2009!

Bookworm Wednesday

Wishing you all a wonderful, healthy and positive New Year! In celebration of Bookworm Wednesday, I am linking up with The Literacy Site. Each click earns free books for kids. One of my New Year’s Resolutions is to click everyday. I am hoping to inspire at least one other....Maybe that will be you! You are just a click away from a smile!

Twas the Night Before Christmas

Bookworm Wednesday....

Bookworm: Here I am, Bookworm Wednesday, reporter on the street. Tonight I’ve wormed my way between the pages of the children’s classic ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas hoping to score a face to face with that mythical elf, Santa himself.

Book: Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…

Bookworm: So far, it’s been awfully quiet in here, but I know the characters are awaiting the infamous midnight visitor. As I am a sucker for drama, let’s see if we can cut to the chase….

Book:…..and I in my cap had just settled down for a long winter’s nap…

Bookworm: Is the snoring in here bugging you? Let’s skip this page…

Book:…down the chimney Saint Nicholas came with a bound.

Bookworm: Our hero makes a grand entrance! Santa! Santa! A few questions please?!

Santa: Ho-Ho-Ho!

Book: The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath…

Bookworm: Santa, were you aware that the general consensus is no smoking in children’s books? That cancer thing, ya know?

Santa: It’s 1823 here, kid. Lighten up. Ho-Ho.

Bookworm: Is that the copyrighted date? Explains why I am hacking in here. Next time I will bring my ionizer and some pledge.

Book:…and I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself…

Bookworm: Excuse me, sir. Yes, you. The one in the nightie and sleeping cap. Is laughter the appropriate reaction to finding a large hairy man in your parlor in the dead of the night?

Father in story: Don’t know, dude. My agent just told me to show up here in girlie PJs. Does this mean I got the part? Score. That’s hot.

Bookworm: Santa, are you feeling well? You seem rather jittery and shaky.

Book: A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head…filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

Father in book: Dude, he is in character…’lively and quick’, remember. Jeez, man. The gall to question the one and only Mickey Rooney. Wow. No respect. Speechless. Dude.

Santa: Where’s the eggnog? Ho-Ho-Ho.

Bookworm: And, Santa, I noticed earlier when you whistled and shouted and called them by name, you left out Rudolph. Where does he fit into the equation?

Santa: Ho-ho-ho-Who?.

Bookworm: No, Santa, I believe the Whos are featured in another book. But, I digress…

Book: The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow…

Bookworm: And, Santa, I can perhaps let the smoking thing pass, but now we have boobies in the snow? Maybe we need to up the rating to PG-13.

Santa: Talk to my agent, kid. He-he.. I mean, ho-ho.

Book: And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose…

Bookworm: Santa..Santa! Are you up for a sequel?

Father in story: Dude? I think it’s a wrap. We hit it in one take. Hot…. Hey, aren’t these gigs catered?

Girls, Girls, Girls!

Having little girls has seasoned our lives with a mix of drama, a pinch of chaos, a variety of squeals and a whole lot of entertainment! The blessings abound.

A sense of wonder… “When will my ant farm come back alive…maybe on Wednesday?”

Ample reason…. “I like to eat chocolate because I like to eat chocolate.”

A touch of social etiquette…. “Thank you and I know I am welcome.”

A bit of suspense…”Is Santa coming next afterday?”

Some tossed creativity… “The teddy likes to wear the plate hat because he likes to have cookies on his head.”

A whole lotta passion… “NOOOOOOOOO!”

A healthy dose of intellectual stimulation…. “Da-da-la-la-wa-wa-ma-ma-ka-ba-ba-ca-ca-cat !!”

Moments of discovery… “Belly button!” (pointing to the spot just south of kitty’s highly held tail.)

A handful of grace and charm… “Sweetie, say hi to Uncle Charlie!”
“No. He is old.”

Episodes of unquestionable wit… “My mommy ate ice cream on the couch aaaallll day long today.”

Unarguable joy… “I love cookies. I love Christmas. I love Mommy. I love Daddy. I love sister. I love preschool. I love Santa. I love cookies. I love…”

And, those two young ladies always give me a run for my money.

That’s not what I meant. Come baaaack here!

Voted off the Island

Thank you to all who voted for me when I was featured on Top Momma! Unfortunately, my moment in the sun was brief. I was voted off the island just about as quickly as I arrived. Or to quote the elegant email that was sent I “was booted from Top Momma.” They gave me a nifty badge to commemorate the occasion and sent me on my way. Hmmm…Should I wear it with honor?



However, I was featured on Momtourage once again here. It was an honor to be featured and after getting my booty kicked on Top Momma, it was great news to hear!

Monkey Mind

Sometimes I suffer from the monkey mind, my thoughts a runaway train at 2:00 AM, leaving me filled with all sorts of cold and prickly anxiety. Nothing like a little something prickly as a midnight bed fellow, all snugly wrapped next to you attempting to steal your blankie.

“Did I forget to buy milk?”

“Am I behind 5 loads of laundry or just 4?”

“What was that noise?”

“Am I a doormat?”

“Sleep. Sleep. I need to sleep.”

“Did I set the alarm?”

“Maybe I’ll go blog about this. At 2:00 AM? No, that would make me obsessive.”

“Am I obsessive? Do obsessive people think they are obsessive? Do other people think I am obsessive? Maybe I should wake hubby and ask if he thinks I am obsessive….Or is that obsessive? How do you spell obsessive? Surely someone aware enough to wonder if they may be obsessive, couldn’t be obsessive? No, clearly not obsessive here….(Pause)….Anxious? Do you think I am anxious? Only anxious people wake up at 2:00 AM to worry about being anxious, right? Or does that make me obsessive? …(Pillow over head)….Hide, I’ll hide, yes hiding is good….Or , ummm, does that make me socially phobic?”

Sometimes the monkey gets the better of us in the wee hours. It is wise to distract him with a peanut or two and quickly lock the window behind him. And maybe throw a rock at his furry a** as he scampers away. Fingers crossed for a direct hit.

A Sip of the Bubbly

Last summer, I was drowning in the roaring rapids of new motherhood with a newborn and a two year old. My memories are blurred and my hair is greyer from it.

This year, I’ve managed to raise one nostril above water with a one year old and a three year old. My memories are sharper and I love my new hair color.

Next year, I will have a two year old and a four year old. Perhaps my diapering days will be over and maybe both nostrils will be above water.

The year after next, I will have a preschooler and a kindergartner. Quite possibly my whole head will be above water gasping full deep breaths. I daydream about mornings filled with long showers and the occasional quiet home

I dream about the days when they are both in school full time, a first grader and a third grader. The quiet will be a fine champagne, bubbly and much anticipated.

Of course, this is what I wanted. Two bundles close together. I wanted them two years apart, equipped with a forever best friend. I wanted them to have what was absent from my childhood, a similar aged sibling. I wanted to silence that defeaning biological tick, squeezing them in before 35 (didn’t make it). I wanted to rush thru the diapering stage by overlapping the diapering stage (don’t try this at home). And the fertility Goddess was swift and kind to me. I am thankful for that.

Surprisingly, I find the work less stressful than teaching at the local elementary. There are less meetings, less paperwork and far less grouchy parents. I love where I am and what I am doing. At times, I find the inevitable mess and chaos of the situation to be funny. Other times, it is quite satisfying. But, there are times when I am up multiple times at night with a hacking 3 year old and goopy nosed one year old, when I dream about that sip of champagne. It will be a long, savory sip, with feet up and followed by one lengthy enormous exhalation.

Of course, this delicious sip of the bubbly will be followed by girl scout cookie fiascos and lost ballet shoes, I know, I know. But, for the moment, I will linger in the fantasy.

Watcha' Say?

OK, I rated it. I kept score. I kept track. I calculated and tabulated. And here are the results. My top 12 utterances in any given week in 1998 (pre kids) versus 2008 (post kids).

Top 12 Utterances of 1998. Listed in order of regularity.

12. OK, Chum, lose my number or what?
11. Well, there were sufficient funds yesterday.
10. Can you believe she wore that?
9. Take a gander at the fox at 3:00.
8. Martini, no olive.
7. Sorry, Charlie. Washin’ the hair on Fridays these days.
6. Ah, can ya throw in a couple extra orders of fries with that?
5. 555-1212
4. Those thigh hi boots are smokin’. Gots to get me some.
3. (Weep, weep. Exhale, shaky inhalation) Do you think he’ll ever call?
2. Old maid? Old maid? Ya don’t think that will happen do you?

And, my #1 utterance in a given week(end) in 1998…

1. Whatsup, G?


Top 12 Utterances of 2008.

12. Out of the cat litter box already!
11. Watch it, young lady.
10. Don’t put that up your nose.
9. Get back here.
8. No cookies before dinner.
7. Santa’s watchin’
6. Eat your peas.
5. Gentle with Mr. Kitty
4. Uh-oh
3. SSSSHH!
2. No! No! No!

And, my #1 utterance in any given week in 2008….

1. Hmmm…Smells like poop….sniff. sniff.

Opposite Directions

I now have two children that can walk. Happened a couple months back. No more baby blob securely strapped to my hip, front or back. Now, there are two of them moving….mostly in opposite directions.

Hubby helps. “I got me a full visual on #2 and a partial on #1. Do you read me? Over and out.”

But, on the days I venture solo to a play date at the park or museum….Oh, my!

“Sit here! Your sister’s getting away.”

“Sit here. Come here. Not you. You! Sit. You. Stay. You coooooome HERE!”

“Gotcha, ya little bugger! Where’s your sister?”

“Which way did she go? Which way did she go?”

“Where’s my daughter? Not that one. The other one.”

“Here. Here. Here. ….Come baaaack here!”

“….And don’t eat that!”

I spin around so much, I wouldn’t be surprised if my body corkscrewed its way into the ground. I am sure I’d make a great permanent fixture in the park between the slides and swings, jaw dropped wide, eyes rolling, hands flailing, my Medusa locks on end. Hopefully, I would provide some solace to other mothers on their wild run through the park chasing a toddler or two. Perhaps a plaque at my feet… “Motherhood…She came undone.” ??

Bookworm Wednesday

“You can tell which girls lack mothers by the look of their hair…”
~The Secret Life of Bees

I gasped as I read this quote from The Secret Life of Bees, a novel about a motherless girl. I was horrified at the tremendous absence that would fill a motherless girl’s life. So many motherly details just gone. The thought sent me running to my daughters, interrupting their usual afternoon Play Doh tea party for a hug and kiss session.

And then I went to work. One at a time, I pinned my daughters down and began my obsessive grooming. French twists, braids, ponytails, buns, and fancy knots. Our mornings became filled with Goody clips, barrettes, stretched out hair bands, bobby pins, head bands, glittery, no slippy hair clippies…..My one year old is off the hook with a couple brush strokes and one simple clip....for now. Not so with the three year old.

“Ouch!”

“Quit pulling!”

“You’re hurting me!”

I growl under my breath and make a mental note to remind myself to assign my daughters the task of reading The Secret Life of Bees when they are teenagers. In the meantime, Mommy Hair Nazi cackles each morning over a bottle of detangler and a drawer full of hair doo-dads. Or is hair thingy the proper term?.

I Was Featured!

Mammatalk was featured here on Momtourage powered by iVillage. Apparently, this website supports the notion that every mom needs an entourage, a circle of friends to help her navigate mommyhood. I agree. An entourage....oops, I mean, Momtourage. Gotta get me one of them.

Thanks, Momtourage! I appreciate the recognition.

P.S. Do you really like me? ( Gulp)