Happy Birthday, Mom

Happy Birthday, Mom

What three words can create so much pressure to write something so heartfelt and so meaningful?

So I will start with this, and kind of wing it, and edit it along the way:

Dear Mom, I love you, Thank You... and um, Yes, Please!

I should probably stop right there.

But anyone who reads this already knows how special my mom is to me.

Mom? You reading this? Big huge hug.

I think I belong to that generation without a title. I still feel eighteen until I see myself in the mirror... I am searching my way through life without an identity or a direction, and yet you seem to have all the answers whenever I ask. I'm in my forties. I feel eighteen. And yet any advice I need? YOU are the person I turn to.

And You are there.

I call you from the patio to share a cup of coffee from 1200 miles away and you are there. Every weekend, you are there for me.

I call you to complain about Monday Mornings on my way into work...you are there.

I call you to say Hey - its Wednesday - middle of the week... and you are there.

I call you to say - We made it - It's Friday! And you are there....

I know this may sound kind of creepy - but about 2 years ago, I secretly wrote my own obituary and saved it to my computer for M to discover... and in it I asked that somebody please call my Mom and Thank Her. Thank Her for always being there when I've needed her most.

Having that someone so special in my life means more to me than you would ever know...

My Mom feels like Forever...

She is there for me, like I want to be, for my children.

Bottom line? No drama?

It's not about money. It's not about anything but Love.

It's all about the Love.

I love my Mom.

There is so much more I need to say -

But I think this works for now...

I Love you, Mom. Happy Birthday!

...yes please!

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Another Quick Snapshot.

Another Quick Snapshot

"Hello? Hi. I might be a little late coming into work this morning."

I woke up, and sometime last night, Matthew had colored himself with a purple magic marker... Cheeks. Chin. Both arms. Belly. Both legs. Thighs and calves. The tops of his feet. And both palms....

Yes. I did the best I could wiping him down, but I did warn Daycare that any purple, bruising-looking-areas, were not actually bruises, but purple marker and please do not call DCFS.

Click.

Sheesh. Are your mornings this difficult?

Do you argue over Pizza Rolls with Maple Syrup for breakfast? Or which shirt to wear because every shirt is itchy? And for the record, how long is it actually supposed to take a 5-year-old to brush his teeth?

Have you ever gotten out of the shower and discovered your two-year-old has unraveled a whole entire roll of toilet paper on the floor and he is sitting on top of the vanity, water spilling to floor, with his feet in the sink? He is making singing sounds and he is finger painting on the mirror with toothpaste? All the while - maintaining a "Hey-look-at-me-aren't-you-proud-smile?"

I think I might have been late that morning too.

Welcome to a snapshot of my last 10 days.

click.


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Getting Settled

Snapshots.

Kids can say the darndest things at the darndest times.
It is our first morning to sleep in. Sleep in at our new house. Sleep in at our new house with the bedroom door locked...Ahem...Yes, um..."sleep in" and suddenly I hear, "Did he just say he lost a tooth?"

Kids can lose the darndest teeth at the darndest times....
　

click.
　

This Saturday, we had a Yard Sale.
David: "Dad?"
Dadman: "Yeah?"
"Can we yard sale my brother because he hits me all the time?"
"You want to sell your brother?
"Yeah. I want to yard sale him."
We have a lady customer in the driveway who perks right up.
"How old is your brother?"
"He's two." David almost whispers.
"You want to sell him for money?"
"Ummm...."
"How much money? Twenty dollars? Forty dollars?"
"Ummm..."
"I might want to buy your brother. How much money do you think he is worth?"
"Ummm... two dollars..." He whispers almost like a question.
　
click.

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Moving Isn't So Sucky Anymore

Hi There,

Yes. Moving Sucks.

The ACT of moving Sucks. Totally SUCKS!

Ok. For those of you who haven't heard, we have moved further away from the beach...

If you were standing in the driveway of our old house and the beach was to your Left, we moved to the Right. Right. Right next door. Crazy, huh?

So, yes, haha, we are technically further away from the beach, but closer to work... by about 2" inches - the diameter of our chain link fence.

Moving next door did a few good things:

a. Lower Rent
b. Lower utility bills
c. Still in David's School District (huge!)
d. We love our neighbors
e. Same floorplan - which means, aka: Our curtains will fit
f. Better, Nicer House: better windows, better insulation, etc.
g. Even Grass in the backyard!
h. Lower projected moving costs - no moving truck, storage unit etc...

But moving next door also did a few other things too:

1. Created Procrastination. "It's just next door, we don't need to pack and prepare..."
2. Created 142,000 Trips. "It's just next door, let's just carry everything over one-by-one..."
and then...
3. David projectile vomited on Monday night and then again for the next 8 hours and made M miss work on Tuesday

Allow me to vent and say moving next door is in NO WAY easier than moving across town - minus the yard stuff I was able to just whip over the fence, of course.

But we made it. Friends showed up. A neighbor's boy showed up. It was all their help - that helped tremendously. Their help allowed us to even relax on Sunday night - We got to watch the Fireworks on the beach with friends.

Even our boys helped. Well..um...err... they did by one toy at a time... When we were all done and all moved into the new house, they brought their stuff back out again and put it on the tailgate of the truck and somehow still demanded High-Fives...

Please know ---- I do so sincerely need to recognize something. We moved next door.... Just next door.

Not back to Connecticut. You know the trials and tribulations we have faced since January. Moving back to CT was a distinct possibility. Moving back to CT would not have been an answer, only defeat. (However, I still miss Family!) But when you consider moving back to the ice and cold and deerflies, can you say, "Hare Kare?!" We are LUCKY to still be here. Thank You Brian, and your Holmes Stamp & Sign Co for giving me the opportunity to land on my feet!

So please understand - how futile my attempt at humorous venting may appear - it is done with the true recognition of how lucky we are, in SO many ways.

Moving Sucks.

But then again...

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Moving Sucks

Moving Sucks

Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
Moving Sucks

Rain, Rain
Go Away
Moving in the Rain Sucks

Twinkle Twinkle
Little Star
Moving in the Dark Sucks

This Old Man, He Played Four
He Said, Knock Knock
Moving Sucks


I will tell you more later. I just needed to vent. This is my futile attempt at a little "Poetic Justice" perhaps?

Moving Sucks. It is Hot. Humid. Raining. Now it is Dark. I am putting Shoes in the same box as Videos. Imagine my Horror. I haven't eaten. Imagine my family cowering in the corner...

I've yelled at the boys. I'm not talking to the wife. We've got a neighborhood cat at my feet. I'm really beginning to hate cats. Cats just don't get it, do they?

Moving Totally Sucks.

OK Wait.....

No - nevermind, I'll tell you more later when I've eaten....


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