that time of year

I am now a month into the new year, so I think I might be safely past my annual phase of unrealistic expectations/goals and am ready to sit down and think about my life and where I would like it to progress. So, without further ado, my plans (nix on the 'resolutions' please) for 2010:

*continue cultivating a healthy relationship with my boys with more consistency/compassion/calmness:

-by putting aside one-on-one time with them reading and playing the games THEY'RE interested in (on a daily basis)

-update chore charts and start budgeting allowances (thinking about this one)

-put aside personal time for myself every day for quiet time

*take care of my health and personal well-being by:

-establishing a more consistent bed time on weekdays

-work up to be able to participate 5K fun run later this year

-try out a karate class this summer

-floss daily

-get a good face wash/ lotion for cracking skin daily

*lessen my depression/anxiety moments and work to incorporate more joyful moments into my daily life

-read/listen/watch only those things that bring me that build me up and bring me peace/contentment

-get outside daily

-keep a positive journal of things I AM doing

Okay, I'll stop here before I start putting things like: establish world peace and get my first novel published.

After all, there's always tomorrow, but this, at least, is a start.

Let the games begin!

if motherhood was a profession....

I'd be fired by now.

Sometimes, taking care of the boys sounds like an eternal interview in my head. Like a continual performance review.

"Well, it looks like you've rated high in the laundry portion here, but nurture's dropped a bit since last quarter."

I mean, people who want to adopt have to go through some pretty strenuous home visits. I've imagined what those visits must be like.

"So, how would you describe a typical day?"

"Uh.... we eat, I clean a bit, we play a bit...."

"Do they get regular healthy snacks?"

"Uh, are we counting the cheerios they scavenge off the ground?"

"And last night, they didn't get their baths, did they?"

"Uh..."

"I can tell cause their feet are stinkier today."

"Yeah, ran out of time last night."

"Kinda like you ran out of time to read to them before naps?"

"Well..."

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what is in my head all day.

I seriously need an off switch.

children get older

I came to an important realization the other day while trying on some pants in a Macy's fitting room.

I am getting older.

At 4'11", I usually don't have a problem skimming off the juniors rack when I go clothes shopping-- 'when' being the operative word here. I got myself a new pair (singular) of jeans about two years ago. Styles that were acceptable when I was in high school weren't too hard to find. Finding something that didn't make me look perpetually 15 was a little trickier, but it was doable. With this past experience in mind, I made the junior's section my first stop in my browsing hunt for sophisticated, yet youthful. I grabbed a couple of cute straight cut black slacks and headed back to the fitting room.

I don't know what's with kids these days, but in my day, it was not cool to have pants so tight that they end up cutting off your circulation. My generation has more self-interest than that. If anything, we believe in the opposite. Loose pants. Slipping off your hips loose. Stuff falling out of your pockets loose. My brother, for years, had to chain his wallet to his back pocket just to keep from loosing the thing.

This, of course, was supposed to make us more attractive to the opposite sex. Cause nothing says sexy like meeting that special guy's eyes from across a crowded room while he's busy hitching his pants up.

Oh.. the memories.

It's a metaphor, people. Unencumbered freedom of.... well, movement for one thing. It seems that the cool kids of today like their freedom constricted and narrow. They like everything close and exposed and.... skinny. Looking in the mirror after my ill-ventured run in with teen fashion gave a whole new sense to the term 'chicken legs'.

Ugh... the memories.

Now if wearing the pants is a statement in and of itself, taking them off is an experience. Let me just say that these kids are not gonna be suffering from blood clots anytime soon. They'd probably do wonders for my varicoses. And be great for long plane trips.

I did find the cutest sweaters though. Bright vibrant colors, texture like no one's business, and warm. Baggy. Room to breath. I walked out of the mall smiling, having gave fashion a great big expressive flip-off.

I really must be getting older.

flu shots and the healing power of a mcdonalds playplace

Today was the big day. I finally got all my boys signed up and scheduled for their yearly flu shots. I talked about it in depth all morning, then all 20 minutes from picking up the oldest from school early to the doctor's office. Everything from where to how to how much it would hurt ('just a little pinch sweetie. if you hold really still, you might not feel it at all.' wink, wink, hint, hint.) to who would do it and who would go first or second or third. I mention this because we were ubber-prepared. Not just a little. I was considerate and patient. I fed my boys lunch, got them an early quiet time, got them to the doctor's office the full recommended 15 minutes early. They quietly (okay, not quietly), calmly walked back to the doctor's office. They were joking and smiling. I told them we could go to mcdonald's after for a treat if they were really brave and acted appropriately (ie. no jumping off the walls in public. we save crazy for home, thank you very much)

I had the forms all filled out and signed. Everyone was calm and mostly happy. Then I asked who wanted to go first. Oldest had said he wanted to earlier, so I turned to him, and in my best peppy voice said, 'are you ready?' Oldest looked at me with look of abject horror and said 'I changed my mind.'

I do my peppy voice again, telling him all the sweet things you're supposed to say. You're so brave, you're doing great. Close your eyes sweetie. You can do it, almost there.

Oldest screamed bloody murder as soon as he saw the needle laying on the tray next to him, and continued through the entire administration of said shot. Scared his brothers spitless. No one wanted to go after that. They were all sobbing, shaking after seeing that. And that's where it kinda went downhill. Had to pin down my 22mnth old's quivering two and half foot frame. Then I had to pin down my 5yrold. At this point, all I could hear was screaming. And not just your run of the mill screaming. This was full throttle terrified, I-am-dying kind of screaming.

We all get out of there in one piece. Three out of the four are doing that weird post-cry breathing thing that makes it sound like someone's choking (side-note: the oldest, who started all this, is notably NOT crying or making any such post-choking noises. He is, in fact, calmly enjoying his complimentary sugar free rainbow sucker.), and the fourth has his back to me. I'm busy putting coats on and handing out well-meaning encouragement, so I don't notice what the nurse notices first.

'You look a little pale there buddy....you wanna sit down?'

I turn around as 5yrold says 'Okay' as his knees practically buckle right there, maybe a foot away. Said nurse catches him and moves him to the couch. She's right. He's white as a sheet.

I feel a little guilty for the sudden giggle that threatens to erupt right now. This will be 10x funnier many years down the road, but it's still a little funny now, not so much in the ha-ha kind of way, but more just the real kind of way.... you know?

(i know.... i'm a terrible mother :)

Anyway, 5minutes later, his color has returned, he's discovered he loves sunny-d, and we're in the car and on our way to mcdonalds, where we will spend a glorious 40 minutes sipping on chocolate milk shakes and climbing through the playplace (which has its' own helicopter, by the way). 5yrold makes an astute observation on the way there.

'Shots do hurt.'

new year

I always get the urge this time of year to purge, delete, declutter---- whatever word you want to put to it. Almost everything in my life that could possibly be improved, I really fight the impulse to completely overthrow. For example, this blog. I think of all the ways I could have actually written these posts cleaner or with more wit, or in ways that are a million times more interesting, and it's all I can do to not delete the whole thing. Because something unstarted is not yet tainted by my own bumbling inexperience. Funny, how once you actually do something, it can always be better. Almost feels safer to never make the effort.

The same goes for my house/home right now. I've completely reorganized most of the kitchen cupboards. And now I feel like just getting a new house. Move the mess and it's gotta get cleaner. At least, you get to start again.

But I guess there has to be some value to the moment, to letting things be what they are. Spend your whole life planning and organizing, you never get to just living.

Yup, I'm feeling wise tonight. Or just wanting to feel better about not getting to my next project: I'm finishing painting the front room. I've moved the front room stuff out of the way, but now, it's blocking my microwave. It's my motivation.