Boy, it's too bad none of you had any opinions about my wedding dress. (Wait, is this a TOMATO someone threw at my head, there? C'mon, now. That would've been lovely on your salad, come lunchtime.) I have to tell you that I was ready to rid myself of the wedding dress without a backwards glance; I was just unsure of the best avenue for doing do. But after 80-odd comments exhorting me to THINK OF THE CHILDREN (specifically, to think of how my daughter might consider such a thing), I made a terrible mistake. I asked Chickadee about it. And she begged me to keep the dress. OF COURSE. I mean, I...
Chickadee was away for a few days this week on a school trip; some extremely brave school personnel took a gaggle of 10- and 11-year-olds into the woods and lived with them there. On purpose. Due to the whole divorce and visitation thing, I'm accustomed to the kids going away for a few days every so often. I don't freak out about it or anything. I missed her while she was gone, and the house was quieter, and Monkey very much enjoyed his all-too-brief stint as an only child, but it was okay. All good. Though by today I was itching to have her home. I picked her up this afternoon and I am not...
There are things I understand about genes, and other things I don't. Like, I understand that I can make a clover with my tongue because I have a pair of recessive genes which allow me to do so, and I also understand that I have hazel eyes because I have one BROWN eye gene and one BLUE eye gene. I understand that each of my children have half their genes in common with me, and so theoretically that means we will have many things in common. I even understand that some recessive genetic things will cause my children to be very different than I am. But I do not understand the recessive bionic...
I remember being told, long ago, that you fall in love with your spouse all over again when you see him falling in love with your child. This was, of course, in reference to my first baby, and I do remember the warm-n-fuzzy feelings of watching my ex unfold as a father, even though it often feels like that happened in a galaxy far, far away, approximately thirty billion light years ago. No one ever told me that, somehow, that experience would be magnified a thousandfold to watch my husband embrace his role as stepfather. He had no part in creating these children; they are not from or of him;...
My children are darling little angels. Except when they aren't. And BELIEVE YOU ME, we have plenty of the "aren't" sorts of instances, 'round here. Though their seemingly limitless capacity for finding NEW and INTERESTING ways to make that little vein in my temple throb sometimes astounds me. So, you have to go read this post by Joshilyn about how her son Sam has had his first brush with inappropriate profanity. It's worth the read, trust me. Go! I'll wait. It was hilarious, right? And lo, how I giggled. Oh, how I snorted in smug and blissful assurance that SURELY my children were LIGHT...
We're a busy family, and so like most busy families, we like to use the weekends to reconnect with each other in light of our busy lives. This is generally accomplished via sleeping late and eating pancakes. (Ahhhh---nothing says unity like carbs, am I right?) And then every now and then we try to do something special together. Saturday was VERY special. I was so far behind on my work, I kicked the entire family out of the house and told them not to come back until I was done. Ha! I'm just kidding. I would never do that. I mean, how could they possibly know when I'm done, when even I have no...
I'm having one of those overwhelmed-with-work kinds of days, and the children have been remarkably patient with me. Thank goodness. Though this does mean that there has been various silliness at the door of my office. Chickadee: [while pantomiming being stuck in a small box] Help! Help! I'm stuck in a box! I can't get out! Monkey: [immediately crouching down and imitating her] Me too! I'm stuck in a box, too! Chickadee: You can't be stuck in a box. I'm stuck in a box; you do something else. [She continues "feeling" the walls of her confines, while he thinks for a minute. Suddenly his face...
As the youngest and possibly most impulsive and least patient member of our family, I oftentimes wonder if Monkey feels like his entire life is just everyone telling him NO, over and over again. Some days, it feels like that's all I do. Put your feet down and sit properly. Please don't bang. Stop jiggling. Don't hum at the table. Because she's older than you are. Because that's the way it is. Because I said so. No, you may not go ride your bike in the rain. Why is there laundry all over the floor. What happened here?? It's not exactly the flowers and rainbows and life of constant kisses and...
Things haven't been going so well, over here at the Eyeball Corral. Oh, it's true that Chickadee remains a champion contact lens WEARER. I don't know if lenses are different now or her eyes are just a lot hardier than mine or what, but back in my contact lens days I remember a lot of "AHHHHH! There's something trapped under the lens! AN EYELASH! THE PAIN!!" and such. She's headed off to school every day with a lens case and a pair of glasses, just in case, and she hasn't had a single issue. That part is great. The part that's not so great is that she's now had her contacts for two months and...
