I've been missing from the "blogosphere," very wrapped up in many things including, but not limited to "May: officially the busiest month ever," the end of the school year, and the eternal quest for balance in relaxation vs. keeping 2 little crazies under 5 busy with all the wonderful things summer holds. I have also felt like I had nothing to write, but as my friend told me while lounging on the beach the other day, "Everyone has a story to tell." (She may have stolen that from somewhere.) So, I'm going to get my blogging groove back, but for now, I want to finally share this post I drafted way back in March.
I realized the other day that I have my father's toes. I guess it's not the first time I've had this shocking realization, and it's such a gross, random thing to have such a clear picture of. While there are many qualities that my father had that I can only hope to have to honor him, anyone who had ever glimpsed his feet knows this isn't necessarily a good thing.
Before I go on, I need to say that I HATE FEET. I spent the majority of my childhood overly self-conscious about my feet. They are freakishly narrow (I guess they may be a little wider after 2 pregnancies,) bony, and flat. Like I had to go to a place called "Ninny's" to get orthodics specially molded for my feet. When I had to have penny loafers to go with my pegged pants in the 80s, I remember my mom dragging me to several stores to find some that came in narrow width. My ballet shoes had to be special ordered because my cousin didn't carry my width in her shop. Top all these issues off with a few years of dancing in pointe shoes, and you start to get the picture as to why by the age of 13ish, I stopped going barefoot, wore sneakers in the summer, and would quickly stick my feet in the sand when I hit the beach.
I know, it's a stupid thing to get hung up on. People everywhere have serious problems. My point is, somewhere along the line, I got over it. It may have been as late as senior year of high school, or sometime in college, but I decided that I needed JCrew flip flops in every color, and feet are feet and who the hell cares. I started to spend so much time barefoot that washing them before bed became a necessity. When Jack Johnson says "her feet were all covered with tar balls and scars," I believe he was talking about me at that point in life. And I'm now accepting of my crazy long toes, which for the record, can help pick up dropped items off the floor. (This skill really impresses Finnboo...he attempts it himself now.)
****I realize that this post is totally random, but I actually started it in March, as I was dreaming of flip flop and sandal weather and thinking about shedding our shoes and getting ready to unveil our tootsies.*****
Enough gross grown up feet thoughts for now though, hopefully I haven't turned you off from reading forever....here are some piggy toes that I think are pretty cute:
I mentioned in yesterday's post that we went to Trader Joe's this week during our break, and I'm now officially in love with the place. Until Tuesday, I was pretty much a TJ's virgin. I'd been there twice before, but it was to pick up something specific, and I never really did a shopping trip there. Now, if you know me in real life, you know that movies like Supersize Me, and the pictures of McDonald's fries failing to decompose have never really deterred me from enjoying fast food. When I was little, my mom used to tell me that I was going to turn into a french fry. My aunt likes to tell Finnboo about the time I almost ripped her hand off when she reached to take one of my beloved fries. Before children, I used to say that I wasn't going to feed them McDonald's, and that would be the changing point for me, but you know what? Everything in moderation. I get it, it's bad for you, if I eat fast food more than once a week I start feeling gross, but I don't deprive myself of a double cheeseburger when I want a double cheeseburger.
However, as Finnboo and Kieksy are growing and exploring food, and more and more information is coming out about artificial ingredients, etc., I have become more conscious about what goes into those little bellies. I've always tried to stick to non-sugary cereals, and we've been shopping the organic section at Wegmans more and more, trying to skip super processed foods, but this has caused a rise in our weekly grocery bill. After asking friends and family who are regular Trader Joe's shoppers about prices there (the consensus was prices were reasonable,) I decided to check it out.
Armed with my list, the 'boo and Kieksy, and some tablets/doodle pads and pencils, we set out. I figured they wouldn't have double carts, so Finnboo would be walking. (He's not always so good at listening when there's a lot to look at in a store.) I knew there wouldn't be trains and all that there is to look at like Wegmans, so I pulled out the tablets and pencils for something new and different to occupy them. As soon as we walked in, I was in love with everything-the small size, the reasonable prices on staples (milk, eggs, yogurt, etc,) produce, and the helpful staff. I even learned how to use the coffee grinder and am enamored with their coffee. The whole atmosphere of the place was relaxed, and because of that, combined with the tablets?, my kids were better behaved than they'd ever been in a store. Finnboo quickly became a favorite with onlookers as he walked along drawing the things we were putting into the cart and saying "check!" as he checked them off his pretend list. I was a proud mama as fellow customers smiled at him and told him what a big help he was being. Kieksy enjoyed the TJ's minted peas and ham he was offered in the ready to eat section, and wrote away in his Cars notebook with his Cars pencil. I know that the behavior could be a one time thing, but it added to my overall impression and newfound infatuation.
John asked me upon my return if I thought it was something we could "incorporate into weekly grocery shopping," to which I said, "heck yeah!" The difference in price between TJ's and Wegmans was negligible for most things (I'm not a couponer, and don't have exact prices memorized, but I have a general idea) and a lot of items were actually cheaper at Trader Joe's. The one thing that was priced higher was the meat, which I expected. I'm still on the hunt for cheaper meat. (That's what she said.) The fact that there's such a variety of all natural and organic products definitely makes the trip worth the while.
So I ask those of you that shop Trader Joe's, do you have a favorite Trader Joe's product? Johnny's sold on the Kalamata olive hummus, and we're both sold on the TJ's "Joe." (freshly ground at $4.59?!!) Let me know what other items we should try.
Did I mention that these two were angels?
Kieksy still writing away when we're back in the car!
**This isn't a paid advertisement for Trader Joe's, just a proclamation of new love. ;)
Here I am, halfway through Spring Break, and so far it's been a good balance of fun- Philadelphia Zoo, visiting the chicks that hatched in Finnboo's class- and errands-Trader Joe's, Finnboo's first dentist appointment (which was great: he was so good, the dentist was awesome, and Kieksy even cooperated for a little tooth check and fluoride treatment!) Some of the photos I've caught along the way....
I'm also trying to throw some cleaning in there, but someone is not cooperating with his naps this week! I'll give you a hint as to who that might be: the angel (I use that term lightly- he was in time out twice today) who knows what "we can go outside and play AFTER you take a rest" means.... the one who if he didn't take a nap, I'd still be able to accomplish something...is sound asleep!
It's like this other child of mine knows that I have a master plan to go crazy decluttering the 3rd floor bedroom!
So 1 1/2 hours later, he's still climbing out of the crib. (The kit to convert his crib to toddler bed is on order. Then at least he can safely get out of bed 10 million times in an hour.)
This kid......
God give me strength. He's out of his crib again! I may resign to the fact that a nap isn't happening today and the decluttering will have to wait!!
** At around 3:30, I gave up:
He just wanted to watch some Pixar Short Films....as usual....
"I kinda wanna be more than friends..." That song just popped into my head as I thought of a title for this post, so I googled the name of it and to make sure I had the lyrics right. I was initially confused because I don't recall listening to the Neon Trees before. Further research helped clarify...wait for it......Kurt, the guy my sister hates and the rest of the Warblers sang the song Animal on Glee!
Now that I've cleared that up.....
The title of this post refers to the fact that Finnboo is once again a sicky-poo. This time around, Kieksy is still staying strong and he's been going to school, but John and I are starting to suffer the cold symptoms. So, we go back to taking turns with staying home, getting up in the night, etc. I reported the following to my sister via gchat this morning:
We have been sitting on this couch since 8 am with the following exceptions: 1. me refilling my coffee and getting Finn a bowl of cereal, 2. Finn sitting on the floor with a stool table to eat said cereal, 3. Finn getting up for a short musical break. So.freaking.lazy.
Johnny discovered that full seasons of Phineas and Ferb are on "instant" Netflix. We are on Episode 29 of 38 in Season 2. (Finnboo and Johnny started watching yesterday.) Only when we're sick do I allow this lethargy, I promise. I feel like I should force myself to do something around here, but I just don't want to. I want to relish in the laziness. At least I am dressed (in sweats, but that counts when feeling like crap, right?) due to my trip to drop Kieksy at school, and am getting a chance to post for the first time in 2 weeks.
So, this guy (who just fell asleep as I wrote this,)
(I've jumped on the Instagram app bandwagon...still deciding which I prefer: Instagram or Hipstamatic?)
and I are going to enjoy being couch potatoes for the rest of the day until we attempt a quick grocery store trip for missing dinner supplies before picking up Kieksy (who was mighty pissed to be abandoned at school this morning. Clarification: he was really more pissed about having to leave his cereal/snack in the car. He threw a full-on temper tantrum right in front of the director.)
Hopefully F-boo will kick this fever, or off to the doctor we'll go! (The doctor who, by the way, gives out Phineas and Ferb stickers! Finnboo perks up and reminds us of this fact whenever he hears the word "doctor!") I wonder if he'll be so eager to go to the doctor after the next time he gets a shot. :)
I've been following a really cute, uplifting blog called Today's Letters for several months now. It's written by a husband and wife, Tim and Emily Loerke (she does most of the writing, but there are "husband's letters" days) and they have a weekly post called "Fist Pump Fridays." A Jersey Shore fan I'm not, save the few weekend marathons I catch glimpse of, but they include pictures of non-guidos/guidettes throwing fist pumps with the best of them. A few weeks ago, after a particularly amazing spaghetti dinner cooked by Johnny, Kieksy was sporting an ah-mazing sauce beard that I had to capture on film. I started snapping away and next thing I know, the kid started throwing fist pumps. It must have been the pasta that brought out the seriously watered- down Italian in him. I emailed it in to Emily, and she was kind enough to post it today. You can check out Kieksy and their blog here:
I've been thinking about time a lot lately. Not in a profound, morbid sense, like "We only have a short time on this Earth, I'm going to be an old lady and kicking the bucket before I know it." (Though, yes, I've gone there.) Just your run of the mill thoughts on time. As in, "I've been wanting to write more often, but I haven't had time." Or "How do we do anything when we only have 2 hours between getting home from work and our newly instated 7:00 bedtime?" (For the kids-but God knows I could use a 7:00 bedtime every now and then myself!) Last weekend, I remember looking at the clock at one point and saying to myself, "Oh, it's only 10:30, I thought it was later," and then I remember looking at the clock again and thinking, "What the heck, how did it get to be 2:30?"
I know I'm not alone in this feeling of time slipping away more quickly than we realize: there are MILLIONS of articles, books, blogs, planners, etc. giving us ideas for maximizing time, streamlining procedures for home, work, cleaning, anything to give us more time. (I just wasted 5 minutes of my time right now looking for statistics on how much money people spend on these products, and decided it didn't matter.) I've read various tips, ideas, tried multiple calendars, to do lists, etc, and this is what I'm left with:
Time is precious.
Time will continue to tick away. (No fighting or changing that one!)
I can get done what I get done and shouldn't stress about what didn't get done. (I'm already pretty good at not stressing about the day-to-day stuff, but this feeling typically hits around 4 pm on Sunday.)
I'm more aware of this time-slippage and vow to stop more and enjoy the moment.
Sicky-poo is rocking an ensemble that combines not one, not two,
but three different pajama sets. Isn't he stylish?
Because suddenly, I have this almost-four-year-old here who doesn't resemble his baby self in any way, shape, or form, who says crazy and wonderful and sometimes profound things. He makes us laugh, he makes us crazy (typical 3 3/4 year old, no?) but Johnny and I catch ourselves thinking, "When did he get so old?" and those baby moments are such a distant memory, it seems like another lifetime. (I do also have this super-crazy soon-to-be-two-year-old that amazes me with how he's changed, but he is still a baby in my eyes-for now! Just wanted to clarify that all is fair here, and Finnboo is not preferred over Kieksy or anything!) Apparently I'm not the only one having these thoughts, because I just popped over to my google reader and saw (my favorite) Kelle Hampton's most recent post-she's lamenting the same thing with her first and oldest!
So, since Finnboo is battling some virus that won't quit (day 2 of a low-grade fever over here, no school for us,) I'm going to stop what I'm doing and enjoy the snuggle-time with him and Kieksy. (He's here because Mommy didn't feel like waking his soundly-sleeping self to get dressed and go to school!) Who am I kidding, the motrin's kicked in, there's craziness all around. As I type, they're dismantling the vacuum cleaner. Hooray!
I'd like to do an experiment and see if anyone will answer a question: How do you handle/deal with/accept "time-slippage?" Please leave a comment with your answer. (I'm not big-time enough to have a giveaway for a random commenter or anything, just curious to see if you'll play along!)
I officially declared myself in a funk earlier this week. Here's the reasoning:
1. I was faced with a full week of work for the first time in I don't know how long, so I didn't know how I was going to make it. (Waah, waah, the violins are playing from all of you who work their butts off 5 days a week 365 days a year, I know, I know.)
2. I just overall felt like ass, and finally chalked it up to a shitty diet (as in stopping paying attention to what I was eating,) and just not paying attention to my overall health.
Sooo.....I picked my fat ass up off the bed and made myself do Body by Bethenny's yoga segment. Yes, it was only 20 minutes long, but it was the perfect start that I needed. I don't know how long it had been since I had done a workout that wasn't running after my children. My body needed yoga, was almost craving it, as my bones and muscles were getting cramped thanks to this freezing cold weather. I emerged from my post-workout shower feeling like a new woman, and got out of my funk, determined to commit to taking better care of myself.
On an unrelated note, I had a moment of enlightenment this week regarding parenting. It came to me around 7:45 on Tuesday morning as I stood out in the freezing cold for my morning duty at school. Johnny once told me that my school's drop off is pretty much like this scene from Mr. Mom. I am pretty much the lady in the yellow rain slicker. Rain or shine, I'm there, with a smile on my face to greet the parents and students for the day. (Did I mention that I'm so cool doing this job that I have fans that take my picture and post them on facebook?)
On this particular morning, I was reminded of the fact that parents are their children's first and most important teachers. Mind-blowing, I know. I went to nicely ask a parent to turn around and not cut off the many parents that went the correct way in line, as I do from time to time, and as I approached the car, the kind gentleman didn't have the courtesy to even roll down his window. So, with my smile plastered on my face, I said loudly that I was sorry, but he'd have to turn around and pointed to where the line formed. With a dirty look, he slammed his car in reverse with his little Kindergartener (?) in the backseat, and drove away. I noticed that he went in the opposite direction of where I had directed him, but thought maybe he was confused. A few moments later, I saw the man walking his kid across in a "no dropoff area." I was really mad. We have rules about this people! I thought back to a few days earlier, when an irate mom screamed at me for being "ridiculous" when I asked her the same simple request. So, with 15 minutes of silence left before my duty was over, I started thinking about the line that I had included on so many letters home to parents over and over (the above line about being their child's first and most important teachers) and started making the connection that I had made before: it's no wonder that some kids act the way they do when they have their parents modeling that type of behavior. My mind quickly jumped to the fabulous parents who thankfully outnumber those like the parents mentioned above, and in the midst of all this deep thought, it struck me-
I blatantly break the law in front of Finnboo and Kieksy ALMOST EVERY DAY!!!
Before you call the cops, let me explain. We have an off street parking spot behind our house that is accessed by an alley. Said alley is one way, but "what's the harm in me making an illegal turn down the one way alley when my spot is 4 feet down the alley?" I always thought. However, I also live by a school, and when the crossing guards are out, or when a policeman happens to be parked in the alley to observe the dismissal, I go around the block like a good, law-abiding citizen. This is so infrequent; however, that Finn actually asks, "Why are you going this way, Mommy?" when I don't make the illegal right turn, and I've told him that I don't want to go the wrong way when the crossing guards are there! As I stood in the cold (did I mention it's cold?) my mouth dropped open in shock: OH MY GOD, not only was I teaching my kids that it's okay to not follow street signs/THE LAW, I was teaching them that it was OKAY AS LONG AS NO ONE WAS WATCHING!!! Gasp! How could I have been so stupid??!!! What about integrity? (Doing the right thing no matter who is watching, for those of you unsure of the kid-friendly definition.) I gathered myself, congratulated my dumb-ass for finally realizing this, and made a pledge to start following the rules.........at least while my kids are in the car, that is! :)
God, parenting is hard, but for all you parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, soon-to-be parents, anyone with children in their lives, remember: kids are ALWAYS watching and listening. And, they will most likely imitate you too! :P
Oh, being in the house may be starting to get to me, because I'm cracking myself up with this one, and had to turn my son's tears into a comic strip, but nonetheless, it all began with a desperate cry from the family room....
