To: Mom2Drew
From: Communications Department
Re: New Method of Communication
_________________________
Please be advised that Miss M has now perfected a new form of communication - a high-pitched shriek. She intends to debut said verbal milestone around 1 o'clock.
It would be preferable that you cancel your trip to the public library which is set to occur at the same time.
To: Mom2Drew
From: Facilities Management
Re: The plastic bag in the garage
_____________________
While it might be tempting to grab the empty plastic bag in your garage today for your walk with the dog, please be advised that said bag was used for a sprinkler-related project over the weekend.
The leaky tube of apoxy glue was temporarily housed in that bag.
Management cannot be responsible for damage to clothing or stains to skin, hair and various other fabrics from this bright purple substance.
To: Mom2Drew
From: Facilities Management
Re: Common Area Maintenance
_________________________
We applaud your desire to scrub the tile floors throughout the common area today. Please note, however that while your chosen cleaner of choice is titled "Barkeepers Friend", a more suitable name might be "Mom2Drew's Enemy".
You may be pleased to note that by the third complete cleaning of your tile floors, the white chalky residue will begin to dissipate.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
The First Step Is to Admit You Have a Problem
My son woke up this morning, walked out of his bedroom and announced that the house smelled "kinda like IKEA".
My husband just stared at him, then glared at me.
"Could you please stop shopping with him so much??" he pleaded.
I tried to explain why my son could identify the difference between various retail shopping establishments based on their scent alone (IKEA was simple enough... I had just put a cinnamon raisin bagel in the toaster this morning which smelled like the heavenly cinnamon buns they sell).
But I think the damage was already done. No doubt my hubby remembered when I took Drew shopping a few weeks ago with $10 dollars of his own money to spend. And he bought clothes.
Hello. My name is Mom2Drew, and I'm a shopaholic.
My husband just stared at him, then glared at me.
"Could you please stop shopping with him so much??" he pleaded.
I tried to explain why my son could identify the difference between various retail shopping establishments based on their scent alone (IKEA was simple enough... I had just put a cinnamon raisin bagel in the toaster this morning which smelled like the heavenly cinnamon buns they sell).
But I think the damage was already done. No doubt my hubby remembered when I took Drew shopping a few weeks ago with $10 dollars of his own money to spend. And he bought clothes.
Hello. My name is Mom2Drew, and I'm a shopaholic.
Friday, April 16, 2010
What We've Been Up "to"
To-Do's
To Work
To Play
To School
Two Kids
Two Spring Breaks
Two Tired Parents
Two Days Behind (on everything)
Too Little Time
Too Many Activities
Too Much Fun
Too Busy
So Mom2Drew (and a little one, too)
is just about done with the number "2".
Which is just as well. And I'll be just fine,
when the Design Girl solves my problems with a "redesign".
(The New and Improved Blog Coming Soon!!!)
To Work
To Play
To School
Two Kids
Two Spring Breaks
Two Tired Parents
Two Days Behind (on everything)
Too Little Time
Too Many Activities
Too Much Fun
Too Busy
So Mom2Drew (and a little one, too)
is just about done with the number "2".
Which is just as well. And I'll be just fine,
when the Design Girl solves my problems with a "redesign".
(The New and Improved Blog Coming Soon!!!)
Friday, April 2, 2010
Doesn't He Make You Nervous???
That's a question I answer a lot.
On the playground, at the beach, in our backyard, out front. Inevitably, when people watch my son "play", they always ask me if his antics make me nervous.
Because, I gather, he makes other people VERY nervous.
I think I might be more prone to worry if I hadn't watched this child climb up a slide at 10 months, climb out of his crib at 14 months and conquer just about every other obstacle in his path from that moment on.
With older cousins to play with this past week, Drew pushed his own limits, conquering bigger, higher, faster goals.
And I can still honestly say that as I watched him hang precariously from perilous perches...
... "Nope, still doesn't make me nervous!"
But, this?
The thought that this little one might have an affinity for the adventurous?
THIS makes me VERY nervous!!
On the playground, at the beach, in our backyard, out front. Inevitably, when people watch my son "play", they always ask me if his antics make me nervous.
Because, I gather, he makes other people VERY nervous.
I think I might be more prone to worry if I hadn't watched this child climb up a slide at 10 months, climb out of his crib at 14 months and conquer just about every other obstacle in his path from that moment on.
With older cousins to play with this past week, Drew pushed his own limits, conquering bigger, higher, faster goals.
And I can still honestly say that as I watched him hang precariously from perilous perches...
... "Nope, still doesn't make me nervous!"
But, this?
The thought that this little one might have an affinity for the adventurous?
THIS makes me VERY nervous!!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Duct Tape, Anyone?
We are on Spring Break this week. The kids and I journeyed all day Friday up the interstate to spend a week with the grandparents in Alabama. I love coming here. My cell phone gets practically no reception. I spend very little time on the computer. The television isn't even on for background noise. My son has cousins to play with and my daughter has grandparents, aunts & uncles to snuggle with.
I went shoe shopping with my sister-in-law yesterday (without ANY children) and we found the most adorable pair of taupe colored snakeskin pumps you've ever seen. And they were on the clearance rack, and they were $10.00. We each bought a pair. We might have also high-fived and cheered in the middle of the shoe store.
Yes, this is a great way to spend a Spring Break.
But just in case I forgot for a moment that life has come a LONG way for the spring breaks of yore... my almost-five-year-old boy believes it's his duty to remind me that parenthood NEVER takes a vacation.
We've made due with time outs in back rooms and bathrooms, in restaurants and relatives homes. We've discussed the rudeness of burping, and we've sworn off sodas for the rest of our trip.
He's informed my in-laws (who do such a good job of choosing to speak words of affirmation and encouragement around the kiddos) that the Skittles he bought in a vending machine are "So good I think I'm going to die..." (I thought I might, too).
He's whined about finishing his dinner because he was absolutely convinced his stomach might explode, then managed to find room to polish off 1 1/2 smores and 12 additional marshmallows.
He's refused to wear anything but a short-sleeved shirt in the chilly 50 degree weather.
He's managed to bring up the topic of "Bad Words We Aren't Allowed To Say" at the dinner table twice. I used the opportunity to patiently remind him that I haven't changed my mind about the word "booty" and that no matter how sweetly he says it, that yes indeed, "Shut Up" is still a bad thing to say.
My husband (who joined us for a few days of our trip) was able to stop him before he "christened" my in-laws front bushes. Apparently, indoor plumbing is a luxury wasted on him.
Then again... indoor plumbing IS one of his favorite topics of conversation. Apparently, any joke is funnier when the punchline includes the word "Bathroom".
His lastest line has been, "Dude! Are you kidding me?" Don't worry, it comes off just as disrespectful in person as it does in writing.
But even as I shake my head in disbelief and pray for strength, I hear him saying please and thank you to his grandma. I see him trying new foods just because his cousin is. I watch him stop all his fun to give his baby sister a little love. And I gladly obliged as he asks me to carry him into the bedroom and tuck him into his bed.
I quietly type a recap of our day as my children sleep peacefully in the big bed I'll be crawling into in just a moment. I'll listen to their baby snores and wiggles... sounds I don't hear when they're sleeping across the house in their own beds at home.
And I'll fall asleep tonight thanking God for a wonderful break.... and praying for strength and a big old roll of duct tape.
I went shoe shopping with my sister-in-law yesterday (without ANY children) and we found the most adorable pair of taupe colored snakeskin pumps you've ever seen. And they were on the clearance rack, and they were $10.00. We each bought a pair. We might have also high-fived and cheered in the middle of the shoe store.
Yes, this is a great way to spend a Spring Break.
But just in case I forgot for a moment that life has come a LONG way for the spring breaks of yore... my almost-five-year-old boy believes it's his duty to remind me that parenthood NEVER takes a vacation.
We've made due with time outs in back rooms and bathrooms, in restaurants and relatives homes. We've discussed the rudeness of burping, and we've sworn off sodas for the rest of our trip.
He's informed my in-laws (who do such a good job of choosing to speak words of affirmation and encouragement around the kiddos) that the Skittles he bought in a vending machine are "So good I think I'm going to die..." (I thought I might, too).
He's whined about finishing his dinner because he was absolutely convinced his stomach might explode, then managed to find room to polish off 1 1/2 smores and 12 additional marshmallows.
He's refused to wear anything but a short-sleeved shirt in the chilly 50 degree weather.
He's managed to bring up the topic of "Bad Words We Aren't Allowed To Say" at the dinner table twice. I used the opportunity to patiently remind him that I haven't changed my mind about the word "booty" and that no matter how sweetly he says it, that yes indeed, "Shut Up" is still a bad thing to say.
My husband (who joined us for a few days of our trip) was able to stop him before he "christened" my in-laws front bushes. Apparently, indoor plumbing is a luxury wasted on him.
Then again... indoor plumbing IS one of his favorite topics of conversation. Apparently, any joke is funnier when the punchline includes the word "Bathroom".
His lastest line has been, "Dude! Are you kidding me?" Don't worry, it comes off just as disrespectful in person as it does in writing.
But even as I shake my head in disbelief and pray for strength, I hear him saying please and thank you to his grandma. I see him trying new foods just because his cousin is. I watch him stop all his fun to give his baby sister a little love. And I gladly obliged as he asks me to carry him into the bedroom and tuck him into his bed.
I quietly type a recap of our day as my children sleep peacefully in the big bed I'll be crawling into in just a moment. I'll listen to their baby snores and wiggles... sounds I don't hear when they're sleeping across the house in their own beds at home.
And I'll fall asleep tonight thanking God for a wonderful break.... and praying for strength and a big old roll of duct tape.
Friday, March 19, 2010
The Uncooked Side of the Pancake
This metaphor resonated with me. Bear with me while I explain.
I'm doing Beth Moore's Esther study right now (wonderful!) and in our video this past week, she describes how sometimes we (women) can be like a half-cooked pancake. One side all pretty and golden, cooked to perfection. The other side just a goopy, sloppy uncooked mess.
We get really good at showing our "cooked" or pretty side in public. At social gatherings. At church. We are adept at showing the pretty side of our family as well. We dress everyone nicely, threaten our kids through clenched-jaw smiles to remember their manners, prompt (nag) our husbands to do more or be more or just SAY more...
And we go to great lengths to ensure that no one sees the goopy, sloppy uncooked mess.
I have to admit: I ENJOY presenting the pretty side of the pancake. We recently got some family pictures taken at our church for Miss M's upcoming baby dedication. The proofs arrived via email tonight. I pored over them. Clicked through the images a dozen times. Everyone smiling. All the outfits coordinating. Children sitting idyllically in our laps. I want to jump inside that picture and live there forever.
But if I'm ever going to relate to another human being on this earth... particularly another woman or mother, I need to be more willing to let people see the "un"pretty side of my life, too.
I have to admit: I DO NOT ENJOY presenting this side to anyone. It feels very out of control. It's humbling. It requires me to trust another person with my mess. Don't get me wrong, I'll tell you about my messes, but I'd rather do it after they've been neatly resolved.
So, on Wednesday afternoon, about an hour after I listened to Beth Moore describe the pancake predicament on a video, I pulled my dirty, cluttered SUV into our driveway and began unloading the junk of the day. Diaper bags and backpacks spilled out onto the pavement. Drew began riding his bike as Miss M slept soundly in her carseat. Instead of waking her, I opened all the doors to the car and the back hatch, threw my keys onto the back bumper, and began organizing the mess in our garage.
After several minutes, Miss M woke up crying. I rescued her from her carseat and made Drew follow us inside with the promise that we'd only stay inside for a moment. I had to go to the bathroom and change out of my "Bible study clothes" (see above paragraph about presenting the pretty side). And the baby, I surmised by smell, needed a clean diaper.
I was almost into a pair of sweatpants when my phone alerted me to a new text message. This is what I read:
"Your car door is open.
I am in your driveway.
I am stealing your car.
Just letting you know."
It was my dear friend, Jessica (Please tell me you're a fan of hers already. If not, click HERE).
Anyway... Jessica happened to be driving past my house when she noticed my car sitting there with all doors and windows wide open. My personal belongings were still strewn about the perimeter. I was, however, nowhere to be found. And like any good friend would do upon seeing my keys sitting in plain sight, she threatened Grand Theft Auto.
I stood in my closet as I read the words of her message, laughed out loud, threw on the nearest top, and ran out to the driveway. The sight was pitiful.
I'm sure she was probably already worried about my well-being, but I really sealed the deal when I blurted out, "Friend! You're looking at the ugly side of my pancake!!!"
And even as I type this, the lesson is still teaching me. If my house had been tidy with my car parked neatly in the garage with the door shut and my children sitting quietly on my lap inside while I read them fairytales, my friend probably wouldn't have pulled in to check on me.
And I would have missed out on what turned out to be a really fun, spontaneous afternoon playdate with her beautiful little girls and my very excited little boy.
You know, I just might start showing off this side more often.
But I'm still going to wear cute shoes.
Just keeping it real.
I'm doing Beth Moore's Esther study right now (wonderful!) and in our video this past week, she describes how sometimes we (women) can be like a half-cooked pancake. One side all pretty and golden, cooked to perfection. The other side just a goopy, sloppy uncooked mess.
We get really good at showing our "cooked" or pretty side in public. At social gatherings. At church. We are adept at showing the pretty side of our family as well. We dress everyone nicely, threaten our kids through clenched-jaw smiles to remember their manners, prompt (nag) our husbands to do more or be more or just SAY more...
And we go to great lengths to ensure that no one sees the goopy, sloppy uncooked mess.
I have to admit: I ENJOY presenting the pretty side of the pancake. We recently got some family pictures taken at our church for Miss M's upcoming baby dedication. The proofs arrived via email tonight. I pored over them. Clicked through the images a dozen times. Everyone smiling. All the outfits coordinating. Children sitting idyllically in our laps. I want to jump inside that picture and live there forever.
But if I'm ever going to relate to another human being on this earth... particularly another woman or mother, I need to be more willing to let people see the "un"pretty side of my life, too.
I have to admit: I DO NOT ENJOY presenting this side to anyone. It feels very out of control. It's humbling. It requires me to trust another person with my mess. Don't get me wrong, I'll tell you about my messes, but I'd rather do it after they've been neatly resolved.
So, on Wednesday afternoon, about an hour after I listened to Beth Moore describe the pancake predicament on a video, I pulled my dirty, cluttered SUV into our driveway and began unloading the junk of the day. Diaper bags and backpacks spilled out onto the pavement. Drew began riding his bike as Miss M slept soundly in her carseat. Instead of waking her, I opened all the doors to the car and the back hatch, threw my keys onto the back bumper, and began organizing the mess in our garage.
After several minutes, Miss M woke up crying. I rescued her from her carseat and made Drew follow us inside with the promise that we'd only stay inside for a moment. I had to go to the bathroom and change out of my "Bible study clothes" (see above paragraph about presenting the pretty side). And the baby, I surmised by smell, needed a clean diaper.
I was almost into a pair of sweatpants when my phone alerted me to a new text message. This is what I read:
"Your car door is open.
I am in your driveway.
I am stealing your car.
Just letting you know."
It was my dear friend, Jessica (Please tell me you're a fan of hers already. If not, click HERE).
Anyway... Jessica happened to be driving past my house when she noticed my car sitting there with all doors and windows wide open. My personal belongings were still strewn about the perimeter. I was, however, nowhere to be found. And like any good friend would do upon seeing my keys sitting in plain sight, she threatened Grand Theft Auto.
I stood in my closet as I read the words of her message, laughed out loud, threw on the nearest top, and ran out to the driveway. The sight was pitiful.
I'm sure she was probably already worried about my well-being, but I really sealed the deal when I blurted out, "Friend! You're looking at the ugly side of my pancake!!!"
And even as I type this, the lesson is still teaching me. If my house had been tidy with my car parked neatly in the garage with the door shut and my children sitting quietly on my lap inside while I read them fairytales, my friend probably wouldn't have pulled in to check on me.
And I would have missed out on what turned out to be a really fun, spontaneous afternoon playdate with her beautiful little girls and my very excited little boy.
You know, I just might start showing off this side more often.
But I'm still going to wear cute shoes.
Just keeping it real.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Girl Talk just isn't the same...
... when you have to compete for conversation time with a very active big brother.
It strikes me, after watching this video, that my money was no doubt wasted on a fancy exersaucer for the girl.
I should just prop her up on some pillows in front of the 24/7 show called "Drew".
It strikes me, after watching this video, that my money was no doubt wasted on a fancy exersaucer for the girl.
I should just prop her up on some pillows in front of the 24/7 show called "Drew".
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)