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Archive for June, 2010

Internet, this morning I had to wake up to the greetings of stupid Jillian Michaels and her evil torture regimen only to discover afterwards that the coffee pot had died peacefully in its sleep. Then, sans caffeine, I had to deal with Keaton who, unannounced, decided to attempt to pee standing up. Let’s just say his aim left much to be desired and everything in a 3 foot radius very, very soggy. He was very proud. And sticky.

My feelings about this and other events, can be summed up by the famed dramatic actress Rowan J Gunterpants:

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Until we can buckle down and get my new site live, my content here will be only photos (OK, fine, probably photos with captions- I can’t help it, I’m a Talky McWontshutup! Take it up with my mother.). The reason being, that every time I sit down to write new content or tweak existing content, I get sidetracked and just start writing a post for this hamster site and if I keep this up I’ll never finish up what I’m supposed to. Also if I’m writing it means I’m not nagging Bill about figuring out my archives footer or getting a shadow box around my images and we all know Bill would probably DIE if he wasn’t getting nagged by me. I mean, I’ve never tried NOT nagging him but only because I’m pretty sure his heart would stop beating if I didn’t start the day with, “Can’t your heart start beating already? And take the garbage out it smells like a skunk’s ass in here and we need more glue and can you get some freelance? Only finish my site first because I’m the most important of all and are you really gonna wear that shirt and…”

Let’s all take a moment to feel really, really sorry for Bill.

And then can you please maybe call him and tell him to hurry and finish my site?

Thanks.

In honor of my absolutely wonderful husband, I present you with:

Bill Gunter: Giving his wife the stink eye since 2000 AD...

(Also, can we just take a few minutes to laugh at his iddy-biddy soul patch?)

with no signs of slowing down in 2010.

That is 10 years of stink eyes. No need to remind me. I am fully aware of how blessed I am.

Now, seriously! I’m getting back to work. As soon as Rowan and I read a few chapters of Charlotte’s Web and maybe I finish the true crime book I’ve been sucked into about the Green River murders and I still need my archive footer done and wait… where’s Bill?

Nice try with the mustache, buddy. Too bad I know where you live.

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About that new website…it’s coming…soon…maybeish. In the mean time, here are a few household updates I’ve lovingly {with love} put together in a {desperate} attempt to {procrastinate} amuse you {uh, myself}.

*Rowan started her summer science course this week and the first day or two they discussed what “science” is exactly. She was extremely fascinated by this and was trying to grasp the concept in typical Rowan fashion, which is to pretend she knows exactly what she’s talking about at all times.

Sometimes she gets it right: “See the way the clouds look and are moving up in the sky? THAT’S SCIENCE. See the way my muscles are moving my arm? THAT’S SCIENCE.”

And sometimes she gets it not so right: “See how I don’t want to finish these carrots? THAT’S SCIENCE.”

And now she’s just being mean with it, “I don’t want to share my dress-up shoes with Keaton and THAT’S SCIENCE.” In typical me fashion I sink right down to her level and let her know that if she doesn’t shape up she’s getting a nap and THAT RIGHT THERE, CHILD, IS SCIENCE.”

*Internet you will be proud to hear that Bill and I have stuck with it and as of this morning we completed day 15 of the 30 day shred. Half way through! Well. One of us skipped a day but I don’t think it’s fair to point fingers and split hairs about who’s actually only on day 14. (IT’S BILL! BILL TOTALLY SLEPT IN ONE DAY AND I AM A FULL WORKOUT AHEAD OF HIM, THEREFORE I WIN.) I decided that for 1. The shred fucking sucks. and for 2. I’m just using Jillian to get my core a little less squishy and after my 30 days of hell are over I’m going back to running in the morning. The shred makes me feel all muscley, and really there’s nothing wrong with that if that’s the look you’re going for, but I’m not. I want to look toned but lean and I can feel my quads grow two sizes after each workout- I feel like the freaking Hulk. Only with more squish. I do love what this routine does for my arms though.

* I’m getting cold feet about Kindergarten again. With Rowan’s school supply list came a list of dates that Kindergartners and their parents could meet at the school park to get to know one another over the summer. The first one was this week and…ugh. Kids are mean. Only two other families showed up; they seemed like nice enough people but their kids went to the same preschool together and they kind of ganged up on Rowan; making her be “it” and then not acknowledging her when it was time to switch it up. Their parents stepped in to remind them to be inclusive but the girl got PO-ed that she got called out for it, so she just ignored Rowan the rest of the time which wouldn’t have been a big deal maybe if more people had been there but as it was, it was kind of awkward.

And I KNOW, I KNOW. Rowan will inevitably have to deal with this sort of thing whether it’s in Kindergarten or not but…she’s just so… little. And if I can give her another year to grow a thicker skin or hell, just to continue being little, I feel like it’s a mistake not to take it. These kids were both a full head taller than her. I know it’s probably too late to change my mind and hold her back now, a big reason being that she’s pretty set on going to Kindergarten, and I don’t want to clip her wings.

I just felt so bad because she was so hopeful going in. Before we left the house she pulled out a notepad and excitingly wrote down her name and phone number on separate pieces of paper “to give to her new Kintagartin friends”. It was really very sweet and grown up of her. I tell you, one day they are struggling to crawl and the next they are making business cards to pass out at playgroup.

*Last weekend I was dusting (I know! I dust! Impressive, huh? SOMEONE GIVE ME A COOKIE.) and I opened up Bill’s old photo album. I know I’ve posted something similar before, but you guys? This is just UN.CANNY.

Keaton at 2...

Bill at 2.

I showed this picture to Keaton and said “Who’s that?” and he said “Dat’s Keaton and Gramma!” (and on a side note, he didn’t even bat an eye that Gramma was 30 years younger in this picture. Rowan better hope she gets those genes because I plan on being wrinkly and unrecognizable in 30 years.)

And if there was any doubt after that...

This should seal the deal.

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You know how with photography, especially with kids, you try to take 100 shots of the same thing in hopes maybe one of them turns out, and then you (being a normal human) delete the leftovers? Because who wants 99 pictures of your kid eating an ice-cream cone while blinking/sticking out their tongue/picking their nose/doing the half-blinking dopey eye/regurgitating the ice cream or other such crap? Me. I want those things. Internet, I am a photograph HOARDER and I think I need help.

This weekend after I took 2 shots at the water park my camera stopped clicking when I tried to take a photo. I just sort of stared dumbfounded at the lens and had a little mental conversation with it:

“Why are you not working, huh? Why are you doing this to me? Is this because I never clean your lens because YOU KNOW I’VE BEEN MEANING TO, I’VE JUST BEEN A LITTLE BUSY, OK? I have precious memories to record for, like, posterity and stuff. Don’t die camera! I LOOOOVE YOOOOUUUU….And then I looked down at the menu screen and it said “I’M FULL DUMMY. Delete some of these mofos off of me and we can go on with our lives.”

I was all WOE and CRAP but Bill said to just go and delete 50 or so (they’ve long since been backed up on the laptop) and I was all: But which ones? I only have 3,000* on here.

(* I know I tend to overuse exaggeration when it comes to numbers so let me be clear here that there was actually, literally, not for pretend, 3,000 shots on the card.  A card that had been backed up on 3 separate hard drives and cleared just over two months ago. 3,000 pictures in 2 months is totally normal, right? RIGHT????)

And then it wasn’t a case of which photos, but just 50? Pfft. I take 50 pictures when we walk to the freaking mailbox to get 3 credit card offers and 56 useless coupon circulars. We are at a freakin water park! We came here with the sole purpose of taking pictures so that in 10 years when our kids are whining that we never do anything fun we can say SEE! Look at these photos from the water park we took you to when you were little! No SERIOUSLY, LOOK. AT ALL NINE HUNDRED OF THEM.

I had high hopes of taking hundreds of photos but I could not choose which ones to delete and so I sat there in the middle of a water park, playing Sophie’s Choice with pictures that WE HAVE ALREADY IMPORTED AT HOME while my husband was busy trying to make sure our children didn’t run off in opposite directions and, you know, drown or something. I’m pretty sure he may win the Parenting Priorities Award in this instance. Although I’m sure you’ll agree of the very real danger that facebook, flickr, my blog, our iMac, Macbook and external hard drive might all explode at the same time. Uh-huh. TOTALLY POSSIBLE.

*****

In the end I deleted probably a hundred and fifty or so which I swiftly filled up, which led to the same message from my camera re:STUFFING IT FULL OF CRAP. So I deleted more that evening and no one was irrevocably harmed by this in fact we all went on to live happy lives and nothing exploded and nobody drowned. Bill did have some trouble figuring out the kids’ DVD player in the hotel room but at this point it appears unrelated.

I’d like to say I’ve learned something here but I’m going to go ahead and say probably not.

+++++

PS

Did you notice how this post all about photos didn’t contain a single photo? Of course I took too many to choose from! THAT’S WHAT I DO, I THOUGHT WE WERE CLEAR ON THAT? So if you want, head on over to facebook or flickr and just know that there were 200 more I could have assaulted you with.

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The only thing that dulls the sting of not being able to give this guy a hug today...

Is that I get to watch this guy...

Do what he...

Does best.

Happy Father's Day to a guy who can put wispy hair in pigtails and wipe butts with the best of them. We love you.

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Six

A couple of nights ago Bill and I were taking Luna out for her last potty break of the evening. We walked quietly, shoulder to shoulder and Bill said, “So. Almost six years.” And nearly at the same time he said “It’s gone by so fast” as I stuttered out, “It feels like we’ve been married forever.” We laughed at the discrepancy. The different viewpoints of two people seemingly building the same family, the same marriage, the same life.

The funny thing is that, had this question been posed to us 5 days, 5 weeks, 5 months or 5 years ago, the answers could have been swapped. It’s all about perspective, you see, and around here that can change from minute to minute. I told him that milestones of 5, 10, 20, 30+ years are great markers to make it to and surpass and all but when I signed up for this whole marriage thing I sort of expected to just always be married to this man. From that point forward. The number doesn’t really mean much to me.

The reality is, of course, that marriages don’t work out for a host of different reasons. We are not, in any way, immune to those reasons. I am not so young and not so naive to think that this bond, this life that we have created is bulletproof. I mean, had he not gotten me the latest volume of the Glee soundtrack in a timely fashion I was most definitely prepared to hire a good celebrity divorce attorney. There is just no excuse for that. (SPOILER: Of course he did.)

To the point, as parents of young children, Bill very aptly put that we are, right now, in a “I’ll Love you later” sort of mode. Obviously we love each other now, but our time and capacity to invest in that love has been greatly diminished by toddlers making a mess with their own poop, figuring out life or death Kindergarten scenarios, illnesses, money woes and so much more. One of the only New Year’s resolutions I made was to get out for 2 romantic bed and breakfast overnights with Bill over the course of the year so we could just be together. Without the poop. And twice reservations were made and twice reservations were canceled. Too much to do. Too little money. Valid or not, excuses abound.

And you know what? It’s OK. We are in the construction phase of our life together. It doesn’t mean that we should sit back and not appreciate one another or ignore the person working so hard, at the same thing, right beside us. The scaffolding is up and we’re diligently trying to create the best life but we’re no where near the point where we can pick out fabric swatches or paint for the trim and when did this turn into a freaking HGTV metaphor? The point is I love this man. And I love all he does and although most days we don’t acknowledge each others’ love or sadly enough, even each others contributions, the foundation we’ve poured is solid. It’s strong and will be enough to hold us up for a good long while.

Happy six, Billy.

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OK, so I’m supposed to be writing content for my tabbity tabs on my new site but, ugh, my heart just isn’t in it. And because there happens to be a little importing problem due to the 7,853,546 pictures I have on my site I’m pushing it. Also, Bill and I are on day 9 of the 30 Day Shred and we’re also making good on our promise to get out on walks in the evening and all this, how do you call it… physical activity? Is making me tired honk-shooooozzzzzzzzzttttt.

Whodathunkit?

I thought sitting around drinking wine and eating blocks of fancy cheese and olives was hard work, but this…this is something else entirely! Do you know that moisture comes out of your armpits when you exert yourself? Yeah, I’m not shitting you! I googled it because I was all Land’s sakes! What’s this!

It’s called sweat, people, and to tell you the truth it kind of smells. I thought this phenomenon only occurred when I had to call to make a doctor’s appointment or talk to a real live human being but apparently “sweating” happens when you move your body a lot too. I really wish you would have warned me about this, Internet. Am not a fan.

Another thing that has totally wiped me out is the fact that this was our one week devoid of planned activities over the next 2 months. I don’t know if I mentioned this before, but way back in late February and early March when I was as mad as a freaking hatter with cabin fever and seasonal I HATE THIS FUCKING WEATHER disorder (not to be confused with Seasonal Affective Disorder which is 1. REAL and 2. Depression brought on due to lack of sunlight and vitamin D. My disorder has less to do with depression and vitamins, and more to do with the ANGER and RAGE portion of the brain.)

So. Anyway. I signed the kids up for a ton of summer activities because I just wanted to be out of our tiny little houseprison and out in the big wide world. I totally over-scheduled Rowan, enrolling her in a ton of summer programs, when in all honestly, I should have just let her sit on her butt and be a kid. BUT! Education! Social learning! Time for me to shower! I totally fell for it and signed her up for day camp, (which is now done) and we have this week free before her summer science class starts, which will be followed by a summer Spanish course, both offered by her preschool. Oh, and *cough* swimming lessons and Music Class *cough*.  After that we head off on Cabin Vacation 20 to the Ten, which will carry us almost to August. The sad part is that this is actually a pared down schedule from the original that also included summer dance and a t-ball/soccer clinic And OHMYGOD what is wrong with me?

This summer is her last before The Serious And Formidable Formative School Years and I just sort of envisioned her staying in her pajamas all summer, sporting a permanent popsicle-stained face. And that would be lovely and a perfectly acceptable way for any 4-year-old to spend their last summer before being another cog in the machine of public schools. However, now that my dumb ass signed her up for everything under the sun, we have to make do with the schedule we have.

So, naturally, on our one week off, I packed a ridiculous amount of activities in because I’m the world’s slowest learner. Or the world’s biggest dumbass. You pick, I can’t decide which one fits better. On Monday we went to my mom’s for a few hours because she was watching- according to Rowan-  only the best person ever to live in the history of the entire universe, aka Ellie. Then on Tuesday Keaton and I hit up the library while Rowan was playing at a friend’s house. Yesterday, after nearly a week of gloom and/or rain, the forecast was sunny and 80 so I planned to take the kids to a local state park that has great kid-friendly walking trails and a beach. Only it wasn’t sunny and 80, it was gloomy and 65. Me being me, I flipped the sky the bird and took the kids anyway. Because it was The Plan and we don’t deviate from The Plan, you see. Now today we spent the morning at a park which morphed into a playdate at friend’s house and now I have to start getting things ready for our overnight at a hotel/waterpark for part of this weekend.

Needless to say neither pajamas nor popsicles fit anywhere inside this nutty week. But you know what? We’ve had a ton of fun. We made plans yes, but we haven’t really been on any sort of schedule. Just a loose time frame of breakfast/ snack/ lunch/nap that we have to be on anyway. Watching the kids stretch their legs out in the wide open and seeing them smile at dragonflies and marveling at the way water flows down the river has given me a sense of peace that I don’t think I could really have gotten cooped up in our house while peeling the kids off each other because they are flying into a murderous rage over the possession of a .75 cent plastic horse we purchased at the carousel last weekend.

As a mom, and honestly maybe just even as a person, so many times I feel like I get caught up in what I’m supposed to be doing. Am I supposed to be letting my kids run free? Am I supposed to be putting them in formal activities? Am I supposed to be having this second gin and tonic? Am I supposed to be letting the kids watch So You Think You Can Dance? Am I supposed to be this goddamn annoying?

I don’t know the definitive answer to any of those questions. But I do know that what we did this week? Worked. I genuinely enjoyed my time with them and you know what? I say screw supposed to.

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