nuturer is tremendous. If science could bottle it up it would solve the world energy crisis.
Hey, here is an idea. In order to solve the world energy crisis we need to eradicate mom-guilt. Forget these t-shirts I see young hotties wearing that say "It's All About Me". I'm going to market a t-shirt that says "It's NOT All About Me". Only moms can buy them.
I have finally come to the conclusion that taking care of myself is a good thing. I'm not talking about regular appointments at the spa for a massage and facial (although this would be absolutely wonderful.)
I'm talking about a few things that I do just for me. Getting up at 5:40 a.m. to work out. I would rather not get up that early, but it is the only time I can schedule exercise and not have to bring my kids along. I've discovered that having that time to myself in the morning, sharing yoga or a cardio workout with other women in my neighborhood is a good thing. I feel better about myself when I am done.
My hair appointment at the salon is another. Not the cheap by any means. But it is okay to want to look good for my husband. It is okay to want to look good for myself.
Third would have to by my book club. I go out w/out DH or kids and let someone else cook dinner. The evening is full of conversation, debate, and (depending on the restaurant) really good food. DH loves book club night. He spends some Daddy time with the kids (along with a pizza, movie and game). He knows that I will come home happy, refreshed and relaxed. Not to mention it is nice to have new ideas to discuss with him. Real adult conversation. The very best part.
Why did it take me so long to finally understand this idea? When I take care of myself it is not all about me. A woman's choices affect everyone around her. Husband, kids, extended family, friends......a woman is naturally a nurturer. The energy it takes to be a nuturer is tremendous. If science could bottle it up it would solve the world energy crisis.
Hey, here is an idea. In order to solve the world energy crisis we need to eradicate mom-guilt. Forget these t-shirts I see young hotties wearing that say "It's All About Me". I'm going to market a t-shirt that says "It's NOT All About Me". Only moms can buy them.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Dr. Scarehair is now in....
The 14 Days of Valentines are now over. Those who participated this year found great results. One girlfriend received her first piece of jewelry (other than her wedding ring) in 14 years from her husband. Another received flowers for the first time. A third has a date with her husband this weekend - its the first date in years. About time, don't you think? I know I am preaching to the choir here, but......treat your man like a king and he will want to slay dragons for you.
But now that the 14 DOV are over, does that mean we go back to life as normal? No. Absolutely not. I have hidden 14 red, pink and white note cards all over. In them are love poems, sonnets, song lyrics or book quotes. Each envelope is addressed to DH is a way that gives a hint as to what is inside (The one addressed to "My Snugglebunny" has the quote "I love you all the way to the moon....and back!") He has found 5 of them (and last night he read aloud the Shakespeare sonnet in his best Winston Churchhill voice). I am banking on the idea that it will take him a full year to find all 14. If he finds them before 12 months are up, I have more of the same cards stashed away to hide around the house, his car, and I will even sneak into his office at work. I might even come up with some original poetry. Ah, the things I will do for my man. Mr. Wild Thing, you make my heart sing. You make everything groooovy.
An added benefit to this experiment. My sons have been watching the activities of the past two weeks. It has been giving them ideas. I want my sons to learn to be romantic. Their wives shouldn't have to train them. (BTW, I didn't train my husband. Neither did his parents. He was naturally born a romantic. See, it can happen.)
The 14 Days of Valentines are now over. Those who participated this year found great results. One girlfriend received her first piece of jewelry (other than her wedding ring) in 14 years from her husband. Another received flowers for the first time. A third has a date with her husband this weekend - its the first date in years. About time, don't you think? I know I am preaching to the choir here, but......treat your man like a king and he will want to slay dragons for you.
But now that the 14 DOV are over, does that mean we go back to life as normal? No. Absolutely not. I have hidden 14 red, pink and white note cards all over. In them are love poems, sonnets, song lyrics or book quotes. Each envelope is addressed to DH is a way that gives a hint as to what is inside (The one addressed to "My Snugglebunny" has the quote "I love you all the way to the moon....and back!") He has found 5 of them (and last night he read aloud the Shakespeare sonnet in his best Winston Churchhill voice). I am banking on the idea that it will take him a full year to find all 14. If he finds them before 12 months are up, I have more of the same cards stashed away to hide around the house, his car, and I will even sneak into his office at work. I might even come up with some original poetry. Ah, the things I will do for my man. Mr. Wild Thing, you make my heart sing. You make everything groooovy.
An added benefit to this experiment. My sons have been watching the activities of the past two weeks. It has been giving them ideas. I want my sons to learn to be romantic. Their wives shouldn't have to train them. (BTW, I didn't train my husband. Neither did his parents. He was naturally born a romantic. See, it can happen.)
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
On the 14 Days of Valentine's my true love sent to me......
Now that the tune is stuck in your head, it is time to educate the masses on the 14 Days of Valentines. This is a tradition that I do for my Dear Husband (who will now be referred to as DH)every single Valentine's.
Each day of the first two weeks of February has a gift associated with that number. The idea being that creativity is more valued than commercialism (although commercialism cannot be entirely ignored). Some days have the same theme year after year, i.e. "On the 4th day of Valentines" is always a picture of our 4 children for DH's desk at work. This year it was a lovely pic taken by a professional photographer showing our children's true personalities. Each of them had pulled a silly/disgusting/scary/laughing face. On day #5 the gift is always fudge: at a local fudge shop, if you buy 4-1/4 lb. kinds of fudge you get the 5th 1/4 lb for free. Day #10 is always "Ten Things I Love About You" (it doesn't always list the same things).
Some days are original every year. This year day #6 resulted in a silly poem commemorating the fact that DH moved from New Zealand to America when he was 6 years old (so he could meet me, fall in love with me, marry me, all about me). Day #3 this year fell on date night so I wrapped up two movie tickets and a box of Redvines. Day #11 will be an 11-piece puzzle with an original sentiment.
DH feels loved. Oh boy, is he smothered in sentimental-sweet-love. And he loves it. For two whole weeks he gets the full treatment. It all ends on the big V-day where we put the kids to bed early and I make him a gourmet candle-lit supper for two. There is just one problem. This year somebody (who obviously wasn't thinking) planned the annual Cub Scout Blue-and-Gold Banquet on Valentine's day. 20 VERY LOUD boys. Silly cheers. And hotdogs.........Where is the romance in this? What were they thinking?! Somebody needs to be taught about the 14 Days of Valentines so this so-very-important-holiday will have much more meaning to them.
I have informed DH that he will not eat anything at the scouting activity. To make sure of this, on Day #2 I presented DH with 2 red tapered candles along with a beautifully printed menu of our upcoming V-day Dinner: Wild Rice Crab Cakes over Field Greens; Beef Tournedos with Seared Scallops, Garlic Mashed Potatoes, and Roasted Asparagus in a Browned Butter Balsamic Sauce; Fresh Berry Creme Brulee.
I don't think refusing the hotdogs will be a problem. Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.
Now that the tune is stuck in your head, it is time to educate the masses on the 14 Days of Valentines. This is a tradition that I do for my Dear Husband (who will now be referred to as DH)every single Valentine's.
Each day of the first two weeks of February has a gift associated with that number. The idea being that creativity is more valued than commercialism (although commercialism cannot be entirely ignored). Some days have the same theme year after year, i.e. "On the 4th day of Valentines" is always a picture of our 4 children for DH's desk at work. This year it was a lovely pic taken by a professional photographer showing our children's true personalities. Each of them had pulled a silly/disgusting/scary/laughing face. On day #5 the gift is always fudge: at a local fudge shop, if you buy 4-1/4 lb. kinds of fudge you get the 5th 1/4 lb for free. Day #10 is always "Ten Things I Love About You" (it doesn't always list the same things).
Some days are original every year. This year day #6 resulted in a silly poem commemorating the fact that DH moved from New Zealand to America when he was 6 years old (so he could meet me, fall in love with me, marry me, all about me). Day #3 this year fell on date night so I wrapped up two movie tickets and a box of Redvines. Day #11 will be an 11-piece puzzle with an original sentiment.
DH feels loved. Oh boy, is he smothered in sentimental-sweet-love. And he loves it. For two whole weeks he gets the full treatment. It all ends on the big V-day where we put the kids to bed early and I make him a gourmet candle-lit supper for two. There is just one problem. This year somebody (who obviously wasn't thinking) planned the annual Cub Scout Blue-and-Gold Banquet on Valentine's day. 20 VERY LOUD boys. Silly cheers. And hotdogs.........Where is the romance in this? What were they thinking?! Somebody needs to be taught about the 14 Days of Valentines so this so-very-important-holiday will have much more meaning to them.
I have informed DH that he will not eat anything at the scouting activity. To make sure of this, on Day #2 I presented DH with 2 red tapered candles along with a beautifully printed menu of our upcoming V-day Dinner: Wild Rice Crab Cakes over Field Greens; Beef Tournedos with Seared Scallops, Garlic Mashed Potatoes, and Roasted Asparagus in a Browned Butter Balsamic Sauce; Fresh Berry Creme Brulee.
I don't think refusing the hotdogs will be a problem. Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Teen 'tudes........
Today is the day I officially become the mother of .......a teenager. (You thought I was going to say monster, didn't you? Go on. Admit it. You did!)
While my first born is currently going through the phase I do not fondly call "Teen 'tudes" (that's Teen With Attitude for those of you whose children are too young to go through this yet), for the most part he is a good kid all around. This term he pulled straight A's in school, say's "Yes, Ma'am" and "Yes, Sir" (a throwback to my paternal southern roots) and has never made me thoroughly ashamed of his behavior (although he has made me embarrassed a number of times).
There is one part of him that I am the most proud about. My youngest has Down syndrome. When she was first born, a friend of his came over and asked "What is Down syndrome?" I opened my mouth to give what I thought was then a good 3rd grade explanation when Dear Son #1 (hereafter referred to as DS#1) stood up and lectured. "Actually it is called Nondisjunction Trisomy 21. That means the 21st chromasome has 3 instead of 2. Doctors don't know why this happens. Its not Mom or Dad's fault. It means that a person with Down syndrome takes longer to learn things. But they can learn to do anything we do......." I was floored! DS#1 had been reading my textbooks. I had worried how this would affect my kids. DS#1 proved that they would be just fine.
Fast forward to a year later. We were at a BBQ with other families in our Down syndrome community. One of the families there (who had a new baby with DS) also had their oldest daughter who had Rhett syndrome. I don't know all of the terminology for that syndrome. This sweet girl (I'll call her Sweetgirl) was the same age as DS#1. She was in a wheel chair, couldn't talk or feed herself. Mentally and physically, she was a baby.
I was sitting by her grandma (who came for the express purpose of taking care of this girl so her parents could relax and meet other families). We were talking about this and that while watching all of my boys play volleyball with the men. The ball went wild, smacked Sweetgirl in the chest and landed in her lap. DS#1 ran up to us. He didn't look at the grandma or at me. He looked straight at Sweetgirl and said "Wow! Nice catch! Are you okay?" Sweetgirl laughed at him. DS#1 asked if she wanted to play, grandma said they would just watch, and DS#1 grabbed the ball and ran back to the game. Every few minutes he would wave at Sweetgirl and she followed him with her eyes for the rest of the evening. Her grandma turned to me with tears in her eyes. She had never seen anyone Sweetgirl's age react to her without cringing. Most kids her age were intimidated by the wheelchair, the drooling, or the baby noises Sweetgirl made. This was the first time she had witnessed her granddaughter's acceptance by a peer. And her granddaughter loved it.
Now my DS#1 is a teen. I have been told horror stories by parents in the neighborhood, their stories based on their own experiences. But I know something they don't. DS#1 is planning his Eagle Scout project to benefit our local Down syndrome community. He has tutored kids with ADHD in his first year of middle school. He wants to learn ASL as soon as he can.
We're still dealing with the brotherly fighting. DS#1 doesn't clean the kitchen (or bathroom or his bedroom) to my standards yet. He has a few other faults. But they are few - we can deal with the Teen 'tudes. Happy birthday, my firstborn. You're a keeper.
Today is the day I officially become the mother of .......a teenager. (You thought I was going to say monster, didn't you? Go on. Admit it. You did!)
While my first born is currently going through the phase I do not fondly call "Teen 'tudes" (that's Teen With Attitude for those of you whose children are too young to go through this yet), for the most part he is a good kid all around. This term he pulled straight A's in school, say's "Yes, Ma'am" and "Yes, Sir" (a throwback to my paternal southern roots) and has never made me thoroughly ashamed of his behavior (although he has made me embarrassed a number of times).
There is one part of him that I am the most proud about. My youngest has Down syndrome. When she was first born, a friend of his came over and asked "What is Down syndrome?" I opened my mouth to give what I thought was then a good 3rd grade explanation when Dear Son #1 (hereafter referred to as DS#1) stood up and lectured. "Actually it is called Nondisjunction Trisomy 21. That means the 21st chromasome has 3 instead of 2. Doctors don't know why this happens. Its not Mom or Dad's fault. It means that a person with Down syndrome takes longer to learn things. But they can learn to do anything we do......." I was floored! DS#1 had been reading my textbooks. I had worried how this would affect my kids. DS#1 proved that they would be just fine.
Fast forward to a year later. We were at a BBQ with other families in our Down syndrome community. One of the families there (who had a new baby with DS) also had their oldest daughter who had Rhett syndrome. I don't know all of the terminology for that syndrome. This sweet girl (I'll call her Sweetgirl) was the same age as DS#1. She was in a wheel chair, couldn't talk or feed herself. Mentally and physically, she was a baby.
I was sitting by her grandma (who came for the express purpose of taking care of this girl so her parents could relax and meet other families). We were talking about this and that while watching all of my boys play volleyball with the men. The ball went wild, smacked Sweetgirl in the chest and landed in her lap. DS#1 ran up to us. He didn't look at the grandma or at me. He looked straight at Sweetgirl and said "Wow! Nice catch! Are you okay?" Sweetgirl laughed at him. DS#1 asked if she wanted to play, grandma said they would just watch, and DS#1 grabbed the ball and ran back to the game. Every few minutes he would wave at Sweetgirl and she followed him with her eyes for the rest of the evening. Her grandma turned to me with tears in her eyes. She had never seen anyone Sweetgirl's age react to her without cringing. Most kids her age were intimidated by the wheelchair, the drooling, or the baby noises Sweetgirl made. This was the first time she had witnessed her granddaughter's acceptance by a peer. And her granddaughter loved it.
Now my DS#1 is a teen. I have been told horror stories by parents in the neighborhood, their stories based on their own experiences. But I know something they don't. DS#1 is planning his Eagle Scout project to benefit our local Down syndrome community. He has tutored kids with ADHD in his first year of middle school. He wants to learn ASL as soon as he can.
We're still dealing with the brotherly fighting. DS#1 doesn't clean the kitchen (or bathroom or his bedroom) to my standards yet. He has a few other faults. But they are few - we can deal with the Teen 'tudes. Happy birthday, my firstborn. You're a keeper.
Monday, January 30, 2006
It's all about the food....
I have been accused by my darling children that I do not decorate enough for the holidays the way the rest of the neighborhood does. I do not have Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, 4th of July, Pioneer Day or Thanksgiving Day decorations in my storage. I have one token wood-sign-on-a-stake for Halloween and I only decorate the tree and the room it is housed in for Christmas.
Apparently my kids have forgotten a few things. Who makes an entirely green dinner for St. Patricks Day (and has to choke it down because certain things just shouldn't be green, like milk)? Who put together the neighborhood Pioneer Day BBQ as well as the neighborhood Halloween Party and Chili Cookoff? Who makes traditional Chinese Food for Chinese New Year? Who gets up early to make the traditional St. Lucia breakfast every December 13th? Grandma's swedish cruellers for Christmas Eve. Caramel Sticky Rolls for Christmas morning. Black-eyed peas for New Year's Day. Chile Verde for Cinco de Mayo. Mounds of sugar cookies for the day after Thanksgiving. Dyed eggs for Easter (and deviled eggs, egg salad sandwiches, and any other recipe for hard-boiled eggs I can find). Favorite foods for a child's birthday. A romantic Valentine's Day dinner at home (okay, that one doesn't count because the kids aren't invited to that one.)
My point being: Holidays at this house are not about decoration, they are about the food.
Most important to me, though, is what I do for my family daily. My table is decorated with a nice tablecloth and cloth napkins just the way my southern grandmother does her table. The children are taught to set the table properly. I cook healthy meals using whole foods the way my mother taught me. I grow a garden the way my pioneer-heritaged grandma taught me, and put up the produce for the winter months. One night a week, one of my boys practices his cooking skills or learns a new recipe by my side. Six nights a week my family sits down together for supper. In this day and age I consider that no small accomplishment. I'm proud of that.
So I don't decorate. I can live with that. Now I am off to accomplish our Monday tradition: Family Home Evening Treat (which tonight, by the way, will be Caramel Apple Cake with whipped cream.)
I have been accused by my darling children that I do not decorate enough for the holidays the way the rest of the neighborhood does. I do not have Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, 4th of July, Pioneer Day or Thanksgiving Day decorations in my storage. I have one token wood-sign-on-a-stake for Halloween and I only decorate the tree and the room it is housed in for Christmas.
Apparently my kids have forgotten a few things. Who makes an entirely green dinner for St. Patricks Day (and has to choke it down because certain things just shouldn't be green, like milk)? Who put together the neighborhood Pioneer Day BBQ as well as the neighborhood Halloween Party and Chili Cookoff? Who makes traditional Chinese Food for Chinese New Year? Who gets up early to make the traditional St. Lucia breakfast every December 13th? Grandma's swedish cruellers for Christmas Eve. Caramel Sticky Rolls for Christmas morning. Black-eyed peas for New Year's Day. Chile Verde for Cinco de Mayo. Mounds of sugar cookies for the day after Thanksgiving. Dyed eggs for Easter (and deviled eggs, egg salad sandwiches, and any other recipe for hard-boiled eggs I can find). Favorite foods for a child's birthday. A romantic Valentine's Day dinner at home (okay, that one doesn't count because the kids aren't invited to that one.)
My point being: Holidays at this house are not about decoration, they are about the food.
Most important to me, though, is what I do for my family daily. My table is decorated with a nice tablecloth and cloth napkins just the way my southern grandmother does her table. The children are taught to set the table properly. I cook healthy meals using whole foods the way my mother taught me. I grow a garden the way my pioneer-heritaged grandma taught me, and put up the produce for the winter months. One night a week, one of my boys practices his cooking skills or learns a new recipe by my side. Six nights a week my family sits down together for supper. In this day and age I consider that no small accomplishment. I'm proud of that.
So I don't decorate. I can live with that. Now I am off to accomplish our Monday tradition: Family Home Evening Treat (which tonight, by the way, will be Caramel Apple Cake with whipped cream.)
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