Since today is the 29th of February--it is a leap year, doncha know?--I thought to myself that I should take advantage of the extra day and write a blog today. I won't have opportunity to write a blog on the 29th of February for four more years. (Which is probably good news to anyone who actually reads my posts, now that I think about it....)
Today is Brandon H's "10th" birthday. I went to high school with Brandon. I thought having a birthday on the 29th would be really neat. He could have a birthday on the 28th of Feb. AND the 1st of March and still be right. And look...instead of turning 40 like everyone else in our graduating class (Go Wildcats), he gets to turn 10. There are serious bonuses to having an odd birthday like today.
Getting married on this date wouldn't be quite as smart, since most men I know would figure they only have to celebrate their anniversary once every four years. Of course, that could be detrimental too because they would be lax in remembering the date and would probably forget the anniversary completely thinking that it wasn't a leap year that year.
I'm probably not being fair to the men out there, but this is what I do.
The jury on dying on this date is still out. I mean, seriously...dying in general isn't something you really look forward to, so what does the date matter? It just ingrains in all those still living who might have cared about you, which date you died. Easier to remember in that sense. But as most of you are aware, my side of the family remembers weird things like death dates. We don't need an easier time of it to remember. (For example, I still remember that my pet bird that Cindy killed--thanks for that, by the way Cindy--died on Feb. 2nd 26 years ago. Why do I remember that? Because I got it for my 14th birthday and it died on Groundhog's Day...if it had been Feb. 3 I wouldn't remember the date. And no, I have no idea why I'm letting this psychosis out in the open. We're insane. What can I say?)
February 29th would be a good day for:
First kisses
A day without the children whining
Chocolate
Playing with puppies--and giving them back to their owners
and
Winning the lottery
Who am I kidding? We don't need the 29th of February for those things. I'd like those things on any given day...well, except that first one. I don't think my husband would like be going out looking for a first kiss from someone else...
So I suppose the 29th is good for balancing out the calendar and helping some people put off their true age if lucky enough to be born on this day.
And apparently it is also good for letting me practice rambling skills. And it is a skill, like anything else.
Happy last day of February.
(edited to fix the date of death of my bird--which should show that I'm not as fixated on the death dates as my family, but in reality just shows my blatant lack of simple math skills--thanks for pointing that out Cindy...now I can hold a grudge about that over you--and I'll remember the date)
Friday, February 29, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
What to Write?
I don't write new blog posts very often. I like to write them, don't get me wrong...but I suppose I keep waiting for something fascinating to happen to write about. Something fun or silly. Not the mundane that usually occurs at my house and in my life.
So why am I writing now?
I have no idea.
It isn't to share the story of how I drove all the way downtown yesterday to pay the stupid fine on my stupid ticket (see the previous blog entry on not pushing your luck for that story), only to find that the precinct there doesn't have my ticket. It was written up out of their jurisdiction so it will either be in the town I live in, or the one right next to it since the ticket was given exactly on the border of the two towns. Exactly on it...the street divides the boundaries so one side of the road is one town, the other side is the other town. So I called the bordering town's offices and they don't have the ticket either. And by the time they called me back, my town's offices were closed. So I get to track it down today somehow. But honestly...if they have lost my ticket, that should make it just dissolve and go away right? (wishful thinking...but still....)
But I digress...I really didn't write today to share that story.
Nor did I write today to give a glowing report on the dollar movies--it only cost $4.50 to take my entire family to the movies last night. That is a count of 9 people. Monday's are .50 days at the dollar shows. Huge bargain.
And I didn't write to say that the movie 'Enchanted' is, well, enchanting. (It is a really cute show though...definitely one that we will buy when it comes out on DVD)
And I certainly didn't write to share my observation on how I can GAIN weight and then people will mention how thin I am starting to look--I've decided that it must be a reverse psychology thing. That, or they are frightened by my increase in weight and instead of telling the truth--"Holy Toledo! Your butt is getting H-U-G-E!"--they panic and say the exact opposite.
Oh, and I didn't decide to write about how my 15 year-old daughter was in seminary and her teacher told the class that people shouldn't kiss unless they want to marry that person. So she went up to his desk later and told him that her parents have told her that they don't want her to marry the only person she ever kisses--and the teacher responded loudly enough to her questioning that now all of her classmates think Doug and are are pretty darn cool. Even though we didn't really mean it the way she made it sound.
Speaking of that subject though, I must throw in that I loved Aimee's friend's $1000 idea (see the comments in my Valentine's post for the explaination). I mentioned it to my 15 year-old and she wanted to know if I could do the same thing but pay her if she makes it to 16 without kissing a boy. I laughed and laughed and told her no way, no how. That she will owe ME $1000 if she kisses a boy before she is 16. :) But that isn't what I wanted to write about either.
Hmmm.
Let me think....
Nope. I really have nothing of interest to write about today, but really wanted to say something. Maybe something will come to me later. Or not.
I might not write often, but no one can say that my rambling skills have in anyway diminished.
So why am I writing now?
I have no idea.
It isn't to share the story of how I drove all the way downtown yesterday to pay the stupid fine on my stupid ticket (see the previous blog entry on not pushing your luck for that story), only to find that the precinct there doesn't have my ticket. It was written up out of their jurisdiction so it will either be in the town I live in, or the one right next to it since the ticket was given exactly on the border of the two towns. Exactly on it...the street divides the boundaries so one side of the road is one town, the other side is the other town. So I called the bordering town's offices and they don't have the ticket either. And by the time they called me back, my town's offices were closed. So I get to track it down today somehow. But honestly...if they have lost my ticket, that should make it just dissolve and go away right? (wishful thinking...but still....)
But I digress...I really didn't write today to share that story.
Nor did I write today to give a glowing report on the dollar movies--it only cost $4.50 to take my entire family to the movies last night. That is a count of 9 people. Monday's are .50 days at the dollar shows. Huge bargain.
And I didn't write to say that the movie 'Enchanted' is, well, enchanting. (It is a really cute show though...definitely one that we will buy when it comes out on DVD)
And I certainly didn't write to share my observation on how I can GAIN weight and then people will mention how thin I am starting to look--I've decided that it must be a reverse psychology thing. That, or they are frightened by my increase in weight and instead of telling the truth--"Holy Toledo! Your butt is getting H-U-G-E!"--they panic and say the exact opposite.
Oh, and I didn't decide to write about how my 15 year-old daughter was in seminary and her teacher told the class that people shouldn't kiss unless they want to marry that person. So she went up to his desk later and told him that her parents have told her that they don't want her to marry the only person she ever kisses--and the teacher responded loudly enough to her questioning that now all of her classmates think Doug and are are pretty darn cool. Even though we didn't really mean it the way she made it sound.
Speaking of that subject though, I must throw in that I loved Aimee's friend's $1000 idea (see the comments in my Valentine's post for the explaination). I mentioned it to my 15 year-old and she wanted to know if I could do the same thing but pay her if she makes it to 16 without kissing a boy. I laughed and laughed and told her no way, no how. That she will owe ME $1000 if she kisses a boy before she is 16. :) But that isn't what I wanted to write about either.
Hmmm.
Let me think....
Nope. I really have nothing of interest to write about today, but really wanted to say something. Maybe something will come to me later. Or not.
I might not write often, but no one can say that my rambling skills have in anyway diminished.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Happy Valentine's Day
Ah, me. Love.
It comes in all forms and sizes. Depths and emotions. Valentine's throws red hearts and chocolate candies to the consumers. Hallmark and the FTD florists hope to make a killing.
It changes. It grows. It diminishes. All depending on the person in love, the person who is the recipient of the love, or the reason's for the love.
When I was seven I 'loved' Adam Cartwright. Oldest son on Bonanza. Enough so, that I actually got Purnell Roberts' (the actor who portrayed him) record. Did you know he was a singer? Most people know him as Trapper John, M.D., but I loved him as the young, dark haired cowboy. A hero in my young eyes. My sister liked Little Joe, but not me. I liked the dark brooding type over the cute flash Michael Landon played. (By the way, Purnell's rendition of the Christmas hymn, 'Do You Hear What I Hear' was decent, but I don't remember liking any of his other songs...)
When I was in high school I had a secret crush on a guy who was a year older than me. Another dark, good-looking, quiet type. I don't think I ever spoke two words to him, but I remember looking forward to catching a glimpse of him in the halls at the school. He wasn't a soccer player, he wasn't in band...there just wasn't any common ground there for me to even attempt a 'hello', so I figured it was hopeless and he would probably not notice me anyway, so I just oogled and chalked it up to teen infatuation.
But that put me in the mood for being in love. So I made the mistake of dating J. Bowers. I didn't ever really like the guy. He liked beef ravioli from a can, wore too much Elsha cologne and was pretty much a dullard in my book...but he filled a brief curiosity that soon wore thin and I kindly broke up with him. Hoping beyond hope that not all boys were like him.
I dated Mike C. after that, which was pretty much doomed for failure from the beginning. First and foremostly because the man had blonde hair. I realized with him, that even with his superiority complex and his lame excuses for being another jerk (although in different ways than Bowers), I couldn't get over the blonde thing. So in order to break up with him, I turned myself into the biggest airhead I could because I knew that being brainless would send him running the other direction since his joy in life was reading the Trib, and throwing big words into small sentences.
(The clincher for him, by the way, was when he poured out his heart to me about how rotten his life was--I could hear violins in the background--and he got frustrated with me (I guess I wasn't being sympathetic enough or saying the right comforting phrases), and asked "Doesn't ANYTHING bother you??" and I said, "Yes, peanut M&M's without the peanut." (Seriously...you buy the yellow bag of candy because it has peanuts in it, if I wanted a solid chocolate M&M, I would have grabbed the brown bag...sheesh). Sometimes at night I think I can still hear the screetching of tires as he ran away from me as fast as he could....)
After these few experiences with love, infatuation, irritation, learning about boys who wish they were men...I gained new perspectives, decided most guys had jerk tendencies, and realized I was really good at having guys think it was THEIR idea to break up. Which makes it all nice and tidy. It became a skill, like anything else.
With all that, I remember that when dating my now-husband and then leaving on a mission..I found out he was seeing someone else and I wasn't hurt so much as shocked that he would think anyone was as cool as me. So apparently none of the previous relationships I had did any lingering damage to my ego. I came home from said mission and became friends again with now-husband and eventually he regained his senses and realized there WASN'T anyone as cool as me, so he married me. Isn't he the lucky one? ;)
So now, as a married woman who has teenaged daughters, I start to wonder what craziness they will have to endure before they finally get to that stage of finding the person they love enough to think eternity is a good idea.
I've warned them that most guys their age are, well, jerks. And guaranteed them that at some point in their life a boy (or three) will make them cry. But my oldest daughter still has romantic notions and I know wishes that she could have her very own 'valentine' this year. No one specific--so she says--but the idea is starting to look interesting to her.
Makes me a bit nervous. I'm not looking forward to my daughter's first heartbreak. I'm looking less forward to her first real boyfriend and all the worries that come along with that.
But no one can dodge Cupid's arrows for long. I just wish Cupid would wait until my kids are twenty-five before aiming their direction.
It comes in all forms and sizes. Depths and emotions. Valentine's throws red hearts and chocolate candies to the consumers. Hallmark and the FTD florists hope to make a killing.
It changes. It grows. It diminishes. All depending on the person in love, the person who is the recipient of the love, or the reason's for the love.
When I was seven I 'loved' Adam Cartwright. Oldest son on Bonanza. Enough so, that I actually got Purnell Roberts' (the actor who portrayed him) record. Did you know he was a singer? Most people know him as Trapper John, M.D., but I loved him as the young, dark haired cowboy. A hero in my young eyes. My sister liked Little Joe, but not me. I liked the dark brooding type over the cute flash Michael Landon played. (By the way, Purnell's rendition of the Christmas hymn, 'Do You Hear What I Hear' was decent, but I don't remember liking any of his other songs...)
When I was in high school I had a secret crush on a guy who was a year older than me. Another dark, good-looking, quiet type. I don't think I ever spoke two words to him, but I remember looking forward to catching a glimpse of him in the halls at the school. He wasn't a soccer player, he wasn't in band...there just wasn't any common ground there for me to even attempt a 'hello', so I figured it was hopeless and he would probably not notice me anyway, so I just oogled and chalked it up to teen infatuation.
But that put me in the mood for being in love. So I made the mistake of dating J. Bowers. I didn't ever really like the guy. He liked beef ravioli from a can, wore too much Elsha cologne and was pretty much a dullard in my book...but he filled a brief curiosity that soon wore thin and I kindly broke up with him. Hoping beyond hope that not all boys were like him.
I dated Mike C. after that, which was pretty much doomed for failure from the beginning. First and foremostly because the man had blonde hair. I realized with him, that even with his superiority complex and his lame excuses for being another jerk (although in different ways than Bowers), I couldn't get over the blonde thing. So in order to break up with him, I turned myself into the biggest airhead I could because I knew that being brainless would send him running the other direction since his joy in life was reading the Trib, and throwing big words into small sentences.
(The clincher for him, by the way, was when he poured out his heart to me about how rotten his life was--I could hear violins in the background--and he got frustrated with me (I guess I wasn't being sympathetic enough or saying the right comforting phrases), and asked "Doesn't ANYTHING bother you??" and I said, "Yes, peanut M&M's without the peanut." (Seriously...you buy the yellow bag of candy because it has peanuts in it, if I wanted a solid chocolate M&M, I would have grabbed the brown bag...sheesh). Sometimes at night I think I can still hear the screetching of tires as he ran away from me as fast as he could....)
After these few experiences with love, infatuation, irritation, learning about boys who wish they were men...I gained new perspectives, decided most guys had jerk tendencies, and realized I was really good at having guys think it was THEIR idea to break up. Which makes it all nice and tidy. It became a skill, like anything else.
With all that, I remember that when dating my now-husband and then leaving on a mission..I found out he was seeing someone else and I wasn't hurt so much as shocked that he would think anyone was as cool as me. So apparently none of the previous relationships I had did any lingering damage to my ego. I came home from said mission and became friends again with now-husband and eventually he regained his senses and realized there WASN'T anyone as cool as me, so he married me. Isn't he the lucky one? ;)
So now, as a married woman who has teenaged daughters, I start to wonder what craziness they will have to endure before they finally get to that stage of finding the person they love enough to think eternity is a good idea.
I've warned them that most guys their age are, well, jerks. And guaranteed them that at some point in their life a boy (or three) will make them cry. But my oldest daughter still has romantic notions and I know wishes that she could have her very own 'valentine' this year. No one specific--so she says--but the idea is starting to look interesting to her.
Makes me a bit nervous. I'm not looking forward to my daughter's first heartbreak. I'm looking less forward to her first real boyfriend and all the worries that come along with that.
But no one can dodge Cupid's arrows for long. I just wish Cupid would wait until my kids are twenty-five before aiming their direction.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Don't Push Your Luck
As some of you may or may not know...my suburban's license plates expired in February.
Of '07.
Yes, it is now '08, so I am a year past due. The longest I've ever gone without licensing my car.
Too late to knock on wood...
Driving the kids home from school on Thursday I started thinking to myself, "Self, you should take the car to get the State safety and Emmissions test done and just register this car so you can stop panicking every time you see a patrol car." (You should see some of the detours I've taken when a police car has pulled behind me...)
Not two minutes after that nice talking-to I gave myself, I heard a "whoop-whoop" behind me, and sure enough...an unmarked patrol car was happily pulling me over.
JD freaked. He thought I was going to go to jail.
So I got a ticket for the expired license.
I took the kids home and told Doug about it and he said, "I'll just take it right now and get it licensed for you."
(The nice man...what a guy :) )
So off he goes.
And 20 minutes later calls me because he just got pulled over and handed his own lovely ticket for an expired license.
We go an entire year with no problem. And then get two tickets in one day. Brilliant.
The good news is that I am now the proud owner of a blue '09 sticker on my plates...so I am current on the license. For at least another year.
Of '07.
Yes, it is now '08, so I am a year past due. The longest I've ever gone without licensing my car.
Too late to knock on wood...
Driving the kids home from school on Thursday I started thinking to myself, "Self, you should take the car to get the State safety and Emmissions test done and just register this car so you can stop panicking every time you see a patrol car." (You should see some of the detours I've taken when a police car has pulled behind me...)
Not two minutes after that nice talking-to I gave myself, I heard a "whoop-whoop" behind me, and sure enough...an unmarked patrol car was happily pulling me over.
JD freaked. He thought I was going to go to jail.
So I got a ticket for the expired license.
I took the kids home and told Doug about it and he said, "I'll just take it right now and get it licensed for you."
(The nice man...what a guy :) )
So off he goes.
And 20 minutes later calls me because he just got pulled over and handed his own lovely ticket for an expired license.
We go an entire year with no problem. And then get two tickets in one day. Brilliant.
The good news is that I am now the proud owner of a blue '09 sticker on my plates...so I am current on the license. For at least another year.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Titles
What is in a name? Especially when it comes to the title of a book?
That can be a dilema. One I wasn't previously aware would be an issue to me, but it is now.
But I'm jumping ahead. Let me back up a bit...
Titles of smaller things, like this blog for instance, have always been kind of fun for me to figure out. I like the clever little numbers, things like the name of my now defunct scrapbooking calendar attempt--"Get Your Scrap Together". Doug came up with that one. I thought it was funny. Probably the only decent thing that came out of that failed business venture, but it was memorable to me. If nothing else, the name--or title--can be fun and entertaining even if the thing it is talking about, well, isn't.
(And yes, I know you have all looked up by now and noticed the lame title for this blog. Ironic isn't it? Almost clever now that you think about it....)
Now I am at a point where I need to come up with the title of a book. Not just any book, but a book I am writing. It is actually a book that two of my sisters have read--so far anyway since it isn't finished yet--and I have asked for their input on a title, but in all honesty even if you HAVEN'T read the book--or even know anything at all about it--anyone could probably come up with a working title for me.
And here is why:
It is an LDS romance type genre novel. Which, in the non-LDS world, means it is an "Inspirational Romance"...in other words, it is a cheesy romance that has no premarital--you-know--and the guy and girl end up together in the end. (And being an LDS romance, I don't mean 'together' in the biblical sense...Can I explain that any more clearly??) With a little testimony builder or spiritual thought thrown in for good measure.
So, for those of you who would like to add your comments today with a lovely list of fun titles for my as yet unfinished novel, here are some ideas of what NOT to do:
Nothing with the words 'heaving', 'desire', 'romancing', or anything about a Duke. This is an LDS work, not a Regency Romance--which any of those words would make people assume a change of venue. Trust me. Regency Romance novels are NEVER mistaken for an Inspirational Romance. Heavy breathing and heaving bosoms are standard in a Regency; Heavy knit-cable sweater weaving and heaving pounds of funeral potatoes are standard in LDS fare.
Nothing implying sadness, despair, or loss of virtue can be in the title. Not because an LDS book won't have those things--albeit that last one would be only implied...never actually discussed--but because I see those words in titles at the library and, frankly, pass the book by. I'm not in the library to find a book that will depress me. I can get depressed just fine at home. Reading is an escape. I want fun, laughter and love. Not something that will make my life look good. (And I say that in the best possible fashion...I get fun, laughter and love at home--but with 7 kids I also get the grief. What fun is escapism if you are just reading about your own life?)
What CAN it have in the title? Hmmm. Let's see:
It can have anything light, chipper, and fun. Something like 'HOLY CRAP!' I like that title. LDS humor. Gotta love it. Plus in all caps it is an attention getter. Someone might wander aimlessly down the aisle at the bookstore and see that title--if YOU were to see it, wouldn't you find your hand suddenly moving on it's own volition and taking that book off the shelf to see what it was about? I would. I might even buy the book for the title. Just because it made me giggle for a moment while I was trying to drag at least 3 kids out of the train section at the Barnes and Noble while hoping the trail of books I just passed really wasn't made by one of the other 4 kids I own...
Is that too much to ask?
Probably.
But go ahead and try. I double-dog dare you.
That can be a dilema. One I wasn't previously aware would be an issue to me, but it is now.
But I'm jumping ahead. Let me back up a bit...
Titles of smaller things, like this blog for instance, have always been kind of fun for me to figure out. I like the clever little numbers, things like the name of my now defunct scrapbooking calendar attempt--"Get Your Scrap Together". Doug came up with that one. I thought it was funny. Probably the only decent thing that came out of that failed business venture, but it was memorable to me. If nothing else, the name--or title--can be fun and entertaining even if the thing it is talking about, well, isn't.
(And yes, I know you have all looked up by now and noticed the lame title for this blog. Ironic isn't it? Almost clever now that you think about it....)
Now I am at a point where I need to come up with the title of a book. Not just any book, but a book I am writing. It is actually a book that two of my sisters have read--so far anyway since it isn't finished yet--and I have asked for their input on a title, but in all honesty even if you HAVEN'T read the book--or even know anything at all about it--anyone could probably come up with a working title for me.
And here is why:
It is an LDS romance type genre novel. Which, in the non-LDS world, means it is an "Inspirational Romance"...in other words, it is a cheesy romance that has no premarital--you-know--and the guy and girl end up together in the end. (And being an LDS romance, I don't mean 'together' in the biblical sense...Can I explain that any more clearly??) With a little testimony builder or spiritual thought thrown in for good measure.
So, for those of you who would like to add your comments today with a lovely list of fun titles for my as yet unfinished novel, here are some ideas of what NOT to do:
Nothing with the words 'heaving', 'desire', 'romancing', or anything about a Duke. This is an LDS work, not a Regency Romance--which any of those words would make people assume a change of venue. Trust me. Regency Romance novels are NEVER mistaken for an Inspirational Romance. Heavy breathing and heaving bosoms are standard in a Regency; Heavy knit-cable sweater weaving and heaving pounds of funeral potatoes are standard in LDS fare.
Nothing implying sadness, despair, or loss of virtue can be in the title. Not because an LDS book won't have those things--albeit that last one would be only implied...never actually discussed--but because I see those words in titles at the library and, frankly, pass the book by. I'm not in the library to find a book that will depress me. I can get depressed just fine at home. Reading is an escape. I want fun, laughter and love. Not something that will make my life look good. (And I say that in the best possible fashion...I get fun, laughter and love at home--but with 7 kids I also get the grief. What fun is escapism if you are just reading about your own life?)
What CAN it have in the title? Hmmm. Let's see:
It can have anything light, chipper, and fun. Something like 'HOLY CRAP!' I like that title. LDS humor. Gotta love it. Plus in all caps it is an attention getter. Someone might wander aimlessly down the aisle at the bookstore and see that title--if YOU were to see it, wouldn't you find your hand suddenly moving on it's own volition and taking that book off the shelf to see what it was about? I would. I might even buy the book for the title. Just because it made me giggle for a moment while I was trying to drag at least 3 kids out of the train section at the Barnes and Noble while hoping the trail of books I just passed really wasn't made by one of the other 4 kids I own...
Is that too much to ask?
Probably.
But go ahead and try. I double-dog dare you.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Happy Birthday to Me
Today is my 40th birthday.
Normally I am not opposed to people knowing my age. Heck, I don't even put much thought in having people know how much I weigh as long as they promise not to laugh--out loud anyway. Usually when I've had birthdays, people will just give me the "Happy birthday, De!"
Today, people added "So, you are forty huh? How does that feel?"
How does that feel? Are you serious?
Do you ever really wake up and feel completely different than you did when you went to sleep just a few hours earlier?
Well, I don't feel differently today than I did yesterday. I actually don't feel much different today than I did when I was 30, if you want the truth.
But I also found myself yanking a couple of grey hairs out of the top of my head today with a little more gusto. So maybe my subconscious is feeling a little different today. I'm looking for the grey hair, I'm noticing that my "laugh lines" are looking suspiciously more like "wrinkles" than I remember, and I'm wondering how many fat grams I am consuming as I eat the Belgian chocolates my friend Carola gave me today for my birthday, when I used to eat chocolate a bit more guilt-free.
So now, as the kids are finally in bed and my husband is quickly falling asleep on the couch while "watching" SportsCenter, I am reflecting a bit on today and am just glad it is almost over. Tomorrow I will still be 40, but the spotlight will be removed from me again--which is where I prefer the spotlight.
My husband invited a bunch of neighbors and friends over tonight for a surprise party for me. It was nice. I loved having everyone over, and they are great friends. (Can you feel the "but" coming on?)
BUT, I really do hate the attention a birthday brings. I would rather have everyone over for no reason. I guess it wouldn't have happened if it weren't my birthday, so if I have to have a birthday in order for people to come to my house bearing cake and gifts, I'll sacrifice getting older and feeling a little self-conscious for the evening.
Tomorrow the kids go back to school, life goes on, and I'm now 40 years old. Middle aged. Clutching hard at the grass at the top of the hill to keep from sliding down the other side. Not sure why I'm fighting it though, really. The older I get, the more excuses I'll have for saying dumb things and looking confused....I can start playing the 'age card'. Brilliant. And right now I am finally old enough that younger people think I actually know what I'm talking about. I'm experienced. Been-there-done-that. Hmm.
Someone get me a sled. I'm going to enjoy the other side of this hill.
Normally I am not opposed to people knowing my age. Heck, I don't even put much thought in having people know how much I weigh as long as they promise not to laugh--out loud anyway. Usually when I've had birthdays, people will just give me the "Happy birthday, De!"
Today, people added "So, you are forty huh? How does that feel?"
How does that feel? Are you serious?
Do you ever really wake up and feel completely different than you did when you went to sleep just a few hours earlier?
Well, I don't feel differently today than I did yesterday. I actually don't feel much different today than I did when I was 30, if you want the truth.
But I also found myself yanking a couple of grey hairs out of the top of my head today with a little more gusto. So maybe my subconscious is feeling a little different today. I'm looking for the grey hair, I'm noticing that my "laugh lines" are looking suspiciously more like "wrinkles" than I remember, and I'm wondering how many fat grams I am consuming as I eat the Belgian chocolates my friend Carola gave me today for my birthday, when I used to eat chocolate a bit more guilt-free.
So now, as the kids are finally in bed and my husband is quickly falling asleep on the couch while "watching" SportsCenter, I am reflecting a bit on today and am just glad it is almost over. Tomorrow I will still be 40, but the spotlight will be removed from me again--which is where I prefer the spotlight.
My husband invited a bunch of neighbors and friends over tonight for a surprise party for me. It was nice. I loved having everyone over, and they are great friends. (Can you feel the "but" coming on?)
BUT, I really do hate the attention a birthday brings. I would rather have everyone over for no reason. I guess it wouldn't have happened if it weren't my birthday, so if I have to have a birthday in order for people to come to my house bearing cake and gifts, I'll sacrifice getting older and feeling a little self-conscious for the evening.
Tomorrow the kids go back to school, life goes on, and I'm now 40 years old. Middle aged. Clutching hard at the grass at the top of the hill to keep from sliding down the other side. Not sure why I'm fighting it though, really. The older I get, the more excuses I'll have for saying dumb things and looking confused....I can start playing the 'age card'. Brilliant. And right now I am finally old enough that younger people think I actually know what I'm talking about. I'm experienced. Been-there-done-that. Hmm.
Someone get me a sled. I'm going to enjoy the other side of this hill.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Resolutions For the New Year
Happy New Year. Might as well assume that will be the case anyway, right? Fresh starts, bright outlooks...
My New Year began December 31st at the InstaCare with my 4 year old son. He learned the hard way that we weren't just being ornery parents when we told them a million times to not play with the weight set. He also learned that one should not put his hand on the weights after his little sister picks up the curl bar and walks backwards pulling 15 pounds up to a height of about two feet. Because--again, learning the hard way--she will think it is really fun to suddenly let go of said bar and watch the weights come slamming down. Directly on the hand that is innocently resting on their home. Dominic ended up breaking the ring finger on his right hand--and the pressure split his finger open causing the need for three stitches. His top finger joint is broken vertically down the middle, and the 2nd joint is broken horizontally near the top part of the bone...the broken piece jutting painfully out at greater than a 40 degree angle...looking somewhat like ice cream falling off a cone if you look at the x-ray in a demented, hunger-induced way. We thought he was going to need surgery to pin that bone in place, but the specialist we took him to yesterday decided that it might fix itself. So in one week we return to get the stitches removed, and the 2 weeks after that we return to get another x-ray to make sure it is healing correctly. I suppose there is still the possibility that he would need surgery, but for now we will keep our fingers crossed (no pun intended).
After a start like that, one must be very careful for what sort of resolutions you make for the new year. One that would make sense is to just hope that a broken finger is as bad as it gets. It would be nice to get all the crappy stuff of the year taken care of at the beginning and leave smooth sailing for the rest of 2008. It is also wise to make resolutions that you don't laugh inside as you are making them, knowing full well that you will break said resolution within 24 hours of making it.
For example, I would never in a million years say that my resolution would be to not eat chocolate. Like that would ever happen. I could say that I will never eat chocolate after midnight...on a Tuesday. That might work. Heavy on the 'might'.
I would LIKE to say that I will exercise more and watch what I eat. That is doable. I could accomplish that just by actually vacuuming my house every day and by keeping my eyes open when I polish off the carton of Ben and Jerry's. (I'm not opposed to sneaky resolutions....)
I would never say something like "I will lose ten pounds". That is too concrete. Even if I shaved my head that much weight wouldn't come off, and since my only real options for losing weight is cutting my hair or suddenly growing taller, I think I will stay away from that area of resolution. I want to succeed this year in any resolutions I might make.
Now, a resolution can't be silly. For instance, I shouldn't say I will GAIN ten pounds--because although that is more likely than losing ten pounds...and infinitely more fun, at least in the effort...I probably shouldn't resolve to do things that would be bad for me. Or that would make people quickly move their children and small pets from my path in fear that I might roll over them as I waddle their general direction if they happen to get between me and the bakery section of the grocery store.
No, resolutions should be well thought out...solid goals that will be worth trying to achieve, and not completely impossible. I'm all for goals that will help me become a better person and all that, and my kids would probably appreciate it if I threw one in that said something to the effect of being a kinder, more generous and less embarrassing mother (but where is the fun in that?).
So in reality my resolutions this year will be to 1. Dance more in the kitchen while cooking (thus reaching the goal of more exercise AND the added bonus of embarrassing my kids MORE--can't let them run everything around here, right?); 2. Try to remember to add a vegetable item to dinner AT LEAST once per week (that should take care of eating more healthy, AND make my mother-in-law--the nutritionist--not think that I'm killing her grandchildren and depriving them of nutrients); and 3. Just for good measure and something to kick me a bit (a lot) out of my comfort zone, will be to show more appreciation to my friends and family. Now that I wrote that last one down in a fairly public location, I can't get out of it too easily. So if you are a friend or a family member and you see me suddenly stammer and blush and give you a half-hearted looking pat on the back...take it as a huge demonstration of my deep love and gratitude. I'll mean every bit of it and will know that you deserve so much more.
(And if you catch me dancing in my kitchen and singing loudly to my Mp3 player in a way that finds my children hiding and my husband turning the volume up on the tv, feel free to just ignore me--or better yet, join in. And I will be sure to put more feeling in the back pat you will most definitely receive).
My New Year began December 31st at the InstaCare with my 4 year old son. He learned the hard way that we weren't just being ornery parents when we told them a million times to not play with the weight set. He also learned that one should not put his hand on the weights after his little sister picks up the curl bar and walks backwards pulling 15 pounds up to a height of about two feet. Because--again, learning the hard way--she will think it is really fun to suddenly let go of said bar and watch the weights come slamming down. Directly on the hand that is innocently resting on their home. Dominic ended up breaking the ring finger on his right hand--and the pressure split his finger open causing the need for three stitches. His top finger joint is broken vertically down the middle, and the 2nd joint is broken horizontally near the top part of the bone...the broken piece jutting painfully out at greater than a 40 degree angle...looking somewhat like ice cream falling off a cone if you look at the x-ray in a demented, hunger-induced way. We thought he was going to need surgery to pin that bone in place, but the specialist we took him to yesterday decided that it might fix itself. So in one week we return to get the stitches removed, and the 2 weeks after that we return to get another x-ray to make sure it is healing correctly. I suppose there is still the possibility that he would need surgery, but for now we will keep our fingers crossed (no pun intended).
After a start like that, one must be very careful for what sort of resolutions you make for the new year. One that would make sense is to just hope that a broken finger is as bad as it gets. It would be nice to get all the crappy stuff of the year taken care of at the beginning and leave smooth sailing for the rest of 2008. It is also wise to make resolutions that you don't laugh inside as you are making them, knowing full well that you will break said resolution within 24 hours of making it.
For example, I would never in a million years say that my resolution would be to not eat chocolate. Like that would ever happen. I could say that I will never eat chocolate after midnight...on a Tuesday. That might work. Heavy on the 'might'.
I would LIKE to say that I will exercise more and watch what I eat. That is doable. I could accomplish that just by actually vacuuming my house every day and by keeping my eyes open when I polish off the carton of Ben and Jerry's. (I'm not opposed to sneaky resolutions....)
I would never say something like "I will lose ten pounds". That is too concrete. Even if I shaved my head that much weight wouldn't come off, and since my only real options for losing weight is cutting my hair or suddenly growing taller, I think I will stay away from that area of resolution. I want to succeed this year in any resolutions I might make.
Now, a resolution can't be silly. For instance, I shouldn't say I will GAIN ten pounds--because although that is more likely than losing ten pounds...and infinitely more fun, at least in the effort...I probably shouldn't resolve to do things that would be bad for me. Or that would make people quickly move their children and small pets from my path in fear that I might roll over them as I waddle their general direction if they happen to get between me and the bakery section of the grocery store.
No, resolutions should be well thought out...solid goals that will be worth trying to achieve, and not completely impossible. I'm all for goals that will help me become a better person and all that, and my kids would probably appreciate it if I threw one in that said something to the effect of being a kinder, more generous and less embarrassing mother (but where is the fun in that?).
So in reality my resolutions this year will be to 1. Dance more in the kitchen while cooking (thus reaching the goal of more exercise AND the added bonus of embarrassing my kids MORE--can't let them run everything around here, right?); 2. Try to remember to add a vegetable item to dinner AT LEAST once per week (that should take care of eating more healthy, AND make my mother-in-law--the nutritionist--not think that I'm killing her grandchildren and depriving them of nutrients); and 3. Just for good measure and something to kick me a bit (a lot) out of my comfort zone, will be to show more appreciation to my friends and family. Now that I wrote that last one down in a fairly public location, I can't get out of it too easily. So if you are a friend or a family member and you see me suddenly stammer and blush and give you a half-hearted looking pat on the back...take it as a huge demonstration of my deep love and gratitude. I'll mean every bit of it and will know that you deserve so much more.
(And if you catch me dancing in my kitchen and singing loudly to my Mp3 player in a way that finds my children hiding and my husband turning the volume up on the tv, feel free to just ignore me--or better yet, join in. And I will be sure to put more feeling in the back pat you will most definitely receive).
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