To say toddlers have obsessions or like repetition would be an understatement.
So you can understand that we spent nearly an hour reading E.V.E.R.Y Curious George story we own (and we own the collection). Peanut was entertained (oh how that silly monkey makes him laugh) and I came away with an important observation...
Maybe the man in the yellow hat shouldn't leave such a curious monkey home alone so often?
I mean, really.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Mental Breathing Room
We took the front rail off of peanut's crib on Friday so it's now a daybed-type situation. We put up a small safety rail to facilitate the transition to his big boy bed and to keep our very active peanut from rolling out (peanut calls it his "little fence").
Nighttime routines have been a breeze. No big change. He climbs in, doesn't climb out, typical chattering before blessed quiet. No big deal.
Mornings, we're up a little earlier simply because he can get out instead of us snoozing a few extra minutes while he was contained, but it's not that much earlier, so I can't really complain. And it's pretty cute to hear the patter of little feet, door swinging open and a loud announcement of "I'm AWAKE!" Then he tears off down the hall to his toys in the den.
Nap time, however, has been a whole other can of worms. A can I am beginning to wonder why we opened. Saturday, our first attempt, took about an hour and a half of putting him back in the bed every few minutes. Sunday, daddy's attempt (of course), took only about a half hour and one put back in the bed (why are they always better for daddy?!). Monday, back and forth, back and forth. Result? No nap.
Today I was determined we weren't going to have a repeat of yesterday. If for no other reason, than the kid still needs a nap - he is not in the ready to give up his nap category yet. He was practically falling asleep at dinner last night and completely cranky for the whole of the afternoon/evening and I don't have the stamina to do that two nights in a row.
I put him down, tucked him in, kiss, kiss, night, night. Told him big boys stay in their big boy beds. About 10 minutes after I put him down, he opened the door to his room. He caught sight of me down the hall. He quickly shut the door and apparently ran back into the bed throwing the covers over him. By the time I reached his room, it looked like he'd never gotten out - except for the giggling and guilty look. Then, about 10 minutes later, I heard one of his toys talking. Back in bed, toy removed from room. About 5 minutes later, another toy talking. Back in bed, toy removed from room. After an hour of back and forth, I sat outside his room, eyes pressed to the crack in the door so I could immediately go in and replace him in the bed when he hopped out. It took three more tries and he finally FINALLY fell asleep.
While I was watching him, though, I was in for quite a show. There was jumping, tucking in of the stuffed animals, throwing of the stuffed animals out of the bed, dancing, pants removal, socks removal, drumming, socks placed on hands, karate chops with accompanying "Hi-Yah!", and then, after the final put back and tuck in, he lay there picking his nose for 10 minutes until he literally fell asleep with a finger in his nose.
Some things I didn't need to know, you know?
It's amazing to realize how much I mentally need his nap time. While I was sitting on the floor outside his room, I wasn't really doing anything, but I was exhausted. As soon as he was asleep and I was free to do whatever I needed to, I was immediately energized - or at the very least, relaxed and clear-headed. As mom, we're always on. Always moving. Always, always, always. Go, go, go.
It's nice to have a moment, no matter how long or short, but a moment where you don't have to worry, think, move, and, let's be honest, check your blog reader and Facebook!
A girl's gotta have an outlet.
Nighttime routines have been a breeze. No big change. He climbs in, doesn't climb out, typical chattering before blessed quiet. No big deal.
Mornings, we're up a little earlier simply because he can get out instead of us snoozing a few extra minutes while he was contained, but it's not that much earlier, so I can't really complain. And it's pretty cute to hear the patter of little feet, door swinging open and a loud announcement of "I'm AWAKE!" Then he tears off down the hall to his toys in the den.
Nap time, however, has been a whole other can of worms. A can I am beginning to wonder why we opened. Saturday, our first attempt, took about an hour and a half of putting him back in the bed every few minutes. Sunday, daddy's attempt (of course), took only about a half hour and one put back in the bed (why are they always better for daddy?!). Monday, back and forth, back and forth. Result? No nap.
Today I was determined we weren't going to have a repeat of yesterday. If for no other reason, than the kid still needs a nap - he is not in the ready to give up his nap category yet. He was practically falling asleep at dinner last night and completely cranky for the whole of the afternoon/evening and I don't have the stamina to do that two nights in a row.
I put him down, tucked him in, kiss, kiss, night, night. Told him big boys stay in their big boy beds. About 10 minutes after I put him down, he opened the door to his room. He caught sight of me down the hall. He quickly shut the door and apparently ran back into the bed throwing the covers over him. By the time I reached his room, it looked like he'd never gotten out - except for the giggling and guilty look. Then, about 10 minutes later, I heard one of his toys talking. Back in bed, toy removed from room. About 5 minutes later, another toy talking. Back in bed, toy removed from room. After an hour of back and forth, I sat outside his room, eyes pressed to the crack in the door so I could immediately go in and replace him in the bed when he hopped out. It took three more tries and he finally FINALLY fell asleep.
While I was watching him, though, I was in for quite a show. There was jumping, tucking in of the stuffed animals, throwing of the stuffed animals out of the bed, dancing, pants removal, socks removal, drumming, socks placed on hands, karate chops with accompanying "Hi-Yah!", and then, after the final put back and tuck in, he lay there picking his nose for 10 minutes until he literally fell asleep with a finger in his nose.
Some things I didn't need to know, you know?
It's amazing to realize how much I mentally need his nap time. While I was sitting on the floor outside his room, I wasn't really doing anything, but I was exhausted. As soon as he was asleep and I was free to do whatever I needed to, I was immediately energized - or at the very least, relaxed and clear-headed. As mom, we're always on. Always moving. Always, always, always. Go, go, go.
It's nice to have a moment, no matter how long or short, but a moment where you don't have to worry, think, move, and, let's be honest, check your blog reader and Facebook!
A girl's gotta have an outlet.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Today's Blog Brought to you by the Letter "R"
Thanks to the Goddess and my inability to focus on those pesky proactive tasks I promised myself I would tackle, enjoy and take satisfaction in this year therefore leading me to find ways to procrastinate, I bring you High Heeled Mama's 10 favorite things that begin with the letter "R."
Without further ado and in no particular order, I present High Heeled Mama's radical rundown of random things that bring her rapture (oh, see what I did there!? This IS fun!):
Rhode Island
It's true. The smallest state in the union is one of my favorite things. Partly because it is so small, partly because of its history, partly because it has so much ocean and water curling up at its feet, but mostly because it was the home of my grandma and grandpa.
My sister and I would spend a couple of weeks each summer at their house when we were kids and I miss it. I miss the carefree way we frittered away time in the water and the sun. I miss the nutter butters in the cookie jar and finding ways to sneak an extra one while Grandma wasn't looking. I miss the shows my sister, cousin and I would put on. I miss the smell of the pond in my hair and the dead-to-the-world sleep that followed a full day in the water. I miss the feel of the nubby coverlet on the bed. I miss the coffee ice cream and how it was a daily staple of our diet while we were there. I miss (as crowded as it could be sometimes) sleeping with my sister. I miss random trips with Grandpa in the car, our legs sticking to the brown vinyl seats of his ancient Chevette, crunching on the hard peppermint candies he always kept in it.
Most of all, I miss my grandparents. I think they would have really enjoyed meeting peanut. I actually had a dream that they did. It was a dream filled with laughter. It is a dream that is so vivid, so realistic, I woke crying and months later it is still as fresh and real to me as our last visit to NC.
Risotto
A good, creamy risotto. A glass of red wine. Mmmmmmmm.
Reading
I was a bookworm growing up, always with my nose in a book. Although real life (and, let's face it, exhaustion) often gets in the way, I'm happiest when I'm devouring a book and have a stack to read following it on my bedside table. I love, love, love a good story, an elegant phrase, snappy dialogue. With my stay-at-home "salary," I've had to give up my book store addiction and have rediscovered the joy of the library. You never know what you are going to come away with. Since the new releases are hard to come by, I have been using my library card to check out writers I may have been reluctant to drop $20 on, rediscover a few classics (both books I read in high school because I had to and want to see if I enjoy any better as an adult and a few of those classics I should have had to read in high school but managed to avoid), and just pick up a random book or two because I like the cover.
Robbins, Tim
One of my favorite actors of all time. He wins this honor for Bull Durham (shot in my home town) and Shawshank Redemption alone. Then there is Mystic River and creepy Arlington Road. Add in his performance in High Fidelity and brief role in Anchorman and I'm in love. I actually saw him in person once - he passed me at the Reston Town Center. Just as handsome, and even taller, in person.
Relatives
I really do love my family. My mom and my sister are my best friends. My dad is everything a dad should be: a confidant, protector, good hugger and extremely sentimental when it comes to his girls. My cousins are a diverse group, spread far and wide, but we always have a good time when we manage to get together (which is not nearly often enough). My aunts and uncles are a strange lot, indeed (I'm not telling them anything they don't already know!), but I know they've got my back and I am honored and blessed to have them in my life. My in-laws are a crazy bunch (again, not telling them anything they don't already know!), but they have given me another family to feel at home in (after all, I'm probably the craziest!).
Rameses
I'm a Tar Heel through and through, so Rameses, and all that is connected to the University of North Carolina, is most certainly on my list of favorite things. I've written about it before, so I won't bore you with the details of my love for this place...just know that it runs deep and it runs Carolina blue.
Rocks
I love rocks - not in a geological sense, science is really lost on me in most of its forms, but in the physical sense. I love the sound of waves crashing on rocks. I love the feel of cool stones. I love to climb on them. I love the rivers they've carved into the hills and mountains of North Carolina and the white water I have been able to raft as a result. I love their risk and the safety they offer. I love that they have been here forever, that they both shape and can be shaped. I love the sound they make when peanut plops stone after stone into the creek at Grandma and Grandpa's house or here at the park across from our house. I love that peanut seems to be as enamored with them as his mama is.
Mama and peanut sharing a love of rocks and water during a Christmas hike.
Roses
Yellow roses, specifically. I know they are the symbol of friendship, but they are my favorites. My Meme (mem-A in the French Canadian tradition) died when I was in the first grade and my memories of her are hazy and disconnected. But I distinctly remember the roses that she grew that lined the back side of her house. My favorites were always the yellow varieties. They smelled the sweetest to me and stood out among the other red flowers. Rose bushes, specifically, always remind me of her. In fact, we have a random wild rose bush (perhaps a single mainstay from a decades old and forgotten garden?) that is growing in our front yard. It's a single stalk, totally out of place with the other landscaping currently there and probably looks like a crazy weed from the street. But I can't bear to part with it. It's this random beauty that blooms a few buds for me every summer and reminds me of a woman I barely knew.
ROFL
No, one of my favorite things is not this crazy computer slang I can't figure out (I'm a Luddite at heart), but I do love laughing so hard I'm snorting, crying and rolling on the floor. Peanut has brought a lot of this crazy, belly laughing into our daily lives and I love him all the more for it. Laughter really is the best medicine for what ails you.
Recalcitrant
I just think this is a great word. There are just some words I inherently like because of the way they sound or what they mean or how they feel in a sentence. Words like delicious or euphoria or haphazard. Recalcitrant is just one of those big words that's fun to use because it's not a word that can come up too often...until you have a toddler and you witness firsthand the definition of recalcitrant about every 10 minutes: "having an obstinately uncooperative attitude toward authority or discipline."
If you'd like to participate as well, leave a comment (make sure I have your email address or email me at highheeledmama at gmail dot com) with your favorite "R" and I'll send you a randomly selected letter so you, too, can get in on the fun! It's just that easy!
Without further ado and in no particular order, I present High Heeled Mama's radical rundown of random things that bring her rapture (oh, see what I did there!? This IS fun!):
Rhode Island
It's true. The smallest state in the union is one of my favorite things. Partly because it is so small, partly because of its history, partly because it has so much ocean and water curling up at its feet, but mostly because it was the home of my grandma and grandpa.
My sister and I would spend a couple of weeks each summer at their house when we were kids and I miss it. I miss the carefree way we frittered away time in the water and the sun. I miss the nutter butters in the cookie jar and finding ways to sneak an extra one while Grandma wasn't looking. I miss the shows my sister, cousin and I would put on. I miss the smell of the pond in my hair and the dead-to-the-world sleep that followed a full day in the water. I miss the feel of the nubby coverlet on the bed. I miss the coffee ice cream and how it was a daily staple of our diet while we were there. I miss (as crowded as it could be sometimes) sleeping with my sister. I miss random trips with Grandpa in the car, our legs sticking to the brown vinyl seats of his ancient Chevette, crunching on the hard peppermint candies he always kept in it.
Most of all, I miss my grandparents. I think they would have really enjoyed meeting peanut. I actually had a dream that they did. It was a dream filled with laughter. It is a dream that is so vivid, so realistic, I woke crying and months later it is still as fresh and real to me as our last visit to NC.
Risotto
A good, creamy risotto. A glass of red wine. Mmmmmmmm.
Reading
I was a bookworm growing up, always with my nose in a book. Although real life (and, let's face it, exhaustion) often gets in the way, I'm happiest when I'm devouring a book and have a stack to read following it on my bedside table. I love, love, love a good story, an elegant phrase, snappy dialogue. With my stay-at-home "salary," I've had to give up my book store addiction and have rediscovered the joy of the library. You never know what you are going to come away with. Since the new releases are hard to come by, I have been using my library card to check out writers I may have been reluctant to drop $20 on, rediscover a few classics (both books I read in high school because I had to and want to see if I enjoy any better as an adult and a few of those classics I should have had to read in high school but managed to avoid), and just pick up a random book or two because I like the cover.
Robbins, Tim
One of my favorite actors of all time. He wins this honor for Bull Durham (shot in my home town) and Shawshank Redemption alone. Then there is Mystic River and creepy Arlington Road. Add in his performance in High Fidelity and brief role in Anchorman and I'm in love. I actually saw him in person once - he passed me at the Reston Town Center. Just as handsome, and even taller, in person.
Relatives
I really do love my family. My mom and my sister are my best friends. My dad is everything a dad should be: a confidant, protector, good hugger and extremely sentimental when it comes to his girls. My cousins are a diverse group, spread far and wide, but we always have a good time when we manage to get together (which is not nearly often enough). My aunts and uncles are a strange lot, indeed (I'm not telling them anything they don't already know!), but I know they've got my back and I am honored and blessed to have them in my life. My in-laws are a crazy bunch (again, not telling them anything they don't already know!), but they have given me another family to feel at home in (after all, I'm probably the craziest!).
Rameses
I'm a Tar Heel through and through, so Rameses, and all that is connected to the University of North Carolina, is most certainly on my list of favorite things. I've written about it before, so I won't bore you with the details of my love for this place...just know that it runs deep and it runs Carolina blue.
Rocks
I love rocks - not in a geological sense, science is really lost on me in most of its forms, but in the physical sense. I love the sound of waves crashing on rocks. I love the feel of cool stones. I love to climb on them. I love the rivers they've carved into the hills and mountains of North Carolina and the white water I have been able to raft as a result. I love their risk and the safety they offer. I love that they have been here forever, that they both shape and can be shaped. I love the sound they make when peanut plops stone after stone into the creek at Grandma and Grandpa's house or here at the park across from our house. I love that peanut seems to be as enamored with them as his mama is.
Mama and peanut sharing a love of rocks and water during a Christmas hike.Roses
Yellow roses, specifically. I know they are the symbol of friendship, but they are my favorites. My Meme (mem-A in the French Canadian tradition) died when I was in the first grade and my memories of her are hazy and disconnected. But I distinctly remember the roses that she grew that lined the back side of her house. My favorites were always the yellow varieties. They smelled the sweetest to me and stood out among the other red flowers. Rose bushes, specifically, always remind me of her. In fact, we have a random wild rose bush (perhaps a single mainstay from a decades old and forgotten garden?) that is growing in our front yard. It's a single stalk, totally out of place with the other landscaping currently there and probably looks like a crazy weed from the street. But I can't bear to part with it. It's this random beauty that blooms a few buds for me every summer and reminds me of a woman I barely knew.
ROFL
No, one of my favorite things is not this crazy computer slang I can't figure out (I'm a Luddite at heart), but I do love laughing so hard I'm snorting, crying and rolling on the floor. Peanut has brought a lot of this crazy, belly laughing into our daily lives and I love him all the more for it. Laughter really is the best medicine for what ails you.
Recalcitrant
I just think this is a great word. There are just some words I inherently like because of the way they sound or what they mean or how they feel in a sentence. Words like delicious or euphoria or haphazard. Recalcitrant is just one of those big words that's fun to use because it's not a word that can come up too often...until you have a toddler and you witness firsthand the definition of recalcitrant about every 10 minutes: "having an obstinately uncooperative attitude toward authority or discipline."
If you'd like to participate as well, leave a comment (make sure I have your email address or email me at highheeledmama at gmail dot com) with your favorite "R" and I'll send you a randomly selected letter so you, too, can get in on the fun! It's just that easy!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Blink
When did it happen? When did my baby become a big boy?
Was it when he started playing pretend? Was it when he started having conversations with his toys? Was it when I had to start feeding the helicopter man toast at breakfast and bunny beat me at a game of Candy Land Castle? Was it last week when he started announcing that he was a big boy to any question (are you hungry? "No, I'm a big boy." Are you sleepy? "No, I'm a big boy...").
Was it when he started telling his own jokes? Making up his own songs? Was it when he was able to buckle the top buckle of his car seat and started insisting that he does this now every time. Was it when he figured out how to put on his own coat or decide that he now zips up his own jammies/sweater/pants? Was it when he learned his letters or started using his fingers to show us how many he is?
Or was it farther back? Was it when he started jumping and climbing? Was it when he could swing on the bar above the slide at the park? Was it when he scaled the mini rock wall at the playground on his own? Was it when he started being able to eat with utensils?
Or even farther back? Was it when he started putting together sentences? Was it when he started running or walking? Was it when he could first ask for things clearly, like milk, and requests were granted? Was it when he took his first bites of solid food? Was it when he pulled up on the rails of his crib for the first time? Was it when he first rolled over and therefore started being able to physically move away from me?
Where did my baby go? The one who would just snuggle under my chin and sigh that milky breath, hot against my neck while he slept? The one who cooed and giggled and was easily soothed? The one whose only problems were easily solved with a cuddle, a change, a feeding?
I know he's still in there. I know he's only evolving into the little person I always saw behind his eyes.
But last night, as we took the front rail of his crib to create a toddler bed and he eagerly climbed in on his own...
But this morning as he quietly played in his room until he came bounding into ours to tell us he'd slept in his big boy bed...
But this afternoon, when he insisted he get into bed himself, without mommy's help around the safety rail...
But now, while he sits on the sofa, munching on crackers and watching football on TV with daddy and trying to make me laugh by repeating "Bobby Doerr" over and over, he is most certainly a big boy. A big boy who is sweet, loving, hilarious, physical, rambunctious, sarcastic, smart and gets the most endearing furrowed brow and pursed lips look when he's concentrating on coloring.
Everyone warned me that time goes by quickly, but big boy status at 29 months (really, 29 months today?)? It caught me off guard.
So excuse me while I dig in my drawers for the toothpicks. Gotta find a way to keep from blinking and missing a single delicious moment of this transition.
Was it when he started playing pretend? Was it when he started having conversations with his toys? Was it when I had to start feeding the helicopter man toast at breakfast and bunny beat me at a game of Candy Land Castle? Was it last week when he started announcing that he was a big boy to any question (are you hungry? "No, I'm a big boy." Are you sleepy? "No, I'm a big boy...").
Was it when he started telling his own jokes? Making up his own songs? Was it when he was able to buckle the top buckle of his car seat and started insisting that he does this now every time. Was it when he figured out how to put on his own coat or decide that he now zips up his own jammies/sweater/pants? Was it when he learned his letters or started using his fingers to show us how many he is?
Or was it farther back? Was it when he started jumping and climbing? Was it when he could swing on the bar above the slide at the park? Was it when he scaled the mini rock wall at the playground on his own? Was it when he started being able to eat with utensils?
Or even farther back? Was it when he started putting together sentences? Was it when he started running or walking? Was it when he could first ask for things clearly, like milk, and requests were granted? Was it when he took his first bites of solid food? Was it when he pulled up on the rails of his crib for the first time? Was it when he first rolled over and therefore started being able to physically move away from me?
Where did my baby go? The one who would just snuggle under my chin and sigh that milky breath, hot against my neck while he slept? The one who cooed and giggled and was easily soothed? The one whose only problems were easily solved with a cuddle, a change, a feeding?
I know he's still in there. I know he's only evolving into the little person I always saw behind his eyes.
But last night, as we took the front rail of his crib to create a toddler bed and he eagerly climbed in on his own...
But this morning as he quietly played in his room until he came bounding into ours to tell us he'd slept in his big boy bed...
But this afternoon, when he insisted he get into bed himself, without mommy's help around the safety rail...
But now, while he sits on the sofa, munching on crackers and watching football on TV with daddy and trying to make me laugh by repeating "Bobby Doerr" over and over, he is most certainly a big boy. A big boy who is sweet, loving, hilarious, physical, rambunctious, sarcastic, smart and gets the most endearing furrowed brow and pursed lips look when he's concentrating on coloring.
Everyone warned me that time goes by quickly, but big boy status at 29 months (really, 29 months today?)? It caught me off guard.
So excuse me while I dig in my drawers for the toothpicks. Gotta find a way to keep from blinking and missing a single delicious moment of this transition.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
If It's Not One Thing...
...it's 307,459 others.
How is it that every day I'm straightening and putting away endless piles of mail, toys, laundry, dishes, but then each morning these piles seem to have regenerated over night like a bad "Groundhog Day" scene forcing me to put them all away again and again and again?
How is it that no matter how many activities I seem to have planned in a day to occupy peanut, I always need at least 3 more by 4:30pm?
How is it that every time we fix or replace something in this house we find something else that needs to be fixed first in order to complete a simple upgrade?
Sorry for the vent. Just waiting on the electrician to get here to install a new up-to-code outlet to plug our new stove in. Nothing like waiting a month for a stove that actually has more than two small working burners to finally be purchased and arrive only to be told by the installers that the old one was plugged into a dryer outlet. And of course, modern era stoves have different plugs than dryers. Fabulous.
Just having one of those days where you feel like you never quite get ahead of the game.
Good thing you don't need a stove to open a bottle of wine. I'm sure a nice chardonnay will make a great pairing to the Chick-Fil-A we'll probably be having for dinner.
How is it that every day I'm straightening and putting away endless piles of mail, toys, laundry, dishes, but then each morning these piles seem to have regenerated over night like a bad "Groundhog Day" scene forcing me to put them all away again and again and again?
How is it that no matter how many activities I seem to have planned in a day to occupy peanut, I always need at least 3 more by 4:30pm?
How is it that every time we fix or replace something in this house we find something else that needs to be fixed first in order to complete a simple upgrade?
Sorry for the vent. Just waiting on the electrician to get here to install a new up-to-code outlet to plug our new stove in. Nothing like waiting a month for a stove that actually has more than two small working burners to finally be purchased and arrive only to be told by the installers that the old one was plugged into a dryer outlet. And of course, modern era stoves have different plugs than dryers. Fabulous.
Just having one of those days where you feel like you never quite get ahead of the game.
Good thing you don't need a stove to open a bottle of wine. I'm sure a nice chardonnay will make a great pairing to the Chick-Fil-A we'll probably be having for dinner.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The Pitfalls of Living in the Moment
Peanut's concept of time is now, now, now and NOW. The present is all that matters. Although he has the memory of an elephant, anything that happened in the past happened "last night." Anything to take place at any point in the future will take place "tomorrow." It's all about immediate gratification.
If there is one thing I know for sure as a mom, it's that living in the moment is the only way to survive with a toddler. You can only do so much to anticipate the meltdowns, the demands, the rules to any given two-year-old thought-up game. You learn to satisfy the immediate needs, go with the flow, act quickly to accommodate any sudden change in mood, not be disappointed when you're leaving the book store/Starbucks/grocery store without what you came in for because his behavior requires a quick exit and subsequent time out.
I've always been a planner, so this was quite an adjustment for me. Thankfully, those early newborn days were a crash course for me. I truly dove into living in the moment in order to survive: sleeping when the baby slept, showering at odd times, eating when someone put something in front of me, realizing when the moment was right to leave the house for a quick errand. I've been quite proud of my turnaround and success in this moment-to-moment living.
The only problem is that I now realize I need more than the moment. As I reflected on 2008 over New Year's, I realized that I had made plans back in January. Plans that were just mine. Plans and goals to nourish me, the writer me, the creative me. Plans and goals that were never pulled out in 2008 since I was so busy satisfying the more immediate needs of peanut, the hubby, the house, the family, whatever. Apparently, I've been doing too good a job of living in the moment.
In 2009, then, I'm going to make a few plans. I've got a few ideas that are exciting me already and tapping into a part of my brain that has been quiet for a really long time. I've got a few side projects cooking that will allow me to dust off the old PR skills to benefit a client close to home. Call me crazy, but if I can figure out how to play with peanut, make lunch and fold the laundry at the same time, I surely can figure out how to ensure that mom, wife and me are all successful in the new year.
If my closet can hold heels, boots, flats, sneakers and an awesome new pair of slippers (thanks again hubby!), I certainly have enough room in my life to fit in a few me moments...both today and "tomorrow."
If there is one thing I know for sure as a mom, it's that living in the moment is the only way to survive with a toddler. You can only do so much to anticipate the meltdowns, the demands, the rules to any given two-year-old thought-up game. You learn to satisfy the immediate needs, go with the flow, act quickly to accommodate any sudden change in mood, not be disappointed when you're leaving the book store/Starbucks/grocery store without what you came in for because his behavior requires a quick exit and subsequent time out.
I've always been a planner, so this was quite an adjustment for me. Thankfully, those early newborn days were a crash course for me. I truly dove into living in the moment in order to survive: sleeping when the baby slept, showering at odd times, eating when someone put something in front of me, realizing when the moment was right to leave the house for a quick errand. I've been quite proud of my turnaround and success in this moment-to-moment living.
The only problem is that I now realize I need more than the moment. As I reflected on 2008 over New Year's, I realized that I had made plans back in January. Plans that were just mine. Plans and goals to nourish me, the writer me, the creative me. Plans and goals that were never pulled out in 2008 since I was so busy satisfying the more immediate needs of peanut, the hubby, the house, the family, whatever. Apparently, I've been doing too good a job of living in the moment.
In 2009, then, I'm going to make a few plans. I've got a few ideas that are exciting me already and tapping into a part of my brain that has been quiet for a really long time. I've got a few side projects cooking that will allow me to dust off the old PR skills to benefit a client close to home. Call me crazy, but if I can figure out how to play with peanut, make lunch and fold the laundry at the same time, I surely can figure out how to ensure that mom, wife and me are all successful in the new year.
If my closet can hold heels, boots, flats, sneakers and an awesome new pair of slippers (thanks again hubby!), I certainly have enough room in my life to fit in a few me moments...both today and "tomorrow."
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Just for Fun
While in the car shuttling from store to store looking for the best deals on new ovens (joy of joys), peanut piped up from the back seat: "Mommy can turn it all the way on."
Translation: "Turn the radio up."
Britney's new song, "Womanizer" was on.
The hubby rolled his eyes, not a real Britney fan, and asked peanut, "Are you a womanizer?"
Peanut: "No. I am a big boy."
Okay, then.
Translation: "Turn the radio up."
Britney's new song, "Womanizer" was on.
The hubby rolled his eyes, not a real Britney fan, and asked peanut, "Are you a womanizer?"
Peanut: "No. I am a big boy."
Okay, then.
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