I tend to let certain things slide. Watering house plants and worthwhile blogging aren't among my strengths. Sometimes when I am driving in the car, radio off, I compose blog entries inside my head. There's an awful lot of pondering going on about organizing my sentence structure and whittling down the sarcastic tone of my voice. I wish I could classify this neurotic activity as brainy recreation, but it's clearly not. But hey, these daily writing exercises may be helping to keep my mind sharp.
Better to do this than bury my face into a three-inch book of Sudoku puzzles?
Only, there's a small problem here: my fingers never make it to the keyboard. I have the best intentions to craft stories worth sharing, but the ubiquitous Mom Brain intervenes and takes the form of Writer's Block. Is it coincidence that as soon as I click 'New Post' that all those stories kept within my brain's filing cabinet flutter out of my head? Blast that Mom Brain.
To represent these past couple weeks of blogging drought, I've condensed some small achievements we've made recently. Life normally comprises of such small achievements, so why not celebrate them? Do a little fist pump in the air for us.
The Boy:
No matter how far behind he is with his lawn mowing duties, Boy fares much better than our next-door neighbor. And to top it off, he has taught me how to use a lawn mower. Bonus!
He is one of very few people I know who enjoys going to the hospital. To guide my understanding of his preventative line of work, he explains that preparing his operation room is very similar to how I cover our son's bed with Brolly Sheets. Bottom line: the catastrophe that is waiting to happen ends up never happening at all. Don't ask how we do our jobs so well; call us skilled. (I'm still waiting to see how well these sheets absorb. "Big Solutions for Wee Problems," it says. They were shipped to me from New Zealand, so they better work, dangit.)
Still, Boy is one of the most patient people I know. An associate of his was bragging about a two-year-old grandchild knowing her ABCs and remarked how advanced she was compared against most two-year-olds. Andrew commented how impressive that was and held his tongue with quiet satisfaction.
Huckleberry Finn:
HBF has made the achievement of being more independent. He prefers doing things on his own and on his own terms. He wants toast with jam on it...not cereal, or waffles, or even cookies (as you lie persuasively through your teeth). If you close the door, he goes ballistic because he wants to shut it. If the option is available, he vehemently prefers his dad over his mom (and will loudly call out for his dad if Mom tries to intervene). And forget about the bed--even if you leave him tucked in for his afternoon nap, you can bet on later finding him snoozing inside his plastic
He is working on sounding out small words. I'm not joking on this one. At 2 1/2, I may have an early reader on my hands.
Small achievement: he has the intuition of an animal. "Mom! Mom! What's that sound?" (he scrunches up his nose and makes squeaking sounds with his lips) "Hear that? Hear the mouse?" It used to be adorable, but since he took mouse behavior to the next level, I am really bugged.
Indy:
Indy recently became interested in taking her first steps. I was beginning to wonder if my blue-eyed 19-pounder had any leg muscles in her.
She refuses to communicate through sign language. As long as she can produce short and long bursts of high-pitched banshee screams to get someone's attention, why would she need to use signing anyway? It's like her own version of Morse Code. She's wise beyond her years.
Me:
Ate my first potato that wasn't grown in Idaho. Surprisingly, potatoes from Maine are just as tasty.
Ate my first potato that wasn't grown in Idaho. Surprisingly, potatoes from Maine are just as tasty.
In 24 hours, I made a Halloween wreath for my front door, four pair of infant leg warmers, a half-done map project to hang on our wall, and a rose-colored tulle tutu for Indy. Having a table downstairs for all of my projects helps me stay productive.
I am forcing myself to become un-jaded (not a word, but it is now) from politics. It's a bitter pill to swallow but the bickering among candidates is starting to get juicy. I was not a lucky recipient of tickets for the GOP economic debate at Dartmouth, so on my way home from a friend's home, I drove around the Green to observe the pre-debate excitement. I was looking for a glimpse of Mitt Romney's hair, but it was nowhere in sight.
With Halloween and November coming around the corner, I'm beginning to realize--with sorrow--that Fall is quickly turning to winter. I was advised last month that it's worth the money to invest in a good winter coat and boots. I'm a little worried. Have the ice storms of the midwest prepared me at all?
We shall see.
