All 3 of you who asked -- no -- FORCED me to give picture evidence of my fashion blunder. So here it is. Don't say I didn't warn you, though: it ain't pretty. If you tell me these boots look good on me, I just plain won't believe it. This isn't the sort of thing I can pull off. I felt mildly goofy in private, and then when I wore them in public (!) it escalated to severe irritation.
The tight pants required to wear the boots with were fresh from the incredible clothing-shrinker, aka: dryer, forcing me into an unflattering pear or apple or gourd or whatever shape fruit it is that people don't want to be associated with.
My helpful husband was all too willing to be the photographer for the occasion. First, he wanted to pose me all perfect and sweet. Instead he got me scowling because I did NOT want to be in a sweet, perfect pose.
Then, he persisted with a glamour-shots-like pose anyway, which I could at least laugh along with.
Finally, we worked on accentuating the fruity shape of my body in the most unflattering way available.
But his best idea, by far, was the leprechaun kick. Are you ready for this action?
Yesterday was a golden and glorious day from my husband-at-home, children-were-sleepy, 68-degree viewpoint. We had a wonderfully uneventful day, and I can't say I'd even like to imagine the chaos that some people endured in the wee hours of the morning in the name of shopping.
As I've said before, I'm not big on shopping. I am big on new things to hold in my greedy little hands, but the effort it sometimes takes to get to that point just wears me out and overwhelms my simple sensibilities. So yesterday morning at 4 am, when some of my family members were trekking to their must-shop venues, I was snuggled warm in my bed, with my cold toes shoved among my husband's shins. It was probably blissful -- I don't really know, since I slept through it.
However, I do have shopping on my mind these days. You see, I'm not historically good at getting my Christmas shopping done early. In fact, I've been known to be one of the frantic few shoppers left on Christmas Eve morning, still hunting for something -- anything -- to give as a gift for a difficult recipient. Not that my recipients are difficult, mind you; It's me that causes trouble. I overthink things and get the perfect specific gift in my head, and then end up not being able to find exactly what I had in mind, so nothing will do. And then...gift card. I end up with a plain, boring gift card. Why is it that I SO hesitate to give those for fear of being unoriginal, but I SO love to receive them? How is that logical?
This year, I've made a bigger than usual effort to shop early, and shop often. If I saw something I liked for someone in September? I got it. And I've been collecting gifts pretty regularly since then. Let's just hope I remember where all of them are stashed, and what I've purchased so I don't go buy more gifts than we can afford.
Because of my early shopping efforts, I can gladly say that at this point, there's not much left for which I need to shop. What I do need are a couple of really good gifts for the girls. I have plenty of cute toys and goodies that will provide for more than enough delighted screaming (I hope...), but we still haven't found the one.
The crowning glory.
The piece de resistance.
The big kahuna.
Do you all usually try to have an...I don't know....anchoring gift? Something that's the main attraction under the tree? Or do you stick with a handful of smaller items? Do you just have a few small presents, and you're currently overwhelmed by the unnecessary cost and trouble of a big, messy Christmas morning? How do you handle your gift-giving?
If you do try to have an anchoring gift (and I feel like such a dork for even naming it), what are you getting this year? I need suggestions. I'm trying really hard to not go overboard on gifts for the girls, because I hate to set that precedent. I don't want them to grow up expecting loads of presents, just because they get them now; it's so easy to buy several inexpensive things for toddlers, but as they get older, they quality of items seems to count a little bit more. But the anchoring gift...that I'd like to be good quality and have the ability to stick around for awhile.
So, what gifts are you excited about giving this year? What items will your kids or grandkids or nieces & nephews love the most?
Thank you for your kind attention to my deep thoughts about a shallow subject.
Come, for the dusk is our own; let us fare forth together, With a quiet delight in our hearts for the ripe, still, autumn weather, Through the rustling valley and wood and over the crisping meadow, Under a high-sprung sky, winnowed of mist and shadow.
Sharp is the frosty air, and through the far hill-gaps showing Lucent sunset lakes of crocus and green are glowing; 'Tis the hour to walk at will in a wayward, unfettered roaming, Caring for naught save the charm, elusive and swift, of the gloaming.
Watchful and stirless the fields as if not unkindly holding Harvested joys in their clasp, and to their broad bosoms folding Baby hopes of a Spring, trusted to motherly keeping, Thus to be cherished and happed through the long months of their sleeping.
Silent the woods are and gray; but the firs than ever are greener, Nipped by the frost till the tang of their loosened balsam is keener; And one little wind in their boughs, eerily swaying and swinging, Very soft and low, like a wandering minstrel is singing
Beautiful is the year, but not as the springlike maiden Garlanded with her hopesrather the woman laden With wealth of joy and grief, worthily won through living, Wearing her sorrow now, like a garment of praise and thanksgiving.
Gently the dark comes down over the wild, fair places, The whispering glens in the hills, the open, starry spaces; Rich with the gifts of the night, sated with questing and dreaming, We turn to the dearest of paths where the star of the homelight is gleaming.
In honor of Thanksgiving, I'm doing a small series on Gratitude. (Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here.) I'm thankful for so many blessings in life, many of which get overlooked on a daily -- hourly -- basis. In hopes that I'll remember to be more in touch with gratitude in tiny ways each day, I am turning my blessings loose to the internets. May you, also, find gratitude in the minutiae of life this Thanksgiving season.
If I am grateful for the wonders of motherhood, I am equally grateful for patience in handling motherhood. When I am driven thisclose to losing my temper, stopping to be grateful for the chance to practice patience is sometimes the furthest thought from my mind. But, to live in gratitude means that I must seek out ways to experience its beauty.
When the box of broken and tattered crayons is spilled (dumped?) for the 5th time in an afternoon, sending bits of waxy crumbs all over the kitchen floor, I am grateful for the chance to illustrate a life lesson: dump the crayons, and coloring is over.
When my 19-month old scales the bistro-table-height chairs before climbing to the edge of the even-taller kitchen table to do a dance which will knock over a glass of juice, I am grateful that she is strong and able. I am grateful that she did not fall -- this time. I am grateful for the industrial sized jug of juice that is waiting in the wings, and the drawer full of towels to clean up the mess. I am grateful that she has such great dance moves; I hear those are handy.
When my big girl tells me she doesn't love me anymore, she only loves daddy now instead, I am thankful that she has such a wonderful father to love. Perhaps even more (selfishly so), I am thankful that I have a husband who will quickly enumerate for Mia all the reasons she should be thankful for me. I am thankful for her comfort in speaking her feelings, even when they aren't what I want to hear. I am thankful that she will most certainly change her allegiance again tomorrow.
When there is toddler poop under my fingernails after an energetic diaper-changing session, I am grateful for warm water and foaming soap. I am grateful that potty training is just around the corner. I am grateful that my child has enough healthy food to keep her body working regularly. I am grateful for my cold which prevents me from smelling the disastrous diaper.
When eating out at a restaurant and Mia is fascinated enough by a woman with generous proportions to say (loudly): "I think she ate too much food, her belly is FULL!" I am thankful for Lauren's impatient yelling which has hopefully obscured her sister's insult. I am thankful for Mia's inquiring mind and imaginative thoughts. I am thankful that our budget limits our ability to dine out on a regular basis, therefore Mia's highly descriptive words aren't set upon the general public very often.
When my daughters wreck a room with spilled snacks, scattered toys, and screaming chaos, I am grateful that we are able to provide them with a safe place to mess up at all. I am grateful that they can entertain themselves. I am grateful that they are unbearably cute, because sometimes they can behave SO unattractively that the cuteness seems to be their only redeeming quality.
When it has been a long day filled with some combination of all of the above instances, I am filled with profound gratitude that my husband is no longer a road-warrior; he will be home soon. All I have to do is find a small measure of patience to sustain me until he arrives. Or until bedtime -- the point at which we can look back on the wonder of another day spent raising children and laugh at the antics of our darling daughters. Because, strangely enough, the time they spend sleeping seems to be the time when our gratitude is downright overflowing.
Go figure.
In what unpredictably messy moments do you experience gratitude? (Even if it's forced...)
In honor of Thanksgiving, I'm doing a small series on Gratitude. (Part 1 is here.) I'm thankful for so many blessings in life, many of which get overlooked on a daily -- hourly -- basis. In hopes that I'll remember to be more in touch with gratitude in tiny ways each day, I am turning my blessings loose to the internets. May you, also, find gratitude in the minutiae of life this Thanksgiving season.
Being a mother has been one of the most gratitude-fraught experiences of my life thus far. Yes, 'fraught'; sometimes the thankfulness is so deep and broad that it sucks everything else into its sphere. Sometimes the simple fact of my own motherhood terrifies me and forces me into places I'd never dreamed of before. But there is grace in that terror, as well. For without my children, I fear I'd be missing out on learning true gratitude.
I've experienced grace in the willingness of my body to support life. The process of assisting in the creation of a new soul is pure magic and adventure, filling my own old, cynical soul with wonder and gratitude. I am grateful that I've had the chance to be filled with such innocent and untouched life, feeling the tumbles and stretches, the kicks and prods, from the inside out. Perhaps the most shockingly grace-filled moments were when I first laid eyes on my children; learning their faces only to watch them change instantly.
Being able to provide every ounce of nourishment for them from within myself is something for which I will forever be thankful. It amazes me -- AMAZES ME --that everything they needed as infants was available within my hopeful embrace...sustaining them, sustaining me. I can't even express the joy that came with snuggling a warm, round body against my own and knowing that she was benefiting even more than I was. I am thankful for the helpful guidance I received while learning the art of breastfeeding. I am thankful that I had the opportunity to stay at home with them -- not having to worry about pumping enough milk or weaning to bottles before I was ready. Which turned out to be never, so, I am also thankful that the cost and time-consuming qualities of bottle feeding weren't ever a necessity.
As these girls have grown, I have been filled with gratitude at their wonderfully different personalities. Two unique individuals, two people with whom I can relate differently, two ways to experience gratitude in innumerable moments every day. Two separately beautiful, yet stunningly unified ways to teach me grace and humility at each new experience.
But those things are all based upon my experiences; the truly gratitude-worthy items are centered around the experiences of my daughters. It is wonderful to realize that I am thankful for their benefit.
I am thankful for the chances they have in life, for the unfolding stories in which they are unknowingly participating. I am thankful for the family surrounding them: grandparents, aunts & uncles, cousins, church friends, and friends for life. All of these people are ensuring that my children will never know loneliness or uncertainty in being cared for. I am so grateful that my children will always be loved and wanted.
I am grateful for the simple things they have access to, which so many children do not: warm beds, warm clothing, warm food, warm arms.
My gratitude turns into hope for their futures. I hope they know how much they are loved and appreciated. I hope they trust in their dreams. I hope they trust in God. I hope they find endless ways to practice gratitude in their growing-up lives.
And I hope I will never fail to be aware of all the ways that these children bless me -- fill me with gratitude -- with their very existence.
In honor of Thanksgiving, I'm doing a small series on Gratitude. I'm thankful for so many blessings in life, many of which get overlooked on a daily -- hourly -- basis. In hopes that I'll remember to be more in touch with gratitude in tiny ways each day, I am turning my blessings loose to the internets. May you, also, find gratitude in the minutiae of life this Thanksgiving season.
I am grateful for the ability to feel, to be touched by this beautiful world in millions of tangible ways: I am grateful for sensations.
The smooth and tight coolness of fresh sheets waiting to envelop me at the end of a back-breaking day: I feel rest.
The warmth of a tear, either in a single drop or in a torrent of moisture, as it courses down my cheek: I feel memories.
The grasp of a miniature hand at my thigh, reaching up, up, for a mother's cradle: I feel love.
The rumble of a cat's purr under her silken coat, delighting in my wayward touch: I feel compassion.
The rounded swishing of dried beans as they're being rinsed in cool water, agitated by my capable hands and prepared for a simple meal: I feel security.
The crinkled sheets of artwork made with concentration by my darling girls, rustling and misaligned: I feel creativity.
The mindless caress of my husband's strong hand over my skin: I feel adoration.
The crushing chop of a sharp knife through raw vegetables; the wooden board confidently matching the metal edge: I feel contrast.
The delicate softness of a recipe card as it's being pulled from its hiding place, covered with my Grandmother's handwriting, and inscribed with family tradition: I feel sadness.
The slippery scalp of a child at bathtime, bubbled and squeaking after a day of messy imagination: I feel care.
The floating emptiness that surrounds me -- transports me -- as I pray my deepest thoughts to my Lord: I feel God.
I am so thankful to have the ability to feel and to notice sensations as they happen. What a remarkable gift it is to feel, and in feeling, to evoke emotional sensation as well.
What sensations are you grateful for, at this very moment?
After thinking I wouldn't get to go see New Moon any time soon, plans changed and I DID get to go see it last night. I was not disappointed -- I enjoyed every minute of it, in a purely simple and fantastical teen-romance sort of way. I promise there were no tears in my eyes. Nuh-uh. Nor did I get goosebumps at any point. Nope. I'm much too mature and appreciative of true, classy art to have responded in such shallow ways. But nevertheless, I believe I'll try to go see it again, just because, you know, it was, um, pretty good. I guess.
While waiting in line at the theater, I witnessed no fewer than 30 women and girls sporting boots similar to mine. I carefully studied the ratios of jeans to leggings, and the probabilities of said jeans for bunching up above the rim of the boot. My conclusions are that a) all jeans other than skinny jeans bunch up a bit, and b) not many of the women had skinny jeans, therefore c) most of the boot-wearers had some bunching and seemed fine with it, and d) it looks odd to stare at women's boots while confined to a line full of teeny-boppers. Still, I am not quite ready to don my own boots in public, nor to offer a picture to the internets. No matter how much I love you. But you may keep trying to convince me, if you wish. My pride is wearing thin.
Also while in line, I met and chatted with a lady and her teenage daughter who were standing right behind me. I was so grateful to have somebody to talk to since Justin wasn't there; he met me later after putting the girls to bed. This lady was spectacularly nice. We talked about literature and kids and, of course, the movie. Both she and her daughter were so sweet and interesting that I was almost sad when the theater finally allowed us in to sit down. I know this sounds strange, but I kind of wished we'd exchanged phone numbers or something to get in touch later. Really, I wished she had a blog so I could get to know her better. I guess it's actually easier to make friends than I've always imagined, but you've got to take advantage of the opportunities when they pop up. Otherwise you're just left with a fleeting acquaintance and a vague sense of loss.
At lunch today after church, Lauren was enamored with a tiny baby sitting behind us at the restaurant. She got so excited talking about the 'baby crying!' (even though the baby was actually quite calm) that she couldn't easily verbalize what she'd wanted to. 'Baby kying! Baby kying! MOOoooo! Quack Quack! Waaaaaahhh!' was what came out instead. I do love that girl.
Late last week, we found out that one of our church friends lost their son in Afghanistan. He'd been in the military for 13 years and has two sons. This was a devastating loss for everyone who knew him. If you wouldn't mind sparing a moment to shower this family with prayers, I know they'll be appreciated.
Enjoy your Thanksgiving week! I think I can almost smell roasting turkey...almost...
1. So. Those boots I bought? I tried them on for my husband the other night, trying to explain my dilemma and why I felt so un-confident in them. You know what he said? What he did?
He laughed. He rolled. Tears streaming, breath catching, hee-hawing laughter at my attempted entrance into the fashionable world. To be fair to him, I was laughing just as hard.
Him: *laughing* Wait...wait...tuck them in again! *snorting*
Me: *wheezing* Here...I got it...let me peg the jeans first...There! *hooting*
Him: *knee-slapping* *doubling over*
Me: *crying from laughter* I feel like an old man...going out to get his newspaper...wearing his long-johns...tucked into work boots! *squealing*
Him: *hyperventilating*
We're a rollicking good time.
2. While washing dishes yesterday, I looked out the window over the sink and saw three deer sneaking through my front yard. We live right next to a small wooded area and see deer fairly often this time of year, but having them in the front yard doesn't happen much. The girls and I stood silently at the windows, watching them in their timid search for food. Well, we weren't exactly silent, but I was impressed with how well my rambunctious girls tried to be quiet.
After the girls got bored with having to stand still and silent, I snuck out the door and hid behind a hanging flower basket to take some pictures.
But those big-eared deer noticed me anyway. Not that I was doing too good of a job blending into the surroundings with my orange shirt.
Even after they saw me, they still wandered around the yard for quite awhile. Long enough for me to get a bit too friendly and push my luck with proximity. They finally darted off down the road towards the next stand of trees and brush, their hooves clacking on the asphalt.
3. Yesterday while running errands, I took the girls into a pet store to see the animals. Apparently our close encounter with the deer wasn't quite close enough. All the usual pet choices were represented: kittens, puppies, fish, birds, hamsters, lizards. We admired them all, but apparently one made a bigger impression than any others.
Mia's now decided that she wants a white dove for her birthday. Fluffy and white and soft like snow, she said.
Whoo, buddy.
4. I'm currently reading one of the biggest, longest, wordiest books I've ever held in my own two hands. In fact, I may never again see the light of day after starting this book, it's that huge. It's The Memoirs of Cleopatra by Margaret George, and so far it's pretty good. But then again, I'm only about 1/20th of the way through it. Check back in a few years, and maybe I'll be able to tell you how the middle of the book is.
I do love long books, though I loved them much more when I had tons of free time on my hands. Now that those same hands are usually full of wispy brown hair, apple slices, My Little Ponies, or pipe cleaners, I find myself with far less time to pick up a hefty novel. I'll do what I can, though.
5. Since we're speaking of books, I think I'm going to go ahead and open up our favorite library findings posts into a full-fledged linky carnival for anyone to participate in. I always write about our favorite children's books, but I'm thinking it would be fun to also see what library books people are enjoying in other categories as well. Novels, cooking, crafting, history, poetry, homeschooling -- whatever you've recently gotten from the library that was fantastic, that you'd want to recommend to your readers.
But I need some help. If you wanted to, how often would you be willing to participate? Every other week usually works well for me. We don't get to the library on a weekly basis, and I'm not sure any of us would want to feel tied into (another) weekly carnival. Bi-monthly seems more do-able, but also a little harder to remember than just weekly. What do you think?
Also, would this need some kind of logo or button? Because I have no earthly idea how to accomplish that. Maybe I could check out a library book on the subject...
6. If you haven't noticed, I tend to over-think things.
7. I wrote a gripe-laden post earlier this week about an encounter with a terribly forceful and disdainful bookstore cashier. While discussing it with my husband, he said he thinks he's dealt with her antics on one of his few trips to that store as well. Our descriptions matched, and I was amazed that this lady hadn't lost her job yet from her poor customer service techniques. Then another friend compared notes with me, and she also said she'd been harassed by what seems to be the same cashier. Either this store trains cashiers to sell discount cards above all else -- even above making a customer want to return at any time in the future -- and all of them follow their rules so well as to seem like the same person, or this one rude salesperson goes way overboard and works tons of hours. I'm hoping it's the latter.
Maybe I'll have to wear my laughter-inducing boots next time I visit the store. Break the tension, y'know? Maybe she'll take pity on my lack of style, or just not be able to look directly at me for fear of going blind, and cut short her discount card pitch. Like, she'll only tell me thrice how she can't understand why I'm not purchasing the card.
Okay, okay. That's enough bitterness for now. I'm a cheerful gal, I promise.
Be sure to check out more Quick Takes at Conversion Diary -- Jen's never forceful or disdainful. She'd make a wonderful bookstore cashier, I'm sure of it.
Didn't I say enough bitterness? I'm truly done now. Have a beautiful weekend!
I have to say that if I had a 'Best of the Best' list, this book would be right at the top, especially under a subheading of 'Most Gorgeous Illustrations.' The illustrator drew the entire story in pastels and pencil, making everything soft and inviting. The bear, bees, squirrels, blueberries -- each page is full of simply sweet drawings on thick, textured, creamy paper. I was so pleased when Lauren begged to read this book over and over. In fact, she threw her first ever Please-Don't-Make-Me-Go-To-Bed-Yet-Let's-Just-Keep-Reading tantrum over THIS book. It was adorable in a Oh-My-Goodness-She's-Too-Young-For-Tantrums-But-At-Least-It's-Already-Bedtime sort of way. I'd suggest this book to anyone searching for Christmas gifts or additions to their home library. It's written as being suitable for 3-7 year olds, but since Lauren was very taken in by the rhyming and quick pace, I think it's perfect for little ones too. One of my favorite tongue-twirling lines was "A very hairy bear doesn’t care if the squirrels scold. He eats all the acorns he can hold." Our whole family fell in love with this bear with "shaggy, raggy, brownbear hair," and I just couldn't wait to share it with you. I HOPE you can find it -- soon!
Mr. McGreely has always wanted a garden, so one spring he finally plants one full of crisp, delicious veggies. But every night, when "the sun went down, and the moon came up", three mischievous bunnies tippy-toed into the garden to MUNCHA MUNCHA MUNCHA on the tender sprouts and blossoms. As the story progresses, Mr. McGreely builds bigger and taller barriers each day, hoping to thwart the bunnies. Somehow though, it just never seems to work and the book ends with a frustrated -- but eventually generous -- Mr. McGreely. Mia had this book almost memorized by the time we were done with it, and after reading it several times a day, why wouldn’t she?! I kept catching her quietly 'reading' it to herself, which was endlessly sweet. The book is full of wonderfully fun sound effects that your kids will giggle at and love repeating -- Mia certainly did. She’s declared this to be one of her very favorite books, right alongside Daisy Comes Home. Both are thoroughly enjoyable.
So my library loving friends, check these out and let me know if you stumble upon any other wonderful books to share! Come to think of it, would any of you be interested in playing along and posting your own library findings -- for kids or adults, fiction or otherwise -- to be included in a Mr. Linky List?
Think about it...we could have our own high-falutin' carnival...
You have until midnight tonight to leave a comment with any birthday memory, and Lenae will post the winner in tomorrow's Quick Takes.
So go on over and wish her a Happy Birthday while throwing your name into the hat for the prizes! They're just too good to pass up!
I'll be back later with What We Found At The Library, and this time it includes one of the best books we've EVER borrowed. In my opinon, anyway. Stop back by in a few hours to hear all about it.
I'm sure you remember me -- I'm the stubborn, ill-informed, backwoods, ignoramus who insisted on refusing your oh-so-kind offer of a $20 book club discount card. And when I say oh-so-kind, I mean terribly forceful and full of reproach. That kind.
You see, I don't visit real, live bookstores with much frequency. The books are too expensive to justify when I know I'll finish most anything I get within a week or two, and the same books can be borrowed for free from the library or purchased on the cheap from my favorite used book store. So, no. I don't really have much use for your discount card. Not to mention, I'm pretty sure that paying $20 for a discount card goes against my religious, moral, and genetic codes. It just doesn't spell S-M-A-R-T for my family at our current one-income level of living.
I popped into your store today in search of a specific gift item that I'd been alerted to -- one not available in the used book universe -- and enjoyed my time wandering through the aisles and displays, dreaming of which books to put on my library list. Bookstores have always put me in a fabulous mood, what with the thousands of books at my fingertips, the coffee smells wafting out from the cafe, and the hushed atmosphere. I was in a happy place. A calm place.
But it quickly turned into an uncomfortable and demeaned place. When you first asked me if I'd be interested in buying the discount card, I politely declined and gave you a simple answer about why it wasn't going to happen. You persisted; I expected that. I understand that in retail, you may receive incentives for selling as many extra doo-dads as possible, so it wasn't terribly irritating to state my denial twice.
By your third attempt, however, I was starting to get confused. I didn't understand your depth of investment in my answer and wondered if you would ever stop asking. I thought about saying yes just to make it stop -- perhaps you were banking on that. You explained to me, none too politely, that it would be ridiculous for me to not take advantage of the possible $500 savings per year that were available to me, not to mention the $5 and change I would be saving today! Wow! $505? All for buying a $20 card? Why, yes! That is a bargain! IF I had the capability to spend thousands of dollars a year at your store, I can understand how the card would be helpful. Seeing as how I enter your bookstore a maximum of 3 times a year, for holidays and celebratory gifts as needed, I declined your third attempt. With a saccharine, angelic smile, I thanked you, but said I wasn't interested.
This must have set off alarm bells in your head, because you knit your eyebrows together with incredulous concern. You explained -- for the FOURTH time -- the simple, yet wondrous capabilities of the discount card. You spoke slowly, as if I weren't fully processing the deal I was turning down: ANY FAMILY MEMBER CAN USE IT. YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE TO BE IN THE STORE TO USE IT. I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU WOULDN'T WANT THIS CARD. By this time, my cheeks were heating up, whether from anger or embarrassment, I wasn't sure. There was a line behind me, and I was being browbeaten by your singsong facade. All I wanted to do was pay and leave, so I refused again. With the same words I'd used each time before, I declined the discount card and handed over my money.
You banged some keys on the cash register, bagged my items and gave it your last, best shot. You told me, "To be honest, if I were you I would've just gone ahead and signed up for the card at this point. I mean, you're turning down some really significant future savings." All the while, your face was telling me how ignorant you considered my decision to be.
Now, I'm a non-confrontational type of person. Not because I'm overly nice, but because when I get frustrated or angry, my words seem to all jumble up and fall off my tongue in a completely different way than I'd intended. So I just smile and nod, and go about my business. But today? Today I had to BITE my tongue. I had to try my hardest to not tell you that YOU were not ME and therefore YOU should just let. It. Go.
I was proud of my success in not speaking rudely to you. Instead, I just quietly stated that I wasn't going to change my decision, and that I'd like to be on my way. You handed my my change and, in clipped tones, thanked me for shopping with you today. I hightailed it out the front door before my face caught fire.
If your goal was to scare me off, you've succeeded. If your goal was to make me feel smaller and dumber than a rock, you've succeeded. If your goal was to impress me with your tenacity, you've succeeded.
But if your goal was to make me feel welcome and wish to come back to your store more often, you've failed.
I had to check the dates to make sure I was identifying the correct child. It makes me wonder what a third child would look like...
I won't lie. I'm feeling the itch.
Don't tell Justin. (As if he didn't already know.) But something tells me he wouldn't run for the hills.
It's those little footie pajamas -- they get me every time. I saw racks and racks of them at the Carter's and OshKosh outlet stores last weekend, and each time I touched a velvety soft, cotton onesie, I sighed and aaaaw-ed.
And then ovulated on the spot.
TMI?
You're free to go now -- find someplace less baby-fixated.
But it probably won't smell quite so fresh and sweet over there.
What do you do when you have buyer's remorse from a factory outlet store 3 hours away from home?
I very often fancy myself to be some fashion forward chica with an awesome sense of style. I see these cute things other girls are wearing and they look adorable in, so very rarely I just go get myself whatever it is and try it out. The problem is, I am not fashion forward, nor do I have any sense of style. I need help. Mostly, I need my brother's help. He has so much style, it oozes out and overflows into everything he does, so I figure he can spare a few ounces when I come calling with a desperate plea for help.
And that's all well and good, until I go shopping far away and don't have his bare-bones, tell-it-like-it-is opinion handy. Also, I don't know how to work my camera phone, or he'd have been barraged with images of me trying to look hip. Poor guy. So this weekend, while I mostly tried to shop for Christmas gifts, the shoe stores were too enticing to ignore. I ended up buying some terribly trendy shoes that I now fear will have me laughed out of....well....my house. See, I really don't see myself wearing them out of the house for fear of people pointing and laughing at my failed style attempt.
Let me explain (even further).
The last day of our shopping trip ended up being a wash-out: pouring down rain, puddles bursting up through the pavement, and me in some thin ballerina flats. Super comfy, yet super inadequate for a rainstorm. We dashed into the stores, which are all connected by outdoor walkways, and shook ourselves off before trying to muster the will to shop. None of us wanted to be hauling bags in such a cold, driving rain, but we couldn't leave without hitting some favorites that we hadn't made it to yet.
One of the final stores we decided to stop at was Nine West. A few of us parked as close as we could to the store and nearly trampled each other in our quest for the dry indoors. All around us were cute strappy sandals, classy leather heels, and gorgeously colorful handbags, but I was wilting under the effort of rain-soaked shopping. My toes were shriveled up from the freezing wetness seeping in with every step, and I was ready to call it quits. Until I saw these (or something very like them)...
...and made a beeline for them. I felt the soft fur-like lining, and I swear my toes began pinking up again in anticipation. The boots looked so soft and warm, it was all I could to do not kick my thin flats all the way to the handbag section before finding my size. I restrained myself and patiently found my boat-sized boots, slipped them on, and oh....the comfort. The warmth. The on-sale-ness. They were immediately etched on my heart. I had to have these boots.
No matter that I couldn't think of a THING I'd be able to wear them with. I don't own skinny jeans for tucking into boots, nor are any of my pants wide enough at the bottom to accommodate their furry width. I'm pretty confident that these boots will look horrific with my so-last-century clothing, but at the time, they seemed like a good idea. A fanTAStick idea.
More like a fantastically DUMB idea. If I ever find anything to wear these boots with, you'll all be the first to know.
Actually, you'll probably find out after I've been humiliated by the embarrassment of wearing them the wrong way, which is entirely likely. Meaning several people will witness my ill-fated-fashion-attempt before you. So you'll be, like, the 30th to know when and if it happens.
For now, I'm imagining them as really expensive (well, not really expensive -- I usually can't bring myself to pay more than $30 for a pair of shoes, and these maxed out that limit) house-shoes. Stylish slippers for my chilly tootsies. Fancy footwear for my home-bound feeties.
At the very least, Mia and Lauren will adore them for dress-up boots.
What a weekend! Full of shopping, laughing, eating, sipping, story-telling, and memory-making. The girls in my family are just so much fun to spend time with, and when we all get together, there's never a dull moment -- far from it. Every moment is entertaining. It was so nice to be the entertained rather than the entertainer for a few days.
And let me tell you, I was heavily entertained on Saturday night. I have photos. I have video. What I don't have is permission to share the evidence, as it is highly embarrassing (so they say.) You'll have to settle for a teasing description when the real thing was just so much better than any words can tell.
Three grandmas -- my mom, my aunt, and my sister-in-law's mom -- worked for a good 6 weeks on a little dance and lip sync number inspired by Mama Mia's Dancing Queen. They made sequin-studded, hip-hugging, jaw-dropping costumes. They choreographed moves for the entire song. They were decked out with glitter, platform shoes, head ornaments, and FAKE LASHES to top it all off. They rocked the house. We screamed with laughter as only a houseful of 18 women can, and sang and danced together because the music was too loud and too catching to stand still. It was SO much fun.
We stayed up too late each night, giggling like high-schoolers and discussing things our husbands have surely grown tired of listening to by now: babies, bras, fragrances, recipes, books, movies, and on and on into eternity. We missed our kids and those ever-patient husbands we left them in the care of. And if we're telling deep dark secrets here, I should say that I missed my internets. My blog buddies. A weekend away feels like forever to this home-dwelling lady, but it at least it was a fun weekend away. My time was well spent.
And now I'm back.
(From outer space.) (Sorry - once the 70's songs filter in, they're hard to evict.)
1. Earlier this week, Emily at The Keeping Time posted something about tricks she has up her mama-sleeve for when she's sick and not up to majorly child-intensive days. One thing in particular she mentioned was letting her girls watch videos of Royal Ballet productions. "Mia would love those," I thought. "But where on earth can I find something similar?"
Then a little lightbulb went on over my head (Don't worry. I'm almost sure it was a CFL.) and I quickly pulled up some Youtube videos. Now we're all enthralled with The Paris Ballet's Sleeping Beauty. So lovely.
Of course, Mia has all sorts of technical questions and since the ballet doesn't follow the Disney story I know (can you BELIEVE that?!), I'm more often than not just flying by the seat of my pants. I know squat about ballet. She wants to know the names of movements and costumes. I think some studying is in order.
2. I let Mia watch some of the ballet on my laptop at the kitchen table one day during lunch. She's so interactive during the videos that I didn't worry about her spacing out and becoming a droid; she was eating and talking the whole time -- but to have the video playing during a meal was quite the special treat. She loved it.
While I was talking about which video number we were on in the sequence, Mia said, "Mom, I just want to watch all HUNDREDS of these, OK?" Smiling at her sweetness, I made some agreeable sounds before turning to Lauren to see how her lunch was coming.
She had smeared ketchup between both hands and was creating a messy masterpiece on her plate. At least I stopped her before she'd had a chance to move to her hair.
How's that for a juxtaposition? One daughter inquiring politely about cultured and civilized ballet, while the other daughter plays in a delightfully sticky, yet terribly un-cultured, condiment.
3. This weekend is the weekend I've been looking forward to for months. It's our Annual Ladies Shopping Retreat weekend! That sounds more formal than it is, but I think an entire weekend devoted to shopping with other like-minded ladies -- both family and friends -- deserves a title. Also, I said our shopping weekend, but this is only the third time I will have ever gone. Once before kids, once when Mia was almost 2, and now when Lauren's almost 2.
We're leaving this evening, going to a beautiful area of the state to wander around a giant outlet mall until our feet swell, our backs ache, and our tummies are overflowing with Coldstone Creamery deliciousness.
Truth be told, I'm not much of a shopper. I get worn down by too many choices and too many flying dollar signs, but this trip is wonderful despite all of that. I mean, I guess I'll probably find myriad ways to spend my fair share of money, but the real reason I go is for the getaway -- the vacation aspect. I never leave my kids. This will only mark the second or third time I've ever traveled without Mia and the first time without Lauren. I already feel both free and heartbroken. Is there a name for that feeling?
4. On a related note, pray for Justin's sanity this weekend. He's not used to having both girls all to himself, and Lauren is currently The Toddler From Hyper-ville. Wish them luck. And patience.
5. Up above, when I mentioned CFL bulbs, it was because they've been on my mind lately. We had two floodlights go out in our kitchen and living room a while back. Like, months back. It's been infuriating to not have enough light especially in the kitchen, but I kept forgetting to check and see which kind of bulbs we'd need to replace them with, and it just never got done. At the store this week, I just decided to get something and hope for the best. I have no idea if bulbs are pretty universal or more specific, but whatever I got worked just fine. And they are CFL's, so they should last awhile.
But, after installing them, I'm not so sure I like them all that much. The new, bright whiteness is highlighting every stray cobweb in the corners of my ceiling. There's a tall wall dividing the living room and kitchen that doesn't quite reach to the ceiling, and I can see dusty tufts lining the top of it. I'll have to climb up there and get them down, and that just depresses me. What if there are spiders up there? Who cleans the tops of walls for pity's sake?
New lightbulb owners. That's who.
6. Mia was playing with a few of her fairy dolls this week, and I overheard some of her narrations.
Blue Fairy: I loooove being God! You can be my angel! Pink Fairy: You're not God, you're just a fairy! Blue Fairy: But I have hands like God...I have feet like God...I LOVE like God...I have to be God!Pink Fairy: Weeeellllll...OK. If that's what you decided.
Surely there's some fabulous life lesson here about being God's hands and feet, but I just can't see past the cuteness. I wish you could've heard her sweet, airy voice as she pretended to be a fairy, pretending to be God.
7. This week, I've noticed a wonderful trend: more free time. I haven't been staying up too late (most of the time) or feeling extra pressure to accomplish things quickly. I've felt leisurely. Fulfilled.
In wondering where all this has come from, I remembered that I haven't been on Facebook all week. Maybe even 2 weeks -- since whenever they changed the format and confused me, I haven't felt the desire to log on and read random sentences about people's lives. While I didn't feel like I spent much time there, I guess it was adding up to more and more minutes out of my day, making me lose precious time that I could be using for getting real things accomplished (like commenting on your blog. That's truly important, right?). I'm not saying I'm still not a champion procrastinator, but I'm taking this as a sign to just let FB fall by the wayside. I'll still check it for messages -- some friends and family members use FB instead of email -- but I just don't feel inclined to bring a big time-sucker back into my life right now. This sense of leisure feels too good to dismiss.
Somehow, in the magical tradition of Autumn, more leaves were available to be piled up and played in only a few short days after our first leafing session. It's been a windy few days at This Heavenly House, forcing many of the desperately clinging leaves to finally succumb to their fate.
And what a wonderful fate it is: to be kicked and flattened and generally molested by our family for as long as the weather holds out.
Given the extra leaves available, our pile became exceedingly large. If we had actually raked every part of our yard in a truly respectable fashion, this pile would have quickly become a fire hazard. Burning leaves can be fun, but not in city limits, don'tcha know.
Ever scrupulous with our standards of neighborhood safety, we decided to not rake everything just yet. Our neighbor did his side, though. Isn't the crisp demarcation of property lines quite a lovely testament to our laziness?
As usual, we're too busy playing to keep up with nice lawns and such. It's much more fun to wallow in our sloth. And wallow we did. This is one of the cutest wallowers I believe I've ever had the privilege of enabling.
Because that's what I do: I enable. I let these girls dictate when and where and for how long we play in the leaves, because I understand the addiction. I know the need is stronger than anything else, like...say...an impending bathtime.
What's more fun -- bursting through waves of leaves? Or rolling around in a warm bubble bath?
Okay. I also frequently enable them in that desire, as well. Once an enabler always an enabler.
Plus, it's so much easier to let them play outside for hours when my handsome husband is on hand to do the heavy lifting...
and I am left free to cook a dinner in peace and quiet. Just me, a wooden spoon, and Celtic Woman on Pandora.
A bedtime story, this was not. A fun, interactive playtime story, this was. The animals in this short book all say a simple rhyme about something they can do with their bodies - pull their ears, kick their feet, open their mouths - followed by a challenge to the reader: Can You? Lauren had the best time acting out the prompts of the animals (Mia did too!) and surprised me with the cuteness of one action in particular. When the cheetahs said "We've got eyes, and you do too. We can close them. Can you?" Lauren slapped her hands over her eyes, effectively 'closing' them. Such a sweet little book reader she is.
If you haven't noticed by now, Mia's got a thing for Ballerinas. Costumes, books, YouTube videos, dolls -- if it's got a ballerina on it, she's game. This book was extra fun because not only is Ella a fledgling ballerina, but there's also a troublesome umbrella running through the storyline. Ella has gotten a very satisfying umbrella for her birthday, and it goes everywhere with her, but it also messes up everything in it's path. Poor Ella figures out a way to take it with her to a ballet recital, while ensuring that she's not creating pandemonium with the inconvenient umbrella. Mia giggled and questioned her way through this cute story. And mama liked the positive message it sent about thinking your way creatively through a problem.
My favorite would be a cooking story. Duck is quite the picky eater in this book, refusing Cat and Squirrel's many attempts at a Pumpkin soup substitute. They shop and chop and season, trying to please Duck's pumpkin-loving palette when there are clearly NO pumpkins to be found. But Duck finds something insulting about each new soup -- too pink! too smelly! -- until finally the friends mix up a batch of pumpkin colored soup they're hoping will slip in under the radar. It doesn't. BUT! Duck discovers that it's even better than his favorite pumpkin blend; it's the most delicious soup he's ever tasted! This was such a good book for lots of reasons -- beautiful illustrations, silly moments, teachable moments -- but I was super-hopeful about the teachable moments part. I sincerely hoped Mia would take something from the This-isn't-what-I-Usually-Like-But-I'll-Try-It-Because-Maybe-It's-Delicious category. I'm afraid not even a wonderful children's story is up to that task, though. Still, Mia and I both enjoyed this book.
Does this look like a 'Justin' book, or what? In this story, a toy plane and raggedy, stuffed dog take off on an adventure to fly SOMEWHERE. They just want an adventure outside the toybox. Cloud monsters and rain storms threaten to halt their plans, but they keep working and make it to their destination, convinced that the best part of all was that they did it together. They're BFF's, if you will. The illustrations are detailed and imaginative, evoking both the freedom and worry of unknown adventures. Mia was drawn in from the first lines, following Cosmos the plane and Woggy the dog in their climbing, spiraling, exciting journey. And daddy? Daddy likes planes. Brave, bold, courageous planes. A perfect match.
Have you stumbled upon any share-worthy library books recently?
Thanks to Stephanie for hosting PerPoTues! This month's poetry style is the Cinquain: yet another poem that I'd never heard of before. Not that that's a big deal -- I haven't heard of most poems. It's one of the many reasons I love Perfectly Poetical Tuesday.
Tomorrow (November 10th) is Perfectly Poetical Tuesday at The Little Stuff of Life. The style for this month is Cinquain, which looks like a pretty simple follow-this-formula-and-you're-done kind of poem.
YOU CAN DO IT!
And you totally should.
You could write it about leaves. Or aprons! Or too much Halloween candy. Or your sinus infection! (Not that those things are on my mind lately. Why -- are they on yours??)
So, I'll see you tomorrow -- I can't wait to read your fabulous SIMPLE poetry!
This is one of my very favorite fall activities: Piling up crunchy leaves to be jumped in, layed upon, tossed around, and tunneled through.
The oaky, spicy smell of the rattling leaves surrounding you, as you burrow deeper into your prickly autumn chrysalis.
The surprising satisfaction of bursting up through the rustling pile to startle a playmate.
And letting the long afternoon sun rays beckon you to yet another fall favorite: the ever present acorns.
But I think I've stumbled upon the most perfect facet of leaf-play.
Stepping back to watch my babies discover their own love of fall. Hearing their delighted shrieks and giggles, seeing their excitement and imagination propel them, letting the contentment wash over me as I see them enjoy the day.
These first few are from Anthropologie. All of their aprons are DARLING, but I fell for these immediately. This one looks so cheerful and full of purpose. Like a sundress with an agenda.
This one makes me feel like dancing through my cooking and cleaning, it's so fun and peppy. Everyone can use some pep in the kitchen, right?
Plus, it has a matching little girl's apron. Adorable!
And this one? Oh lordy. It's covered in the sweetest little birds and teapots. I could definitely host a sophisticated yet comfortable tea party with this.
Then I checked out Jessie Steele (as recommended by Betty) and found myself even deeper in this tunnel of apron-love. These pink poppies make me happy. So simple. So precious.
And this one with it's classy houndstooth fabric -- so refined. So capable of success.
But, I have to say my very favorite apron (at least from my most recent screen shopping binge) is this fresh and sunshiny little number. *sigh* I love those green stripes and that panel of lemons. The sweet buttons....swoon. The handy towel...genius.
If that weren't enough, there's a matching pot holder available.
Just think of the masterpieces I could serve up if only I were decked out to maximize both my feminine charms and my industrious abilities! Just think of all I could accomplish, if only...
If only I stopped drooling over aprons and actually got to work.
But the aprons would make it so much more fun to be working, see?
Totally justifiable.
Which ones do you like the best? Or, better yet, where do you go to ogle aprons? I'll meet you there shortly and we can swoon together. These things are done better with partners.
1. I'm a Thursday night Quick Take writer. I don't count on having time throughout the day on Fridays, so I know I need to get it done beforehand and just schedule it to post Friday morning.
2. This week, I am suffering from a self-blamed lack of sleep.
3. On the nights I have no other obligations, I stay up far too late perusing strangers' blogs. I can't tear myself away from great writing or beautiful pictures or hilarious sightings.
4. On the nights I do have other obligations, I stay up far too late finishing other tasks that were unable to be completed due to daytime toddler-wrangling.
5. Therefore, on this Thursday night, I am too tired to put together some Quick Takes.
6. But also too enmeshed in the QT routine to fall off the bandwagon (even for just one week).
7. So what you are left with is this list, and I am left with an early bedtime. I win.
The classroom is filled with hectic activity: preschoolers carting toys back to storage areas, teachers sweeping away the lunchtime refuse, parents plucking up retrieved backpacks. Mia is filling a tiny dump truck with even tinier plastic zoo animals. She spies me from the corner of her eye, and begins to sulk; she doesn't want to go.
She isn't done playing.
She refuses to pick up her toys.
She throws herself down on the crumb-scattered floor, surprising her teacher, who's never seen this disobedient side of Mia before.
The Daylight Savings Grumpster has struck again.
The afternoon bedroom is cool and inviting: Blankets open their soft arms, ready to accept my baby into their sleepy embrace. A stack of stories sits patiently, waiting to be read to a cuddly toddler. But, day-weary Lauren has other ideas. She hot-foots it around me and into other, less darkened rooms; she screams her defiance.
She isn't done playing.
She refuses to be calmed.
She throws her indignant body down on mommy and daddy's floor, frustrating the mother who is day-weary herself.
The Daylight Savings Grumpster has struck again.
The house is finally quiet: worn out children are sleeping, a filled dishwasher has completed its noisy cycle, and a relaxed mama is breathing slowly again after a few days of battle-filled moments. She sits comfortably on a cushy sofa, feet up, head back, entranced with a novel that has transported her to another place. She is shocked out of her reverie by a piercing wail, followed by a grumpy moan: the naps are over. They've only just begun! she thinks. She doesn't want them to be awake yet.
She isn't done resting.
She refuses to let go of the solitude.
She throws her book down in a childish fit of pique, embarrassing herself for being so selfish, but still not snapping out of her disappointment in a naptime cut short.
Over the past month, I've gotten some blog awards! Also over the past month I've been slogging through busy days and weekends and have put off acknowledging these awards. I'm very appreciative, though also very procrastinatorial. Also, based on that last word, it appears that I make up adjectives when I hit a vocabulary roadblock. Maybe there's an award out there for that...
But who needs that when I've got these little jewels?
So sweet of them! The rules say to choose 15 newly discovered blogs to pass the award on to, but I had something else in mind. In the interest of saving time, I'd like to propose a different direction for my acceptance. If I'm accepting an award, shouldn't I get to pick my prize?! There are so many fabulous blogs out there, and what I'd like is to know one of YOUR favorite new discoveries! Where have you been visiting lately that I need to check out and fall in love with as well? Is it a crafty place? A cooking place? An artsy place? A hilarious or syrupy or literary place? A pretend adjective place? Let me in on your secret. Pretty please?
This award is for being a loyal reader and commenter on someone's blog. Apparently, I've made enough of a nuisance of myself over at Elizabeth's place that she can't get rid of me; maybe by giving me an award, she's trying to kill me with kindness. I feel like such an intruder on her thoughtful, well-written blog about faith and growth and family. She's so smart, and I'm...well...I make up words and break blog award rules. In this case, the rules state to pass the award on to 3 - 10 loyal readers. I think I can do that.
I really feel like, through the reliable and sweet comments of my most loyal readers, I've done what I came to do as far as blogging is concerned - made connections. Made friends to share stories and advice with. Built relationships with ladies I'm excited to hear from and listen to.
So, here are a few of my most loyal commenters - and some of the people I feel lucky to have found as friends. Their comments are very deserving of this award.
Emily at The Keeping Time. OK, yes, she was already granted this award by This Married Couple. But...she's double worthy. Her blog is full of true beauty - in pictures, words, heartfelt thoughts, stories - and it feels like meeting a friend for tea when I visit there.
Lenae at Just Lenae, was very often one of my only commenters a few months ago. I'd write something, wondering how quickly I'd hear back from her - and she's always come through for me. She offers laughter, encouragement, and friendship every day. How lucky I am!
Also, in an effort to keep my acceptance not completely legal, I'm also awarding two real-life friends who are loyal readers and commenters. My friend Jill who most often leaves comments directly into my ear, and my friend Katie who usually goes the traditional combox route. I need to do a better job of recruiting both of you lovely ladies into the blogosphere. Your lives would provide endless bloggable moments. And - I'd be a quite loyal reader myself.
Just know that while those are some of my most loyal commenters, I am THRILLED about every comment I recieve. They make me smile and laugh and think. They are one of the very best parts about blogging, in my opinion, and I'm so grateful when someone takes a minute to talk back to me. Thank you!
And thank you Amber, Sarah, and Elizabeth! You've helped make this busy month a happy one.
This is Mia at about 8 months.
