Ohhh noes! I missed a day! See? I can't even remember to post to my blog. How am I going to remember my earliest memory?
Ummm...
Ahhhh...
Seriously. I am drawing a total blank.
*wracks brain*
*scratches head*
Holy cow. Has turning 40 fried my brain so completely that I now have no memories???
Okay. I remember some stuff. One thing that I always loved was when I got to stay at my grandmother's house. I always felt so grown up when I went there, because I got to stay up late and watch Love Boat and Fantasy Island on Saturday night. I remember how exciting it was when Grandma finally got a color TV. It's weird that even now, 35 years later, I can still mentally "smell" her house. We played a LOT of Yahtzee, did a lot of crocheting, and ate a lot of toast. (Grandma always froze her bread in plastic baggies, and we had to toast it to eat it.) Geez...I miss her so much!
I also remember being at my other grandparents' house a lot. The one thing that comes to mind is The Beatles. My grandmother was a HUGE Beatles fan, and we'd stack all of the LPs on the record player and listen to every single song while we were there. My brothers and I were probably the only kids in the 70s who knew every word to every song they ever released. The adults would hang out, drinking their beers, while the kids sneaked to the basement and drank as much Faygo pop as we could without exploding. I can still hear the voices of my dad and the rest of the family harmonizing. Hearing the song "Michelle" always evokes really powerful memories for me. I still love every song The Beatles ever recorded!
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Day 13: Stamps in my passport
Talk about somewhere you'd like to move or visit.
This is a blog post I can get behind! I've always had a great desire to travel, but unfortunately, travelling is expensive so I've been unable to do very much. But I've always had two places I said I wanted to see before I died: Ireland and Australia. I was lucky enough to get to go to Ireland in 2002. It. Was. AMAZING. It wasn't just that the country was beautiful (it's actually gorgeous), it was the fact that we met so many wonderful people on our tour. Todd and I were such neophytes when it came to foreign travel--we were terrified about everything! Once we got over feeling like strangers in a strange land, we had a fantastic time. It's been almost 10 years since that trip and I still want to go back. As far as Australia is concerned...I WILL get there some day. There's just something about the Land Down Under that calls to me. I don't know quite what it is, though I am pretty sure it's not Vegemite. I want to see the outback and visit Ayers Rock and Sydney and Melbourne and Darwin and the list goes on and on. I'd like to stay for at least two weeks, though I don't think even a month would be long enough to explore everything Australia has to offer. I need to start saving my pennies!
I don't think I'd ever be able to move any further from Pittsburgh than I already have. Twenty miles was bad enough--any further and I would have a meltdown! I'm too much of a momma's girl to leave my mom behind. If she came with us, I might consider moving. But it would have to be a pretty fabulous place for me to leave my favorite city in the world!
This is a blog post I can get behind! I've always had a great desire to travel, but unfortunately, travelling is expensive so I've been unable to do very much. But I've always had two places I said I wanted to see before I died: Ireland and Australia. I was lucky enough to get to go to Ireland in 2002. It. Was. AMAZING. It wasn't just that the country was beautiful (it's actually gorgeous), it was the fact that we met so many wonderful people on our tour. Todd and I were such neophytes when it came to foreign travel--we were terrified about everything! Once we got over feeling like strangers in a strange land, we had a fantastic time. It's been almost 10 years since that trip and I still want to go back. As far as Australia is concerned...I WILL get there some day. There's just something about the Land Down Under that calls to me. I don't know quite what it is, though I am pretty sure it's not Vegemite. I want to see the outback and visit Ayers Rock and Sydney and Melbourne and Darwin and the list goes on and on. I'd like to stay for at least two weeks, though I don't think even a month would be long enough to explore everything Australia has to offer. I need to start saving my pennies!
I don't think I'd ever be able to move any further from Pittsburgh than I already have. Twenty miles was bad enough--any further and I would have a meltdown! I'm too much of a momma's girl to leave my mom behind. If she came with us, I might consider moving. But it would have to be a pretty fabulous place for me to leave my favorite city in the world!
Monday, December 12, 2011
Day 12: A day in the life
Bullet your whole day.
Oh, I'd like to put a bullet through my whole day, all right. That's not what they meant? Shooooot. (Ha! Pun intended.) Fine. But let me state for the record that I don't like this at all. It's too much like work.
7:00am: Alarm goes off for the first time. Wake Jake, make sure he gets up, then plop back in bed for another 27 minutes of sleep.
7:30am: Alarm goes off for Round Two. Make sure Jake is at the bus stop, then wake Sam and Norah. Pick out clothes, search for shoes, gloves, eyeglasses, books, folders, etc. Gently nudge them toward the bottom of the driveway with kisses, hugs, wishes for a good day, and threats that if they miss the school bus because they're dawdling I will make them walk the 7+ miles to school.
8:03am: Back to bed for a snuggle with the hubby, who is working 12hr midnight shifts and whom I saw for a grand total of 9 minutes yesterday. See you in about two hours...
10:01am: Phone rings, waking me. It's Mom. Roll out of bed, come to the kitchen, fire up the ol' Keurig. Chat with Mom for about 15 minutes, while simultaneously making coffee, writing out a grocery list (toilet paper and toothpaste, toilet paper and toothpaste, toilet paper and toothpaste...), and working on the quilted table runner I'm making Mom that needs to be done in time for delivery tomorrow.
10:20am: Hang up with Mom, sit down at sewing table to drink coffee and ponder what items I need to buy this week. (Toilet paper and toothpaste.) Finish quilting table runner, trim off the loose threads and extra fabric, and get ready to bind it. (It'll be done by tomorrow--woot!) Shoo various kittehs off of sewing project for the umpteenth time. (Why are they so fascinated with being on the table???)
11:30am: Finally get into shower, do my thang, get dressed, get prettified, and head to Washington to shop.
1:30pm: Sam's Club for gas. There goes half my money! Stupid ginormous 24-gallon gas tank.
1:40pm: Enter Hellmart. Breathe huge sigh of exasperation at the sight of eleventy bajillion people milling around the aisles. Try to rush through the store, only to get stuck at the cash register. I felt bad for the cashier--she was a floor associate pulled from her department to ring register and she had no clue what she was doing. Every customer in front of me had some sort of weird issue with their method of payment. Argh. Those it was all made better by the major score I hit on pants. 3 pairs of really cute cargo pants (in black, brown and olive green) for $9 each. Schweet!
2:45pm: Finally at Aldi. Rush through the list, get through the checkout line, only to realize I didn't buy sausage for tonight's dinner. (Sausage, egg and cheese muffins just aren't the same without the sausage.). Go back through the line, thank the lady in front of me for letting me go ahead of her, tell another lady how much we love the sausage, pack my bags and head home.
3:20pm: Answer phone call from elementary school counselor telling me my darling daughter poked one of her classmates in the eye with a pencil. *facepalm* *headdesk* *massive sigh* Make multiple assurances to the counselor that I would address the issue with her upon her arrival home from school. Call the husband and tell him what happened, and tell him to begin the removal of anything and everything that gives her joy from her bedroom.
3:45pm: Arrive home, supervise the unloading and putting away of groceries, the packing and hiding of all of the girl child's personal belongings, and begin cooking dinner. (Eating early this week because of the husband's work schedule.)
4:30pm: Arrival of two younger children from school. Question the girl about the day's events, and get blank stares and stonewalling as an answer. Lecture the girl, upon her discovery of the empty state of her room, about the importance of appropriate behavior at school, the disappointment of her parents at the reception of another phone call from school administration, and the placement of said girl onto Santa's "naughty list". Sit through 15 minutes of tears, weeping, wailing and general misery about the fact that girl child has to face consequences of her own actions. Leave her in her room, with the lights off, to think about what she's done.
4:45pm: Discover sleeping girl child, and make resolution to institute earlier bedtimes for her and her 8-year old brother.
5:00pm: Wake sleeping girl child and haul her out of her room, lest she fall back to sleep.
5:10pm: Scarf down a sausage, egg and cheese muffin while trying to keep up with the demands of three hungry males.
5:30pm: Kiss hubby goodbye. Have spent approximately 26 minutes with him in the last 3 days. (Poor guy is working 80 hours in 7 days.)
5:50pm: Realize Christmas is only 13 days away and panic over the following things: not having sent out Christmas cards yet, not having started making teacher gifts, not having finished shopping for anybody but the girl child, and not having paid bills yet this week.
6:04pm: Declare it to be "pajamas o'clock" and decide to stop caring about anything else this evening.
6:14pm: Nenna OUT. Hasta manana, y'all!
Oh, I'd like to put a bullet through my whole day, all right. That's not what they meant? Shooooot. (Ha! Pun intended.) Fine. But let me state for the record that I don't like this at all. It's too much like work.
7:00am: Alarm goes off for the first time. Wake Jake, make sure he gets up, then plop back in bed for another 27 minutes of sleep.
7:30am: Alarm goes off for Round Two. Make sure Jake is at the bus stop, then wake Sam and Norah. Pick out clothes, search for shoes, gloves, eyeglasses, books, folders, etc. Gently nudge them toward the bottom of the driveway with kisses, hugs, wishes for a good day, and threats that if they miss the school bus because they're dawdling I will make them walk the 7+ miles to school.
8:03am: Back to bed for a snuggle with the hubby, who is working 12hr midnight shifts and whom I saw for a grand total of 9 minutes yesterday. See you in about two hours...
10:01am: Phone rings, waking me. It's Mom. Roll out of bed, come to the kitchen, fire up the ol' Keurig. Chat with Mom for about 15 minutes, while simultaneously making coffee, writing out a grocery list (toilet paper and toothpaste, toilet paper and toothpaste, toilet paper and toothpaste...), and working on the quilted table runner I'm making Mom that needs to be done in time for delivery tomorrow.
10:20am: Hang up with Mom, sit down at sewing table to drink coffee and ponder what items I need to buy this week. (Toilet paper and toothpaste.) Finish quilting table runner, trim off the loose threads and extra fabric, and get ready to bind it. (It'll be done by tomorrow--woot!) Shoo various kittehs off of sewing project for the umpteenth time. (Why are they so fascinated with being on the table???)
11:30am: Finally get into shower, do my thang, get dressed, get prettified, and head to Washington to shop.
1:30pm: Sam's Club for gas. There goes half my money! Stupid ginormous 24-gallon gas tank.
1:40pm: Enter Hellmart. Breathe huge sigh of exasperation at the sight of eleventy bajillion people milling around the aisles. Try to rush through the store, only to get stuck at the cash register. I felt bad for the cashier--she was a floor associate pulled from her department to ring register and she had no clue what she was doing. Every customer in front of me had some sort of weird issue with their method of payment. Argh. Those it was all made better by the major score I hit on pants. 3 pairs of really cute cargo pants (in black, brown and olive green) for $9 each. Schweet!
2:45pm: Finally at Aldi. Rush through the list, get through the checkout line, only to realize I didn't buy sausage for tonight's dinner. (Sausage, egg and cheese muffins just aren't the same without the sausage.). Go back through the line, thank the lady in front of me for letting me go ahead of her, tell another lady how much we love the sausage, pack my bags and head home.
3:20pm: Answer phone call from elementary school counselor telling me my darling daughter poked one of her classmates in the eye with a pencil. *facepalm* *headdesk* *massive sigh* Make multiple assurances to the counselor that I would address the issue with her upon her arrival home from school. Call the husband and tell him what happened, and tell him to begin the removal of anything and everything that gives her joy from her bedroom.
3:45pm: Arrive home, supervise the unloading and putting away of groceries, the packing and hiding of all of the girl child's personal belongings, and begin cooking dinner. (Eating early this week because of the husband's work schedule.)
4:30pm: Arrival of two younger children from school. Question the girl about the day's events, and get blank stares and stonewalling as an answer. Lecture the girl, upon her discovery of the empty state of her room, about the importance of appropriate behavior at school, the disappointment of her parents at the reception of another phone call from school administration, and the placement of said girl onto Santa's "naughty list". Sit through 15 minutes of tears, weeping, wailing and general misery about the fact that girl child has to face consequences of her own actions. Leave her in her room, with the lights off, to think about what she's done.
4:45pm: Discover sleeping girl child, and make resolution to institute earlier bedtimes for her and her 8-year old brother.
5:00pm: Wake sleeping girl child and haul her out of her room, lest she fall back to sleep.
5:10pm: Scarf down a sausage, egg and cheese muffin while trying to keep up with the demands of three hungry males.
5:30pm: Kiss hubby goodbye. Have spent approximately 26 minutes with him in the last 3 days. (Poor guy is working 80 hours in 7 days.)
5:50pm: Realize Christmas is only 13 days away and panic over the following things: not having sent out Christmas cards yet, not having started making teacher gifts, not having finished shopping for anybody but the girl child, and not having paid bills yet this week.
6:04pm: Declare it to be "pajamas o'clock" and decide to stop caring about anything else this evening.
6:14pm: Nenna OUT. Hasta manana, y'all!
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Day 11: Finally--a no brainer!
Put your iPod on shuffle and write the 10 songs that pop up.
1. "Lucky", Glee cast
2. "Christmastime", Barenaked Ladies
3. "Sing a Song", Third Day
4. "Beauty Divine", Brandon Heath
5. "Lifesong", Casting Crowns
6. "Sing, Sing, Sing", Chris Tomlin
7. "Love This Pain", Lady Antebellum
8. "Nothing From Nothing", Billy Preston, "Elf" Soundtrack
9. "Sing", Glee Cast
10. "I Heard The Bells on Christmas Day", Steven Curtis Chapman
Going through my iTunes library really makes me want to go to the iTunes store and buy about $500 worth of music. I really need to expand my music collection!
1. "Lucky", Glee cast
2. "Christmastime", Barenaked Ladies
3. "Sing a Song", Third Day
4. "Beauty Divine", Brandon Heath
5. "Lifesong", Casting Crowns
6. "Sing, Sing, Sing", Chris Tomlin
7. "Love This Pain", Lady Antebellum
8. "Nothing From Nothing", Billy Preston, "Elf" Soundtrack
9. "Sing", Glee Cast
10. "I Heard The Bells on Christmas Day", Steven Curtis Chapman
Going through my iTunes library really makes me want to go to the iTunes store and buy about $500 worth of music. I really need to expand my music collection!
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Day 10: And they call it puppy love
Discuss your first love and first kiss.
We're really going into the vault for this one, aren't we? Interestingly, my first love and my first kiss did not involve the same guy. Not by a long shot.
My first kiss...
Picture it: 1985. 8th grade. Big hair, Converse kicks and pegged jeans. Grandview Park overlook. Me, Rob P., and my annoying brother. The kind of drama and tension only eighth graders can create. Will he or won't he? Significant glances, the touch of fingertips, the smell of way too much Polo cologne. Annoying Brother interrupting over and over and over again. Missed opportunity after missed opportunity. The pressure of knowing curfew was arriving. Annoying Brother finally saying, "Oh my gosh, are you just gonna kiss her or what???" The release of tension that comes from laughing at Annoying Brother. Two faces, drifting closer and closer together, lips finally touching...
My lip. Getting caught on his braces. Ow ow ow ow! Blood everywhere. So romantic. NOT. It will come as no surprise that we broke up a few days later. The magic just wasn't there.
My first love...
My first love (true, total and absolute love) was Scott C. He was my second high-school boyfriend. The first was Jim. He was a junior and I was a freshman, and he was so popular and cute and I never felt worthy of him. I liked him a LOT, and probably would have fallen in love with him had he not broken my poor little 15-year old heart. Scott came along when I was a junior, and he was a senior. We'd had a flirtation that involved a lot of teasing, poking, and ridiculing over the previous two years, and when I was a junior, it finally escalated to something more. I remember the day it *happened*. It was the afternoon of open house, and I had to stay after school to prepare for a rhythmic gymnastics demonstration that evening. We got done with our rehearsal, and Scott was hanging around, so we started goofing off. Somehow, we ended up in the basement of the school, chasing each other (sooo mature, I know). He cornered me in a doorway, and I looked at him, and in my best seductive temptress voice (*schnort*) I said, "Kiss me, you fool!"
And he did. It was magical. (No braces, no blood, no pain!)
We dated for about 5 months. It was great. My mom and his mom had gone to school together (or maybe worked together...I can't remember all these years later.) so our families had a connection, too. It felt right, I fell madly in love with him, and thought he was madly in love with me back. Right up until the moment when he announced, right before prom, that he was dumping me for my friend (a FRESHMAN, no less! *clutches pearls*) and that he'd be taking her to prom. I. was. so. MAD.
Lucky for Todd, I didn't let the bad taste left behind by Scott, or any of the other guys who broke my heart, turn me off men forever. And lucky for me, I ended up with the best guy of them all, happily ever after (and all that other romantic, gooey, heart-shaped junk). I definitely picked a winner!
We're really going into the vault for this one, aren't we? Interestingly, my first love and my first kiss did not involve the same guy. Not by a long shot.
My first kiss...
Picture it: 1985. 8th grade. Big hair, Converse kicks and pegged jeans. Grandview Park overlook. Me, Rob P., and my annoying brother. The kind of drama and tension only eighth graders can create. Will he or won't he? Significant glances, the touch of fingertips, the smell of way too much Polo cologne. Annoying Brother interrupting over and over and over again. Missed opportunity after missed opportunity. The pressure of knowing curfew was arriving. Annoying Brother finally saying, "Oh my gosh, are you just gonna kiss her or what???" The release of tension that comes from laughing at Annoying Brother. Two faces, drifting closer and closer together, lips finally touching...
My lip. Getting caught on his braces. Ow ow ow ow! Blood everywhere. So romantic. NOT. It will come as no surprise that we broke up a few days later. The magic just wasn't there.
My first love...
My first love (true, total and absolute love) was Scott C. He was my second high-school boyfriend. The first was Jim. He was a junior and I was a freshman, and he was so popular and cute and I never felt worthy of him. I liked him a LOT, and probably would have fallen in love with him had he not broken my poor little 15-year old heart. Scott came along when I was a junior, and he was a senior. We'd had a flirtation that involved a lot of teasing, poking, and ridiculing over the previous two years, and when I was a junior, it finally escalated to something more. I remember the day it *happened*. It was the afternoon of open house, and I had to stay after school to prepare for a rhythmic gymnastics demonstration that evening. We got done with our rehearsal, and Scott was hanging around, so we started goofing off. Somehow, we ended up in the basement of the school, chasing each other (sooo mature, I know). He cornered me in a doorway, and I looked at him, and in my best seductive temptress voice (*schnort*) I said, "Kiss me, you fool!"
And he did. It was magical. (No braces, no blood, no pain!)
We dated for about 5 months. It was great. My mom and his mom had gone to school together (or maybe worked together...I can't remember all these years later.) so our families had a connection, too. It felt right, I fell madly in love with him, and thought he was madly in love with me back. Right up until the moment when he announced, right before prom, that he was dumping me for my friend (a FRESHMAN, no less! *clutches pearls*) and that he'd be taking her to prom. I. was. so. MAD.
Lucky for Todd, I didn't let the bad taste left behind by Scott, or any of the other guys who broke my heart, turn me off men forever. And lucky for me, I ended up with the best guy of them all, happily ever after (and all that other romantic, gooey, heart-shaped junk). I definitely picked a winner!
Day 9: Let me look deep into my crystal ball...
What do you hope your future will be like?
I hope it'll be good.
That doesn't really make for an interesting blog entry, does it? Fine. I'll elaborate. I want to watch my kids grow up and be happy, healthy, productive members of society. I want to grow old with my husband. I hope to have gone to school and gotten an education that helps me find a career that fulfills me. I want to spend as much time surrounded by the people I love, making wonderful memories that will stay with me for the rest of my life. I'd love to have gotten to meet some of the amazing women I've met online by then. (Hoochie meetup, y'all! It's gonna happen.) Is it sad and pathetic if I say I just want to be happy? Because that's all I really want.
That, and uh, world peace. Yeah. World peace. Definitely.
I hope it'll be good.
That doesn't really make for an interesting blog entry, does it? Fine. I'll elaborate. I want to watch my kids grow up and be happy, healthy, productive members of society. I want to grow old with my husband. I hope to have gone to school and gotten an education that helps me find a career that fulfills me. I want to spend as much time surrounded by the people I love, making wonderful memories that will stay with me for the rest of my life. I'd love to have gotten to meet some of the amazing women I've met online by then. (Hoochie meetup, y'all! It's gonna happen.) Is it sad and pathetic if I say I just want to be happy? Because that's all I really want.
That, and uh, world peace. Yeah. World peace. Definitely.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Day 8: I can't get no satisfaction
Discuss a moment you felt the most satisfied with your life.
Oh geez. This is a tough one. Seriously, the wording is really tripping me up. "Satisfied" feels so generic, and for the most part, I'm "satisfied" with my whole life. Let's see...some synonyms of satisfied are: content, fulfilled, happy, pleased, pacified. Hmmm...not really making it any easier.
Okay. I'm gonna go total Momzilla here. There are three moments that come to mind immediately when I think of times I felt "satisfied", and they are when my children were born. I take no small amount of pleasure from the fact that for 9+ months, I nurtured and supported an entirely new life inside my own body. With Jake and Sam, I labored for hours and hours. I was in labor with Jake for 44.5 hours and pushed for nearly 3 hours. The fact that he FINALLY came out and lived, despite the complications he had (my mother still talks about his pointed head and black eyes and strong resemblance to an alien at birth), was no small miracle to me. 10 hours of labor with Sam, only to need an emergency c-section, was disappointing. But that disappointment gave way to satisfaction the moment I laid eyes on my beautiful son. You know...the one I made. With Norah, I decided to forego the danger of another labor and, though it made me feel like a bit of a failure, I had a scheduled c-section. Which was horrible. From the fact that I believe I was over-medicated, to the nausea that caused me to vomit the entire time, to the massive panic attack I had mid-delivery, to the failure of my uterus to clamp down post-surgery--it was all a nightmare. But again, one look at that perfect little face (and that beautifully round head, ha ha) and the feeling of satisfaction I had far outweighed the horror of my surgery. I made a PERSON. Inside of me. And after 3 devastating miscarriages, the victory of finally giving birth was utterly and completely satisfying.
There have been plenty of other times I've felt satisfied, but nothing has, or ever will, match the satisfaction I felt after each of my children were born. Nothing at all. Though winning the Power Ball lottery would certainly come in at a verrrrrrry close second. ;)
Oh geez. This is a tough one. Seriously, the wording is really tripping me up. "Satisfied" feels so generic, and for the most part, I'm "satisfied" with my whole life. Let's see...some synonyms of satisfied are: content, fulfilled, happy, pleased, pacified. Hmmm...not really making it any easier.
Okay. I'm gonna go total Momzilla here. There are three moments that come to mind immediately when I think of times I felt "satisfied", and they are when my children were born. I take no small amount of pleasure from the fact that for 9+ months, I nurtured and supported an entirely new life inside my own body. With Jake and Sam, I labored for hours and hours. I was in labor with Jake for 44.5 hours and pushed for nearly 3 hours. The fact that he FINALLY came out and lived, despite the complications he had (my mother still talks about his pointed head and black eyes and strong resemblance to an alien at birth), was no small miracle to me. 10 hours of labor with Sam, only to need an emergency c-section, was disappointing. But that disappointment gave way to satisfaction the moment I laid eyes on my beautiful son. You know...the one I made. With Norah, I decided to forego the danger of another labor and, though it made me feel like a bit of a failure, I had a scheduled c-section. Which was horrible. From the fact that I believe I was over-medicated, to the nausea that caused me to vomit the entire time, to the massive panic attack I had mid-delivery, to the failure of my uterus to clamp down post-surgery--it was all a nightmare. But again, one look at that perfect little face (and that beautifully round head, ha ha) and the feeling of satisfaction I had far outweighed the horror of my surgery. I made a PERSON. Inside of me. And after 3 devastating miscarriages, the victory of finally giving birth was utterly and completely satisfying.
There have been plenty of other times I've felt satisfied, but nothing has, or ever will, match the satisfaction I felt after each of my children were born. Nothing at all. Though winning the Power Ball lottery would certainly come in at a verrrrrrry close second. ;)
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