I remember this week last year. I wrote one of the hardest posts in my life. It was a post filled with love and heartache. Because, just as I said then, the two do tend to go hand and hand.
Back then, I didn’t know that I’d make it. I’d just been told one of the worst things a person can hear: I don’t love you any more, I want a divorce. I thought the pain that I was in would last forever. Melodramatic? Maybe. I tend to be that at times. Yet loosing the life I thought I knew, was (is) harsh. We’d created what I thought was a great life. Then suddenly it was gone. It’s not something I recommend actually. Not something I wanted, yet there it was.
Suddenly it was just me. I only had me to count on. I had to become my kids everything, at least when they were with me. I used to cry at night. Man I cried at night for months. I used to panic constantly. I was a complete mess for months.
Here I sit though, a year later, completely changed. Stronger. More sure of myself. Confident in my ability to make it, no matter how shitty any particular day may be. Possibly a bit more cynical and jaded. Perhaps a bit more cracked than I was before. But I made it.
Want to hear a secret? I think I’m stronger without him. I think I’ve learned to trust myself. To do things for myself. I feel stronger today than I have in years. Don’t get me wrong, my ex is not a bad guy. He’s a good guy and the best daddy I could have ever hoped for our children to have. He’s just a man who fell out of love with me.
But what I’ve realized in the past few months, is that our relationship changed three years ago, when I lost a baby and had a mini-nervous breakdown. From that day forward, our relationship changed. I don’t blame either of us on that one really. What happened was beyond our control. How we dealt with it? Changed us both forever. It was the downfall of our relationship.
Bygones.
However, I’ve never felt strong in any way since then. This past few months? I’ve started to feel it again. Even when I have a day filled with doubt and or sadness, it’s just that. A day. It doesn’t drag on for weeks. I don’t let it anymore. Yesterday was a shitty day. I can’t talk about it, because well we all learned from Dooce what you don’t talk about on your blog. Ahem. However? That was yesterday. Today is a new day. It will be okay. I will figure it all out.
I still have a long way to go. This I know. But next year? It’s going to be my year. I feel it. It has to be. I’m going to make it happen.
I hope you all have a great New Years. Thank you for supporting me this year. I love you all more than I can put into words for your continued support and encouragement.
My mind moves a million miles a minute. It always has. I’d bet that I’m as close to having ADHD as one can be without actually having it. Or well with being as lazy as I tend to be. What was I saying?
Ah yes, my mind. It’s fast. It moves miles a minute. I do things all day at a mile a minute. I work all day, yet I also manage to email my friends, to talk to people on Twitter and to play games on WWF. I can do it all at once. I am a multi-tasker extraordinaire. If there were such a title on Wikipedia, I’d bet they’d have my photo on there.
People always ask me, how can you keep up. In reality, I can’t. I just am able to do enough at once, that it seems like I can. It’s the appearance that I give off, I suppose.
The truth? Is that it’s exhausting. I’m a speed reader, but the more I try to do, the less I really catch. My reader is constantly out of hand. I have blogs in there that I don’t even like anymore, but I feel obligated to read them. More and more, I am closing, opening and closing Twitter, without saying a thing. The more I try to keep up, the less I am able to keep up.
It doesn’t help that there is Christmas to deal with and relatives to deal with. It doesn’t help that my kids will be off school for two weeks and I still have to work 80% of that time.
I’m getting too scattered, because I’m trying to do too much. In the end, I’m getting nothing done. Nothing at home, nothing online. I still get my work done….but you know, they pay me. Blogging for me is a hobby.
Do you know that I can’t tell you what happened in 75% of the TV shows I’ve watched this season? I can’t tell you, because I’m also playing on Twitter, or trying to read blogs while I watch TV.
I need to start to slow it down. To learn to do one thing at a time. To be on Twitter, if I want to be on Twitter, not while I’m doing 72 other things. I need to read blogs when I want to read blogs, not because I feel obligated. When I read them, I need to just read them, not also be playing on Twitter.
I am exhausted right now. I’ve taken on too much. I do too much. It’s time to slow down some. It’s time to learn to do one thing at a time.
I have, in the past six months or so, stopped being online much the nights and weekends that I have the kids, except for the occasional tweet sent from my phone. This has been good for them. For me too. Yet, I also need to have nights where I just sit and do nothing for me, when I don’t have them. I need to watch TV more. It sounds silly, I’m sure. The idea of me saying I need to watch more TV. It’s not just that though. I never just relax. I never just sit and do nothing. Even when I’m doing something like playing Angry Birds, I generally am doing three other things. It’s that I’ve let this become a second job. One that I do not get paid for. One that I probably put as many hours a week on, as I do with my paid job.
I dearly love blogging. I love this online world. It’s saved me this past year. It’s helped me learn to be okay this year. You all have helped me more this year than I can even begin to tell you.
But for myself, for my sanity? I have to slow it down.
Next year? I want to write a book. A full book. One that I don’t trash halfway through. That is my goal for next year. To write the novel that is swimming in my head. The only way for me to have time to do that, is to slow down my online life a bit. I’ll still be here. I’ll still write. I’ll still read. I’ll still even be on Twitter. Just not as much.
Hopefully I can learn to do this. This slowing of my life a bit. Hopefully you all will still visit me, if I start posting one less time a week. I can hope. I’m sure it’s a silly fear, that you all will forget me. I have that fear though. I still have to try though. For me. I have to try for me.
I do. I lie to my kids. Innocent lies mostly. Lies to make my life easier. Lies to try and keep the magic of childhood alive for them.
I lie to my kids about Santa. Or well, I did for years. Now both of the girls know the truth, each told around age six by some punk kid at school. (Harrison doesn’t fully get it yet, but I plan on him believing in Santa as well.) When asked point blank by each of my daughters, I did tell the truth. I also made them swear to keep it quiet for other kids and their siblings. I believe in truth telling, when asked. I do. I find it to be important. You will never hear me tell my kids that the stork brought them to my doorstep.
I have never seen how it’s an issue. I see the distinction. Lying about Santa hasn’t ever been a big deal. It’s believing in what you can’t see. It’s being innocent. It’s believing in magic. How is that bad?
I guess to some people, it is bad. Any lying is horrible. We should all tell our children the truth. All the time. If we will lie to them about Santa, we are setting them up for failure later in life. At least that is what I hear from certain people who don’t tell their kids any lies ever.
Can you imagine that? Never, ever, ever lying to your children? Their are people online who claim they never do. Not about Santa. Not about anything. There were a few people who said as much in this post by Mom 101′s post on Santa last week.
I asked a few people I know locally. I had a woman tell me that she never lies to her kids. She tells them the truth about everything. They know about her budget/money issues. They do not believe in magic of any kind. They will never not know reality, were her exact words.
It was eye opening for me. Kind of sad in a way. That someone’s 9, 5 and 3 year olds should only know reality. Reality seems very harsh for a three year old child. It’s harsh as an adult. Why in the world should a three year old know that yet?
I don’t even necessarily care if you tell your kids the truth about Santa. Some kids prefer to know. Some figure it out. Some are Jewish. Or whatever. There are always going to be kids who don’t believe in Santa. I mean I wish those kids wouldn’t ruin it for other kids. But that’s part of life.
It was the, I never lie to my children that didn’t sit right with me. Really? NEVER?
I’m calling that a giant lie right there.
You never told your kids that broccoli are little trees? That the ice cream is all gone? That you were “wrestling” with daddy? Ahem.
You’ve never told any lie? I just don’t buy that.
Dora is napping. Lucky the dog went to live on a farm. Spotty the fish is swimming to the ocean now.
If you keep rolling your eyes at me, one day they will get stuck up there. How will you feel then?
Oh this? This is monster spray. It gets rid of all the monsters. Milk makes you grow strong muscles like Daddy. Green beans? Oh they make you super tall like Uncle. You want to be super tall don’t you?
McDonald’s is closed today. The park is closed today. Disney World is only open for kids over ten.
Oh that song by Miley Cyrus, Party in the USA? Oh it started skipping badly on iTunes, so I had to delete it.
Oh these Peppermint Joe-Joe’s are spicy son.very spicy. Ow. You wouldn’t like them. Here have a Chips Ahoy.
Some of those are just mine. I am funny, in that, I tell my children the truth on big things. Yet, I will lie to them on small innocent things, as witnessed above. Life is harsh. I’ve explained cancer, death, divorce, suicide, war and the Holocaust all in the past year. I won’t lie on those things.
My children know the correct names of their private parts and we’ve had many discussions about what is okay touching and what isn’t. I will never sugar coat that one. As much as I wish I could.
Yet the small, innocent, doesn’t hurt anyone, yet makes my life easier lie? I’m all for it.
I’m not alone either. I asked Twitter. Here were a few examples.
That was a great one. I need to remember it next summer.
This will come to bite you on the butt in a year or two friend, but I commend you on your answer to a seven year old. Sometimes, they don’t want to hear the truth.
I do this one all time. With Elmo. With Cars. With Toy Story. This is called, sanity saving.
Been there, done that. It only works until they learn where you hide it. Actually then they start using it back on you.
I got a lot of answers like this. I can text, email, call Santa. I myself used it for years.
I love that one. Pretty sure I used it a time or two in the past.
Little lies. Parents….well most parents tell them every now and again. Is it going to make our children all become ax murderers? Somehow I doubt it.
So…what say you? Do you lie to your kids?
I was the only kid I knew, who liked Thanksgiving more than Christmas. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed gifts. What kid doesn’t?
Coming from a divorced family though, Christmas was always a nightmare. They fought every year. You had Christmas Eve. No you did. No I didn’t. Blah, blah, blah. They tried to out do each other. It was filled with visiting nine zillion relatives, who no one ever really liked. It was a big giant mess. Each year, I was grateful when school was back in session. Nothing about Christmas was pleasant, except it being over.
But oh how I loved Thanksgiving. See, Thanksgiving was my mom’s holiday. Ever, single year. Dad got Easter. Mom got Thanksgiving. Simple. Easy. Possibly the only thing in their divorce decree that was actually helpful for us.
We’d go to my mom’s parents house each year. It was a big meal, one that my grandmother always made. All of the regular food. Nothing fancy. No gifts. No fighting….or well mostly. Ha. I do have one aunt who used to throw tantrums. Luckily she didn’t do them every year. It was a huge family gathering.
I loved it. I used to wish we could move there. Something that cracks me up now. North Texas is not where I’d choose to live now. My mother would have rather shot her own foot off than move back there. Five days was long enough for her.
For me, it was a holiday wonderland. I loved the smells. By the time we got in on Wednesday, the house already smelled amazing. Pies would have been already made. There were things she made day of and things she made the day prior. The whole time we’d be there though, it’d smell of holiday food.
Even though the previous few years hadn’t gone well at Thanksgiving, this year managed to be great. The kids and I went away. We spent time with family. We did fun things. It was easy, nice and really sort of pleasant.
I’m already dreading Christmas though. I’m allowed to say that now right? Since it’s almost December? That I’d like to skip this next holiday?
Until last year, Christmas was always pleasant, if not completely exhausting. My mother and my MIL are best friends. It made it simple.
Nothing about this year will be simple. Or easy. We are going to attempt to share. Nicely. I get Christmas Eve. He gets Christmas Day. That is all well and good, except that my mother and his parents want us all to have Christmas dinner together. One happy family.
See my problem?
I have conceded. I will do it this year. For my kids, I conceded. For my mother and my MIL. One more year. But I’m not looking forward to it. It’s a meal, you could say. It’s a few hours in one day, my mother claims. Which is all fine and good and true even. Yet, I dread it. It makes me want to skip the whole dam holiday. It’s just too confusing. It’s hard. How can I start my own traditions with my kids, if I still have to do it the old way?
It’s not like it won’t be fine. I know it will be. My kids will be thrilled. I will be fine. Emotionally? It’s a bit of a challenge. I’m trying really hard not to over think it. Possibly failing at that. I mean really, he didn’t want to be a family anymore, so why should I pretend?
This year, I will do it. Because it’s the right thing to do for my kids. Next year? I will find another way. Maybe I’ll make Thanksgiving and Easter my holidays and give him Christmas. I don’t honestly know. I have no answers. I have no idea what next year holds for me. In this moment though? I’d like a month long nap.
Did you know Dial-up still exists? Yeah, I didn’t. It still makes the lovey eeeeeooooooeeeeeooooo noises. Followed by the happy boing boing boing noise when it connects. Only to die five minutes later. I had to laugh at my aunt and uncle. When I mentioned that they could get satellite Internet, since they have satellite TV, my aunt said, why would I want more expensive Internet, since it dies all of the time. It wouldn’t die all the time if you had INTERNET FROM THIS DECADE!!!! Oh…I guess that makes sense. Snort. Yes, yes it does.
So needless to say, I spent the weekend in the boondocks. No Internet. No Starbucks. No real cell reception. It was actually really pleasant. Except when I wanted to text people. Anyway. Let’s see what all I can remember in my tired, exhausted, they messed up my coffee today, state of mind.
TSA: Yeah. People are insane. It literally took us 10 minutes to get through security each way. My kids and I weren’t patted down. I in fact, didn’t see a single pat down. There were big scanners that you stepped into….but only if you set off the metal detector. Truly it was no big deal. It was the fastest I’ve gotten through security in years.
Flying: My kids are really great fliers. I saw so many kids that weren’t. When our plane was delayed on Wednesday night? We went and ate dinner. They raced around in an area that had no people. They played, ride the moving walkways. They played iSpy. Then? My son fell asleep in the stroller and the girls put in a movie. We didn’t end up getting to my aunt and uncles till 2am Thursday. On the way back, my son had discovered Cat in the Hat on the iPad. I’d put a few movies on each of the girls iTouch’s, as well as on my iPhone and iPad, so they’d have a selection to choose from. Harrison spent the entire movie saying, oh silly cat hat. He was pretty dang funny. At the end of the flight a baby two rows back had ear trouble and screamed the last 20 minutes. He kept asking me: why baby cry, mama? Because her ears hurt, I’d say each time. Oh poor bebe, ear owie.
Food: Awesome. That’s really all I can say about that. My uncle even made turkey that I liked. At least the first day. Once it had been in the fridge, I wasn’t that into it. But still, it was tasty that first day. Pie. Lots of it. Mmmmm pie.
Cactus: We were in Arizona. We saw tons of cactus’s. None of my children were very impressed. The funniest thing though, was that they were everywhere. Some people I suppose thought the real ones weren’t enough, so they put in fake ones. EVERYWHERE. This one, was some sort of a fountain.
Family: It was nice to be around the part of my family that has no drama. Because we didn’t invite the rest of them. Ha. This was possibly the easiest Thanksgiving I’ve had in years. My aunt and uncle are nice and easy to be around. My mom was there. She and my aunt took my girls and my cousins daughter to see Beauty and the Beast on Saturday, which they adored. One thing though? My cousin has three kids. Her boys are 17 and 6 and her daughter is almost 9. They are quiet kids. Sweet, nice, polite, well behaved and dam quiet. I am so not used to quiet kids. Mine are sweet, nice, polite, pretty well behaved and chatty as all get out. They never stop talking.
Art/craft show: On Friday, I let myself be talked into it. I mean, really, what else was I going to do? Not shop. I had no room in my suitcase. Anyway. We all went to this craft fair thing. These were possibly the things I loved the best. I mean honestly, don’t you all want one???? You could collect the set.
Oh one more thing. This was in front of a grocery store. I swear, there were more odd statues than I’ve probably ever seen.
It was a great, but completely exhausting weekend. I barely slept, so I’m feeling slow this morning. I hope you all had a great weekend.
It’s late at night. We are in bed. Holding hands. Pondering quietly the reality that has smacked us squarely in the face. Neither of us speaks for nearly an hour. I listen to him breath. I play the evening over and over again in my mind. I wonder to myself, is this real. God, I hope this is real.
Finally he speaks. Well that happened fast, didn’t it?
Yeah, I guess it did, I responded.
So….we’re going to be parents then? Dam that’s rad.
Yeah, it is, huh?
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We were on vacation. 1992 maybe. I’d of been twelve that summer. Driving through Oklahoma. We’d stopped at Sonic, which he’d only mentioned about 73 times that day. Sonic. Jalapeno burgers. Cherry limeade. You could almost see it dancing in his eyes. His idea of heaven, if he were one to believe in such things.
We stopped at the first one we saw. We all ordered huge drinks and burgers. Chili cheese fries to share. We sat outside the car in the humid summer heat. The radio in the car was on. Turned to a silly country station, that he never would have normally made us listen too. Maybe it was Oklahoma that did it too him. Maybe it was Sonic. Who knows. My dad is an odd guy.
The moment was over before it really began.
He jumped up and started grabbing food and shoving it in the car in seconds. I didn’t recognize that look in his eyes. Get in the car now, he said. His voice was raised. He meant business. The man rarely raised his voice. We all got in the car. He drove away like a bat out of hell. He didn’t speak for 30 minutes.
We were all silent as well. No one said a thing, even though he was driving us back in the direction we’d just come from. Considering there were five of between 10 and 14 years old, this was a strange occurrence.
Eventually my step-mom broke the silence. What happened? Tornadoes, was his response. Headed our direction. The radio said tornadoes. More than one. Never again will I deal with tornadoes. Give me an earthquake any day.
It would have been funny, except it really wasn’t. On a vacation once, in Texas, my dad almost lost my mom because of tornadoes. She happened to be out shopping and she nearly died in a storm drain. It was about six months before they got pregnant with me. The town my grandparents lived in was over a third gone, after the tornadoes that day. Three major ones.
We will be going around Oklahoma today, was all he’d say.
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Family dinner. My family. His family. We’d ordered in. Mexican food. What? It wasn’t like I knew how to cook. Our new condo. It was the first time we’d had everyone there. There wasn’t enough seats for everyone, so a lot of people ended up sitting on the floor.
They believed it was to celebrate the condo. They’d brought us gifts. As we finished opening them, I got up and said, there is actually two more. Hold on one second. I went into our bedroom and came out with two gifts.
White satin wrapping. Purple and green ribbon. I remember that I’d spent an hour at some specialty shop in Beverly Hills, finding the prettiest paper I could find. I even made my friend Kate wrap them for me, because I wanted it to be perfect. One gift for his parents, one for my mom. Two picture frames.
Our butter bean in a frame. Ten weeks. Her first fuzzy photo. The frames said first grandchild.
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Same vacation. 1992. We’d been in Albuquerque the day before and had gone to Water World. I’d managed to step on a lit cigarette butt and had a blister the size of a fist on my foot. I have always been known for this type of thing. They should have just named me clumsy.
We were camping in Carlsbad. Had been swimming the night before. Every one told me to pop that blister, but I decided limping around was a better way to go. I didn’t want to miss walking down Carlsbad Caverns. I knew if I popped it, I’d not want to walk for days. See, I’d heard a rumor the night before, that Mario Lopez would be filming something at the bottom of the caves the next day. I wanted to meet him. Oh how I loved Saved by the Bell.
I was determined. I didn’t care how much it hurt. I did it anyway. Not because I cared about a silly cave. National monument? Who cares about that? I was twelve. I’d of rather been in a mall. Or at home, spending my days boogie boarding with my friends.
I could have cared less that it had an actual cafeteria at the bottom. I didn’t want to see bats. Or ride the weird elevator back to the top. Nope. I did it too see some cute famous boy.
Saw him too. Somewhere I even have a signed autograph. Totally worth the foot pain.
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For more 30 days of truth: Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
I have to be honest, this one seems like tempting fate to me. I’m not sure I want to do it. I can see why so many people have wanted to bail on this one. You don’t want to say the words. You don’t want to offend the people who have had this happen. You really want to stick your fingers in your ears and go, lalalalalalalala, I can’t hear you.
I have two actually. Two things that would probably just kill me. So I will say them and then I will move on okay?
I hope I never, ever, ever have to bury my children. I don’t believe I could survive that. We are supposed to make them bury us one day. When we are very old and decrepit. That is all.
I hope that I never have to tell my family what happened to me as a kid. To tell my mother, would kill her. It just would. I will never do it. Never.
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See? I’m moving on. Basically it’s like two posts in one. Because that shit is just too depressing to be the only thing. Especially after I had a pretty decent weekend.
I’m going to do a grateful list. To counteract the words I said up there. My, I am grateful for these things this past weekend, list.
1. Best friends. I have the greatest best friends in the world. Truly, I do.
2. Other amazing friends. Friends who will listen. Friends who will talk. Friends who crack me up on a daily basis. Friends who kick my ass at Words With Friends and make jokes about how they could go easy on me.
3. Peppermint mocha’s at Starbucks. Also known as crack in a cup.
4. Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Ones that are almost as good as the person who gave me the recipe…but not quite. I actually love that. That hers are still better than mine.
5. Ending my weekend, reading in bed to three crazy little kids. Listening to their weekend adventures with their daddy. Smelling baby shampoo on their heads. Cuddling, smooshing and loving on them, makes me grateful. Every day. Always.
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Finally….this photo, which I took on Friday night, still makes me giggle. I tried to send it to FAIL Blog but I don’t think I’m that gifted. Anyway, for your viewing pleasure:
1. Tomorrow morning, at the butt crack of dawn, I am leaving on vacation. I will be home on Tuesday. I need this trip. I need a few days away from my life. A few days of hanging out somewhere else. Eat cupcakes to my divorce. Something, ya know? I am so excited for this trip, however the time that my flight is in the morning, makes me question my own sanity.
2. I have had trouble sleeping the past few nights. I’d been in a better sleeping stretch for a while, but it seems to have left me. Have you seen it? I’d really like it back.
3. Last Saturday, Morgan had her very first dance recital. She has now been hit by the dancing bug. She wants to double up on her dance classes. Which would be fine if I didn’t have two other children who deserve to take classes too. She loved being on the stage and having everyone clap. I’m not even bragging when I tell you that my girl has mad skills. She is a great dancer. Truly.
4. I can’t decide whether I will post while I’m gone or just not bother. We’ll see. I’d have to write said posts today and I’m just not sure I have the energy for that. If I don’t? Well I will be seeing you all next week.
5. Yesterday Mom101 started National Thank a Blogger Day. You can also see it on Twitter with the hashtag, #thankablogger. I love her for this and a ton of other reasons. This one though? Is a great idea. It was nice to see everyone thanking others yesterday. I could thank people for the next three days and I don’t think I’d be able to mention everyone. Mostly though? I’d like to thank all of you. Those who are my friends. Those of you who comment. Those of you who read and never comment. Thank you. Each of you, for being here for me for the past few years. I don’t know what I would have done without all of you.
What? It’s not easy to come up with post ideas all the time. Plus sometimes, I just get tired of posting about my life.
You can’t tell me you wouldn’t steal a great idea from your friends. Ha. I admit, I love this idea. I adore books. I absolutely love reading. I do not do nearly enough of it these days, but that’s okay. I have the rest of my life to read books.
When I was little I wanted to live in a library. I was convinced it was the greatest place in the world. I remember a book, although I can’t remember the name of it, where a couple of kids were locked in a library one night. To me it sounded like heaven. Being locked in a library. I always had three or four books I was reading at the moment. When I’d get in trouble? My mom would take away the books I was currently reading for a few days. She knew, it was the thing that made the most point in my head.
I spent hours in bookstores as a teen. My girls and I can spend hours in one now. My kids and I all love to read. I love nothing more than watching them curl up in a chair with a book…or the Kindle.
Anyway, I stole this post idea from Anymommy. She’s nice though. She loves me despite my thieving ways.
Books I’ve read more than three times: Harry Potter series. Rise & Shine by Anna Quinlan. Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood.
Author that blows me away with brilliance: Harry Potter series, truly the woman is brilliant. C.S. Lewis. Rick Riordan. Judy Blume. Dr. Suess. Yes, they all write kids book. The thing though? Is that for me, anything that gets a kid to read, is a book worth reading. Also, I’ve always loved kids books. Plus all that I’ve listed, are brilliant.
Authors I choose again and again: Anna Quindlen. Zora Neale Hurston. Alice Hoffman. Billie Letts. Rebecca Wells.
I’m currently reading: Number the Stars by Lois Lowry. Because Morgan wants to read it and I need to be prepared for her questions. How do I explain the Holocaust to my eight year old? I’m not exactly sure I know yet. I also just downloaded Alexa Stevenson’s book. It is next on my list.
Best books I’ve read this year: I haven’t read a ton of books this year that weren’t kids books. Um…The Time Travelers Wife maybe? It wins by default. I did like it though. Oh wait, I also read Every Last One by Anna Quindlen. Which I also really liked.
Could not finish classic: Sense and Sensibility. In fact, I can’t stand Jane Austen.
Could not finish modern: The Poisonwood Bible. Also, Revolutionary Road, The Shack, The Help and every book written by Emily Giffin.
Best book I’ve ever read: Their Eye’s Were Watching God, by Zora Neale Hurston.
Guilty pleasure: Okay and this is lame….but Catherine Coulter has a set of FBI novels that I love. Each time she puts out a new one, I buy it in days.
Best preschool age book: Stellaluna. The Monster at the end of this book. The story of Ferdinand. Bluberries for Sal. Dr. Suess. The Napping House.
Best elementary school/early chapters: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Percy Jackson. The Ramona Series. Bunnicula. The Borrowers.
Best tween: Harry Potter Series. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.
Don’t see the movie first: Meh, I never care. A movie is a movie. A book is a book.
Book tons of people loved that I hated: The Shack, The Help, Twilight, Life of Pi, Memoirs of a Geisha, anything written by Jodi Picoult.
Best classic: To Kill a Mockingbird.
Classic every American should read: To Kill a Mockingbird. 
Best children’s classic: The Secret Garden.
Best nonfiction: The back of the cereal box or the back of the shampoo bottle is the closest I’ve come in years.
Yesterday was brutal. I am so thankful that it’s over. YAY TUESDAY!!!!! Ahem.
-We have one tooth!!!!! Only what, three more molars to go? Whatever, he slept and I in turn, slept too.
-The sleeping thing was really good. I tend to get a bit too spazzy and emotional and down right dumb with my thinking when I don’t sleep for days at a time. See above: yesterdays brutal comment.
-I am completely unimpressed by new television shows this season. Hopefully No Ordinary Family will be good tonight. The girls and I are really hoping. Luckily, the returning shows seem to be good.
-Did you guys see The Amazing Race? The watermelon catapult part? We were watching that on Sunday and Bailey says, look mama, it’s like they are playing Angry Birds in real life. I am still laughing at that. She’s a funny girl.
-We may have a serious Angry Bird addiction in my house.
-Every time I type the word are, on my iPhone, I first type ate. Then I have to go back and fix it. I don’t know if I just have fat fingers, or what the freaking problem is. But it annoys me. Mostly because it happens every single freaking time. In other news, I use the word are, a bit too often.
-My middle child, the oh so lovely Bailey, can’t seem to decide what she wants to be for Halloween. Every day she has a new idea. Some of them are completely off the wall. I am not capable of making her into an iPhone. Or a candy corn. Sorry baby girl, but mama only does store bought costumes. The rate she’s going though, she’ll get whatever is left at Target on October 30th.
-When I asked you all last week about cell phones, it was because I’ve been thinking about when to get Morgan one. Most of you said 13 or 14, which wasn’t really surprising. I used to say 12. Yet life has changed and we’ve had a few things happen, where I wished she had one now. That being said, I’ve decided to wait another year. Will I wait until she’s 10? Unlikely. Her dad and I are on a family plan. When his contract is up next summer, she will get his number and a phone. But for her 9th birthday, she’s probably getting the skateboard she wants.
-I was in line at Starbucks this morning, when a guy heard the barista say, you want the usual? After I told her yes please, he says man that must be embarrassing that they know your drink. My response was, no it’s nice and helpful actually. It makes me wonder about people though. I find it odd that he would think that somehow that is embarrassing. That they know my drink. Yet he seemingly finds nothing wrong with his 55 year old self, flirting with a 19 year old cashier. I’m the one who should be embarrassed? Yeah, I don’t think so. I’ve gone to the same Starbucks for years. They know my drink. They also know my kids names and their favorite drinks. That? Is just called good service.
-So? How’s your Tuesday going?
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