countdown

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

with mm's famous mickey waffles,

the countdown to disney begins.

freaking out a bit.

the vent to nowhere

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

this weekend, we shopped for a new microwave.

we had the great idea to put one above the stove.

we could install it ourselves.

as it turned out, there was not enough room.

so we bought a new countertop microwave instead.

 

in the process,

we learned that this vent,

the one we have used for eleven years,

the one we rely on to remove smells from our kitchen,

the one i use almost everytime i cook,

doesn't go anywhere.

 

at all.

 

it just circles the smelly air back into the room.

dang.

best stay out of my house, bugs

 

 

 

 

 

acquiesce

"look, mommy,
these apples on my shirt
have pink,
and so do the cupcakes
on my pants,
match, match!"

"yes k, that's great, get in the car."

"look, mommy,
this skirt has orange flowers,
and there is orange on my
tie-dyed rain boots,
match, match!"

"yep, in the car."

"look, mommy,
this headband has purple,
and there is purple on this
striped swimsuit,
and my flower dress,
match, match, match!"

"right-o, in the car lady."

it's official.
i am one of those parents.
that doesn't seem to mind
what her kid is wearing.
i am worn down.

game.
set.
and match.

tired, much?

 

 

 

feels like fall

it feels like fall -

not because

of the crisp air,

the swirling leaves,

or pumpkin decorations.

it feels like fall -

because i have a

belly ache from eating

a pound or so

of candy corn

in less than 48 hours.

maybe just one more handful.

or two.

it is fall, after all.

28

i recently purchased
a pair of madras shorts
for one dollar!
the tag said 28.
does this mean waist size?
28 sounds good.
yes?

i brought them home,
to try on.
if, in fact,
my waist is,
or was, at some time,
28 inches,
i'll never know.

'cause i can't get 'em over my dang hips!

comfort/conformity

m loves dresses.
and skirts.
and skorts.

so last week when she came home
and said she needed sweatpants,
i was a little shocked.

"sweatpants?!?"

"yeah, it's a little cold at school."

"cold?!?"

"well, that and i want to be comfortable."

"comfortable?!?"

"and also, everyone else is wearing sweatpants."

"oh."

OMG!
and so it begins.
help!

sunday confession

mm made pancakes for breakfast.
i started a load of laundry.
the kids got dressed and made their beds.

we cleaned up the toy room,
and vacuumed the downstairs.

we all went to church.
for a long hour.

mm made lunch.
i folded laundry.
i started the dishwasher.

g got his hair cut.
we stopped at the store for a few things.

there was a nerf battle in the backyard.
i folded more laundry.
mm emptied the dishwasher.

mm grilled hamburgers for dinner.
i made some side dishes.
we ate on the porch.
i filled up the dishwasher.
again.

the kids finished their homework.
m read.
g played computer.
k "worked" in her notebook.
i sorted laundry.

baths, teeth brushing, stories, prayers.

then mm said,
"i feel like we didn't get anything accomplished today."

oh yes. he did.

what's your sunday confession?
the confessional is open.

remembering

alone at last

so what did i do
on my first day alone
since summer began?
for two and half glorious hours,
four days a week?

work out?*
shop?
clean house?**
yardwork?

nope.
i got in my car
and cried.
all the way home.
while sting sang
"fields of gold" -

i blubbered so much
i couldn't see the road.
everything was blurry.
i thought about
how grown-up she looked,
how she walked away so easily,
how she didn't cry even a little bit.

i thought about
never having any more babies to hold.

oh jeez.
well, there's always tomorrow.
right?

*work out, that is so funny.
**clean house, okay that might be funnier.

clouds in her coffee

when i first started drinking coffee,
i was at a wedding in louisville.
m was with us,
she was 15 months old.
staying in a hotel with her
was no fun.
i was completely exhausted.

one of my mom's friends
told me a secret.
put a little hot chocolate in the coffee,
and i wouldn't notice the taste.
mmm.

that weekend became a coffee drinker.
a-cafe-mocha-three-okay-four-dollar-a-cup
coffee drinker.
from that place.
that place i still love to go to.
on special occasions.

my friends told me that soon,
soon, i wouldn't care where
the coffee came from,
i would just drink any old kind.
not me, i said, never.

but they were right.
eight years later,
i will drink any old kind.
i just need a little sugar,
and a lot of creamer,
and i'm good to go.

but i miss that time.
that time in the beginning,
when coffee was new to me.

when my kids were little,
i used to sing to them
"the good morning song" -
i opened their blinds,
smiled and sang,
"good morning,
good morning,
the best to you each morning!"

(which i learned from my mother,
and might be a beatles song,
or a corn flakes commercial,
or a hybrid of the two)

but after a while i stopped.
i don't know what happened,
i just did.
now i just get them up,
any old way.

but i miss that time.
that time in the beginning.
when everything was new to me.
and i want it back.

starting with the
good morning song.
again.