Just a thought at the 6:30 pm witching hour August 29, 2011

I just said this:

“Baby Girl, please obey and stop complaining.”

I wonder how many times a day I say this. One hundred? One thousand???

You know, this is why many parents just tell their kids to shut up.

It’s just much more economical with the words.

Interesting…

Brain failures, Thursday Edition August 4, 2011

I have a lot of photos to post, but I got a new laptop and dealing with getting them off the old one feels like a lot of work at the moment.

Instead, I’m going to try to beat my own personal record for Most Rambling Boring Post.

Here’s a list of things that have happened to me today:

1. I almost locked me, Baby Girl, my sister, my mother, and my cousin out of my house because I have apparently been walking around in the world without a key to my own house on my keyring. For about five weeks. About a month ago, I put my key outside (because, you know, having a spare would require forethought) in a super-secret hiding place so some sweet friend could come feed our fish (after my mother forgot) while we were on vacation. (The super-secret hiding place? I duct-taped it to the grill cover in 100 degree heat. Did you know duct-tape can melt?)

And never thought about it again until today. Enter a series of text messages that went something like this:

Me: Um, do you happen to still have my house key? ‘Cause I don’t.

Her: Nope. I taped-ish (that’s a direct quote) it back. That was your actual house key and not a spare?

Me: YES! Will update you when I find my brain. How have I not needed a house key for over a month???

(I tell her where I found it)

Her: So, the kids get their Harvard-ness from us.

Me: There’s a tweet in here somewhere–just have to find it.

I discovered the key in the pile of ashes underneath the grill.

That’s just good home security, folks. Point for the invention of the automatic garage door opener.

Dad, I promise there is now NO key hidden outside.

Please dont come rob me.

2. I was trying to tell someone about something funny that happened to me, and my details on it were so fuzzy that I got lost mid-story and actually had to pull my computer out and look up the story on MY OWN BLOG. But it WAS funny.

3. I lost my favorite nice iced-coffee cup at work. I left it there a few days ago, and gave it up for lost today. Bummer. And now they all know I lose things!

The End.

Snippets June 26, 2011

This week’s assorted Baby Girl stories for your Sunday afternoon enjoyment:

• BG and I were leaving Publix, headed to the car. We had just run in to go to the bank, so we didn’t have any groceries or anything to carry and were just sort of meandering slowly through the parking lot. The car was parked right next to one of those concrete cutouts for the carts to be returned, and BG hopped up onto the curb (to her, all curbs are balance beams and must be walked on). Of course, she wanted to walk ALL THE WAY AROUND the rectangle shape once she started, so I was holding her hand and following her while she did so. This guy was trying to return his cart, and we got in his way a little, so I smiled at him, had her step aside, and joked to him, “Sorry, she just needs to finish out her little pattern here.” I swear these things are funny in my head. He sort of squinted at me and went on. We finished our pattern, he put his cart away, and I started buckling her into the backseat. He walked behind my car to get to his, and I watched him notice this magnet on my trunk:

 

           So, the guy comes back around to me and practically shouts, “OH!” at me. He gives me this HUGE smile and an emphatic head-nod (and  maybe even a thumbs-up, I can’t remember because I was trying so hard to contain myself once I realized what he was about to comment on), and it was taking so much mental effort not to bust out laughing that I couldn’t even correct him. I got as far as, “OH! Well, no, that’s actually not…I mean, she doesn’t…” before I just decided to go with it, smile, and get myself in the car before I acted even more like a weirdo. I do want to keep going to that Publix, after all.  

• We just got a new pediatrician and went in for the first of what is so many vaccines I can’t even fathom it. Baby Girl was a champ and really put on a show for the doctor when she came in. The doctor was interacting with her and doing all those things that look like playing but are really attempts to check her developmental milestones when she accidentally said something that caused BG to launch into a monologue of epic proportions. The poor doctor was just trying to get a little language sample, of course. Eventually, she looked over at me and said,”If I just check ‘advanced’ for language skills and show that to her, will she stop talking?”  Um, no, she will not, but nice try!
• Baby Girl has started doing something that I do ALL THE BLESSED TIME. I know it’s irritating and that it confuses people to no end, but I really can’t help it (I promise!). Andrew calls it “mid-stream” thinking. Basically, I’ll be having a dialogue or series of thoughts in my head and decide to start talking to someone about what I’m thinking, but I just start the actual out-loud part with whatever sentence or question I was just thinking, without giving the other person any context or introduction. Just one of the many joys that is life with me, right? Anyway, BG and I were driving yesterday and she asked me, “Why does God talk to She-Ra and not to me?” After playing 20 questions for a while, I figured out that she has attributed the big, booming voice used on the 1985 She-Ra series she’s watching (thank you, Netflix Instant!) to God, and she wants to know why she doesn’t ever hear anything like that. Any answers?
• The giant Diego doll is still around, and he’s still right-hand man second only to White Bear. She typically pretends that she’s married to him and that they’re headed off on some adventure featuring baby jaguars and using NOT INSIDE VOICES.  Yesterday, BG marched into the kitchen and announced to us that Diego used to be her prince and then her husband, but now he has changed into her baby and her son.

 

             And IT WAS LIKE MY BRAIN FILTER SHUT DOWN, and I just raised my eyebrow and looked at Andrew (because I don’t like peace and harmony in my house, apparently). SOMETIMES THE JOKES JUST WRITE THEMSELVES, PEOPLE.  Don’t worry–I apologized immediately.

Insomniac party and an out-of-towner May 24, 2011

Hey, would you like to hear an incredibly boring story?

A bird started chirping outside our bedroom window at, oh, about 2:40 this morning.

Charming.

I woke up.

I started reorganizing my work-related, color-coded Outlook tasks in my head. Those little flags and checkmarks make me really insane, but necessary evil and all that. This is the first year I’ve gone totally electronic for all my planner/life organization needs–I’m disproportionately proud.

After about 2 hours (turns out that thinking about your to-do list is NOT an effective way to get back to sleep), I gave up and actually got on the computer and got my task list under (moderate) control.

The end.  

See?

Told you so. IF ONLY it were boring enough to lull me back to sleep.

___________________________________________________

Anyway, I promised y’all reunion pics with my old friend Janelle. You remember her. After some false starts, we pulled it together and found a weekend for her to come down.

Okay, she looks precisely the same as she did when I met her on a beach in Michigan ten (eleven? ugh) years ago. I adore her despite this obvious personality flaw.

Please note: the only photo in existence of me with a tan. WEIRD.

Friday night, we joined my fun cooking club girls at Mama Mia’s. It’s a tiny BYOW place and would be an awesome date spot, despite the fact that it is located in a gas station parking lot (well, it is).

Saturday, Janelle and I browsed the downtown Nolensville shops, then headed out to the Nashville Farmer’s Market (where I spent $15 on perfect, delicious produce and my child chose artificially dyed rainbow colored popcorn as her bribe treat–of course).

Then we headed home, put Baby Girl down for a nap (I’m sure Janelle was very impressed with the glamour of my lifestyle at this point), and Janelle and I watched Tangled. In my defense:

1. She had never seen it, and

2. Shut up.

And for the evening, we headed to Sevier Park to see The Goonies. For free! So random and so fun. Andrew was sweet to keep Baby Girl so we could go (he’s been working very hard on his solo EP which is FINALLY off for mastering and the reason I have gotten a TINY, miniscule taste of what it must be like to be a single parent for the past few weeks–and today, I learned the title of it from his blog–hilarious).

Other highlights: Janelle made the rookie mistake of asking BG how many ponies she has and what their names are (THAT took a while), and she turned to me at one point during the weekend and asked me if BG ever stops talking (I think she asked if there was EVER silence in my life…). Nope.

Okay, I promised myself I would try to go back to bed at 5. Thank you for joining me for this episode of the Insomniac Party. Cheers!

I’m spreading the stupid; it’s what I do. December 20, 2010

My friend Erin and I try to get together roughly once a week to drink a pot of coffee and let our kids scream at each other in delight (until one of them freaks out the other and we have to referee–they pretty much take turns being The One Who Got Suddenly Overwhelmed).

This was our phone exchange Thursday:

Erin: I’m headed over. Want me to bring Sonic?

Me: Yes, please! Cheeseburger/vanilla Diet Coke for me, grilled cheese for Baby Girl. You rock.

Erin: Cool. See you in a bit!

So, Erin hops over to Sonic, gets our food (doubles my order because it sounds good), and rings my doorbell.

Erin (holding up the bags with her one eyebrow raised up around her hairline): Um. I brought the food for us. It seemed to take a while for them to make it. Isn’t that weird?

A few beats of silence while that sinks in.

Suddenly, it dawns on me that this entire conversation transpired before 9 am. I had just sent my friend to Sonic for a freaking CHEESEBURGER at 9 in the morning, and she did it. And totally ordered the same for herself and drove to my house with them before SHE realized what time it was.

In the interest of full disclosure, We ate the cheeseburgers WELL before 10 am.

I’m sure she’s thrilled to have met me.

A klutz will always find a way December 9, 2010

Some points of no interest:

• I just flipped through the photos on my memory card and planned to post some, but it’s just too much work right now. I can’t muster the concentration.
• Yesterday, I hurt myself in the strangest way I can remember in recent history. I was leaving my office and somehow caught my ring on the door handle and almost ripped my finger off. I had an immediate circular blood blister line and my finger was so swollen that I couldn’t get the rings back on. I can’t at all figure out how that happened, even after examining the door with the librarian and laughing so hard I almost cried. I’m about 75% sure it’s not broken.
• Baby Girl’s brain just goes on pause while she sleeps. Without fail, whatever the last sentence out of her mouth is when she goes to sleep is continued with the first sentence out of her mouth in the morning when she wakes up. No “Good morning!” from this one. This morning it was, “and NOW can I build the gingerbread house NOW?” Kid, it’s not even 8 am. Chill. Mom needs coffee. And mascara.
• You know, I think not having TV for 9 months worked! BG just watched SuperWhy and then clicked it off, saying that she thinks she’s watched enough TV for today. Christmas miracle? I think so.
• Friends Kelli and Stephen came for a surprise visit and crashed at our place for a few days (this guest bedroom has been rotating people like a hotel). They’re moving to Thailand in January, so it was great to get to see them one more time. Photos and better details to come! Also, I got to have a very detailed conversation about why it is now okay for them to sleep in the same bed, but they didn’t when they used to stay with us. Pretty sure she thinks she gave them the power to sleep in the same bed by being the flower girl at their wedding.
• On a related note: Kelli? Did you take my house key to Arkansas with you?
• I need to be getting us out the door this morning for errands (well, that might be a little bit of a lofty description–BG and I have a coffee date in Nashville and we need to mail a package to Mr. Tim In the Desert and there’s a trailing to-do list after that), but I can’t seem to tear myself away from my Google Reader to save my life. ISSUES.

Dear fellow school psychs: October 15, 2010

I’m not sure what part of my brain is broken and making me do this, but I am taking Baby Girl to work with me again this afternoon.

It’s just for a few hours, and it will only be other psychs (who like me all right so far!). They assured me it was fine.

What could possibly go wrong?

I know; I heard it, too.

So, let’s just look at this like one of those choose-your-own-adventure books, right? Did you read those books as a child? Did you totally cheat and always check out both options before you chose the one you wanted? I was so sensitive that I couldn’t handle even the IDEA of my imaginary book character dying. Also very upsetting to the 5th grade me: Oregon Trail. Why my parents never screened my reading material is beyond me. I think I scarred myself for life by reading adult books as a child.

Wait. POINT. Oh, yes.

So, dear coworkers:

Path A: Baby Girl is a textbook model of appropriate behavior, drawing and “reading” quietly in the corner of the room during the meeting, occasionally wandering over to give me a kiss and tell me how excited she is to be my child. Everyone compliments her on her impeccable dress, shining hair, and me on my ability to juggle work and motherhood. We end the day with special drink at Sonic.

or

Path 2 (aka What is Likely to Actually Happen): I hear 32% of what my coworkers say because I am completely distracted by the need to keep Baby Girl from climbing that bookcase and/or coloring herself with markers. We all lose focus, abandon our meeting’s purpose, and spend the next 2 hours in a group therapy session reiterating that we don’t have enough hours in the day to do our jobs. We will also laugh (painfully, bitterly) about the fact that we look forward to fall break so that we can take work home and actually get a little bit caught up before school starts back. We leave frazzled and scattered.

I’d love to experience Path 1, but pretty sure the pages will fall open to Path 2.

Oh, well. Such is life.

__________________________

I just re-read this and realized that I did, in fact, describe Path A followed by Path 2. I was going to correct it, but that seems about right, actually. It stands.

Today is Things Are Breaking Day. I did not get that memo. October 1, 2010

Thursday and Fridays are my days off from work (read: reassemble household, do work that cannot humanly be accomplished in the part-time hours I officially work on paper, prioritize emergencies, etc.). I try to give myself license to take it relatively easy on Thursdays (picnics with the girl, Goodwill browsing, friend lunches, making impossible To-Do lists, etc.) and actually get things done on Friday.

I am chronically unable to relax. I have about 10 things that have been on my list for weeks running. Some important, some not at all. I have a bunch of posts sitting in drafts that have probably already served their purpose of emptying out my thoughts and should just be deleted now. I just can’t get on top of anything. My brain just isn’t working.

Mostly, I keep getting derailed by things like:

1) The truck transmission doing funny things on the interstate. I am not a fan. I like my transmission to just do his job and be quiet about it. I don’t think that’s going to be the arrangement for much longer. So, I called my father figure and made an appointment for him to take a look-see and received my marching orders to appropriate some tiny little part from AutoZone. That’s the extent of my usefulness on this one. I can operate Google and the telephone.

2) Coming back from lunch to find out there’s no power in the front room (the entire breaker box was just replaced a few months ago). Again, the extent of my expertise is the ability to check the breaker box and track down the electrician.

These things come in threes, right? I do need to go to the dentist. Maybe I can get a surprise root canal if I play my cards right.

Good grief.

The funny thing is that I’m not even freaking out. Things go wrong, you fix what you can the best way you know how, and life goes on. I’m sure the freakout is out there somewhere on the horizon, but I seem to be taking these particular problems in stride.

Today.

I’m not even medicated, I promise.

This is the most boring post I’ve ever written. My apologies. I’m going to go look for inspiration photos for whatever I’m about to do to my hair.

Thank you, Mr. Obvious September 3, 2010

Even though I never, ever remember to tag my posts with categories, I think I’m going to have to start using one for some of the things Baby Girl does. It’s going to be “genetically doomed.” That’s catchy, right?

She just bounded down the stairs into the living room (she’s wearing her bathing suit and tiny Ugg boots, but that’s actually pretty normal for most days), stopped dead in her tracks, and stared at the 8X12 ft white rug that is centered in the room.

“Mama, I LOVE our new white carpet! Is it new? Why did we get it? So the floor can be covered? So I can sit on it? So we won’t get crumbs on the floor?”

Silence from my corner.

Precious child of mine, I just don’t know how to break it to you, but I definitely purchased that very large rug the first week of March.

March, April, May, June, July, August…and now September, correct?

Sometimes small details slip right by her.

However, if one happens to try (just off the top of my head) to brush her bottom teeth before the top teeth, or  use the crayons out of their proper color order, or (guilty) try to skip just one or two pages of the 68-page Dr. Seuss book we’re reading for the 8th time that day…there will be HELL TO PAY. Just so you know.

She’s selective.

Wow.

In which I fall off the blogging wagon and overuse the word “much”… June 7, 2010

I know I can temporarily appease the grandparents/various other relatives by just slapping some photos of Baby Girl up here, so that’s mostly what I’ll do for tonight. If you want to know much else these days, you’ll just have to call me. Things are trucking along. Some possible changes on the horizon, but I’m finding that I do best when I keep myself focused on the task at hand and don’t go all rabbit-trail-thinking on myself too much.  I’m not much on the big picture right now.

There was a lot of this before the flooding (not so much since–more ripping up carpet and tearing walls down to the studs, which is slightly less fun)…

and a little of that.

There was a surprise trip to Chicago in there, so stay tuned for that. I ate the most expensive meal of my life and got my heart and soul melted by Colin Hay’s songwriting. NO BASEBALL, even. It was like magic.