Thursday, August 28, 2008

Lullaby and Goodnight...

"It's the middle of the dark!"

Yes, you cheeky monkey. Yes it is.
So tell me... why in the holy hell are you awake? It's 5 *freaking* 30 in the morning!

5:30 am is not my best time of day by far.
I like sleeping. If I had my way alarm clocks would be banned, and there would be a mandatory naptime from 12-2 every day. Given this irrefutable fact, of course it stands to reason that I would birth an early riser.

Go me!

*YAWN*
It's gonna be a loooong 18 years.

Monday, August 25, 2008

At Least I Look Good In Brown

I should have seen it coming.
After all, there were signs.

The African Violet that shriveled up and died after a week on my windowsill as a child.
The calla lilies that survived only a few months in my home.
The lavender plants and canna lilies that failed to thrive.
My husband's plant that he'd had since puberty (that incidentally hung in for a record 7 years with me) finally capitulating, succumbing to a grim fate as compost.

And the biggest sign of all - the fact that (despite a valiant effort) I just could not hack Botany class in college.
Could. Not. Do it.

I am lacking any real understanding of why I imagined this little scenario (one involving more blind hope than skill) playing out any differently. Although most people that know me wouldn't exactly peg me as an optimist, I must be to have imagined a lush thriving plant dripping with juicy tomatoes. (Well, that, or maybe I'm just really dense.)

Alas, as any logical person would suspect, my track record remains unblemished. I officially have a brown thumb. Lest you doubt me, I present to you my latest attempt at nurturing a small part of nature's bounty:



You will note that one stoic little tomato has held on tenuously, even as the stem of the plant withers away and bugs gnaw at its flesh. Now that's dedication.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Transitions

"To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else."
~ Emily Dickinson

That's one of my favorite quotes, you know. It's currently my email signature, because it reflects my own thoughts on life so completely.

Living is so startling - so fraught with changes, transitions, experiences, that an introspective and self-examining person has little time for be anything else. Just living is all-consuming.

This is my curse.
I categorize, I examine, and define life by transitions.

I imagine that others do it too... at least some, anyway.
If I stop to think about it, I realize that most people can (pretty much immediately) rattle off events that categorize their lives. Things such as:

When you truly felt autonomous - like you had a life outside your family. (1995-1996. Yeah. I was a late bloomer.)

When you had your heart crushed so fully you thought you would never recover. (1989, when I lost my brother Tony.)

Your first experience with non-familial love. (See #1)

The 'College Years' or experimental years. (1998-2001) Fun times... what I can remember of them anyway. :D

Your first experience living away from home. (1998-1999)

When you first feel like a 'real' grown-up. (2000)

Marriage. (2001)

When it hits you that you really *are* a parent. (2004)

I must admit though, after that things start to get a bit fuzzy and blended together. Kids have a tendency to stop you in your tracks, to make you so consumed with them that your own life takes a back seat. At least it does with Mothers. I wouldn't know about Fathers, given that I'm missing one key part preventing me from ever experiencing that side of things. (tee hee)

I mean, obviously there have been transitions since I became a Mother, but I can't really think of them right now. (Sleep deprivation tends to do that to a person.) It's as though parents define their lives in two large parts: Before Kids and After Kids.

So OK... I suppose I'm right on track after all, huh?
Because those are definitely the BIG categories everything gets put into.... And yes, sometimes I mourn the part of life I've left behind... but I have so much to look forward to. This time, like all others, is fleeting. I can't wait to see what lies ahead. :)

Friday, August 22, 2008

Google Image Game

So, I'm bored and killing time and I'm going to make you all suffer with me. Ya know those chain emails and 'games' that are supposed to be fun, but are really just an excuse to be completely self-absorbed and talk about yourself incessantly without really talking? Well, I like those. I was bored, I saw one, and so here you have it.

(OK, so I left out a couple of things that either weren't relevant, or that I didn't want to include. I have faith that my millions of readers will eventually get over this.)

Here's how it works:
For each thing listed below, type YOUR answer into Google image search, then choose your favorite image from the first three pages. Don't worry if the image is not really what you meant in your answer. The stranger the better!


First name:
(Let me preface this by saying that all the Google Image results for 'Jennifer' were either skeevy, or downright weird. I eventually chose this one because I like John Mayer. And yes - Jennifer Aniston's headlights are totally on.)


Middle name:

(Not weird, but pretty.)


Last name:




Age:


Place you'd like to visit:



Favorite place to be:


Your college degree:
(How many Psychologists does it take to change a light bulb?)


Grandmother's name:



Where you grew up:



Name of childhood pet:


Your first job:

(Yes, that's right folks. It's not just a hokey movie title - Winn Dixie was a way of life for those of us in the South. At least half of everyone I knew growing up had their first job there.)


Favorite food:


Favorite color:


What you are doing right now:
(OK, so I was just playing Wordscraper on Facebook. You got me.)


One of your bad habits:

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

A Good Day For Duct Tape...

One down, one to go. (Preschool home-visits, that is.)

Ella's home visit was today, so I got to play hostess to the two lovely women who will be corralling my unruly 2 year-old two days a week for the next (blissful) 9 months.

Our visit with these lovely ladies was... well, interesting to say the least.

Every two minutes I wanted to apologize and swear on a stack of bibles that I don't have the most horrendously misbehaved children on the planet and that sometimes they can be downright enjoyable!
I fought back the urge, though, due to the likelihood of my protestations being met with hysterical laughter.

They were so freaking wild.
In fact, to say that is actually an insult to wild animals.

The teachers probably went straight home for a few hundred Hail Marys (or whatever the Presbyterian equivalent is) and a double shot of vodka.

Thankfully, though, Grammy (aka: Mom) was around to help. She offered her services again to me as she was leaving - for another time. My reply? "That's nice, thank you. But what I could really dig is a Valium. I don't suppose you have any hard drugs upon your person?"

Eh, well. Wine will just have to do.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

She's A Rogue...

My child is an outlaw.
A criminal.
A petty thief.

That's right folks. At the ripe old age of four, my child has committed her first misdemeanor. (I'm so proud. *sniff*)

Just yesterday we were driving away from the Evil Empire (aka: Wal Mart) having had an uncharacteristically lovely shopping trip, when I spotted the contraband upon her person. It took a moment for the reality of what I was seeing to hit me - my daughter was happily clutching a tacky, hideous postcard extolling the virtues of our great state. A postcard that I did not shell out any cash to procure. And given that the four year-old in question is broke as a joke (and doesn't know how to use the self-scanner register), I can only assume that she shoplifted it.

Of course, like any good Mother I gave a 'talk' about why stealing tacky postcards is wrong, and why we don't do such things.

I mean, damn. If you're going to steal, get something nice and shiny for Mama. :D We're going to have to work on the poor child's taste if she ever hopes to make a lucrative career of this - after all, I hope to have her hotwiring Beemers before her sixth birthday. We're off to an abysmal start, methinks.


The contraband - Exhibit A: (Details of tacky postcard changed to protect the innocent (and not-so-innocent)).