Friday, October 15, 2010

I Interrupt This Blogging Slump...

...with happy photos. Many happy photos.

Like this one. This is Ollie and I'm in love with him. And don't accuse me of just falling for his looks; the boy has a great personality, too.


Here we are loaded in a minivan headed to New York City. That's James and DeDe along with my boys. James says it looks like I'm trying to show off my wedding ring in this picture.


We had an amazing few days together. We toured Washington DC, New York, as well as the mushroom capitol of the world. We spent most of our many hours of driving time playing "Hot Seat," asking each other deeply personal questions. 

Here's the boys club. Aren't they cute?


Let me now interrupt this blog post to point out a disturbing trend I've noticed. It seems that my last born offspring is slowly, inexplicably, morphing into Richard Nixon. What the?



If you have information regarding this problem, please let me know. I'm officially concerned.

Anyway, back to the trip. We had a great time and looked forward to it for so long, I'm completely sulky now that it's over.


It's impossible to tell but I promise it's true, minutes after this photo was taken, Ryan did an AMAZING toddler impression. It was an oscar-worthy performance. Even Ollie liked it.


Here's one last shot of me and my brother. I'd like you to know that I didn't pin him down, sit on him, or threaten to beat him up once during his visit. And likewise, he didn't call me a fat cow. We've really grown since we were nine and six.


It was so much fun being together. However, I've been thinking about it and I've determined that it was NOT long enough, and I demand a do-over!

Who's with me?

Monday, October 11, 2010

Hollywood Flashy Crap

I talked with Ryan via Skype yesterday. He was filling me in on all the Polish 411. The old town in Warsaw is amazing, he said. So far the food hasn't been spectacular, but the views, city, and people make up for it.

Later in the conversation, I asked him how people dress. I would like to blend in when I'm there and look less western, since the news channels can't shut up about the elevated terror threats in Europe directed at Americans.

"They dress pretty nice," he said, "but very toned down. Black, brown, gray. That stuff."

"Okay," I said, making mental wardrobe notes.

"I wouldn't wear all of your Hollywood flashy crap, like you're headed to a magazine shoot."


He said that for my safety, right?

Maybe Leroy at the post office was speaking for the Universe when he told me, "There's no need to vogue."

(My non-vogue passport photo.)

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Abstract Thoughts at Almost Midnight

Here's the thing about me and Life.
I work really hard on my relationship with Life.
I pay attention to it,
Make it cookies with toasted coconut,
Listen to its self-centered stories,
Send it "just because" cards in the mail,
Invite it over for dinner.
OK, I admit it: I am sort of a suck-up to Life.
I totally dig Life.
Even though it mumbles sometimes and walks too fast.
(Wait up, Life! I got short legs!)
Every now and then I think I understand Life.
Life smiles at me and tells me a funny joke about mustard,
And for five minutes I'm blissful.
I'm like, Life and I are so tight. 
We totally get each other.
And then out of nowhere,
Life dumps its Diet Coke in my lap,
Grabs my ankles,
And drops me on my head.
And I'm like, Whoa! What just happened?
What the hell was that for?
Then Life just shrugs and walks away.
And I hold my head in my Diet Coke lap,
Wondering how many batches of cookies it will take
To get Life to like me again.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Dear Mom: The Morning Routine

I'm going to multi-task here. In an effort to both keep up with blogging and tell my mom everything she's going to need to know while I'm gone, I'm going to write her some letters here on the ol' blogaroo. And in the event that she gets lost here while trying to find the mailbox and can't fulfill her duties, all the information will be written out and one of you dear readers can fill in for her.

Dear Mom,

The first thing you should know is that there is something wrong with Christian. Like, seriously messed up. For reasons that can't be explained, the kid gets up every morning around 6:00, sometimes earlier, without the aid of any encouragement on my part. Sometimes he uses an alarm clock, sometimes he lets his circadian rhythm naturally launch him out of his bed and into the shower. After he showers, he gets ready, makes his bed, picks up his bathroom and bedroom, and then heads downstairs to spend some time on homework or catching up on ESPN or mastering another level on one of his video games. I'd like to say that I've influenced this bizarre, responsible behavior, but I think you probably still have vivid memories of my morning lethargy, not to mention the hazardous conditions of my bedroom.

You'll make him feel most at home if you, as I do, stumble out of bed around 6:50 or 7:00, wander downstairs with eyes half-closed, wish him good morning, and ask him if he'd like anything for breakfast. Most of the time he declines, but I make him a couple of pieces of toast (with peanut butter and honey) anyway and then spend the next ten minutes begging him to eat them. He heads out to catch the bus at 7:15, lugging his overstuffed backpack. Feel free to eat the rest of his uneaten toast.

I refer to the hour of 6:50 to 7:50 as the Honeymoon phase of the morning. It goes so swimmingly, so effortlessly, you might be lulled into thinking that cartoon bluebirds are going to swoop in and begin dressing you in handmade (wingmade?) clothes from the tablecloth.

This will not happen.

Max usually has to be nudged/threatened awake, sometime around 7:40. He'll want his fuzzy red robe to put on and you'll have to resist giggling at the way he looks like a little old man in it. You can ask him what he wants for breakfast, but I don't recommend it. He'll take a full 20 minutes to contemplate it, and you just don't have that kind of time. He likes toast or yogurt or a Toad in the Road.

Max should be dressed and fed and freshly tooth-brushed by about 8:15, give or take a few minutes. He needs his homework in his backpack, as well as a snack of the toasted goldfish cracker variety. You'll want to grab a jacket and head out the door with him to join our friendly neighbors at the bus stop/mailbox for a wonderful morning chat before the bus comes to pick the kids up.

At this point, you can walk down a couple of doors to Estelle's house to join her for a morning walk on Tuesdays and Thursdays. We used to walk every morning, but Estelle has recently ditched me on Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays in favor or a senior citizens water aerobics class at the local gym. I'm not sure what that means on a personal level that someone would choose pool time with the seriously bathing-suit-challenged over a brisk walk with moi, but I plan to ponder it on my lengthy flight.

Back at the house, it's just you and the dog. You should make sure that she has food (one scoop per day) and water. Do not give in to the urge to feed her whatever the kids didn't eat for breakfast, no matter how forlornly she looks at you, wincing, and trying to pretend like she has a hard life. Her life consists of napping, snuggling, eating, more napping, and low-impact resting. We should all be so lucky. That's why we get to eat peanut butter and bacon and she doesn't. There has to be some balance in the world, for crying out loud.

Feel free to indulge yourself in reading or TV, but avoid the fourth hour of the Today Show at all costs. Kathie Lee is...scary. You can dabble in dish-doing if the mood strikes, but if I were you, I'd probably sprawl out on the couch and ponder life with a bag of potato chips.

This takes care of the morning. Any questions?
Related Posts with Thumbnails