Well that went much better than I had planned. I am posting this update a little late, but whew.
What a weight lifted.
(insert sigh of relief here.)
If you have no idea what I mean, I have been writing about making a decision about Poops' school here and here.
So before the final conference, lists were made and lines were rehearsed (yes this is how I prepare for a "conversation" but inevitably no matter how prepared I am, it never really pans out how I picture.) I was all Nervous Nelly and I got dressed in the only nice black pants I own since I no longer have an office job.
I decided ahead of time to put my "quiet" hat on and do all the listening. I normally come right out of the gates with nervous chatter, stating my points, making my case, but this time I decided to pull a "George Costanza" and do the opposite of what my instincts tell me. Which actually worked out well.
Turns out, I hadn't needed any of that preparation after all.
They did all the talking and they ended up saying the same things I said. Mostly. So we're going to try for a round two next year at the same place. I think that having new teachers in a new classroom with new work might be helpful. I don't know what it was that made him act completely different from anywhere else, but I have a hunch that it had something to do with discipline/slash/boredom. If not, we have Plan B, because not every school is for every student and at least we'll have given it a fair shot.
We're at a Montessori school right now and I actually love it. The Montessori work is work with a purpose. At this age, it helps them build language, dexterity and independence. It allows children the freedom to choose their own work and go at their own pace. The good is that it allows children to develop at their own pace and it fosters independence as well as teaches them how to work within a group. The only downside is that some students require a more structured classroom; they need more guidance in choosing work or following through.
And that's what we're going to find out this year. Of course, a lot of it also has to do with the individual Montessori teacher and whether or not they can help unlock a child's ability to conquer his or her internal discipline. But of course, every individual child is different.
Either way, I am glad that's over and I'm looking forward to the summer. We'll have gymnastics, swimming, a couple weeks of summer camp and then school will start. I'm looking forward to a really fun and productive summer, but most of all FUN! In all of this, I'm trying to remember that in the end, he has really just turned three. THREE. And I'm going to let him be three.
So because I love me some people polls, what road did you choose for your child's pre-school and how did you go about making the decision? Did you do Montessori? Did you choose a more structured classroom? Did you have to make a switch? Why?
Thursday
School, An Update
Wednesday
i Heart Faces: Silhouette
I had a lot of fun with this week's theme at i Heart Faces! It was all about the silhouette and I spent hours trying to figure out how to do this and even with the tutorials I had a hard time getting it just right. I must have taken hundreds of pictures in two different rounds of pictures. So I took Poops out in his firehat after dinner and tried one last time. The only way I could get him out there to take more pictures is if he was allowed to wear his firehat and fireboots (with shorts of course). I was ok with that! So this is what we came up with. Honestly, I looked at this week's submissions and they are all just so amazing I am sure I'm not even close to even touching the competition, but I'm just happy I came up with something! Head on over to see for yourself!
Weigh-In Wednesday
Good morning, sisters!
I have zero change to report this week.
I went away for the weekend for a girls beach weekend, but I didn't slack off. No siree. One of the girls I was with was my sister-in-law who is a fitness freak (I should post the picture I took of her bicep here) and she put us through a Cross Fit workout on the beach, which felt good at the time and I was even able to keep up, but literally for two days after my ab muscles felt like they were peeling apart. They are just now starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, I can eek out a couple crunches. Maybe.
I also got in a two mile run and some open-water swimming which taught me that maybe I have some more work to do in the swim portion of the swim-bike-run. It wasn't all bad, I have just always kind of just waded in the ocean prior to this, so swimming with goggles on and being able to see everything under me kind of just freaked me out. I kept expecting to see some large shadow under me with intentions of eating me. I will feel much better on race day when swimming in the ocean consists of just trying not to get kicked in the face because I am quite sure no big shadows are going to wanna be around all that splashing.
Monday I got in a pool swim and Tuesday I did my first "brick" workout which pits two tri workouts back to back to get your body accustomed to what it would be like in the race. For me, it was biking (spin class) immediately followed by running a quick mile so that my legs can get accustomed to going from bike to run. Besides almost puking (I am on a streak of never puking during a workout or a race and I intend to keep it that way!) the whole rest of my body felt good. So I am almost excited!
I am a little annoyed that there has been no change in my weight this week because I feel like my body has been through the wringer. But I feel more hardcore now than ever because I have only six weeks left to train. I am trying to completely submerge myself in it and concentrate. I don't even just want to "get in" the workouts anymore, every time I go I want to push myself as hard as I can. Every time I do this and see what I am capable of, it pushes me more. I thought running a mile after spinning for 45 minutes until my legs were on fire was going to be hard, but I did it and it felt good! Mini-breakthrough for me! I need more of this in my life and it is quickly becoming an addiction!
I hope over the next week my body will start to melt away the excess. One can only hope.
Monday
The Beach and Cheez-Its
So we girls went away for the weekend as previously referenced in the installment about the Spray Tan (which you can see for yourself in the picture was not bad at all, right? I'm the one with the braids...)
The weekend was heaven. Pure heaven.
For one full day and a half, it was one giant window and it was lovely. And by window, I mean that normally my day consists of tiny little windows in which to do everything. There is a morning window when the little one takes his nap and I clean up the madness of the morning and get ready for the day. Followed by the next window in which both kids are awake and if we are going to do anything, it is going to be within that window, which ends with another window, the afternoon naptime window, where mommy gets to do things she needs/slash/wants to do (usually some sort of face-off called clean vs. blog or clean vs. facebook) while the kids nap, then the next window when they both get back up and we play and dinner must be made, baths are taken and bedtimes happen, and finally, the big long sleep window. Which sometimes is not so long.
But being at the beach meant one big giant window for mommy to do anything she wants. For instance, waking up at, oh, nine, (even though it was surprisingly hard to sleep without the gentle SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH of the monitor next to my head). Or maybe having a glass (or three) of wine, or writing another chapter of yet another book that I have started that may never see an ending (if there was an award for number of books began and never finished, I may be in the running for it). Laying around doing nothing but listening to an I-Pod on the beach...
It was wonderful. I didn't even know what time it was half of the time.
I even exercised! I ran, I swam in the ocean (discovering that I had better make some serious progress over the next 8 weeks before the triathlon or I will be in some serious trouble), and did a crazy Cross-Fit workout (which I can't put my arms up I am feeling today, thanks to my sister-in-law slash drill sergeant! Thanks sis!)
It rained everywhere in Florida except for the little bubble that must have been around our beach because there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Except for when we went for a late-night walk and, literally, the moment I said, "I can't believe there hasn't been any rain!" a torrential downpour began and we had to sprint at least a half a mile with our beer (which amazingly did not spill!), back to the condo at which time we were drenched and then promptly put on pj's and ate ice cream.
When we went out to the beach, we had a variety of ice cold beers and the yummy White Cheddar Cheez-It's of the "reduced fat" variety with us for a snack and those are my favorite.
We decided to take a walk and we went all the way down to the end of the beach and back. It took a while. We strolled.
There was no rush.
When we returned, we realized we had been breached.
Someone had stolen our Cheez-Its! The box was there, laying on its side, but the bag was nowhere to be found!
Drats! I love those!
I was probably the most pissed. Because I love them so much. So in my head whirled a million things, at the forefront of them a picture in my head of some muscle-guys who've had a few too many, stumbling by our chairs, spotting our Cheez-Its and daring one of the others to grab them and run (because muscle-guys crave Cheez-Its on the beach). I had pictured them being hungry, their stomachs growling, their inhibitions a little tinkered with, spotting our prized Cheez-Its and making off with them, laughing and cackling the whole way.
"Huh huh! We stole those girls' Cheez-Its! That's hilarious! I can't believe we did that!" was what they would have been saying as they scrambled off. And then they'd have picked some chairs to sit at outside a hotel that wasn't theirs and wolfed them down and went up to the beach bar for more drinks. And then commenced to tell the story of the Cheez-Its to all their friends, even into adulthood where they would go, "Remember the Cheez-Its? That was hilarious!"
That's what I was picturing.
So I'm scanning the beach for the bandits. The muscle-guys, laughing and cackling, probably wearing some really tacky hawaiian shorts.
And I turn around and I find them.
Our little lonely bag of mostly eaten Cheez-Its lying sadly on the ground a few feet away.
Surrounded by seagulls.
So.
That's what happened.
You mean to tell me that the seagulls actually pulled out the box of Cheez-Its in one giant "Heave Ho!" moment, then carefully extracted the inner bag, dragging it out into the open for the swarm and then commencing the final Cheez-It KILL???
Really?
???????????????????????????????????
They're that smart?
I still can't even believe it myself. But as I picked up the sad, empty red box, mourning the loss of our yummy White Cheddar Cheez-Its and filled with anger about its demise by a bunch of selfish birds, who didn't even have the decency to ask by the way, and began the trek back upstairs to get another snack (it was a long walk, we were hungry!), the birds swarmed around my head as if I were making off with their snack! And I had to duck and cover and run for it, swatting with my empty red box the whole way and yelling, "Go away! There's nothing in here! Leave me alone! You stole it already!!" because apparently they knew exactly what was supposed to be in there!
What the heck! Talk about selfish...
I don't remember seagulls being this smart or brazen. I only remember them swarming around knowing when food was out in its bare openness like a piece of bread (already OUT of the bag!), I certainly don't remember them capable of carefully orchestrating a burglary or theft of the inner bag of a closed box!
Do you?
Consider yourself warned.
Friday
The Spray Tan
Just call me "Pasty White Wilcox."
You'd never guess in a million years that I'm 1/4 Native American. Because the German, Ukranian, and Finnish wash it all completely out. I am pasty-whiteness. To the core.
I used to say things like, "I just need to get one burn and then it's all tan after that!" Which was partially true. Eventually I would tan. After I scorched myself first.
And in my teen years, I would sunbathe without sunscreen. And use baby oil instead.
I've had my share of burns. Just some of my memories include burning my belly so badly with baby oil that it bubbled and peeled, forgetting the sunscreen on the boat and getting so badly burned that I had to miss a week of work and crawl to the bathroom naked... sleeping naked, covered in aloe, freezing and burning at the same time. Good times.
I have all sorts of freckles now but fortunately there is no other damage beyond that and I think I caught it before rampant skin cancer. I am not all leathery looking, I don't have wrinkles. I have returned to my native pasty white color and I look just one shade darker than the vampires in Twilight.
I am now a recovering burnaholic and am desperately trying to become one with my pasty-whiteness.
Which is very, very hard when you have remnants of motherhood lurking around in every corner.
A (possible) stretch mark (or two) might escape the bathing suit coverage on the upper thigh where the bathing suit ends... some dimples in the back that haven't yet smoothed to their pre-baby condition, a little junk in the trunk left over from that 9 month trip you took...
You know what I'm talkin' about.
I have done a lot of work over this year to lose weight and I have seen a lot of progress. I am trying to be one with my body but I am still my own biggest critic. The closest to one-ness I have gotten is finally buying a bathing suit that is not a black one-piece, or the "momsuit," as my husband called it last weekend.
Because he made fun of me and my two girlfriends (who between the three of us have 7 boys, by the way) who were all wearing black one-pieces at the pool last weekend. It was like some mommy bathing suit uniform.
And here I was thinking it was pretty good that we were all exposing ourselves at all, with reckless abandon (which I will leave for another post), to be perfectly honest.
But this week I charged myself with the task of buying a non-mom-suit because I am going away for a beach weekend with two non-moms with perfect bodies. How's that for intimidating.
So I bought a compromise in my own mind. The tankini. Probably the best invention ever. A two piece but not!
And because of my mom-markings, I was thinking really hard about the bathing skirt. But I just couldn't do it. I tried on every bathing suit in the world and the skirt looked the most ridiculous on me. I don't know why. I think I just couldn't get the right length. Way too much leg or wayyy too much skirt.
So in the end, I just decided on a green, blue, and white flowery tanktoppy top and the regular old black bathing suit bottoms. The kind that mom-marks and dimples tend to sneak out of.
The suit is really cute, actually. And I only half don't like me in it. Which in contrast to hating what I look like in it really is progress!!
But then there's the pasty whiteness. And mommarks.
And I've had this little discount card in my Breaking Dawn book that I was using as a bookmark for months (because I only get time to read in tiny increments). It was for a tanning place near the mall. My hairlady gave it to me because I was asking about the spray tan.
I was considering it.
I know I live in Florida and I should be tan. But I'm not.
I also realize the irony of getting a spray tan in Florida.
And since I'm pretty much done with the UV (I have a lot of skin cancer in my family and have had a few moles removed myself), it was looking quite appealing the more I thought about it.
Especially on the cusp of a bathing suit weekend with perfect bodies.
Oh the pressure.
So I called the place last week and asked the following questions:
-What do you do?
-How long does it take?
-Will I look like an Oompaloompa?
-Are you sure? Because I'm really white...
-Are you super sure?
-Are you positive? I don't think I can express to you how white I actually am.
And then I called back again yesterday and asked another girl all the same questions.
And when I went in last night after spin class, the girl at the desk said the other girl warned her about me.
Which I thought was kind of funny.
So she went through the whole spiel again, what to do in the booth, yada yada yada.
There were four colors to choose from. Light, a little darker than light, medium and dark.
I chose the second one. She tried to steer me toward the third one but I could see no good coming of that.
OK. So I'm really going to do this.
I won't lie. I was scared. There's only one thing worse than pasty-white with mom-marks and that's orange with mom-marks.
So, here is how it all went down because I know you're dying to know and I wish I had someone telling me this beforehand:
You have to go in after you've showered and shaved, with no makeups or lotions on. Nothing. Preferrably at night, sometime before bed, because you can't wash yourself or sweat for 4-8 hours so the spray has time to seep into your skin. I went in at 8:30 p.m.
When you get in, you strip down to nothing, rub lotion on your feet and hands so they don't turn a darker color than the rest of you because those places are really dry. You put a shower cap on.
Then you stand on the little foot markers, the sprayer sprays, then the tanning robot voice tells you to turn around and stand on other little foot markers. It sprays you all over for 3 minutes.
You dry off, put your clothes back on and Voila! You're done.
It all just felt kind of silly. Not to mention everyone in the place was at least 10 years younger than me (and the fiance of the girl working there stormed in, threw some loose change and money at her and stormed out -- that was an little incident on its own...)
So then I went home and was waiting for "the change". Because I wasn't immediately tan. The kind I chose was one that went on clear but the color was supposed to deepen over time. So when I woke up I was kind of excited to see what happened through the night. It was kind of like Christmas, but a little scarier, like maybe he didn't bring me what I was asking for for months.
And my husband was curious too. He even turned on the light to see what happened. He said I got some color, and then he went to work.
So I got up excitedly, I stripped down, I stood on the stool to look in the bathroom mirror, front and back.
My main goals were two-fold, to a) camouflage some dimplage and b) cover some mom-marks.
So did it work? Was I orange????
I rushed to the baby's room where there is a full-length mirror and I tried on my new bathing suit. I looked at the upper thigh region and Voila! Blended!!!!!
That right there was my $25 worth!
The dimples are still there, but really, what was I expecting? It wasn't a spray-miracle. It was just a spray tan.
So I am pretty happy.
However.
I could've used a little more lotion on a finger or two and my feet. Because there is some weirdness there. It crossed my mind to fill in the spray tan with some regular tan, but the point for me is to not go with the UV. No UV. (Might I suggest slathering lotion all over your hands and feet with reckless abandon next time.)
I am also glad that I did not go with her suggestion for the darker color because I fear that I would very much be orange right now. With this one, I am tanned a little, and in some very key places, mind you, but not orange. Except for one foot and a kind of orange thumb edited to add: ok, one seriously orange thumb, borderline freaky. Like I've been eating Cheetos. But my mommy marks on my legs are blended so it equals out! The good with the bad!
The spray itself also kind of stinks. I've since showered and the stuff still kind of smells. Which means I still kind of smell.
So goes my first spray-tanning experience. Just enough to fix some troublespots. But not enough to be a regular. Pasty-White Wilcox will live on.
Wednesday
Who's in charge here?????
I would like to speak to them, please.
It's the final weigh-in of the weightloss challenge over at the Sisterhood of the Shrinking Jeans. Actually, it was yesterday. And I was almost ready to post except that I got really busy and then I didn't. So a belated finale for me and the final tally:
+1.
Boooooo.
Yes. Instead of losing 10 pounds, I gained one. I'm in Opposite Land. And the reason I wanted to speak to someone in charge is because I went out to buy shorts yesterday and bought a size 8. I wondered if it was a fluke and so I tried on all sorts of size 8's. In pants, too. And I fit nicely in them. 10 still fits, but it's a little big now. So, um. How can someone gain a pound but drop a size?
Jillian doesn't believe in losing inches but not pounds. She believes that if you lose inches, it will reflect on the scale. I believe she called the theory of losing inches but not pounds, "bullsh--".
So I really don't know what to think.
But do I believe in shifting? That's a different question. Hmmm. Because after the babies, things did what I call the "shift and settle." Things shifted, and then settled. In the most unGodly of places. So sad. And my old pants would mostly fit, except for maybe one ridge around the hips that appeared, as if out of nowhere. So there you have it. Shifting? Maybe.
So I didn't lose weight. But my triathlon training is fully underway now and I'm working hard even when I don't want to. I run twice a week, spin twice a week, swim 3 times a week and lift weights one or two. And I just want to state for the record that if I were out to prove a point about food, it COMPLETELY matters, every single bite of food I eat matters. It is absolutely true that if I am not eating entirely clean every day, I will not lose weight. I can work out 8 hours a day but if I stick one donut in my face that day, I still won't lose weight. It is just the way I work. It's unfortunate but it has taken me 5 months to figure that out. After gaining and losing and regaining the same 2 pounds. Sigh. I've still got this 10 last left and I want them off darnit!!! I went bathing suit shopping yesterday too and believe me, an extra ten pounds on a pasty white body is, how do you say, not good.
So what about you???
How did you do this journey? I'm in for another challenge when it happens and hopefully there will be a better ending for me...
Tuesday
iheartfaces: Blurb Photo Book Contest
My favorite thing about photography is taking a picture that in the grand scheme of things is just kind of ok, but seeing one spectacular little detail. This picture in its entirety had my husband in the background, a water cup on the table, but my son's expression spoke to me. So I got rid of all the other stuff. What I ended up with was such a statement from my son. Because normally, he LOVES him some dessert. But by the time I took this picture, we had been at a wedding, it was probably an hour past naptime, and he, sitting in his little tux because he was the ring bearer, was just spent. Too spent, even for cheesecake. If you knew him, you'd know that he must've been exhausted, because that plate would be clean if he wasn't!Head on over to I Heart Faces for some seriously great pictures this week!
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I am submitting this photo into the www.iheartfaces.com Blurb Book photo contest. I am granting I ♥ Faces permission to use my photo in a printed version of a book for commercial use and possibly advertising of a photo book on both the Blurb and I ♥ Faces web sites.
Thursday
I Want to Know Where all the Pens Go.
Are they with the missing socks?
Is there a missing sock vs. pen underground fight club? But honestly, what would the socks have to be mad at? Actually come to think of it...the socks probably have plenty to be mad at. They get holey, stinky, dirty, muddy, they spend most of their time completely confined in the dark...
The toes try to talk but it's probably all muffled because of the sock, then the sock inevitably begins to feel guilty...
No wonder one of them makes a run for it.
Or...are the pens and socks hanging out, maybe living in harmony in a commune playing sock-puppet together? (You know, pen draws the eyes on...)
Because here at our house we buy packs of pens. Packs. Pens in quantity. As in a Sam's Club amount of pens.
You would think it impossible to actually run out of pens. But a couple months later, there are only one or two left sitting in our little penholder on the desk. Maybe that many. And they're not even from the original pack of pens, they're stragglers we've picked up along the way.
All of the others, gone. Somehow, we cycle through them. Use them all, never to be found again. We may as well use it once, then toss it in the trash. That's how fast they go.
Usually the wife gets blamed (of course). And in bouts of momnesia or sleepwalking, I guess it could be possible that I make off with pens and store them in my secret stash. If I were taking Ambien, I'd blame it on that. Sleep-pen-stealing...
But I don't take Ambien. I sleep ok for the most part. Except that my husband snores. We've tried Breathe-Rights, they work sometimes but not always. And never try the generic. Those totally don't work. But usually I can poke him in the arm and he does much better on his side... Ear plugs are great except that I can't hear the kids in the monitors.
Where was I?
Oh yeah. Pens.
So after the Guitar Hero fundraiser (yes I just got around to emptying out my bag of supplies for it), I hit the pen motherload.
Amazing.
A ginormous number of pens from the restaurant that helped us host the fundraiser. I had bought a pack of pens for our signup sheet, but while I was putting them out, I realized that none of them worked. All 20 of them were pen failures. A bad batch. I ruined an entire legal pad scribbling to no avail...
So the restaurant manager handed me two heaping handfuls of pens. And as I went through my bag I realized, I still have them.
So I made a pen bouquet to show you just how many pens we have now. 
But not for long.
Because in about a month, I will look and see that about half of them have gone elsewhere. Perhaps into the giant legal pad in the sky. Perhaps off to join the sock-puppet commune. Or perhaps to unleash its anger in a pen-sock fight club. (What do pens have to be mad at? I can see a sock's anger, but pens?)
Who knows.
So it'll be interesting to see how long they last. Because I've caught on. I get blamed for the missing pens, but I know it's not me. It's them.
Wednesday
Weigh-In Wednesday with the Sisterhood
Hey there, Sisters! Long time no see, eh?
Yes, I felt bad I missed last week's weigh-in. It was because I didn't have my scale. MY scale. And I'm funny about different scales. They all tell me something different. Although they all have pretty much the same storyline, which is not much in the way of losses. Truth be told, the scale that was not my scale said I had gained two pounds. And that very well may be the case.
This week, those two pounds were gone. So I am back this week, yo-yoing as I have this whole challenge. Back to the very beginning starting weight of this challenge. Yup! I have been exercising fine, but I have completely canceled it out with my crappy eating and craving cave-ins. (Where did all of that amazing self-control that I so avidly demostrated in '08 disappear to? Drats!)
But there are 8 weeks left until the triathlon I am training for. I have purged the home of the Easter/slash/Birthday madness and I am eating clean once again. My workouts for this week are:
Monday: Run 3 miles/Swim/Softball game (check)
Tuesday: Spin (check. Legs want to fall off).
Wednesday: Run 3 miles + weights (this will have to be tonight and night workouts always require more coffee drinking)
Thursday: off
Friday: Swim + weights
Saturday: Spin
Sun: off
In sum, please don't banish me as a sister. I realize this was a weight loss challenge and that the goal here is to actually lose weight. And since there is only one week left, it appears that I will not meet and exceed my own expectations for this challenge. I will be happy if I finish with any loss at all at this point. If I could just dip into the new decade...
I've still got a little time..
(right?)
Decisions Decisions
Later on today we will probably be making an important decision. One that we have been torn about for a couple of weeks now.
After all of the mulling over and experimenting at home and discussing, I think we have one in our minds. And I think it's clear and unemotional and right.
But honestly, what I really wish is that we wouldn't be having to make a decision at all. I wish that everything would have went smoothly and wonderfully and my son would have had a wonderful, enriching, educational experience for his very first year of school as a two-year-old and that everyone would have seen him as a bright little boy with a passion for learning.
That is, after all, what we see.
And it's beyond disappointing. It's heartbreaking.
The good part is that he thinks school has been the greatest experience ever. He is still excited about it and still gets all giddy about going. For that, I am happy. And it really has been a good experience, after all, as far as doing new things and learning new things. How can learning new things not be good?
Today I will need strength. I hope we will make the right decision. One that will help my son be the best he can be and feel confident enough to be that person. Because of all the things I've seen, I know that he has not been himself this year. I watch through the window and see a child who's just not comfortable enough to be himself. For whatever reason. And it hurts me.
I hope I will say all the things I want to say in the way I mean and want to say it.
But in the end, all I have to do is think about the person I know. I believe in Him and him. And I am sure the decision will make itself.
Tuesday
iheartfaces: Laughter
I love this little man. He really really loves me. Me.
He reaches up for me. When someone else is holding him, he looks for me.
As a mommy, it is nice to feel wanted.
It makes a girl feel good.
And when I pick him up, he hugs me. Hard. He wraps his tiny arms around my neck so tight and puts his head on my shoulder as if I haven't seen him for days, or years. He's my little monkey and I know I probably shouldn't, but I could hold him all day and if it weren't for a hot stove or a potty, I would. He has such a wonderful, happy, beautiful soul and his smile and laughter is infectious.
He is the baby who says "Hi" to everyone. He's the one who waves to everyone and waits until they acknowledge him. He greets everyone who comes in the door, it doesn't matter if it's my house or a restaurant. And it's not like he wants the attention. Because he wants to give the attention.
If someone passes by after he says "Hi!" in his big happy smile with his big happy wave, and they miss it, I feel bad. Because they missed out on such joy. But he's just fine. He moves on to someone else right behind them.
You can imagine that it wasn't hard to find a picture of him laughing, it was only hard to choose which one to use. This one was taken during the self-portrait photo session we had a couple weeks ago for the self-portrait entry. For that one, I used a picture of me and his older brother, who was in hysterics with me. For this one, I was tickling him while I was taking pictures and he was in a full-body laughter and if I close my eyes I can hear it clearly in my head.
I just love my children. They are laughter embodied.
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Check out more great pictures at I heart Faces!
Monday
Mantra Monday: Picture This
Picture this: me, training hard, each workout, with reckless abandon, for that day.
Picture this: my son in a classroom where he is happy and busily working away.
Picture this: me, eating healthy and well, no longer ordering take-out or going to Taco Bell just because I am in the mood for a Mexican Pizza.
Picture this: me, continuing my hitting streak with lovely white batfriend.
Picture this: me, training to swim in open water. Just me and my swim helper.
Picture this: my family, trying to figure out how to make the home a scream-free, stress-free zone.
Picture this: two little boys who don't hit each other, but instead, find in them an infinite amount of compassion, love and respect for each other, and a willingness and selflessness, enough to actually share.
Picture this: one little boy saying, "No, I know you really want to play with this. Please, you have it. I insist."
Picture this: the other little boy saying, "No. Really. You play with it. I insist." If he could talk...
Picture this: a clean car, an organized office, and brand new necklaces all lined up for release on my Etsy shop.
Picture this: time left over to finish the few pages of Breaking Dawn and go to Ikea.
Picture this: a meeting this week at my son's school that goes wonderfully and smoothly, and myself walking out of there saying, "Ahh. Yes! I said everything I wanted to say in the manner in which I wanted to say it."
Picture this: my french manicure, the first one of 2009, lasting two weeks. At least.
Picture this: a 17 month old with no more fever! (Poor guy. What a weekend.)
Picture this: children who say, "Yes, mommy! Great idea! I will go potty, then I will clean up my room and get ready for bed. Wish I thought of it myself!"
Picture this: me settling for children who simply say, "Yes, mommy!" in any scenario whatsoever.
Picture this: me feeling like an accomplished parent with child/children who say "Yes, mommy!" to any and all requests.
Picture this: me wandering off track into dreamland while writing a Mantra Monday post.
The White Bat Miracle
Hello, three for three, how are you?
I haven't seen you, Mr. Three-for-three, since oh, before Christmas. (Where you been??)
Turns out I'm making friends with a white bat this season. I've always been put off by white bats. I don't know why. It's kind of a weird thing I have. But I figured I was in such a slump I might as well give 'er a whirl anyway. Certainly couldn't hurt.
And woot! A hit! Thank you, white bat, thank you. But this must be a farce. You can't possibly be this great.
Another hit.
Wow! Hey, we're on a roll here, white bat, you're pretty cool. Very impressive. I'm liking you, I think, very much.
What? Another hit, you say? Three????? (In one game???) My batting average thanks you very much.
Wish we'd have met sooner.
Friday
To Post or Not to Post... That's the Question...
Wow. I just want to say thank you for your responses and your e-mails about my Torn post. I feel so uplifted and encouraged by those of you who have been in the same type of situation. I would even venture out to say that I even see things a little more clearly now. Maybe it was your input, maybe it was plain ol' writing it down, or both. But I feel better and I think I even have a plan. I will be sure to keep you updated but I want to say thank you for all of your encouragement. It's nice to know I am not alone.
And even though I realize the post was quite cryptic, some of you caught on quite well! I'm impressed! (When you anger mama bear...)
Posts like these make me think about posting in general. Sometimes when I write, I am torn over whether or not to hit publish. I know as bloggers, we all deal with this in some capacity. Do we share too much? Do we share enough? And who gets upset when we share all of it? (My husband, for one...)
I ask these questions all the time when I am hesitant to spill something. Especially when I think about how it could be interpreted by people close to me. I often struggle with how much to talk about and how much of my life should be here for all the world to see.
And in the end, it usually boils down to two things. The first being that whenever something really bothers me, I turn to writing for comfort. I just have to write. Sometimes I get up in the middle of the night because my mind is going and going and going and I sit out here in the dark and type away. Usually, simply because of that, it will end up here in some form or another. Because by writing, I can literally see what I'm feeling, I can spill it out all over the page, and whether it's poetic or not, it's there for me to look back on.
It also helps me by giving me a buffer between the intense emotions I am feeling and my official reaction to them. If I get to write about it before I have a chance to respond to the situation, the outcome is usually just a little bit better for everyone involved.
Sometimes, though, it is worse.
And that happens when I begin typing, and I notice my typing becomes pounding and then the water works begin (and when the water works begin, literally the flood gates open and there is no quiet crying here, it usually turns into open mouth sobbing.) And then I realize that perhaps, something here is really affecting me strongly, profusely and profoundly! Either way, something is written and undoubtedly in blog post form. But whether to hit publish or not, that's the second thing.
I physically cannot bring myself to write on here if there is one big thing going on that I cannot get past. And those are usually the times when you will see a few blank days go by. Maybe even just pictures. I will toy with whether or not to post and then, in the end, I will either choose to post, like I did this week, or choose not to post based on what is happening and who is involved (for instance, sometimes if a family member is in the hospital or something medical is going on and I am really upset about it or worried, I so badly want to post here, but I have a lot of family who read this blog and I would hate to post something about that and have my blog be the one way they found out that there was something going on. I guess it's kind of a courtesy for my family. I would hope that everyone would be notified before they read what's happened here. Although, I guess it would be a good way to spread the word. I am not sure, though. If you're a family member reading this, feel free to chime in. Also on the flip side, I don't mind so much spilling my life, but I feel a duty to be careful about who else's life I am spilling.)
The point that I am so poorly getting to, is that I never feel like just posting drivel when something big is going on. Because I feel like I am not being totally honest. I feel like I'm keeping something from everyone. Not that I have to tell everyone my business, but this blog is kind of about my life and the things that are important to me, so it's important for me to be honest. If I'm posting pictures or some "Hey, how's it going - to-do list type of post" I know that's not really what I am thinking and that makes me feel like a loser and who wants to read about my drivel anyway? If I'm gonna bother writing, I may as well do everyone a favor and just put out the good stuff.
I won't lie, sometimes the blog will go blank because I'm just plumb out of things to write about or out of articulate ways to say it. Then I turn to reading other blogs because you all have some great stories.
Anyway, it's all so gray, isn't it? To post or not to post.
The one thing I will, however, typically refrain from posting about is politics, particularly when it comes to my views on them. I'd rather wander into whole "patriotic duty to vote" section then wander down the Right Versus Left aisle. I learned that in college. (At least I learned something, right?)
So I just wanted to say, "Thanks." I so appreciate your words. The online community can really be such a wonderful place.
