The thing I love about babies and little kids is that the concept of how things "should" be is foreign to them (example: a fork is only used for eating, the rings must go from biggest to smallest stacked in order). I appreciate the openminded creativity I see, and it's a lesson to me every day that should is a word to be used carefully and sparingly.

I think Carrie Bradshaw said it best,

"Are we should-ing all over ourselves?"

Favorite Things

When I have time “off” I like to: Surf all TV stations and watch marathons of Project Runway, House Hunters, NCIS, Ghost Hunters, The Office, Friends…and the list goes on. I also like to write in my blog and write cryptic status updates on Facebook. During most of this time I am thinking about how I have to do homework, scrub the shower, etc.

It’s funny how now that I’m married and a mother the definition of doing nothing has expanded to include laundry, dishes, and mopping.

Anyway, I was sitting around and watching House Hunters today and made a list of some of my current favorite things:

Slippers These slippers from Cabelas don’t look all that pretty but they are the best slippers ever. They go on sale every year at Christmastime for about $40 (instead of the regular price of $50)

reed diffuser Pretty, and smells good too!

Plaid crinkle scarf You have to have something plaid this season

Aldo boots It may just be me but how cute would these be with a brown leather jacket or long cardigan/blazer and that scarf?

sugar plum candies hand dipped chocolate

Wine New vineyard in the area with great wine

Pedicure, Massage, etc.

Bath and Body Works also used to have something in their spa collection called Body Butter which I loved, but I can’t find it on their website. And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention cherry Chapstick. It’s one thing that makes the winter months bearable.

Today I was in line at The Cookie Company to get a cookie to take to my dad for after dinner. And I have to admit I did get a cookie for myself too. They have a cookie called the E.T. which is a chocolate cookie with peanut butter chips inside and it is something I crave but rarely eat.

So while I was in line waiting to get the cookies I had to fight the urge to de-pants the kid in front of me. I don’t consider myself old—though I’m definitely not 17, and it was the same way when I was a teenager but the way these guys dress today is incredibly annoying. I hate those hats that have flat bills—and they wear them sideways, and their stupid pants are falling off. I do sound like an old lady, but it’s true. I know I’m an adult but I still get the urge to tell them how goofy they look.

And then I got to the front of the line and I don’t know if I looked surprised but it appeared as if I had a runway model selling me cookies. You should have seen her. She was young enough that she didn’t realize how stunning she was, which just made her that much more disarming. You know how there are girls who wear too much makeup and over accessorize because they know they are pretty and think that makes them even more pretty?

She wasn’t like that at all.

Minimal makeup—because she didn’t need it, and of course the requisite Cookie Company t-shirt. Anyway, someday if I have another daughter, I hope she is like that. Young people don’t realize that just being young lends them a certain amount of beauty that doesn’t need to be covered up with a bunch of extra makeup and too-trendy fashion.

I usually only get a cookie there when I have the day to myself (which I did today) because every time I happen to be around my dear husband eating one of these E.T. cookies or Reese’s Pieces I feel compelled to hold up my pointer finger and say,

“Phone home…phone home…phone home...”

Until he touches pointer fingers with me. Yes I really do this. So I guess not getting cookies when I am with him is my little effort to be less weird and also to avoid consuming 500 calories in one cookie. Two birds, one stone.

Six Months

I was at a Target trying on clothes the other day (just to see if I could fit into a size smaller—success!) and they had the most horrific mirrors I’ve ever experienced. They were perfectly aligned so that you could clearly see your butt. And all sides, which was nice. I tend to believe that God put the butt back there for a reason and the less I have to look at my own the better! Trying to not see it while trying on jeans was an exercise in futility in this particular 8 X 8 foot space. I guess it could have been worse. I could have been 35 lbs. heavier and looking at my ass in the mirror.

There are two places in the South I’ve always wanted to go—one being New Orleans and the other Savannah, Ga. I mostly want to go to these places because of books I’ve read. The only reference I have to New Orleans is:

1) Anne Rice novels, sort of envision it as sultry heat, moss draped trees, and old Victorian style houses. Is this accurate? I don’t know, but it sounds cool.

2) The travel channel food episode where they’re eating some sort of pastry.

I’m not interested in Mardi Gras. I’m not all that into flashing people, I think I’m past that particular phase in life. Who am I kidding? I never really was in that particular phase in life. Now I just want to side on a wide porch in a hammock or rocking chair, drink some wine, and do nothing.

I want to go to Savannah because of the book Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Not the movie. The book. Read it.

Now that I’ve given you some inane thoughts for the day I’ll tell you what I’m really feeling. Frustrated, sad, sick to my stomach--but I think the sick to my stomach part is that I've been taking NSAIDS since the beginning of July and drinking way too much caffeine. So my stomach lining is probably doing really well right now, as you can imagine.

We had the meeting with my dad’s rehab. center today and they told us he’s not really improving, but rather has gone downhill since the last time he was there. We are going to have to send him to a nursing home October 8.

Holy crap, I feel like I’m 50. Don’t people do this when they are 50, not when they are in their 20’s? Almost $7000 a month for nursing home care is a tough pill to swallow. And I’m not even the one who is going to have to pay for it. I don’t know how to help my stepmother. This is perhaps the most powerless I have ever felt, the least equipped I have ever been in coping with something.

The one person who has been there for me since the moment I was born is suddenly mute, having a hard time comprehending things and confined to either bed or his chair. Now people are looking to me (and my stepmother and brother) to make these decisions. Asking about DNR orders (do not resuscitate), telling us to pick a nursing home.

Six months ago everything was fine. Or as fine as could be. I had a baby on the way and my dad was feeling good. There aren’t even any words to describe this particular feeling. This particular emotional place.

I want to be strong enough for this.

Black retro couch: $1

Listening to my son say "Quirl! Quirl!" (squirrel) as he points out the window: Priceless.

The couch really was $1. I ended up giving her $5 for it just because I felt like I was getting a steal. I'm getting pretty good at this bargain hunting stuff. The dear hubby won't let me keep it upstairs though because we have those brand new leather ones. How sweet and retro would my living room look if I could talk him into it?

“…I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving kindness.” Jeremiah 31:3

My child spent the day intermittently screaming like a banshee, proudly (and impudently) prancing on the sofa, stepping on the dogs and generally giving his parents a hard time. The poor kid has another molar coming in and my dear husband accidently woke him up from his afternoon nap by (loudly) removing the air conditioner from the bathroom window 20 minutes after the little guy fell asleep (which took 30 minutes lying with his mommy to even happen).

So I was (am) exhausted. Even though I did get to sleep in until 9 this morning. It was one of those days when I was just desperately watching the clock and counting the minutes until bedtime. He went to bed at exactly 7:13 p.m. which is a little early for him, but I rationalize that he missed most of his afternoon nap, so it’s okay.

I gave him his nightly bath, brushed his (8—almost 9) teeth, and zipped him into his footie pajamas. Then I lied down with him on the bed again and held him tightly, my arms fully encircling his little body and his head snuggled in the nook of my neck.

As I prayed with him and quietly held him in the twilight of the bedroom I thought
No matter how big you get, you will always be mine.
And immediately thereafter the verse from Jeremiah came to my mind.

It’s amazing how much broader the love of God is than a mother’s love. That moment left me with tears rolling as I contemplated what that type of love, A Father’s love, has done in my life. My son slowly drifted off to sleep, his breathing becoming deep and regular, and I prayed that someday with gentle guidance from those who love him he too will be drawn into God’s loving kindness.

OK!

Dear Wal-Mart Checker,
I understand that it is 5:00 p.m. on a Friday evening and you are busy. I get that, I do. I also understand that you are probably tired. You are probably working two jobs or something like that. But you’re old enough that I know you don’t have a 17 month old at home so I don’t feel that sorry for you. But maybe your grandkid is staying with you. I don’t know.

I really don’t think you need to take 10 minutes to check my groceries. Especially since I’ve been waiting in line for 8 minutes since the lady before me also had a full cart. This ain’t my first rodeo, lady. I’ve spent a hundred dollars on groceries before and it took 3 minutes to finish at the checkout.

I can’t say that I blame you necessarily, for this passive aggressive behavior. Because if I had to stand there and listen to that godforsaken beeping all day I might try to find a way to stick it to the 27 year old blonde smiling in the checkout lane too. To be honest, it’s not all that bad standing here. It’s one of my only opportunities all day to do something as mindless as read OK! magazine.

If I were you I’d probably want me to buy 2 things and then hurry to my Honda minivan in the parking lot and go to my kid’s soccer game. Sadly, although this may be the impression I give you, I really drive a Nissan Sentra with a leaking oil pan and a bumper sticker my husband slapped on that is pretty right-wing. I’m enough on the conservative side that I can't help but flinch at pro-choice bumper stickers. However, I’m not so conservative that I say, “F--- you!” (quietly and directed at a bumper sticker) when I see one that says Nebraskans for Peace. I won’t name names but I know someone who does that.

It amuses me.

In any case, lady at the checkout line, I hope you have a good night. As for me, I’m starving and heading home to crack open that 4 pack of mini bottles of Sutter Home Cabernet I just bought (classy, huh?). But what did you expect from a girl in lounge pants, tennis shoes, and a ponytail?

Getting better

The art on the right I have been looking at all summer. Finally bought it. The "art" on the left is my own photography. The cord snaking along the far wall is my dear husband's antenna project. Last night he got it hooked up to the roof antenna, vastly increasing the amount of channels we receive and making the bunny ears unnecessary in the front yard. Thank goodness.

I found the rug yesterday on clearance for $20. Although I did see a couple others that might really look good http://www.walmart.com/catalog/product.do?product_id=11030429&findingMethod=rr

and http://www.walmart.com/catalog/product.do?product_id=10043584#ProductDetail

What do you think? I need help here! Also, need ideas on how to use accessories with a one year old trying to ride the dogs, knock over lamps, and play with cords on a minute-by-minute basis. I fear the accessories wouldn't stand a chance against such a determined adversary.

Also, try this recipe:

1 tyson spicy chicken patty

1 kaiser roll or bun

1 slice provolone cheese

1/4 mashed or sliced avocado

1-2 slices bacon (if you're feeling naughty)

Prepare chicken patty as directed (in oven). Melt cheese on patty. Toast bun and spread avocado on bottom half. add bacon to top of melted cheese. Eat.

Not healthy but delicious.

Arithmomaniac

Today I was listening to a song on the radio by Taylor Swift and it got me all nostalgic. It also got me thinking about how Kanye West is a d-bag, but that’s been overdone in the media already so I’m not going to touch on that too much. Plus, I would never watch the VMAs. Mostly because I hate MTV and think that type of programming is what is wrong with America today (Hah, among other things).

I have to eat my words today because yesterday when I got home from my night out I found that my dear husband had rigged the TV to work. He was so desperate to watch football on his TV that he connected bunny ears outside. They are currently sitting in the front flowerbed. If you want to adjust the TV station you have to open the curtain, move the bunny ears, and look at the TV until the digital picture comes in. It didn’t end up doing him any good yesterday because all the games were on ESPN.

But I appreciated his ingenuity.

And I have him to thank because this morning I was standing out in my front flowerbed in front of my busy street with wet hair trying to get public television to come in on my TV. I’ve said a million times that I don’t want my kid watching TV until (what is it that the American Academy of Pediatrics says?) three years old. But then today I thought to hell with it. I want to watch Sesame Street. See what’s new in the ‘hood. I haven’t been there for at least 22 years. They’ve done some remodeling, but I’m happy to say that my favorite Sesame Street friend ‘The Count’ is still alive (cue vampire voice) “Two yellow birds…Three red cars…Ah…Ah…Ah.”

Maybe to take care of my mosquito problem I will install a bat box in the back of my lot. I can be like The Count and his pet bats,

“Grisha, Misha, Sasha, Tatiana…four pet bats…AH…AH…AH.”

Love that guy.

Let me preface this by saying: I am overwhelmingly happy for people who have healthy pregnancies and would not wish a bad one on anybody. It's easy for me to be happy because I have the cutest kid ever (and I'm sure all of you parents out there do too).

However, I think I may need to take a break from facebook. One comment in particular stuck in my craw and I can't get it out (it was approximately two weeks ago). Someone I don't know was commenting to my friend on her recently announced pregnancy: "12 weeks! You're safe!"

Now for someone in her (my friend's) position it was meant to be a happy congratulatory comment. To someone with my particular experiences it couldn't sound like a more ignorant statement. I don't know this person. I'm sure she is very nice and well intentioned. But I saw it and it felt like a swift kick to the gut. I understand that statistically speaking, yes, she is "safe". But for someone like me reading it for which most good statistics are not applicable, it was so not cool.

I have a girls night out I am looking forward to going to tonight, but having trouble with leaving my dear husband here with Holden (again) because I feel guilty about it. I can't recall changing one soiled diaper this entire weekend. That's how much he loves me. And he took me out on Friday night, and he let me have all afternoon to myself yesterday to do whatever I wanted (ended up buying a picture I was looking at for the wall). He has also been watching Holden at night so I can get my homework done. And letting me sleep in on the weekend.

But Monday night football is probably on so I shouldn't feel that guilty, right?

Totally off topic but I could really go for a California roll right now.
Cucumber, crab, rice, & avocado--some of my favorite foods! Too bad there isn't a sushi restaurant within 50 miles of me.

I'm making some headway on Operation: You have no style, decorate your damn house as evidenced by this picture. I do have a couple of art-y things to hang on the far wall and will probably be doing it tomorrow if I can manage to convince the husband.

And that coffee table may not look like much to the untrained eye but it was a garage sale treasure I got for $10 and is by a famous designer from the 1950's and worth about $600 depending on the market (I used to believe stuff like that only happened on HGTV but I guess if you know what you're looking for, it can happen on occasion).

I also need to buy a 10X8 rectangular rug to go in between the couch and chairs to tie it all together. I am having a problem with accessories which seems to be a running theme in my wardrobe as well as my house.

For one thing, my accessory use is limited based on my son's age--because who am I kidding--if I buy some glass balls and put them in a bowl for decorative purposes or put a vase or something out it will be smashed into pieces in about 1.5 seconds.

Also, I have found that I am having difficulty with space to put possible accessories on. I don't like clutter, but I do want it to be cozy and eclectic. I'm going to have to keep working on that. I have a tendency to just put everything away as I don't like to have things sitting out anywhere (if the house is going to be clean I want it clean!). However, I don't like the minimalist look all that much either and I can't have it both ways. I will post new pics again once I find the rug and get my dear husband to hang the pictures on the wall for me (both could take awhile).

French fries are vegetables, right?

I took my first-ever power nap today. I’m not a napper by nature, usually I can’t sleep during the day but I was up most of the night with Holden. As a mother I thought I would eventually be able to decipher what he needed, but sadly, no.

Today, desperately seeking answers for my lack of sleep, I commented to Tony,

“Maybe he’s teething?”

In what can only be described as a curt response I got, “He’s always teething.” The dear hubby is trying to quit previously mentioned nicotine habit and was also trying to escape to the basement to watch football. Clearly not the time to start a conversation. Or argument. Or both. So I requested a mere five minutes of discussion and let him retreat to his cave.

When I woke up from my power nap I proceeded to eat a whole order of steak fries dipped in nacho cheese for dinner (Healthy I know. Blame it on the fatigue and general weakness of willpower.) To round it out nicely and make myself feel less guilty I did manage to grab a bag of steamfresh vegetables and throw them in the microwave for 5 minutes.

My dear hubby took my son downstairs until his bedtime to play so I could study for a huge effing test I have tomorrow that I’m quite concerned about. Between the dogs, the kid, and the husband I have to say it’s very hard to get anything done for school. I had a moment after I was done with the two hours of studying where I allowed myself to wonder if perhaps two years of a stress level this high might somehow do permanent damage to me. I think the answer is possibly. But come hell or high water I’m finishing the program this time.

Sometimes I do wish I was able to muster the kind of enthusiasm for life that say, my son has. All I have to do is lay him on the changing table, and he starts talking, delighted to be obtaining a fresh diaper,

“Pee Pee! Poo Pee!”

Where does he learn these things?

Retraction

I retract my comment about the muffins. Within 10 seconds of discussing the muffins with my dear husband he said, "What did you do different?"
No nuts, no loaf pan=not grandma's zucchini recipe. Although I'm beginning to suspect that perhaps she didn't give me her actual recipe and that it is actually hidden away or only in her head. Or maybe I mixed the ingredients in the wrong order. It may be a secret that I'll never know.

I woke up (for the second time) this morning at 7:20 with a little foot in my face and a sippy cup of sour milk resting on my hair. I know you're not supposed to give kids milk before they go to sleep. But I did anyway. I gave it to him at 5:40 a.m., and brought him back to bed with me in order to buy more time to sleep. As it turns out, he still woke up the same time he always does and I did not get any more sleep than I usually do. Lesson learned.

Also, today mosquitoes are swarming my house. On the outside of the front and back doors they are literally sitting on the doors waiting for them to be opened. Can they smell blood inside? Does anyone else think that is weird? The mosquitoes are thick because I have standing water in the ditch in my side lot. I've tried everything, but if it rains more than a half inch the water stays for weeks. I guess we won't be playing outside today.

Last night I was getting Holden undressed for his bath and after I took off his diaper and clothing he said "DA-DA!" (as in Ta-DA!) Do I have a little exhibitionist on my hands? He hasn't started running naked through the house (yet) but I have a feeling that day is coming soon. Stay tuned.

Perfection

I don't mean to brag, but I made the perfect muffins today. Golden brown, crispy outside with a hot center. The plan was to make Tony's grandma's coveted zucchini bread recipe but then I realized I have only one large loaf pan and it calls for three small loaf pans. I improvised, and it turned out great.

I'd post the recipe but it might be a secret family recipe and I don't want to blow it.

Day in the Life of...

Tony sleeping in chair.

Holden playing with phone.

Holden bothering the dog.

Rinse. Repeat.

Sweet Sabotage

I have a small white plastic bag scrunched up in my cupboard. It’s one of the cupboards that still doesn’t have a door because I still haven’t painted them. I guess I keep hoping that maybe when my mother-in-law retires in two years she will finish the job for me.
Earlier today I mentioned to my wonderful (and enabling) husband that I wanted something sweet.

“I want some chocolate.” I believe those were my exact words. So as we were putting our dear son to sleep, snuggled under the red fuzzy blanket that Tony bought me from Bahrain, Tony decides he’s going to the store to buy me chocolate. I can’t decide what kind. He leaves anyway. I found out later (just a few minutes ago), that he really went for his nicotine fix—but no matter. I still have a bag of chocolate in my cupboard, right at eye level. It contains an assortment of delicious candy. Snickers. Twix. 3 Musketeers. M&M’s.

I’ve yet to have any. I thought I wanted it, I really did. And then it was sitting there in front of me and I couldn’t bring myself to eat it, mostly because I know that if I did I would be torturing myself all day tomorrow about it, and would probably feel so guilty that I would eat the next candy bar. Because after all, they are still on the shelf.

I get the distinct impression that people who have always been a normal weight with no eating disorders do not think like this. I do not know, I am not one of them. I imagine they don’t even struggle with bags of candy sitting in their cupboards (they probably don’t have bags of candy sitting in their cupboards, for one thing). Do they (you) struggle with wanting to snack even though you know you’re not hungry? Do you count your calories so that you can have dessert? Do you feel like every single pound is a battle?

I don’t have any way of knowing if these are normal things.

Eating becomes a personal demon as much as not eating—and round and round it goes. (See? Told you it’s a circus around here). The only thing I can imagine is that for some people food just isn’t as important to them. They eat it to live, enjoy a little and move on. And for others of us it’s not quite so simple.

I have a friend whom I have never seen eat out at a restaurant. Save one. And that one restaurant I saw her eat at was Blimpie. Which is pretty much the healthiest type of place to eat out that there is. She floors me. I want to call her up and ask her to keep a food diary so I can copy it. I may do that this week, although she is pregnant and due in February I think (congrats!) so it’s probably a little different at the moment than usual.

The thing about it is the candy bars don’t even taste good to me anymore. I’ve been eating really well (read: healthy) lately and tried a candy bar a few weeks ago and it was too sweet and I didn’t even enjoy it. So I know I would just regret eating one. I need to get the damn things out of my house.

Also, I keep meaning to tell you that on my first day of school I left to grab lunch and drove by a man who looked like he may have been in the witness protection program. He looked like he was in the mafia. Walked out of a yellow ranch style house with a little white picket fence and had a chocolate poodle with him. He was wearing a polo shirt and some slippers and looking at his flowers (is this the 1950's?). But he looked like he was from New Jersey.

Abbie, for you again.

Time Well Wasted

My weekend consisted of:

Saturday: Pretending to watch the Husker game for the first quarter while sitting with my dad and perusing houses for sale (not for me-for them). Then going to Target and blowing $20 on casual clothing.

Sunday: Waking up late and bumming around. Tony and Holden didn’t get home until almost noon so I had the morning to myself. Did absolutely nothing.

Total time wasted: 126 minutes

Then I watched the rip-off bachelor show “More to Love”. The title is insulting, but I couldn’t help watching it until I had no more episodes to watch anymore.

Total time wasted: 120 minutes.

My dear husband spent from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m. in the kitchen where he made me a fabulous dinner of twice baked potatoes, side salad, and baked chicken, along with a bottle of cabernet sauvignon (I know cabernet goes with red meat but I don’t care). We put Holden to bed a little early since he skipped his afternoon nap and had a great meal.

My dear husband knows the way to my heart is carbohydrates and red wine.

Immediately following dinner we retired to the living room where we draped ourselves on the cool leather furniture and (I) got a little soused on the aforementioned red wine (only a couple glasses, but enough for me!). We also started listening to Pandora radio, and our song list mostly consisted of old Cypress Hill, Snoop Dogg, and Eminem. Can’t say that I’ve heard any of those much since, oh 1993 (except Eminem). It was a blast.

Tomorrow is our second annual family picnic. I love picnics and Tony hates them so once a year he consents to allow me one picnic, I get to spread out a blanket (or sit at a picnic table) and eat, while he attempts to fish. Neither is very successful--but I think it will grow to be a fun family tradition for Labor Day.

Total time wasted: The entire weekend, happily.

Hope you all had a good one.

Present

I was in class today (for those of you falling behind on your reading--it's nursing school). Two things to picture
1) Me-with my glasses askew like a nutty professor because of Holden's delightful discovery of them yesterday
2) 18 year old size 0 wide eyed dance team member who is also a classmate of mine

We had to work in a small group and I happened to be the only one who had actually done my assignment. After I (obviously) helped everyone do their assignments we were casually chatting. Some of them seem to already know each other, and because I am totally just trying to get done with school, take care of my kid, see my husband from time to time and help take care of my dad I haven't made a whole lot of effort to get to know them yet. I do think I have some time between about 3 a.m. and 4 a.m. that is free, though.

There were three of them sitting across the table who started asking questions,
"What do you do?" they inquired. They seemed to be posing the question to the table but were all looking directly at me.
"I was in paramedic school, then worked in home healthcare, and have stayed home with my son for the last year." I replied, all friendly-like.
18 year old smiling dance team member:
"Oh, I always wonder why people decide to go back to school."
That is what she said, and this is what I heard: 'you are OLD!'
School is easier now, and even in two years I can sense a startling difference in my level of confidence. I think my late twenties are the best time of my life so far
(if you ignore the other big factors--terminally ill father and the most recent dead baby-if you take those out of the mix then it's a rollicking good time at my house).

But in all seriousness, I do love being 27.

First off, this photo is from marthastewart.com. I'm not sure on the whole copyright thing, so I thought I'd post the web address (free advertising for them!) I think this table setting pictured would be especially pretty with green hydreangeas in the vases. Is it weird that I think of stuff like that when randomly looking at pictures of table settings?

Flower arranging is an art for which I have no discernible talent. But my enthusiasm rivals even Martha Stewart. I love weddings, I love table settings, dinner parties, bar-b-ques, and the like. I’d be happy just to plan the party, do all the work and then retire to my room while the guests enjoy the party. Maybe I should be a caterer/florist? (But then there’s the lack of talent on both parts).
I first realized this passion for party planning in college. I have a friend/ex-roommate who is incredibly crafty and creative. The first time I ever met her she had bright red hair down to her waist and I had no idea who she was. By some fortunate turn of events the next year we became roommates, and from then on I was like one of her little elves for her extravaganzas (in a good way—I loved it!).
I helped (by helped I mean I hauled stuff and set up some tables—no arranging of flowers here) with a couple of weddings and still would help if I could get her to come out of semi-retirement and let me.
She did the flowers for my wedding, fall flowers with pumpkins as vases and I will always remember them! They were beautiful, and now whenever I go to weddings I always think to myself, B could have done better flowers than this, she should be in this business (she is not, she’s in upper management of a big company).
Anyway, I was on the Martha Stewart website and couldn’t help but think of her. (Her talents are numerous and I possess very few of them: She can also sew, paint, cook, and crochet, which she attempted to teach me*)

Also, today I have 85 pages of textbook reading, two quizzes to study for, an assignment to do, and a 10 page paper to edit. Oh, and when I walked back inside this morning from letting the dogs out, I found Holden clutching my glasses with one of the earpieces bent all the way back. I can wear them still to serve their purpose, but it's not pretty. I really should start doing that homework instead of typing in my blog.

*unsuccessfully, due in part to my inability to sit still long enough to learn.

The S word

I'm pretty sure Holden learned the word "shit!" from me. No, I'm positive. He is a sponge and I have tainted him with my expletive use. I was doing something at the sink and accidentally spilled a whole cup of water on top of my cell phone charger, and near the base of our house phone and I had no kitchen towels. Actually, I had no towels upstairs at all (no paper towels either--for some reason we are always out of paper towels). I'm so behind on laundry I would even go so far to say that we had no clean towels. The first thing out of my mouth was "Shit!". Holden happened to be standing right underfoot and started gleefully saying in toddlerspeak "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

I still can't help but laugh. I know, I'm a terrible mother. I do try to get him to stop but at odd times he just starts saying it over and over now. I'm crossing my fingers that in public no one else will be able to tell what he's saying. He can't really form the SH sound yet at the beginning of words so no one but me would probably notice. I'm going cold turkey on the swearing but it's not going well. Let's see, I even typed it 5 times in two paragraphs today. This could be bad.

On a different "s" word note I have a confession to make. Last week some (girl)friends came over and we drank some delicious wine from a new local vineyard. And we ate too many chips with perfect salsa from Chili's. And we talked about s-e-x. Ever since I got married I haven't had much to say about that particular subject to friends. There is something about marriage that makes it feel like it's only okay to talk about it with your spouse. Even with my closest friends I rarely discuss the matter (not because I don't want to, but because I consider it a matter of respect to the hubby).

I don't really think he minds though. The topics we discussed that night in retrospect were quite a lot of information to divulge, even to good friends. I told my dear husband about this conversation and he didn't seem to mind, the matter was unimportant to him. But then I found out at the bachelor party he went to last weekend they were talking about their sex lives! I'm a total hypocrite because I was completely caught off guard by the idea of his friends knowing that stuff about me.

What do you think? What is the rule when (and if) you discuss it with your good friends?

I was loading the dishwasher the other day while Holden was sitting in his highchair eating bananas. He had become quiet for a few minutes so I turned around and found him intently stuffing banana slices down the front of his jammies.