tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37820592024-03-13T04:35:34.004-07:00Counterfeit Fake<em>Trying</em> to be real or just faking it?Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.comBlogger461125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-5538744914917070212013-07-06T23:31:00.000-07:002013-07-06T23:31:18.122-07:00Karma Is Trying to HelpMy mother-in-law has an almost pat response whenever I marvel at life with Fynnie, "That's why you have to have more kids, otherwise you just don't know."
She could not be more correct.
As a mother of one, I felt the weight of my lack of knowledge.
Adding Mad to the mix was ridiculously easy. Everyone should have their second kid 15 years after the first and have her be independent, a Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-83879294953625486762013-04-14T22:05:00.001-07:002013-04-14T22:05:47.465-07:00Why Don't You Write?I ask myself this a lot lately. I happen to know the answer.
There is a lot of doom and gloom. Things are kind of hard these days.
On the upside, Tom was promoted last summer and we have been working toward debt elimination. This stuff makes us both ridiculously happy. We've already reduced our non-mortgage debt by nearly half what it was last summer. But that patio cover that we were for Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-58716139190568105472013-02-03T23:07:00.000-08:002013-02-03T23:07:49.572-08:00ConversationsI know, I know... so much time passes between posts these days. I would like to lie say that this is going to change soon. Honestly? Those "I'm gonna get back on the ball!" posts annoy the crap out of me almost as much as the obligatory "this is my blog and it's going to be awesome!" posts. Chances are good that things will be spotty for a while yet.
Although I've considered writing a bunchShanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-53736901211196384212013-01-09T00:28:00.002-08:002013-01-09T00:28:26.321-08:00InterpretationTom to Fynnie: If you don't like what Madelyn's doing, tell her, "I don't like that Mana," and then walk away.
Fynnie to Madelyn, "I don't wike when you do dat, Mana. Now you walk away!"Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-60564792854970925042012-12-16T15:47:00.000-08:002012-12-16T15:47:28.070-08:00Stand InSomeone asked me if Corey will be home for Christmas. He will not. I miss him, but I am happy for him.
He's gone to the dark side. I mean, he got a job at WalMart. It's his first job ever. Orientation is Tuesday. Feeling more cautious than optimistic, but I don't tell him that. I hope it works out.
Last year at Thanksgiving and Christmas, we not only spent time with my mom and Corey, but also Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-80679224894072396222012-11-24T22:06:00.002-08:002012-11-24T22:12:05.975-08:00Does That Make Me a Grandma?Okay, off the bat, no. This has nothing to do with Corey. This is all about one Fynnie Fynn.
Do you remember her traumatic poop incident? Happened in early July, took 'til September to recover. And many dietary changes. And put potty training, which I was so sure was going to be a breeze, on hold.
By mid-October things were really looking up.
Two weeks ago the signs were clearly Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-24259665239189152352012-11-18T22:50:00.001-08:002012-11-18T22:50:19.985-08:00ThankfulHere's a little secret about me: I always want to ask everyone at our table what they are thankful for, but I never do.
After three days of cooking, I am always exhausted by the time the Thanksgiving dinner is on the table. Throw in the emotions that come with gratitude and I can pretty well guarantee that it would come out like this:
*Deep breath*
*Quivery smile*
*Tears forming in my eyes, Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-10149653692959915222012-11-01T20:18:00.000-07:002012-11-01T20:18:23.913-07:00Crazy Is HardThese past few weeks have really been interesting where Corey is concerned. The people who took him in allowed him to stay until yesterday afternoon. In the meantime, he had to do yard work and stay off the computer and phone most of the time. In exchange, they bought him a one way bus ticket to the continental US destination of his choice.
They would have provided a ticket to Vancouver, but Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-3046888477736014452012-10-20T08:43:00.000-07:002012-11-01T19:21:01.438-07:00The Games They PlayDid I ever mention that Mad came along within a few weeks of Tom and I mutually agreeing that we weren't going to have children together? It's true.
The short version of that experience is this:
I told him on a Friday night, "I'm either really sick, like cancer, or I'm pregnant. I looked it up online. I'm not sick. No, I'm sure. I'm pregnant."
And then he saved my soul by saying, "Well, Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-18272252031573900522012-10-17T23:34:00.000-07:002012-10-17T23:34:30.243-07:00Claws At My HeartThis blog seems to have turned into a mommy blog, which was never really my intention. At first it was just a place where I could pour my heart out in badly written excruciating detail. Those first posts? Awful. Read further into my blog and you'll find a few years where I laugh at all my own jokes. (Full disclosure: I still do, I just refrain from adding the hahahas and LOLs now. Most Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-74205874591722484452012-10-01T18:42:00.000-07:002012-10-02T22:17:22.563-07:00On Time. And Wounds. And Healing.Today a young woman I know found out that, yet again, her pregnancy has ended without a baby.
When she announced the pregnancy, it was with the wild abandon and hope that this one was gonna take. A baby had to come this time.
Because the first time it happened? Who knows?
And the second? Well, he was just about to leave on a yearlong deployment and so maybe it was god's way of saying thisShanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-43940473636421596852012-09-13T00:47:00.000-07:002012-09-13T00:47:00.540-07:00Rushing? Too Slow?Corey went to an in-home daycare just before he turned one. It was a fabulous place, but took about half my earnings to keep him there. A year later, he was able to go to nursery school where Grandma (AKA Saint Margaret of the Children) was the director. It was good in terms of academics and potty training and excellent for my wallet. Nursery school on the family plan cost the same as about sevenShanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-80631137665214101092012-09-03T08:39:00.001-07:002012-09-03T18:10:12.381-07:00The Real PoopSince late winter or early spring, Fynnie's been gearing up for potty training. I was actually looking forward to it. I had three goals this summer, potty train Fynn, get her to take naps in her own freakingbedbyherselfsoIcouldactuallygetthingsdonearoundhere *ohm* and learn to french braid Madelyn's hair.
Summer ended three weeks ago for me, and I'll tell up front, I'm one for three. French Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-67370175559626636002012-08-25T15:07:00.000-07:002012-08-25T16:15:27.139-07:00WonderWhen Corey was a baby and toddler, I was going from being in a badly chosen marriage and into single parenthood. And living with my mother.
My son was my life, no doubt. But a big part of that life was simply putting one foot in front of the other. I had tunnel vision that was focused on making it through this day. This hour. This minute. My ultimate goal? I said it often.
I just want peace.
Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-14043001257160652832012-08-12T15:40:00.000-07:002012-08-12T15:40:41.420-07:00Dear Jason,You are the cutest six year old boy in our neighborhood. Your sister, whose name I never really caught? Equally adorable. Maybe more so with those shoes and that hair.
Jason, there are some things we need to clear up. This is serious.
Okay, yes, I do laugh every time you and your sister manage to weasel your way into our house while Tom is standing at the door trying toShanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-21792595993806834132012-07-30T13:39:00.000-07:002012-07-30T13:39:27.648-07:00I Do Not, I Swear!Madelyn: "Mama, why do you have a hairy heinie?"
Me, gasping for air and feeling up my own cheeks, "What?!"
Mad: "Right there, your hair."
Me, trying not to laugh or sigh too loudly with relief: "That is not my heinie. Heinies are in back."Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-33796948784741221842012-07-30T13:34:00.002-07:002012-07-30T13:34:54.521-07:00Throwin' 'Em Off The TrailToday I decided to never again say, "Mama has to go to the potty," while walking behind my girls toward my bathroom.
Instead I will say, "Mama has to go stand right next to the tub." Having them head seven or eight feet in the wrong direction? Brilliant.Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-3120531242822616412012-07-28T13:28:00.001-07:002012-07-31T21:59:36.755-07:00JerkTom became an uncle today. His sister-in-law delivered a baby after five hours of pushing, and with forceps assistance. My heart went out to her.
It happened that my mother-in-law was able to reach me and give me the news. When Tom and I met back at home, I told him what I'd heard. His remark?
"Well, she is so... you know, little."
"What does that have to do with Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-65500849133712200582012-07-19T14:26:00.000-07:002012-07-19T14:34:18.515-07:00"How Did You Get Through It?"That was what my very pregnant friend, Maija, asked me the other day.
It was when Madelyn went into the neonatal intensive care unit, or NICU, after she was born.
It came up because Maija is recently home from a nearly three week stay in the hospital, where she and the doctors successfully stopped her twin daughters from arriving two months early. Now home and just under four Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-73361694826072106272012-07-06T15:34:00.003-07:002012-07-06T15:38:10.054-07:00Ballet-Slippered Foot In MouthMadelyn, after making her vast selections for tonight's first tap and ballet class, to the clerk at the dance supply store, "Are you going to have a baby?"
Clerk, physically recoiling in shock but trying to laugh it off, "Um, no I'm not going to have a baby."
Me, "Mana, we never ask about a baby unless we already know there's a baby."
Mad, "Oh."
Me, to the clerk, "You do not look like Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-47392021479725835312012-07-05T15:00:00.002-07:002012-07-05T15:08:01.641-07:00GoldilocksAs I reheated yesterday's dinner for the girls' lunch today, "Fynnie, do you want your beans warm or cold?"
"Um," hands in the air for emphasis, "I wan' dem jus' wight."
Yes. Of course.
Against all odds, her newly converted toddler bed (complete with pre-chewed rail, a gift from her big sis) is just right.
Or she has been messing with us since Saturday. Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-45781286713601955112012-06-29T01:07:00.001-07:002012-06-29T01:07:40.566-07:00I Am Going to Be a GrandmaDoes that give you a little shock?
It's not so bad as all that.
While in Boston, Madelyn declared that there is a baby in her belly, and she'll get married when she's "taller, maybe five."
Our second full day in Boston was Tom's brother's wedding. It was lovely. Heartfelt. Full of love and tears and laughter. I learned that Tom's and Matt's faces show emotions the same Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-68842296238564353382012-06-25T21:28:00.001-07:002012-06-25T21:28:33.622-07:00Make Way For DucklingsOn our first full day in Boshum, Tom's mom and dad took us to Boston Common.
Fynnie thinks Gramma Judy is pretty smart.
Our girls are young and relatively inexperienced in the pleasures of the park. They've been to playgrounds, something that our desert community has in abundance. But a place like Boston Common? Not going to be found in the HD.
Boston Common has a Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-27241666246935896082012-06-21T12:13:00.000-07:002012-06-21T12:13:02.588-07:00Traveling With Kids
Madelyn picked out her travel attire early in the morning the day before we left. Striped shorts, dirty socks with sandals, tutu, butterfly backpack with her name, velour hoody, undershirt with multicolored hearts (not shown) and a balloon. Perfect!
We used both of Fynnie's car seats. The newer generation of Britax Boulevards have some features that make them easier Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782059.post-12484885021954505602012-06-06T06:39:00.002-07:002012-07-05T15:02:19.186-07:00Trifecta (AKA The Perfect Storm)Fear of flying
+
"Hey, did you hear there's a storm in Boston? Something about flooding?"
+
My period
=
Clear and present danger.
Yes, Tom has been alerted. It's only fair.Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12434884811193988493noreply@blogger.com1