I don't remember my new year resolutions from last year. Oh, I'm sure they had something to do with weight loss, and getting healthy, and doing more as a family....
but the specifics, they escape me.
And like the converse of the old adage 'If it ain't broke, don't fix it' if they didn't work for me last year, why would I trot those tired old things out again?
Wouldn't it be better to work more within myself? To try to be kinder, more compassionate, to work on understanding others?
Maybe this year working on the internal should merit more than the external.
Monday, 31 December 2007
Sunday, 30 December 2007
I was sorta a busy woman
Today I must:
Clean up the kitchen (counterspace will be a lovely thing to have again)
Tidy the livingroom
Walk El Doggo (who is bursting out of his skin)
Start drawing up plans for Spring Improvements (B does much better with actual drawings in his hand versus me saying 'Oh, put it there,')
Make gingerbread men, which I've been promising the kiddles for weeks.
Besides, is there anything finer than getting flour and sugar all over a freshly cleaned kitchen? Apart from the giggles and squeals and stealing bits of dough from my helpers, I can't think of a thing.
Today I:
Cleaned up the kitchen (counterspace is a lovely thing to have again)
Tidied the livingroom - although now you can't tell now, a few hours later
Walk El Doggo (who is bursting out of his skin) um, whoops?
Start drawing up plans for Spring Improvements (B does much better with actual drawings in his hand versus me saying 'Oh, put it there,') - had a general conversation about which project we'd like to start first - the first of many, I'm sure!
Make gingerbread men, which I've been promising the kiddles for weeks.
Made the dough, while a kitty made mew-mew noises and sang songs and danced around the room and batted toys around, and the boy sat with his father and talked.
A nice day.
Clean up the kitchen (counterspace will be a lovely thing to have again)
Tidy the livingroom
Walk El Doggo (who is bursting out of his skin)
Start drawing up plans for Spring Improvements (B does much better with actual drawings in his hand versus me saying 'Oh, put it there,')
Make gingerbread men, which I've been promising the kiddles for weeks.
Besides, is there anything finer than getting flour and sugar all over a freshly cleaned kitchen? Apart from the giggles and squeals and stealing bits of dough from my helpers, I can't think of a thing.
Today I:
Cleaned up the kitchen (counterspace is a lovely thing to have again)
Tidied the livingroom - although now you can't tell now, a few hours later
Walk El Doggo (who is bursting out of his skin) um, whoops?
Start drawing up plans for Spring Improvements (B does much better with actual drawings in his hand versus me saying 'Oh, put it there,') - had a general conversation about which project we'd like to start first - the first of many, I'm sure!
Make gingerbread men, which I've been promising the kiddles for weeks.
Made the dough, while a kitty made mew-mew noises and sang songs and danced around the room and batted toys around, and the boy sat with his father and talked.
A nice day.
Thursday, 27 December 2007
dirty snow
I cannot believe the season is over and now there's nothing but a long, hard slog until Spring.
This is probably my least favorite time of year, where mud and ice and snow do battle and debating between an umbrella and mittens takes a few minutes of thought.
This mood is brought to you courtesy of: a winter storm that just grazed us, bringing not the expected snow and ice but snow and rain, dampening everything and the mud making the bootscuff mats in the car stink like spoilt water.
I am unaccustomed to this weather shift happening until (much) closer to Spring, and it makes me grumpy and out-of-sorts. Not so the others in the house, though!
The kids see the patches of bare ground and pester to go to the playground. 'Can we take the bicycles out?'
They run, ruddy-cheeked, over hill and dale and stomp in puddles and search vainly for crocuses.
They almost make me believe that the smell in the car will go away and that Spring will come.
Soon.
This is probably my least favorite time of year, where mud and ice and snow do battle and debating between an umbrella and mittens takes a few minutes of thought.
This mood is brought to you courtesy of: a winter storm that just grazed us, bringing not the expected snow and ice but snow and rain, dampening everything and the mud making the bootscuff mats in the car stink like spoilt water.
I am unaccustomed to this weather shift happening until (much) closer to Spring, and it makes me grumpy and out-of-sorts. Not so the others in the house, though!
The kids see the patches of bare ground and pester to go to the playground. 'Can we take the bicycles out?'
They run, ruddy-cheeked, over hill and dale and stomp in puddles and search vainly for crocuses.
They almost make me believe that the smell in the car will go away and that Spring will come.
Soon.
Wednesday, 26 December 2007
bursting at the seams
So, how was your Christmas?
Ours was great. Family, friends, laughter, hugs, a great meal, wrapping paper everywhere.
And now the chaos of my house is not to be believed.
You see, I broke my own rule this year. I’ll get to it, I kept telling myself. I have plenty of time.
And so - I didn’t clean out the old toys. We didn’t make our seasonal run to Sally Ann’s, belaboured with small bags holding clean but used toys, all parts accounted for. We didn’t even get to the woman’s shelter, with baby gear and baby toys. Now, on top of all the things I had planned to give away, all the things I had grudging permission to give away…is the new layer of plastic and fabric joy.
It still sounds good, though, right? They’d be happy (and distracted) with the new things, and I could quietly clear out the old. I even rounded up boxes on the way home to start. Whistling, I came in, and stopped short at the sight.
The sight of the dinosaurs (new) happily co-habiting in Bob The Builder’s Workshop (old), and Barbie and the Princesses (new) whooping it up with One-Eyed Elephant (my God, the last time I saw that was when Cass was four!) and a couple of Weebles.
Yes, the new toys? Have now joyously met their neighbors.
And I need to build on to my house.
Tuesday, 25 December 2007
after supper
The scene now:
The fairy princess, bedecked in a fancy tiara, a pink t-shirt with a crown on the front, a long, filmy purplish skirt, and high-heeled shoes, is playing Candyland with the intrepid dinosaur wrangler, some of whose charges keep wandering onto the board and eating the cards.
In the background, Ms. Potato Head lies drunkenly askew, her nose buried in Snow White's skirt. She's apparently mourning the loss of her husband, who is exiting the room seated in a giant red truck. (Mid-Spud life crisis?)
The Ponies are restless, and looking for a Play-Doh snack.
Really, if they had more swag it wouldn't fit in the house.
The fairy princess, bedecked in a fancy tiara, a pink t-shirt with a crown on the front, a long, filmy purplish skirt, and high-heeled shoes, is playing Candyland with the intrepid dinosaur wrangler, some of whose charges keep wandering onto the board and eating the cards.
In the background, Ms. Potato Head lies drunkenly askew, her nose buried in Snow White's skirt. She's apparently mourning the loss of her husband, who is exiting the room seated in a giant red truck. (Mid-Spud life crisis?)
The Ponies are restless, and looking for a Play-Doh snack.
Really, if they had more swag it wouldn't fit in the house.
Monday, 24 December 2007
getting all the bad Christmas juju out
- Last night it rained. And rained. And rained some more. And now I have a lake of sucking mud (generally only seen in March) in front of the house.
- I almost hit my husband's great-aunt's garage today. Her driveway was pure ice-under-water. Merry Christmas! (whump!) Here's your Christmas package - can I call a tow truck?
- The dog, while not eating anything off or under the tree (I think he realizes that would be certain canine death) has made it his mission to eat every small plastic toy he finds. Cass's new obsession is Bionicles. This cannot end well.
- I made a batch of marshmallows. They didn't set 100%. They're lovely, but....chewy. The thought counts, right? Oh hell, they'll be great in cocoa.
- Does the little Baby Jesus really care if I sent out all those Christmas cards?And if he doesn't, should I?
Right?
Sunday, 23 December 2007
conducting the holidays
I am DONE.
Stick a fork in me, NEVAH going back to the mall again this year, good-bye supermarket, done.
(ah crap, the cookies. But that's one batch!)
So -technically- DONE.
Whee! Now to put my feet up and resist the urge to straighten the christmas tree....
Stick a fork in me, NEVAH going back to the mall again this year, good-bye supermarket, done.
(ah crap, the cookies. But that's one batch!)
So -technically- DONE.
Whee! Now to put my feet up and resist the urge to straighten the christmas tree....
Friday, 21 December 2007
all the pretty horses
I was always fascinated with my mom's dresser-top.
A multitude of sweet, slithery, grown-up things were there - lipsticks, silk scarves, earrings and necklaces, favorite jewelry, perfumes. All the things little fingers itch for and are summarily denied. She tucked old photographs and letters in the corners of the mirror, as well - I remember brushing my hair with her brush and reading a letter my grandmother wrote her about being homesick at college - things I really didn't understand yet, but that sounded worldly and mysterious.
Far back in the corner (or else hidden in her top drawer) was always a horse, scratched and beloved.
She had two, back from when she and her little sister used to play Derby in the back yard, currying and clicking their tongues to their plastic steeds. While she was never raised around horses, growing up in the Bluegrass State made every little girl a budding horsewoman.
The company that fueled many of these dreams and made the statues? Breyer.
This year, we've decided Rosey is old enough for her first horse-dreams and found her a Breyer of her own.
I think Mom will like that.
A multitude of sweet, slithery, grown-up things were there - lipsticks, silk scarves, earrings and necklaces, favorite jewelry, perfumes. All the things little fingers itch for and are summarily denied. She tucked old photographs and letters in the corners of the mirror, as well - I remember brushing my hair with her brush and reading a letter my grandmother wrote her about being homesick at college - things I really didn't understand yet, but that sounded worldly and mysterious.
Far back in the corner (or else hidden in her top drawer) was always a horse, scratched and beloved.
She had two, back from when she and her little sister used to play Derby in the back yard, currying and clicking their tongues to their plastic steeds. While she was never raised around horses, growing up in the Bluegrass State made every little girl a budding horsewoman.
The company that fueled many of these dreams and made the statues? Breyer.
This year, we've decided Rosey is old enough for her first horse-dreams and found her a Breyer of her own.
I think Mom will like that.
Wednesday, 19 December 2007
wiggling eyebrows
thanks, grace, too....
You Are Dancer |
 Why You're Naughty: That dark stint you had as Santa's private dancer. Why You're Nice: You're friendly. Very friendly. |
holeo-ho-ho
Last night was Cass's first grade school program. An entirely Christmas-centered program. Cass was, of course, a pumpkin.
(After being an S.*)
Actually, it was great. He was great. Rosey was a crankypants, but that was okay. Small ones usually are late at night.
I just can't wait to see the video of the concert at school at assembly.
The small voice saying 'I hafta go bathroom. I need to go PEE!' right into the microphone of the video recorder of the mom behind me?
Yeah. She would be mine.
*Cass had a phrase to remember: S is for Santa in his sleigh soaring. Every (single) time we practiced, he would say 'snoring.'
After he (whew!) said it flawlessly, he turned right around and flashed me a delighted thumbs-up. He brought down the house.
(After being an S.*)
Actually, it was great. He was great. Rosey was a crankypants, but that was okay. Small ones usually are late at night.
I just can't wait to see the video of the concert at school at assembly.
The small voice saying 'I hafta go bathroom. I need to go PEE!' right into the microphone of the video recorder of the mom behind me?
Yeah. She would be mine.
*Cass had a phrase to remember: S is for Santa in his sleigh soaring. Every (single) time we practiced, he would say 'snoring.'
After he (whew!) said it flawlessly, he turned right around and flashed me a delighted thumbs-up. He brought down the house.
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