8/25/2003
8/24/2003
Like Jenn, I'm moving this weekend. Look for the unveiling of the new and improved site tonight or tomorrow..
8/22/2003
I'm supposed to be working on the design for my new blog. But you guys know how well creativity and me mix. We're like oil and water. So, I came here instead hoping that it will inspire me. Or at the very least motivate me.
I went to lunch with Nicholas at school today. He's in first grade. I overheard one little boy say that he was moving to another table. Another little boy piped up and said, "Eww. You're going to go sit by a girl?" (Does it really start this early?) The first little boy stayed put. Later on, I'm eavesdropping again and I hear the second little boy explain that "It's okay to like your mom even though she's a girl. She's your mom!" Whew. At least I don't have to worry about Nicholas thinking I have cooties anytime soon. That'll come when he's a teenager.
I was a shit to my mom when I was a teenager. When I was a sophomore in high school, my mother drove a 1973 Torino that was blue with one of the side panels painted white. It looked something like this (although the man and the little boy bare no likeness to my mother and me):
Anyway, when she'd drive me to school, I would hunch down on the floorboard and have her drop me at least a block from school. I couldn't let anyone see me getting out of that heap! I'd ask her to look around and let me know if there was anyone else around and, if not, I'd jump out and make a run for it. If I had been my mother, I would've driven right up to the front of the school, told me that the coast was clear and laughed my ass off as I drove off. But my mother was (and is) a much meeker woman than me.
She did put her foot down on allowing me to come into her work during those years, though. I had jet black hair, nothing that I wore cost more than a dollar from a thrift store (at least my parents can be thankful on that front), I wore the most godawful amount of black eyeliner.. I embarrassed the crap out of her. I guess it went both ways.
You'd think in my rebellion, I wouldn't have cared what kind of car my mother drove. I was in a kind of "fuck the world" phase, but it didn't trickle down to my mother's car. I still didn't want to be seen getting out of it.
I've apologized profusely since -- for that among many, many other things.
I don't mean to imply that I was a baaad kid. I didn't flunk out of school. I kept decent grades. I didn't get hooked on drugs (although I definitely experimented). I didn't get pregnant. I just took advantage of my mom's inability to stand up to me. So, I set my own curfew (none) and basically did what I wanted to. That's what happens when you raise a spoiled brat who can run from one parent's house to the other.
I'm terrified that paybacks are hell and Murphy is going to make sure that I get mine. Because of that, I've decided to tell my children that they can't get older than about 12 years old. No more birthdays after that. I don't want to deal with teenagers. I don't want to reap what I've sown. I don't want what's coming to me. I don't want a kid that is just like me. Does anyone know how I can go about enforcing it?
I went to lunch with Nicholas at school today. He's in first grade. I overheard one little boy say that he was moving to another table. Another little boy piped up and said, "Eww. You're going to go sit by a girl?" (Does it really start this early?) The first little boy stayed put. Later on, I'm eavesdropping again and I hear the second little boy explain that "It's okay to like your mom even though she's a girl. She's your mom!" Whew. At least I don't have to worry about Nicholas thinking I have cooties anytime soon. That'll come when he's a teenager.
I was a shit to my mom when I was a teenager. When I was a sophomore in high school, my mother drove a 1973 Torino that was blue with one of the side panels painted white. It looked something like this (although the man and the little boy bare no likeness to my mother and me):
Anyway, when she'd drive me to school, I would hunch down on the floorboard and have her drop me at least a block from school. I couldn't let anyone see me getting out of that heap! I'd ask her to look around and let me know if there was anyone else around and, if not, I'd jump out and make a run for it. If I had been my mother, I would've driven right up to the front of the school, told me that the coast was clear and laughed my ass off as I drove off. But my mother was (and is) a much meeker woman than me.
She did put her foot down on allowing me to come into her work during those years, though. I had jet black hair, nothing that I wore cost more than a dollar from a thrift store (at least my parents can be thankful on that front), I wore the most godawful amount of black eyeliner.. I embarrassed the crap out of her. I guess it went both ways.
You'd think in my rebellion, I wouldn't have cared what kind of car my mother drove. I was in a kind of "fuck the world" phase, but it didn't trickle down to my mother's car. I still didn't want to be seen getting out of it.
I've apologized profusely since -- for that among many, many other things.
I don't mean to imply that I was a baaad kid. I didn't flunk out of school. I kept decent grades. I didn't get hooked on drugs (although I definitely experimented). I didn't get pregnant. I just took advantage of my mom's inability to stand up to me. So, I set my own curfew (none) and basically did what I wanted to. That's what happens when you raise a spoiled brat who can run from one parent's house to the other.
I'm terrified that paybacks are hell and Murphy is going to make sure that I get mine. Because of that, I've decided to tell my children that they can't get older than about 12 years old. No more birthdays after that. I don't want to deal with teenagers. I don't want to reap what I've sown. I don't want what's coming to me. I don't want a kid that is just like me. Does anyone know how I can go about enforcing it?
8/21/2003
Behold the power of sleep. Seven and a half hours of straight sleep and I feel like a different person. I'm productive. I'm not grumpy. Life, my friends, is good. I should look into sleeping more often!
Tonight is the finale of "The Amazing Race 4". I can't wait! You know what though? I haven't even thought about "The Amazing Race 5". If you remember, I sent in a tape for AR4, but never received a callback. But I wasn't going to give up. I was going to apply for AR5. I really need to look into whether they are even doing an AR5. Another thing I really, really wanted to do, but completely forgot about was TARCON. Television Without Pity puts together an Amazing Race convention at the end of each season (it's always been in NYC) where everyone convenes (hence the name "convention") to meet each other and the racers from past and present seasons. I said that I was definitely going to do that this year -- especially since it could be the last one. Then I didn't read TWOP at all this season (as I've been too busy reading all of your blogs among other things) and I just thought about it today. Presumably, TARCON is tonight as it's always been on the night of the finale before. I have a strong suspicion that I won't be attending after all.
What happened to me? I was a reality TV fanatic, remember? If it even remotely resembled a reality TV show, I was watching it! Does this mean I've grown as a person since I've stopped watching it all? I know Buzz would think so. But I don't know. I think it is kind of interesting to watch people you don't know (and generally just everyday people at that) put themselves out there for the world to see and possibly change their lives. I find it very amusing what people will do for money. Sure, it's sometimes a sad commentary on the state of society, but it's entertaining nonetheless.
So, my goal for today is to find out if there is going to be an "Amazing Race 5." If so, find a partner because my friend, Carrie, is a teacher now and probably shouldn't chuck it all for a slight chance at some money. I'm getting back in the game. I'm racing, Baby! (Cross your fingers that I haven't missed the deadline. Cross your fingers that there is an AR5. I probably should have looked into it before I posted here and got crazy excited.)
Tonight is the finale of "The Amazing Race 4". I can't wait! You know what though? I haven't even thought about "The Amazing Race 5". If you remember, I sent in a tape for AR4, but never received a callback. But I wasn't going to give up. I was going to apply for AR5. I really need to look into whether they are even doing an AR5. Another thing I really, really wanted to do, but completely forgot about was TARCON. Television Without Pity puts together an Amazing Race convention at the end of each season (it's always been in NYC) where everyone convenes (hence the name "convention") to meet each other and the racers from past and present seasons. I said that I was definitely going to do that this year -- especially since it could be the last one. Then I didn't read TWOP at all this season (as I've been too busy reading all of your blogs among other things) and I just thought about it today. Presumably, TARCON is tonight as it's always been on the night of the finale before. I have a strong suspicion that I won't be attending after all.
What happened to me? I was a reality TV fanatic, remember? If it even remotely resembled a reality TV show, I was watching it! Does this mean I've grown as a person since I've stopped watching it all? I know Buzz would think so. But I don't know. I think it is kind of interesting to watch people you don't know (and generally just everyday people at that) put themselves out there for the world to see and possibly change their lives. I find it very amusing what people will do for money. Sure, it's sometimes a sad commentary on the state of society, but it's entertaining nonetheless.
So, my goal for today is to find out if there is going to be an "Amazing Race 5." If so, find a partner because my friend, Carrie, is a teacher now and probably shouldn't chuck it all for a slight chance at some money. I'm getting back in the game. I'm racing, Baby! (Cross your fingers that I haven't missed the deadline. Cross your fingers that there is an AR5. I probably should have looked into it before I posted here and got crazy excited.)
8/20/2003
This has been the longest damn day. I can't wait until tomorrow comes and hopefully it will bring better, brighter news. Keep thinking those positive thoughts. My friend could certainly use them.
I wish had something exciting and entertaining to post. Or even remotely exciting or remotely entertaining. I can't do either. I have literally been sitting and staring at the phone all day.
How is it that time seems to fly by faster and faster each year, yet when you're waiting for news (good or bad) it rolls along at a snail's pace? It doesn't make sense.
So, I volunteered to be room mother today. Was I crazy? What do you experienced room mothers think? I figured since I'm rolling in free time soon (I have FIFTEEN FULL HOURS a week -- I don't guess rolling would be the proper term, eh?) that it's the least I can do. I felt like I spent half the school year at the school last year anyway. What would be the difference to add one more thing? I was already at all of the parties and the planning meetings. I was already there one day a week to have lunch with Nicholas. I was already there one day a week to read to the class and/or to let them read to me. I volunteered at the library. What's one more duty?
I am crazy, aren't I? (Gosh, that just doesn't sound like proper English.)
Blech.
You know what? I'm going to have a glass of wine. Put my kids to bed. Pray for Peter to get home at a decent hour. And then I'll be back. In better spirits. And with something to say. That's a promise.
I wish had something exciting and entertaining to post. Or even remotely exciting or remotely entertaining. I can't do either. I have literally been sitting and staring at the phone all day.
How is it that time seems to fly by faster and faster each year, yet when you're waiting for news (good or bad) it rolls along at a snail's pace? It doesn't make sense.
So, I volunteered to be room mother today. Was I crazy? What do you experienced room mothers think? I figured since I'm rolling in free time soon (I have FIFTEEN FULL HOURS a week -- I don't guess rolling would be the proper term, eh?) that it's the least I can do. I felt like I spent half the school year at the school last year anyway. What would be the difference to add one more thing? I was already at all of the parties and the planning meetings. I was already there one day a week to have lunch with Nicholas. I was already there one day a week to read to the class and/or to let them read to me. I volunteered at the library. What's one more duty?
I am crazy, aren't I? (Gosh, that just doesn't sound like proper English.)
Blech.
You know what? I'm going to have a glass of wine. Put my kids to bed. Pray for Peter to get home at a decent hour. And then I'll be back. In better spirits. And with something to say. That's a promise.
One of my very, very good friends is having a major surgery early this morning (Wednesday morning). I know you don't know her at all, but take my word for it, she's an amazing, wonderful person. Any positive thoughts out there would be most welcomed.
As you can see, I didn't get to sleep at a decent time. I know, it's shocking. I hate that my most recent posts have revolved around sleep (or lack of it), but damn it's all I can think about. Tonight, I'm being kept awake because I'm concerned about my friend.
I'm going to attempt sleep now, though. I just wanted to get everyone to send good wishes towards Atlanta for a complication free surgery and recovery period.
Thanks.
Natalie (who hopes to be back to her chipper, well rested self in the very near future)
As you can see, I didn't get to sleep at a decent time. I know, it's shocking. I hate that my most recent posts have revolved around sleep (or lack of it), but damn it's all I can think about. Tonight, I'm being kept awake because I'm concerned about my friend.
I'm going to attempt sleep now, though. I just wanted to get everyone to send good wishes towards Atlanta for a complication free surgery and recovery period.
Thanks.
Natalie (who hopes to be back to her chipper, well rested self in the very near future)
8/19/2003
Somebody shoot me. Why can't I go to sleep at a normal time? Thankfully, no big rats in my bathroom this morning, so my family got a normal wake-up call versus the screaming banshee one. I think they were grateful.
My goal today (and it's a big one) is to somehow work a nap into my schedule. I feel like I'm a danger to society right now. Jenn, who just might have major stock in the coffee companies and thus an ulterior motive, has been pushing coffee on me for the past few days. I may succumb to the lure of caffeine today. Just hold my nose and choke it down. In the end, it'll be worth it, right? Or maybe I'll head up to Starbuck's and treat myself to some frothy, chocolatey, caffeine laden concoction. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I deserve it! More importantly, I need it.
Must.get.sleep.soon.
My goal today (and it's a big one) is to somehow work a nap into my schedule. I feel like I'm a danger to society right now. Jenn, who just might have major stock in the coffee companies and thus an ulterior motive, has been pushing coffee on me for the past few days. I may succumb to the lure of caffeine today. Just hold my nose and choke it down. In the end, it'll be worth it, right? Or maybe I'll head up to Starbuck's and treat myself to some frothy, chocolatey, caffeine laden concoction. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I deserve it! More importantly, I need it.
Must.get.sleep.soon.
8/18/2003
Look, here I am again..
I just wanted to say one more thing. One of the things I am most looking forward to in moving the heck off of Blogger is a comment system that works consistently. My comments are actually working at the moment, but they're just not showing that they've been updated or added to. But any minute now, they're going to stop working completely. And I paid for this shitty service. Who's laughing now, eh? Mr. Enetation all the way to the bank.
Anyway, just because it says zero comments, it doesn't necessarily mean that's the case. Okay, nine times out of ten it is, but every so often someone comments. And I try to reply to them. Sometimes it updates the number of comments and sometimes it doesn't.
Just so you know.. I know you've been losing sleep over it.
I just wanted to say one more thing. One of the things I am most looking forward to in moving the heck off of Blogger is a comment system that works consistently. My comments are actually working at the moment, but they're just not showing that they've been updated or added to. But any minute now, they're going to stop working completely. And I paid for this shitty service. Who's laughing now, eh? Mr. Enetation all the way to the bank.
Anyway, just because it says zero comments, it doesn't necessarily mean that's the case. Okay, nine times out of ten it is, but every so often someone comments. And I try to reply to them. Sometimes it updates the number of comments and sometimes it doesn't.
Just so you know.. I know you've been losing sleep over it.
Poor Peter. He's been working 21 days straight without a day off. Poor Natalie. Peter's been working 21 days straight without a day off.
I'm beat. Physically. Mentally.
When does my relief get here? When can I take my two weeks vacation?
Nicholas had a great day at school. Until he got sucker punched after school by another little boy. The boy was just playing. He's the youngest of three boys and that's just how they play. Nicholas is a lover not a fighter. A hugger not a puncher. A kisser not a biter. Needless to say, he broke down in tears. The other little boy asked, "Why is he crying?" "It hurt him when he was hit," I explained. "Who hit him?" he asked. "Umm, you did." "I was just playing," he said. "I wasn't hitting." That just made Nicholas cry harder -- the injustice of it all. It certainly felt like hitting to him. We left school and he eventually calmed down.
Nicholas really is a sensitive little guy.
It's bedtime in four minutes. Four minutes until there's peace and quiet. Four minutes until I can relax. Four minutes until I can put my feet up and.. Oh, who am I kidding? It's four minutes until I get to start battling the kids to go to bed. Four minutes until I have to say, "If you get out of bed one more time, you will start losing privileges." Four minutes until I have to say, "No, Nicholas doesn't need another kiss goodnight." Four minutes until I have to say, "No, you cannot sleep in my bed tonight." (Only because then theyll both want to sleep in there and then they'll NEVER go to sleep.) And after they finally go to sleep, then I get to clean. And if Peter ever gets home, I get to go to the grocery store. After that, I'll collapse into bed in a tired mess.
Tomorrow. I'll relax tomorrow. (insert hysterical laughter)
Who knows.. you might hear from me later on when I get my second wind and stay up until 2am as usual. I really hope you don't hear another word from me tonight. I might see something really scary tomorrow morning if I don't get some sleep. And that would be baaaaad.
I'm beat. Physically. Mentally.
When does my relief get here? When can I take my two weeks vacation?
Nicholas had a great day at school. Until he got sucker punched after school by another little boy. The boy was just playing. He's the youngest of three boys and that's just how they play. Nicholas is a lover not a fighter. A hugger not a puncher. A kisser not a biter. Needless to say, he broke down in tears. The other little boy asked, "Why is he crying?" "It hurt him when he was hit," I explained. "Who hit him?" he asked. "Umm, you did." "I was just playing," he said. "I wasn't hitting." That just made Nicholas cry harder -- the injustice of it all. It certainly felt like hitting to him. We left school and he eventually calmed down.
Nicholas really is a sensitive little guy.
It's bedtime in four minutes. Four minutes until there's peace and quiet. Four minutes until I can relax. Four minutes until I can put my feet up and.. Oh, who am I kidding? It's four minutes until I get to start battling the kids to go to bed. Four minutes until I have to say, "If you get out of bed one more time, you will start losing privileges." Four minutes until I have to say, "No, Nicholas doesn't need another kiss goodnight." Four minutes until I have to say, "No, you cannot sleep in my bed tonight." (Only because then theyll both want to sleep in there and then they'll NEVER go to sleep.) And after they finally go to sleep, then I get to clean. And if Peter ever gets home, I get to go to the grocery store. After that, I'll collapse into bed in a tired mess.
Tomorrow. I'll relax tomorrow. (insert hysterical laughter)
Who knows.. you might hear from me later on when I get my second wind and stay up until 2am as usual. I really hope you don't hear another word from me tonight. I might see something really scary tomorrow morning if I don't get some sleep. And that would be baaaaad.
I think the lack of sleep is getting to me. I went to sleep at 1 something in the morning and had to wake up at 6:15am.
I get up when the alarm goes off and run to the bathroom. (Everyone has to do that, right?) I am heading back to bed (I'd hit snooze) and I look over and see my cat chasing a huge, black rat. I scream at the top of my lungs and jump on top of the toilet. Everyone shoots straight up in the bed. (Well, Peter started yelling from another room.. The kids had shoved him out of the bed as they climbed in during the night.) After everyone was at full alert, I realized that it had been a hallucination. There was nothing there at all. Just my cat.
Does that happen after night after night with little sleep? Man, I felt like an idiot.
Nicholas started first grade today. He was excited and did great. He seemed a bit quiet as I was leaving, but I think that had everything to do with the fact that he lost his water bottle on the way into school. I promised to bring him another one (and I did) and everything was okay.
I'm off to pick him up now, so I'll let you know how it went.
I get up when the alarm goes off and run to the bathroom. (Everyone has to do that, right?) I am heading back to bed (I'd hit snooze) and I look over and see my cat chasing a huge, black rat. I scream at the top of my lungs and jump on top of the toilet. Everyone shoots straight up in the bed. (Well, Peter started yelling from another room.. The kids had shoved him out of the bed as they climbed in during the night.) After everyone was at full alert, I realized that it had been a hallucination. There was nothing there at all. Just my cat.
Does that happen after night after night with little sleep? Man, I felt like an idiot.
Nicholas started first grade today. He was excited and did great. He seemed a bit quiet as I was leaving, but I think that had everything to do with the fact that he lost his water bottle on the way into school. I promised to bring him another one (and I did) and everything was okay.
I'm off to pick him up now, so I'll let you know how it went.
8/17/2003
Peter and Adam are putting together Nicholas' loft bed as I type. I'd help, but I think I'd just be in the way. No, I know I'd just be in the way. We're learning very quickly that Nicholas' room is way too small for this huge bed. Oops. Perhaps we should take a tape measure with us the next time we make a major furniture purchase. Nicholas is asleep and will be very surprised when he wakes up and sees it. We'd put him in there to wake up in it, but I don't think it would be very safe (his not knowing that he's in a loft bed) and I also don't think we could get him up there. It's way too tall and he's really heavy on top of it.
It's kind of sad when your kids get too big to carry around. I tried to lift Nicholas into a shopping cart yesterday and I just couldn't do it. It was a kind of sad moment. My realizing that he's just too big to lift up anymore and his realizing that he's not a little kid anymore and doesn't get to do stuff like ride in the cart. Zoe's getting to be a little too heavy to carry around for any length of time also and she gets downright pissed when I tell her that I have to put her down.
We've been getting dangerously close to having the "sex talk" lately. Not too long ago, Zoe asked me how she got out of my belly. Loudly. In the middle of a crowded pool. My face turned bright red as I realized that I wasn't only answering for her, but for all of the people that were curious as to how I was going to answer it. (Hell, I'm starting to blush right now.) Anyway, Zoe calls her genitals her "special". I could correct her and have her call everything by its anatomical name, but I think its cute and she'll know the correct terms soon enough. I won't send her off to get married still calling it her "special". I explained that babies were born through women's specials. She looked a little wide-eyed and contemplated it and just accepted it. I waited for the inevitable question, but it didn't happen.
We were driving by the house we lived in when Nicholas was born the other day. I showed Nicholas and Zoe the tree that Peter and I had planted when Nicholas was born. Zoe piped up and asked, "But I was still in your belly, right, Mommy?" I explained that she wasn't in my belly yet (no, we haven't explained the uterus part either) and that she was in my belly later. Again, I waited for the question, "How do babies get in your belly, Mommy?" It didn't come, though.
It's going to come soon. I honestly don't know how I'm going to handle it. Do you tell a four and six-year-old everything? Well, I mean the mechanics of it? Oh my God, how did I get this job? I am going to be stammering and blushing and .. Well, obviously, I don't think I'm the person for the job. But it's going to be my job (and it should be unless Peter's right there to field it). I remember learning about sex from other kids in school.
There was this girl in fourth grade who came to school in tears. She said she was pregnant. We were all flabbergasted and scared out of our minds. Could we get pregnant too? She explained to us that she'd kissed a boy the night before (probably just a peck -- we were nine-years-old, after all) and her mom had told her that was how you get pregnant. She was scared to death to tell her mom and scared to death about becoming a mother. We all wondered how long it would be before she had the baby. A week? A month? Two months at the most, right? Finally, someone set us all straight. Someone who had all the facts. The right ones. She took great pleasure in seeing the disgust and disbelief in our faces. We didn't know who to believe, though. You can bet your ass that none of us kissed any boys for a long time after that.
Now, there's no way I'd want to be like the mother who told her daughter she could get pregnant from kissing. I'm not sure what her point of doing that was, but her poor daughter was terrified. I'll definitely be straightforward with my kids, I just don't know how much to tell and when. I'm sure there are tons of books on this subject alone. (Note to self: Get book on freak shows and talking to your kids about sex. That shouldn't raise any eyebrows.)
When I was eleven, my stepmother sat me down to talk about sex. I made the mistake of telling her that I already knew all about it and we really didn't need to have the talk. She responded by asking me what exactly I knew about it. I was kicking myself for opening my big mouth. There's nothing worse than having the conversation with someone that you hate and, worse, having to tell them about it instead of the other way around. It took forever, but she finally pried everything out of me and confirmed that I did indeed know all of the facts. What an embarrassing experience! I don't want to do that with my kids either. If they tell me they already know (if I'm lucky enough to make it that far. I'm pretty sure this conversation is going to happen much too soon for my comfort level.) then I'll just tell them that I want to tell them again just to make sure that they have the right facts. I wouldn't want to make them tell me and have them go through the torture that I did.
Uh-oh. I hear a lot of foul language coming from Nicholas' room. I don't think things are going quite as well as I thought. Perhaps they do need a woman's insight. We can be good with tools too! (Get your mind out of the gutter. It was, right? In the gutter? No? It was just me? It's in the gutter now, though, isn't it? I brought you down to my level.) I'll let you know how it goes.
It's kind of sad when your kids get too big to carry around. I tried to lift Nicholas into a shopping cart yesterday and I just couldn't do it. It was a kind of sad moment. My realizing that he's just too big to lift up anymore and his realizing that he's not a little kid anymore and doesn't get to do stuff like ride in the cart. Zoe's getting to be a little too heavy to carry around for any length of time also and she gets downright pissed when I tell her that I have to put her down.
We've been getting dangerously close to having the "sex talk" lately. Not too long ago, Zoe asked me how she got out of my belly. Loudly. In the middle of a crowded pool. My face turned bright red as I realized that I wasn't only answering for her, but for all of the people that were curious as to how I was going to answer it. (Hell, I'm starting to blush right now.) Anyway, Zoe calls her genitals her "special". I could correct her and have her call everything by its anatomical name, but I think its cute and she'll know the correct terms soon enough. I won't send her off to get married still calling it her "special". I explained that babies were born through women's specials. She looked a little wide-eyed and contemplated it and just accepted it. I waited for the inevitable question, but it didn't happen.
We were driving by the house we lived in when Nicholas was born the other day. I showed Nicholas and Zoe the tree that Peter and I had planted when Nicholas was born. Zoe piped up and asked, "But I was still in your belly, right, Mommy?" I explained that she wasn't in my belly yet (no, we haven't explained the uterus part either) and that she was in my belly later. Again, I waited for the question, "How do babies get in your belly, Mommy?" It didn't come, though.
It's going to come soon. I honestly don't know how I'm going to handle it. Do you tell a four and six-year-old everything? Well, I mean the mechanics of it? Oh my God, how did I get this job? I am going to be stammering and blushing and .. Well, obviously, I don't think I'm the person for the job. But it's going to be my job (and it should be unless Peter's right there to field it). I remember learning about sex from other kids in school.
There was this girl in fourth grade who came to school in tears. She said she was pregnant. We were all flabbergasted and scared out of our minds. Could we get pregnant too? She explained to us that she'd kissed a boy the night before (probably just a peck -- we were nine-years-old, after all) and her mom had told her that was how you get pregnant. She was scared to death to tell her mom and scared to death about becoming a mother. We all wondered how long it would be before she had the baby. A week? A month? Two months at the most, right? Finally, someone set us all straight. Someone who had all the facts. The right ones. She took great pleasure in seeing the disgust and disbelief in our faces. We didn't know who to believe, though. You can bet your ass that none of us kissed any boys for a long time after that.
Now, there's no way I'd want to be like the mother who told her daughter she could get pregnant from kissing. I'm not sure what her point of doing that was, but her poor daughter was terrified. I'll definitely be straightforward with my kids, I just don't know how much to tell and when. I'm sure there are tons of books on this subject alone. (Note to self: Get book on freak shows and talking to your kids about sex. That shouldn't raise any eyebrows.)
When I was eleven, my stepmother sat me down to talk about sex. I made the mistake of telling her that I already knew all about it and we really didn't need to have the talk. She responded by asking me what exactly I knew about it. I was kicking myself for opening my big mouth. There's nothing worse than having the conversation with someone that you hate and, worse, having to tell them about it instead of the other way around. It took forever, but she finally pried everything out of me and confirmed that I did indeed know all of the facts. What an embarrassing experience! I don't want to do that with my kids either. If they tell me they already know (if I'm lucky enough to make it that far. I'm pretty sure this conversation is going to happen much too soon for my comfort level.) then I'll just tell them that I want to tell them again just to make sure that they have the right facts. I wouldn't want to make them tell me and have them go through the torture that I did.
Uh-oh. I hear a lot of foul language coming from Nicholas' room. I don't think things are going quite as well as I thought. Perhaps they do need a woman's insight. We can be good with tools too! (Get your mind out of the gutter. It was, right? In the gutter? No? It was just me? It's in the gutter now, though, isn't it? I brought you down to my level.) I'll let you know how it goes.
8/16/2003
See? See? I didn't look at the weather and it was a gorgeous day. A bit windy, but a breeze is never something you complain about in Houston in August. The party was a rousing success -- especially to the birthday boy and that's really all that's important. Unfortunately, his mommy didn't do so well with the sunscreen application. (No, not me.. His other mommy. I would've put enough sunscreen on. What do you mean I'm his only mommy? I did this to my baby? Ouch. Bad mommy!) We're calling him "Lobster Boy" at the moment.
Speaking of Lobster Boy.. Do you remember when you were a kid and the carnival would come through town or maybe you were at the state fair and there was a row of "freak shows"? I remember always being terrified of going into any of those exhibits. And knowing, even at the age of six or seven, that there was something inherently wrong with gawking at people that were different. One time, I was with my uncle and he drug me in to see a bearded lady. She looked so sad (to me at least.. She was quite possibly just bored to death.) and I felt like such an asshole that I was staring at this woman. In my mind, she was forced into this occupation of being gawked at just because she was born different. I'd actually be curious to read something about how those people actually felt about being scrutinized all day by curiosity seekers.
I've always wanted to see the Jim Rose Circus Sideshow which is somehow different than going to see a freak show at a carnival. I have never gone to see it, though, because there's a guy in the show that eats hair. Hair in my mouth (or anyone else's mouth) almost always causes me to get sick. Literally. If I am out to eat and I find a hair in my food, my feet will never cross over that restaurant's threshold again. (It's actually really hard to write this because it's bringing back all the memories of when it's happened before -- retch.) I don't care whose hair it is.. Mine causes me just as much grief. In fact, I can't even clean out a brush. Seeing clumps of hair makes me sick to my stomach. I can't write about it anymore. Anyway, that's why I haven't seen the show yet. The rest of it sounds immensely entertaining to me.
So, what's the difference? Well, for the most part, the people in Jim Rose's show weren't born with their "freakish" talents. They worked to perfect them. They actually wanted to learn how to do stuff that was off the wall and mind-boggling. The "freaks" in the carnival were being showcased because they weighed 600 pounds or they were gargantuan in stature or didn't have limbs or a variety of other things that, for the most part, they had no control over. To me, it just seems sad.
(A little sidenote: Pinky, who(m?) you all know that I adore, once hung around with the Jim Rose performers. See? She's cool personified.)
All of this because my son got sunburned.
One last bit of news before I climb into my bed and sleep until Sunday (or 9am Saturday whichever comes first), I registered a domain name tonight. I'm very excited. Peter's going to help me. Natalie Picklejuice pledged her help between Denny's runs and concussion-inducing accidents. The kids go to school, I get fifteen free hours a week and I'm going to become a web goddess. A web princess? A full-fledged member of the world wide web? Yeah, that's what I'm going to be..
Oh and go check out Jenn's site. She's a PTA mom just like me, but with more experience. And she's funny. She found me and I, in turn, found her. She appears to have a coffee addiction, though, and I'm not there yet. I'll drink it on long trips, but in day to day life, I just haven't acquired the taste for it yet. Keep in mind that I just started eating salad less than a month ago -- my tastebuds are still in adolescence.
I think I'm heading that way soon (down the coffee road), though (<--which just might be the most used word in this blog). If I don't getting more sleep, I'm going to lose it. I'm not really sure how I'm functioning. (Write that down as the excuse for any grammatical errors, misspellings, typos, idiotic statements, incoherent babbling, etc.) No matter what time it says at the bottom of the post, it's later. It's actually almost 2am. I started this post earlier. Took a break to register the domain name, watch a "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" and assorted other trivial tasks.. Now, I must go to sleep.
Speaking of Lobster Boy.. Do you remember when you were a kid and the carnival would come through town or maybe you were at the state fair and there was a row of "freak shows"? I remember always being terrified of going into any of those exhibits. And knowing, even at the age of six or seven, that there was something inherently wrong with gawking at people that were different. One time, I was with my uncle and he drug me in to see a bearded lady. She looked so sad (to me at least.. She was quite possibly just bored to death.) and I felt like such an asshole that I was staring at this woman. In my mind, she was forced into this occupation of being gawked at just because she was born different. I'd actually be curious to read something about how those people actually felt about being scrutinized all day by curiosity seekers.
I've always wanted to see the Jim Rose Circus Sideshow which is somehow different than going to see a freak show at a carnival. I have never gone to see it, though, because there's a guy in the show that eats hair. Hair in my mouth (or anyone else's mouth) almost always causes me to get sick. Literally. If I am out to eat and I find a hair in my food, my feet will never cross over that restaurant's threshold again. (It's actually really hard to write this because it's bringing back all the memories of when it's happened before -- retch.) I don't care whose hair it is.. Mine causes me just as much grief. In fact, I can't even clean out a brush. Seeing clumps of hair makes me sick to my stomach. I can't write about it anymore. Anyway, that's why I haven't seen the show yet. The rest of it sounds immensely entertaining to me.
So, what's the difference? Well, for the most part, the people in Jim Rose's show weren't born with their "freakish" talents. They worked to perfect them. They actually wanted to learn how to do stuff that was off the wall and mind-boggling. The "freaks" in the carnival were being showcased because they weighed 600 pounds or they were gargantuan in stature or didn't have limbs or a variety of other things that, for the most part, they had no control over. To me, it just seems sad.
(A little sidenote: Pinky, who(m?) you all know that I adore, once hung around with the Jim Rose performers. See? She's cool personified.)
All of this because my son got sunburned.
One last bit of news before I climb into my bed and sleep until Sunday (or 9am Saturday whichever comes first), I registered a domain name tonight. I'm very excited. Peter's going to help me. Natalie Picklejuice pledged her help between Denny's runs and concussion-inducing accidents. The kids go to school, I get fifteen free hours a week and I'm going to become a web goddess. A web princess? A full-fledged member of the world wide web? Yeah, that's what I'm going to be..
Oh and go check out Jenn's site. She's a PTA mom just like me, but with more experience. And she's funny. She found me and I, in turn, found her. She appears to have a coffee addiction, though, and I'm not there yet. I'll drink it on long trips, but in day to day life, I just haven't acquired the taste for it yet. Keep in mind that I just started eating salad less than a month ago -- my tastebuds are still in adolescence.
I think I'm heading that way soon (down the coffee road), though (<--which just might be the most used word in this blog). If I don't getting more sleep, I'm going to lose it. I'm not really sure how I'm functioning. (Write that down as the excuse for any grammatical errors, misspellings, typos, idiotic statements, incoherent babbling, etc.) No matter what time it says at the bottom of the post, it's later. It's actually almost 2am. I started this post earlier. Took a break to register the domain name, watch a "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" and assorted other trivial tasks.. Now, I must go to sleep.
8/14/2003
I'm going to be gone all day again. I'm almost ready for school to start just so it will calm down around here. It WILL calm down, right?
It's pouring down rain outside. I'm scared to look and see what the weather forecast is for tomorrow since Nicholas is having a pool party. I'm living under the delusion (not illusion.. delusion) that if I don't look, that will guarantee gorgeous weather for tomorrow. But if I look, I'll have jinxed the weather for sure. So, if the weather forecast if for a 100% chance of rain tomorrow, please don't tell me. I don't want to know.
I watched "The Osbournes" season finale last night and I just have to say, "WTF?" Did you guys see it? I don't want to ruin it if you haven't seen it yet and plan on watching it. I would have been mad to find out ahead of time.
Speaking of television shows, Peter called me this morning and asked if I knew that "American Idol" was in town trying out Houstonians for their chance at fame. I said that I knew. He couldn't believe that I wasn't down there. I reminded him that I sound like I should be put to sleep when I sing (yet I have to do it every night). He agreed (Bastard!), but said that he thought I would've been down there just so I could have a chance to meet the potential American Idols. Sheesh. I'm pathetic about meeting famous people, but as of yet I haven't started stalking people with a slight chance to be famous. I have some standards -- okay, not many, but I do have some.
It's pouring down rain outside. I'm scared to look and see what the weather forecast is for tomorrow since Nicholas is having a pool party. I'm living under the delusion (not illusion.. delusion) that if I don't look, that will guarantee gorgeous weather for tomorrow. But if I look, I'll have jinxed the weather for sure. So, if the weather forecast if for a 100% chance of rain tomorrow, please don't tell me. I don't want to know.
I watched "The Osbournes" season finale last night and I just have to say, "WTF?" Did you guys see it? I don't want to ruin it if you haven't seen it yet and plan on watching it. I would have been mad to find out ahead of time.
Speaking of television shows, Peter called me this morning and asked if I knew that "American Idol" was in town trying out Houstonians for their chance at fame. I said that I knew. He couldn't believe that I wasn't down there. I reminded him that I sound like I should be put to sleep when I sing (yet I have to do it every night). He agreed (Bastard!), but said that he thought I would've been down there just so I could have a chance to meet the potential American Idols. Sheesh. I'm pathetic about meeting famous people, but as of yet I haven't started stalking people with a slight chance to be famous. I have some standards -- okay, not many, but I do have some.
8/13/2003
(waving) I'm still here.. Exhausted, but here.
My mother's work threw her a retirement party tonight. Today was her last day. I can't begin to tell you how wonderful that is. One day, I'll elaborate on the extent of her problems, but not tonight. Tonight is a celebratory time.
Then I went to get Nicholas' birthday presents. Nothing like a little procrastination, eh?
One of the things I was getting was the new Gameboy Advance SP. I called ahead and they only had one. I begged him to save it for me. He did. Anyway, after he handed it to me, I went to look at getting a couple of games. Which are locked away, of course. By the time I'd decided which ones to get, he had a line that was near a mile long (or at least ten people which is close enough to being a mile long to call it that). For the longest time, I'm standing near this man. Eventually, the line moves up and he's at the register and is the last person. He keeps looking at me. Finally, I realize that he thinks I've been waiting for him or something.
Me: I'm just waiting for the cashier to get through ringing everyone up so that he can get some games for me. (I'm just trying to let him know that I haven't been waiting for him the whole time.)
Him: Oh, you was worried I was checkin' you out?
Me: No, I just didn't want you to think that I was standing here without good reason.
Him: Oh, you had reason. You was definitely checkin' me out. (And then he winked at me!)
Me (uncomfortably): Hahahaha.
I mean it was preposterous. Is this what pick-up lines are like now? Was that a pick-up line? Is that the point where (if I were interested) I would have laughed coyly and said, "Oh, you caught me. It was you that I was 'checkin' out'. What are we gonna do about it, Baby?" Or did I handle it correctly by basically laughing him off and rushing after the cashier towards the games case? After we'd picked out the games and I'd finished paying, he was standing where I'd been standing the whole time. Was he now waiting for games too or was he waiting for me or was he showing me what it felt like? I didn't know and I didn't stick around to find out. I also watched my back and then my rearview mirror as I drove away. Anyway, he just seemed so sure of himself that it threw me completely off guard and made me wonder if I broke some unwritten rule by standing in one place for so long. Was I emitting a signal of some sort -- Lonely woman in toy store waiting to pick up lonely man? I don't know..
Anyway, I'm probably going to be woken up in three hours since birthdays are almost like Christmas around here. (I take full blame.. As you've probably surmised, I think birthdays should be a big freaking deal.) So, I better catch what little shuteye I can..
Hasta la manana..
P.S. I apologize in advance if this is incoherent. I should've been asleep hours ago.
My mother's work threw her a retirement party tonight. Today was her last day. I can't begin to tell you how wonderful that is. One day, I'll elaborate on the extent of her problems, but not tonight. Tonight is a celebratory time.
Then I went to get Nicholas' birthday presents. Nothing like a little procrastination, eh?
One of the things I was getting was the new Gameboy Advance SP. I called ahead and they only had one. I begged him to save it for me. He did. Anyway, after he handed it to me, I went to look at getting a couple of games. Which are locked away, of course. By the time I'd decided which ones to get, he had a line that was near a mile long (or at least ten people which is close enough to being a mile long to call it that). For the longest time, I'm standing near this man. Eventually, the line moves up and he's at the register and is the last person. He keeps looking at me. Finally, I realize that he thinks I've been waiting for him or something.
Me: I'm just waiting for the cashier to get through ringing everyone up so that he can get some games for me. (I'm just trying to let him know that I haven't been waiting for him the whole time.)
Him: Oh, you was worried I was checkin' you out?
Me: No, I just didn't want you to think that I was standing here without good reason.
Him: Oh, you had reason. You was definitely checkin' me out. (And then he winked at me!)
Me (uncomfortably): Hahahaha.
I mean it was preposterous. Is this what pick-up lines are like now? Was that a pick-up line? Is that the point where (if I were interested) I would have laughed coyly and said, "Oh, you caught me. It was you that I was 'checkin' out'. What are we gonna do about it, Baby?" Or did I handle it correctly by basically laughing him off and rushing after the cashier towards the games case? After we'd picked out the games and I'd finished paying, he was standing where I'd been standing the whole time. Was he now waiting for games too or was he waiting for me or was he showing me what it felt like? I didn't know and I didn't stick around to find out. I also watched my back and then my rearview mirror as I drove away. Anyway, he just seemed so sure of himself that it threw me completely off guard and made me wonder if I broke some unwritten rule by standing in one place for so long. Was I emitting a signal of some sort -- Lonely woman in toy store waiting to pick up lonely man? I don't know..
Anyway, I'm probably going to be woken up in three hours since birthdays are almost like Christmas around here. (I take full blame.. As you've probably surmised, I think birthdays should be a big freaking deal.) So, I better catch what little shuteye I can..
Hasta la manana..
P.S. I apologize in advance if this is incoherent. I should've been asleep hours ago.
8/11/2003
Wow. The PTA takes up a lot of my time. My whole day, in fact. I spent the first part of the day making tags for some welcome back gifts for the teachers and staff. I spent the next FIVE HOURS in a PTA board (or should I say bored?) meeting. Really, it was only boring because we were talking about the budget for pretty much the entire time. When it was my turn to present my plan of action (the plan for what my committee is going to do for the year and how much money we need to do it), I took all of thirty seconds. Short and sweet. I want $2000. I want an extra $100 for banners. Thank you very much. Unfortunately, the rest of the meeting didn't go that way.
I did learn a lot tonight, though. I'm absolutely amazed at how much the PTA does for the school. Did you know that the PTA pays for field trip buses? Or that we give money to each teacher at the beginning of the year to decorate their classroom or buy books or whatever they need? We pay for all the awards in the school. We pay.. we pay for a lot of the programs in the school. Our PTA budget is over $45,000. That's fricking incredible. I always thought that the PTA was basically a way for the parents to communicate with teachers. It's so much more, though.
Don't worry, I won't give you a play by play of the meeting. Because that would take.. well, FIVE HOURS!
When I got home, Peter told me that Zoe told him that I say a lot of bad words. ME? It's true, I do. Thankfully, she's only picked up "dammit", so far. As I was taking off her dress earlier today (after she got soaking wet playing with the hose in the backyard of my friend's house), I pulled her hair a little bit and she yelled, "Dammit!" As I was pulling out a parking lot a few weeks ago, I said, "Shoot!" Zoe piped up, "Dammit, Mommy, dammit." Oops. (A side note: I always thought "dammit" was spelled "damnit", but Dictionary.com says it's the former. Who knew?)
Zoe informed Peter that he says bad words too. "You call the cats 'stupid', Daddy." "Stupid" is considered a bad word in our house. I can't ever really think of an instance where it's okay for Nicholas or Zoe to call someone "stupid." Nicholas and Zoe both agreed that I say "dammit" too much and Peter uses the word "stupid" too much. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Us monitoring their language? Not them monitoring ours?
Anyway, I'm beat. I have more of the same to do tomorrow. Then Wednesday is Nicholas' birthday. Thursday, I am going to help Carrie set up her classroom. Friday is the big birthday party. We're still undecided on the whole Dallas thing. I don't really want to go out of town the last weekend before school starts. We were in NYC last year and didn't get home until late the night before school started. It kind of threw the whole first week off. I'd like to get a better start this year. We'll see..
I did learn a lot tonight, though. I'm absolutely amazed at how much the PTA does for the school. Did you know that the PTA pays for field trip buses? Or that we give money to each teacher at the beginning of the year to decorate their classroom or buy books or whatever they need? We pay for all the awards in the school. We pay.. we pay for a lot of the programs in the school. Our PTA budget is over $45,000. That's fricking incredible. I always thought that the PTA was basically a way for the parents to communicate with teachers. It's so much more, though.
Don't worry, I won't give you a play by play of the meeting. Because that would take.. well, FIVE HOURS!
When I got home, Peter told me that Zoe told him that I say a lot of bad words. ME? It's true, I do. Thankfully, she's only picked up "dammit", so far. As I was taking off her dress earlier today (after she got soaking wet playing with the hose in the backyard of my friend's house), I pulled her hair a little bit and she yelled, "Dammit!" As I was pulling out a parking lot a few weeks ago, I said, "Shoot!" Zoe piped up, "Dammit, Mommy, dammit." Oops. (A side note: I always thought "dammit" was spelled "damnit", but Dictionary.com says it's the former. Who knew?)
Zoe informed Peter that he says bad words too. "You call the cats 'stupid', Daddy." "Stupid" is considered a bad word in our house. I can't ever really think of an instance where it's okay for Nicholas or Zoe to call someone "stupid." Nicholas and Zoe both agreed that I say "dammit" too much and Peter uses the word "stupid" too much. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Us monitoring their language? Not them monitoring ours?
Anyway, I'm beat. I have more of the same to do tomorrow. Then Wednesday is Nicholas' birthday. Thursday, I am going to help Carrie set up her classroom. Friday is the big birthday party. We're still undecided on the whole Dallas thing. I don't really want to go out of town the last weekend before school starts. We were in NYC last year and didn't get home until late the night before school started. It kind of threw the whole first week off. I'd like to get a better start this year. We'll see..
After we were able to get the TiVo problem solved (it just needed to be rebooted - oops), we ventured off to Ikea. Ikea is always an adventure. I don't know if all Ikeas are like this or if it's just Houston, but it's always a madhouse. The parking lot (which is HUGE) is always full and people have to park alongside the very busy I-10 feeder road. It's truly unbelievable.
We went there to purchase a bunk bed for Nicholas for his birthday. He's been wanting bunk beds forever, but we always said that he would have to wait until he is six-years-old. The time has finally come. So, we go to Ikea where, of course, the damn bed is out of stock. They have these plastic shields locked onto the ladders so kids can't just climb up and down them and fall and break their necks and sue Ikea for millions of dollars. Apparently someone took the key home and no one could take the shield off. We didn't want to buy the bed for Nicholas without first knowing that he could climb up with no problem and, more importantly, get back down with no problem. The bed he chose is a loft bed and it's really high. We were able to find another bed that was missing its plastic shield (a lawsuit waiting to happen, but a big help to us) and ascertain that Nicholas is cool doing both tasks. Since the bed won't be in for at least a week, we tried to steer him in other directions, but with no luck.
As we were sitting there hoping that the sign would change before our eyes and say "NOW IN STOCK", we decided that we would head up to Gallery Furniture (which "really will SAVE YOU MONEY!" Ha!) and see what they had to offer. Gallery Furniture is an experience in itself. You have to pump yourself up beforehand so that you don't fall prey to their salesmen and walk out with an entire houseful of new furniture. They wait like vultures by the front door to snatch you as soon as you walk in so that they can sell, sell, sell. "Can't afford it all? No problem! Put it on credit! No interest for a year! How can you leave without this 'x' or this 'y'?" And before you know it, you've spent thousands of dollars. It's really quite impressive when you think about it. But we've been there before (and spent thousands of dollars), so we're old pros. We get there and immediately Nicholas zeroes in on a $1200 loft bed. $1200! The salemen's eyes are starting to gloss over thinking of the commission and what else they can sucker us into. But Peter, brave Peter, sent them on their way by letting them know that we're going to purchase a much cheaper, poorer quality bed for our son at Ikea. ;-) He looked at us with disgust and walked off. So, our kids wreaked havoc on the kid's furniture section until they spotted the indoor playground.
It's while they are in there that I start weakening as I look at the new bedroom furniture that would look good in our room. "Just apply for a credit card," I tell Peter. "It's no interest for a year!" "How can we leave without this bed?" But he brought me back to reality and I was able to leave without succumbing to the lure of Gallery Furniture. I think he had a hard time walking away from the plasma screen TVs, though.. (Hell, me too!) We grabbed our very tired, very whiny kids and went home.
Now that I've bored you to tears (and don't deny it), I'm heading off to find something that is somewhat entertaining on TV.
Ooh, one more thing.. I had a great time at BucaChat the other night as always. (Okay, so there had only been one before, but who's counting?) I added some new people to the left sidebar after getting their blog info in the chat. If anyone else was there that I missed, please let me know. Oh, I know one.. Yvonne. Who can forget Yvonne? Oh, oh and Busy Mom. Anyway, there were other people there, but I didn't get their urls.
Anyway, at some point during the chat, the funnier, wittier, cleverer, all around betterer Natalie (Well, not all around betterer maybe -- I'm sure there's something that I do better than her!) stopped by. And then another Natalie stopped by. And all of the sudden, there were a whole bunch of Natalies. Wowza. It during all of this that I came up with an idea for my blog. I have been wanting to change it. I've been wanting to move. And I think I've finally come up with something. (I'm going to call it Cucumber Juice. Very inventive, eh? No, I'm kidding. Really.) So, wish me luck in getting it off the ground. (And hope that Peter has the patience to deal with my trying to explain what I want..) I may be coming to you guys for suggestions.. Will you help me out?
We went there to purchase a bunk bed for Nicholas for his birthday. He's been wanting bunk beds forever, but we always said that he would have to wait until he is six-years-old. The time has finally come. So, we go to Ikea where, of course, the damn bed is out of stock. They have these plastic shields locked onto the ladders so kids can't just climb up and down them and fall and break their necks and sue Ikea for millions of dollars. Apparently someone took the key home and no one could take the shield off. We didn't want to buy the bed for Nicholas without first knowing that he could climb up with no problem and, more importantly, get back down with no problem. The bed he chose is a loft bed and it's really high. We were able to find another bed that was missing its plastic shield (a lawsuit waiting to happen, but a big help to us) and ascertain that Nicholas is cool doing both tasks. Since the bed won't be in for at least a week, we tried to steer him in other directions, but with no luck.
As we were sitting there hoping that the sign would change before our eyes and say "NOW IN STOCK", we decided that we would head up to Gallery Furniture (which "really will SAVE YOU MONEY!" Ha!) and see what they had to offer. Gallery Furniture is an experience in itself. You have to pump yourself up beforehand so that you don't fall prey to their salesmen and walk out with an entire houseful of new furniture. They wait like vultures by the front door to snatch you as soon as you walk in so that they can sell, sell, sell. "Can't afford it all? No problem! Put it on credit! No interest for a year! How can you leave without this 'x' or this 'y'?" And before you know it, you've spent thousands of dollars. It's really quite impressive when you think about it. But we've been there before (and spent thousands of dollars), so we're old pros. We get there and immediately Nicholas zeroes in on a $1200 loft bed. $1200! The salemen's eyes are starting to gloss over thinking of the commission and what else they can sucker us into. But Peter, brave Peter, sent them on their way by letting them know that we're going to purchase a much cheaper, poorer quality bed for our son at Ikea. ;-) He looked at us with disgust and walked off. So, our kids wreaked havoc on the kid's furniture section until they spotted the indoor playground.
It's while they are in there that I start weakening as I look at the new bedroom furniture that would look good in our room. "Just apply for a credit card," I tell Peter. "It's no interest for a year!" "How can we leave without this bed?" But he brought me back to reality and I was able to leave without succumbing to the lure of Gallery Furniture. I think he had a hard time walking away from the plasma screen TVs, though.. (Hell, me too!) We grabbed our very tired, very whiny kids and went home.
Now that I've bored you to tears (and don't deny it), I'm heading off to find something that is somewhat entertaining on TV.
Ooh, one more thing.. I had a great time at BucaChat the other night as always. (Okay, so there had only been one before, but who's counting?) I added some new people to the left sidebar after getting their blog info in the chat. If anyone else was there that I missed, please let me know. Oh, I know one.. Yvonne. Who can forget Yvonne? Oh, oh and Busy Mom. Anyway, there were other people there, but I didn't get their urls.
Anyway, at some point during the chat, the funnier, wittier, cleverer, all around betterer Natalie (Well, not all around betterer maybe -- I'm sure there's something that I do better than her!) stopped by. And then another Natalie stopped by. And all of the sudden, there were a whole bunch of Natalies. Wowza. It during all of this that I came up with an idea for my blog. I have been wanting to change it. I've been wanting to move. And I think I've finally come up with something. (I'm going to call it Cucumber Juice. Very inventive, eh? No, I'm kidding. Really.) So, wish me luck in getting it off the ground. (And hope that Peter has the patience to deal with my trying to explain what I want..) I may be coming to you guys for suggestions.. Will you help me out?
8/10/2003
Houston Texans, Red, White and Blue,
Houston Texans, We Cheer for You,
Houston Texans, Living the Dream,
WE ARE TEXAS’ TEAM.
Houston Texans, Fight ‘Till the End.
Houston Texans, We’re Gonna Win,
Houston Texans, Living the Dream,
WE ARE TEXAS’ TEAM!
T-E-X-A-N-S
TEXANS!
TEXANS!
TEXANS!
I heart football. We didn't win, but it was still SOOOOO great to be back at a football game. Peter and I watched the game from here. Fifty yard line. Watching the player's reactions. Seeing them slap each other's ass. Staring at their asses.. (Okay, that was just me.) It was an awesome view! Well, actually this is what I learned about sitting on the fifty yard line, first row:
1. The seat actually sucks. You can't see the action on the field at all.
2. They take pictures of and print out every single, solitary movement on the field.
3. They have a veritable butt ton of gatorade and water down there.
4. David Carr has a funky shaped body.
5. Some of the players look just like babies. They're so young.
6. They had a PR phone, a security phone, a something else phone, a quarterback's phone, a defense phone and an offense phone.
7. I wish I had any one of those people's jobs.
8. Football players don't respond when you're yelling their name.
9. I should've brought my camera.
And I have to admit that our actual seats were on the 10th row in the end zone. Which are still great seats, but since Texas fans (all of them, not just Texans fans) are notorious for leaving early because a) they are fickle as hell and b) they want to miss traffic (which is futile), after half time we were able to move over to the fifty yard line seats. We started out about ten rows up (which is PERFECT), but eventually migrated down the the first row because honestly it'll never happen again. I am going to bring my camera to the next preseason game and try it again, but after that, we're back to end zone land. (And I reiterate, those are still great seats. We have a fantastic stadium.) Do you think it will be too much to ask if I can wear the head phones of the coaches just like the other kids did after the game? Wait, I don't guess I'm a kid, huh?
We're trying to decide whether to make the road trip this Friday to see the Texans play the Cowboys in Dallas. $25 a ticket on the lower level. You really can't beat the price. And I'd give anything to see us beat the Cowboys again. (And we WILL beat them again.) Nicholas' birthday party is on Friday afternoon, though. So, we'd have to leave straight from there. And Peter would have to take off work -- no work means no money when you're contract. Decisions, decisions. But we would take the kids. I've never been to Texas Stadium. It sounds like it would be lots of fun. What to do, what to do?
Off to talk to TiVo about a problem we're having with our machine..
Houston Texans, We Cheer for You,
Houston Texans, Living the Dream,
WE ARE TEXAS’ TEAM.
Houston Texans, Fight ‘Till the End.
Houston Texans, We’re Gonna Win,
Houston Texans, Living the Dream,
WE ARE TEXAS’ TEAM!
T-E-X-A-N-S
TEXANS!
TEXANS!
TEXANS!
I heart football. We didn't win, but it was still SOOOOO great to be back at a football game. Peter and I watched the game from here. Fifty yard line. Watching the player's reactions. Seeing them slap each other's ass. Staring at their asses.. (Okay, that was just me.) It was an awesome view! Well, actually this is what I learned about sitting on the fifty yard line, first row:
1. The seat actually sucks. You can't see the action on the field at all.
2. They take pictures of and print out every single, solitary movement on the field.
3. They have a veritable butt ton of gatorade and water down there.
4. David Carr has a funky shaped body.
5. Some of the players look just like babies. They're so young.
6. They had a PR phone, a security phone, a something else phone, a quarterback's phone, a defense phone and an offense phone.
7. I wish I had any one of those people's jobs.
8. Football players don't respond when you're yelling their name.
9. I should've brought my camera.
And I have to admit that our actual seats were on the 10th row in the end zone. Which are still great seats, but since Texas fans (all of them, not just Texans fans) are notorious for leaving early because a) they are fickle as hell and b) they want to miss traffic (which is futile), after half time we were able to move over to the fifty yard line seats. We started out about ten rows up (which is PERFECT), but eventually migrated down the the first row because honestly it'll never happen again. I am going to bring my camera to the next preseason game and try it again, but after that, we're back to end zone land. (And I reiterate, those are still great seats. We have a fantastic stadium.) Do you think it will be too much to ask if I can wear the head phones of the coaches just like the other kids did after the game? Wait, I don't guess I'm a kid, huh?
We're trying to decide whether to make the road trip this Friday to see the Texans play the Cowboys in Dallas. $25 a ticket on the lower level. You really can't beat the price. And I'd give anything to see us beat the Cowboys again. (And we WILL beat them again.) Nicholas' birthday party is on Friday afternoon, though. So, we'd have to leave straight from there. And Peter would have to take off work -- no work means no money when you're contract. Decisions, decisions. But we would take the kids. I've never been to Texas Stadium. It sounds like it would be lots of fun. What to do, what to do?
Off to talk to TiVo about a problem we're having with our machine..
8/08/2003
I cheated. I read my day old posts. I fixed typos. I can't help it.
A warning, every post from now to October will probably start out with, "F*ck, it's hot outside." We did get some rain today, but all that really did was blast the humidity up to 200% versus 150%. Our grass is dying. Our plants are dying. I'm dying.
When (notice I said "when" not "if") I win the lottery, the first thing on my list is a one-way ticket out of this sweatshop.
I'm a native Houstonian. I feel it's my right to badmouth it if I want. I've earned it. I've lived here all of my life with the exception of (almost) three blissful years in the Bay Area. We lived in a little town called Alameda which was right on the bay. We had the bottom floor of a great Victorian house. It didn't even have A/C because there was always a breeze blowing off the ocean. If you drove three hours in one direction you were in Lake Tahoe. If you drove three hours in another direction you were in Santa Cruz. If you drive three hours west in Texas (from Houston) you're in San Antonio, but after that it's nine hours of nothing. Three hours east and you're in Louisiana -- not quite Lake Tahoe or Santa Cruz.
You know where I'd really like to live? New York City or San Francisco. Two cities in which I will never be able to afford to live. A girl can dream, though. They are two totally different cities, but they both have qualities that you can't find anywhere else. I love the hustle and bustle of New York City. I love all of the parks. I love the culture. San Francisco is beautiful. The weather is phenomenal. I don't care if it gets into the 40's at night in the summer. Like NYC, it is busting at the seams with culture. One of the things that I love about both cities is the diversity of the people. It doesn't happen as often anymore, but there was a time when I couldn't go a day without hearing a racist comment here in Houston. It's still there, but people wait until they're comfortable with you before they let loose with their idiotic opinions. Which is worse, I think. I hate to become somewhat attached to someone only to find out that deep down they're just an ignorant bigot. And I can't be friends with someone who feels that way. I just can't.
I'll try to keep my Houston bashing posts to a minimum. I just joined H-Town Blogs after all. I'd hate to get booted before I ever really got started.
Now, I am off to BucaChat. See you there?
A warning, every post from now to October will probably start out with, "F*ck, it's hot outside." We did get some rain today, but all that really did was blast the humidity up to 200% versus 150%. Our grass is dying. Our plants are dying. I'm dying.
When (notice I said "when" not "if") I win the lottery, the first thing on my list is a one-way ticket out of this sweatshop.
I'm a native Houstonian. I feel it's my right to badmouth it if I want. I've earned it. I've lived here all of my life with the exception of (almost) three blissful years in the Bay Area. We lived in a little town called Alameda which was right on the bay. We had the bottom floor of a great Victorian house. It didn't even have A/C because there was always a breeze blowing off the ocean. If you drove three hours in one direction you were in Lake Tahoe. If you drove three hours in another direction you were in Santa Cruz. If you drive three hours west in Texas (from Houston) you're in San Antonio, but after that it's nine hours of nothing. Three hours east and you're in Louisiana -- not quite Lake Tahoe or Santa Cruz.
You know where I'd really like to live? New York City or San Francisco. Two cities in which I will never be able to afford to live. A girl can dream, though. They are two totally different cities, but they both have qualities that you can't find anywhere else. I love the hustle and bustle of New York City. I love all of the parks. I love the culture. San Francisco is beautiful. The weather is phenomenal. I don't care if it gets into the 40's at night in the summer. Like NYC, it is busting at the seams with culture. One of the things that I love about both cities is the diversity of the people. It doesn't happen as often anymore, but there was a time when I couldn't go a day without hearing a racist comment here in Houston. It's still there, but people wait until they're comfortable with you before they let loose with their idiotic opinions. Which is worse, I think. I hate to become somewhat attached to someone only to find out that deep down they're just an ignorant bigot. And I can't be friends with someone who feels that way. I just can't.
I'll try to keep my Houston bashing posts to a minimum. I just joined H-Town Blogs after all. I'd hate to get booted before I ever really got started.
Now, I am off to BucaChat. See you there?
The other Natalie had me rolling on the floor with this post tonight. I don't know how she thinks of this stuff. I just thought it was time (once again) that I gave Natalie her due props.
(Click on it. Really. I know no one ever really clicks on links that are embedded in posts, but you'll miss out on some entertaining stuff it you don't. Don't say I didn't warn you.)
(Click on it. Really. I know no one ever really clicks on links that are embedded in posts, but you'll miss out on some entertaining stuff it you don't. Don't say I didn't warn you.)
8/07/2003
I survived. I'm not sure how. As I was driving there, I passed a bank sign that showed the temperature as 105 degrees. As we were driving to the pool, it was registering as 109 degrees. There ought to be a law..
The pool was great fun, though. It's almost tempting to move to The Woodlands just for their great park (and pool) system. Unfortunately, it's a 30-40 minute drive north of the city even without traffic. I can't imagine what the drive is like in traffic. Probably hell on earth.
We took one of the neighbor kids with us as her mom was working and she needed us to watch her. She's six (and newly six at that). As we were driving up, she asks me whether I've seen "The Ring." I tell her that I have. She says that she's going to be the girl in the well for Halloween.
Me: Oh, you've seen the movie?
Her: Yes, it's the best! I own it!
Me: Isn't it a little scary for you?
Her: No way!
She's six-years-old. It scared me!
Her: The other day my friends were over (who are four and six) and we were watching it. You know the part where the phone rings?
Me (incredulously): Yes..
Her: Well, when that happened, I grabbed the phone and gave it to Alex (the four-year-old). Then I ran behind the wall and said, "Seven days!!" (She says it just like the voice in the movie, all scratchy and scary sounding.) He ran into my room crying and was so scared. That's stupid because it was just a movie. I told him he was a scaredy cat for getting scared of a movie.
Wow.
When we met her, she was four and half years old, as was Nicholas. Zoe must have been almost three. She asked them to come in and watch a movie. I could've sworn I heard her say, "Let's watch 'There's Something About Mary'," (<--Check out that crazy punctuation!) but I assumed I must have heard her wrong. Now I'm thinking that maybe I didn't. (Don't worry, they didn't watch the movie.)
Peter and I were talking about it tonight and pondering when we thought it would be okay to let your kids watch "The Ring" or "There's Something About Mary" or any other movie that contained scary and/or sexual stuff. We both don't want to shelter our children to the point that they're sneaking off to watch it somewhere else, but when do you know that it's time to let them see these things and know that a) they'll understand it and b) it won't warp them? Being a parent is a really tough job.
Two days until FOOTBALL. Just making sure that you're keeping track..
I'm going to head to bed and start reading THE HOBBIT. My brother-in-law asked to borrow a book from me a week or two ago and I gave him Jodi Picoult's SECOND GLANCE with the disclaimer that it's a tough read at the beginning, but definitely worth sticking it out. He called a day or two later and said he just wanted to put it down. "This book sucks" were his exact words if I remember correctly. Anyway, I told him it was worth it to stick it out and if he did, I would read THE HOBBIT which he's been hounding me to read forever. He stuck it out (and really liked it), so I've sealed my fate. A deal's a deal, right?
The pool was great fun, though. It's almost tempting to move to The Woodlands just for their great park (and pool) system. Unfortunately, it's a 30-40 minute drive north of the city even without traffic. I can't imagine what the drive is like in traffic. Probably hell on earth.
We took one of the neighbor kids with us as her mom was working and she needed us to watch her. She's six (and newly six at that). As we were driving up, she asks me whether I've seen "The Ring." I tell her that I have. She says that she's going to be the girl in the well for Halloween.
Me: Oh, you've seen the movie?
Her: Yes, it's the best! I own it!
Me: Isn't it a little scary for you?
Her: No way!
She's six-years-old. It scared me!
Her: The other day my friends were over (who are four and six) and we were watching it. You know the part where the phone rings?
Me (incredulously): Yes..
Her: Well, when that happened, I grabbed the phone and gave it to Alex (the four-year-old). Then I ran behind the wall and said, "Seven days!!" (She says it just like the voice in the movie, all scratchy and scary sounding.) He ran into my room crying and was so scared. That's stupid because it was just a movie. I told him he was a scaredy cat for getting scared of a movie.
Wow.
When we met her, she was four and half years old, as was Nicholas. Zoe must have been almost three. She asked them to come in and watch a movie. I could've sworn I heard her say, "Let's watch 'There's Something About Mary'," (<--Check out that crazy punctuation!) but I assumed I must have heard her wrong. Now I'm thinking that maybe I didn't. (Don't worry, they didn't watch the movie.)
Peter and I were talking about it tonight and pondering when we thought it would be okay to let your kids watch "The Ring" or "There's Something About Mary" or any other movie that contained scary and/or sexual stuff. We both don't want to shelter our children to the point that they're sneaking off to watch it somewhere else, but when do you know that it's time to let them see these things and know that a) they'll understand it and b) it won't warp them? Being a parent is a really tough job.
Two days until FOOTBALL. Just making sure that you're keeping track..
I'm going to head to bed and start reading THE HOBBIT. My brother-in-law asked to borrow a book from me a week or two ago and I gave him Jodi Picoult's SECOND GLANCE with the disclaimer that it's a tough read at the beginning, but definitely worth sticking it out. He called a day or two later and said he just wanted to put it down. "This book sucks" were his exact words if I remember correctly. Anyway, I told him it was worth it to stick it out and if he did, I would read THE HOBBIT which he's been hounding me to read forever. He stuck it out (and really liked it), so I've sealed my fate. A deal's a deal, right?
This is why Houston and I are not best friends anymore. It didn't get this hot when I was a kid. I swear it didn't. Every year it gets hotter and hotter and hotter.
Smart woman that I am, I am going to go sit out in the oppressive heat today while my kids go swimming. It's for a good cause, though. I'm going to see a friend that I haven't seen in way too long of a time.
If I survive the heat without having a heat stroke, I'll be back later. Should I never post again, you'll know what happened. I know, I know, it's hard to decide what to root for..
Smart woman that I am, I am going to go sit out in the oppressive heat today while my kids go swimming. It's for a good cause, though. I'm going to see a friend that I haven't seen in way too long of a time.
If I survive the heat without having a heat stroke, I'll be back later. Should I never post again, you'll know what happened. I know, I know, it's hard to decide what to root for..
8/06/2003
I've decided to make a new rule for myself. I'm not allowed to read my past posts. Even the ones written earlier in the day or the day before. I'm way too hard on myself about grammar and punctuation and spelling and, and.. So, when I go back and read something and see that I left a word out or used "your" in place of "you're" or I used "it's" when it should've been "its", I'm mortified. I know better. I just type and my brain and my fingers aren't always communicating properly. Then I look and I see that people have actually read it. And that they think I'm an idiot. And they wonder why the hell I can't take a minute to proofread. But here's the thing, I do proofread. (Unless I've noted otherwise..) And I don't catch those things. I never catch them until it's too late and someone has seen it. Blast.
I've had a pretty low key couple of weeks. Not too terribly much going on in the Napenizo household. Speaking of "Napenizo", if I haven't told you already or you haven't told me that you know already, how many of you have figured out what it means?
Anyway, because my life has been even more mundane than usual, my blog has been suffering because of it. It's hard to write anything interesting about housework, housework and more housework. Oh, and I do go to the grocery store. I've been watching a bit of television. Not too much, though. I haven't even read a book since I mentioned the last one (IN HER SHOES). I usually read two to three books a week. I think I'm just worn out. I need a vacation from my vacation. A vacation where I don't have to do anything. A vacation where no one is saying, "Mommy, I'm hungry." Or "Mommy, Zoe's sitting on me." Or "Mommy, I want to go to a dot.com." "No, Mommy, a dot.com on YOUR computer." "Mommy, I'm thirsty." "Mommy, Nicholas is looking at me. Make him stop." "Mommy, Zoe is chasing me." "Mommy.. " You get the picture, eh? There are just some days that you wish that you could go the whole day without hearing the word "mommy". Don't think that I'm not incredibly grateful for my children. I am truly humbled that I've been given two great kids. Just every so often.. Well, I need a break. A long one. Preferably overnight. I refuse to feel guilty about it.
(Three days until football season starts for us.. Three days.)
Oh, and before I forget, the second-something-or-other Buca Chat is this Friday. The first one was lots of fun. Incredibly hard to keep up once you've had a beer or two or five, but fun nonetheless. And I still miss Empress and Buzz and Buddha and Lauren and Laurie and Yvonne and Kazoofus and BusyMom and .. oh no, this is why you don't list people. Invariably someone is forgotten. If it was you, my sincerest apologies. (Damn, I had to hand code those links. Why the heck did I list anybody at all?) Anyway, it's going to be over at Buzz's place this Friday night. Hopefully, we're catering to the west coasters on starting time since I have to get my kiddos to bed first. See, there's something to look forward to. Nothing like going into a chatroom with people you don't know and getting drunk. (For some reason, I feel like that doesn't sound as innocent as it was..)
I've had a pretty low key couple of weeks. Not too terribly much going on in the Napenizo household. Speaking of "Napenizo", if I haven't told you already or you haven't told me that you know already, how many of you have figured out what it means?
Anyway, because my life has been even more mundane than usual, my blog has been suffering because of it. It's hard to write anything interesting about housework, housework and more housework. Oh, and I do go to the grocery store. I've been watching a bit of television. Not too much, though. I haven't even read a book since I mentioned the last one (IN HER SHOES). I usually read two to three books a week. I think I'm just worn out. I need a vacation from my vacation. A vacation where I don't have to do anything. A vacation where no one is saying, "Mommy, I'm hungry." Or "Mommy, Zoe's sitting on me." Or "Mommy, I want to go to a dot.com." "No, Mommy, a dot.com on YOUR computer." "Mommy, I'm thirsty." "Mommy, Nicholas is looking at me. Make him stop." "Mommy, Zoe is chasing me." "Mommy.. " You get the picture, eh? There are just some days that you wish that you could go the whole day without hearing the word "mommy". Don't think that I'm not incredibly grateful for my children. I am truly humbled that I've been given two great kids. Just every so often.. Well, I need a break. A long one. Preferably overnight. I refuse to feel guilty about it.
(Three days until football season starts for us.. Three days.)
Oh, and before I forget, the second-something-or-other Buca Chat is this Friday. The first one was lots of fun. Incredibly hard to keep up once you've had a beer or two or five, but fun nonetheless. And I still miss Empress and Buzz and Buddha and Lauren and Laurie and Yvonne and Kazoofus and BusyMom and .. oh no, this is why you don't list people. Invariably someone is forgotten. If it was you, my sincerest apologies. (Damn, I had to hand code those links. Why the heck did I list anybody at all?) Anyway, it's going to be over at Buzz's place this Friday night. Hopefully, we're catering to the west coasters on starting time since I have to get my kiddos to bed first. See, there's something to look forward to. Nothing like going into a chatroom with people you don't know and getting drunk. (For some reason, I feel like that doesn't sound as innocent as it was..)
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