can you say klutz

Gracefulness isn't my strong suit. While employed by Pier 1, I once knocked a glass off a shelf and promptly burst into tears. But at least I didn't pull a stunt like this. Poor guy.

i've gotten used to it by now. really i have.

I've gotten used to making plans, settling back in contentment, feeling pleased with my life of order...only to have those plans turned on their head. I've gotten used to it. For the most part.

I was looking forward to the weekend. Rowan spending Thursday at preschool (translation: time for myself). Brandon and I meeting with our minister (hey, everyone needs some reevaluation of the relationship after having someone new join the family). And come to find out, Brandon was planning to surprise me and take me out for dinner (yes, we were actually going to hang out just the two of us). But alas. Our plans have been foiled again.

The kid's come down with the pox. Of the chicken variety.

mental health

I feel sad today, for reasons I'd rather not disclose. But I will say this...mental illness is very real. If you don't think depression or other mental disorders can disrupt a person's life, you're kidding yourself.

Mental illness needs to be taken just as seriously as physical illness...if not moreso. Please, please educate yourself about mental health issues. And if you sense that someone you love is suffering from depression, anxiety or some other disorder, PLEASE encourage them to talk to their doctor or therapist.

dishin' the dirt

A picture is worth a thousand words. But I don’t know how to post pictures so you’re going to have to trust my words and use your imagination.

I am downstairs assembling lasagna for dinner. Rowan wants to play in his room, which is upstairs, and I figure it’d be nice to be able to make dinner without him underfoot. I can hear his every move clearly, and he knows not to attempt coming downstairs (if he wants to go downstairs, he’ll stand at the top of the stairwell and yell). So I’m in the kitchen, he’s upstairs playing, it’s all good. I am in the middle of trying to corral some very rubbery, contentious lasagna noodles when I hear an exceptionally loud thud. I yell out, “Rowan?” As I sprint up the steps, I yell his name again. He’s not responding. I’m terrified that he’s just jumped off a piece of furniture and broken his neck. I hurry into our room and – whoa! – Oprah’s favorite designer Nate Berkus has surprised me with a room makeover! He’s fabulously morphed our cozy bedroom into a working greenhouse! There is dirt ABSOLUTELY EVERYWHERE. Oh but wait, who’s that little man hiding in the corner? That’s not Nate! No, that’s Rowan wiping his guilty hands on our white comforter.

Apparently, the loud thud I heard was Rowan pulling over the lone potted plant in our bedroom and distributing its contents onto every exposed surface. The soil was strewn all over the carpet, bed, loveseat, bedstand, and photo albums. Even found some dirt inside a few gift bags. Imagine picking up a sack of mulch, standing in the middle of your room, and slinging the mulch around in circles. That’s pretty much what our room looked like last night. And did I mention that our vacuum is presently out of commission?

I suppose this is why the experts tell us not to leave toddlers unattended.

exercise

Time and time and TIME AGAIN I hear about the benefits of exercise. Do I need to list the specifics? Just google "exercise" and see for yourself. So WHY is it so hard for me to actually do it???

Maybe because I LOATHE EXERCISE. How do I make the time??? How do I motivate myself??? HOW, I ASK YOU???

time-out

Besides Rowan’s expanding vocabulary, Brandon and I are fascinated at his emerging personality. His most recent trick is attempting to charm his mommy. For instance…he’s sitting in time-out for some toddler-like offense. He’s unhappy about sitting in time-out. REAL unhappy. Arching-of-the-back, screaming-bloody-murder, tears-streaming-down-cheeks, snot-running-into-mouth unhappy. I sit on the floor directly in front of him and speak in a low voice, hoping he’ll take my cue: “Rowan, calm down. Take a breath and just calm down.” He stops screaming and crying, seemingly gathering himself. We make eye contact and have a staredown of sorts. I want to laugh at what we look like to the outside world, this 30-something, frizzy-haired woman nose-to-nose with a willful, chubby-cheeked child. I also feel this momentary urge to cry…it’s as if I’m peering deep into my son’s tender soul. But wait, out of my peripheral vision, I see his hand moving. He is slowly, ever-so-slowly, lifting his hand to my face. His index finger is now pointing at my eye. He holds his finger mid-air and then gingerly touches my eyelash. Of course I crack up. And time-out has come to an abrupt end. Ya gotta give in every once in awhile.

c. s. lewis on friendship...again

"In friendship, we think we have chosen our peers. In reality, a few years differences in the dates of our birth, a few more miles between certain houses, the choice of one university instead of another, posting to different regiments, the accident of a topic being raised or not at a first meeting...any of these changes might have kept us apart. But, for a Chrisitian, there are strictly speaking, no chances. A secret Master of Ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples, 'You have not chosen me but I have chosen you,' can truly say to every group of Christian friends, 'You have not chosen one another, but I have chosen you for one another.'" – C. S. Lewis

love that erma

To all you parents-of-young-children out there: next time things get a little looney around your neck of the woods, instead of yelling "Calgon, take me away!", try meditating on this thoughtful column by the late great Erma Bombeck.

NO MORE OATMEAL KISSES
Erma Bombeck
January 29, 1969

A young mother writes: "I know you've written before about the empty-nest syndrome, that lonely period after the children are grown and gone. Right now I'm up to my eyeballs in laundry and muddy boots. The baby is teething; the boys are fighting. My husband just called and said to eat without him, and I fell off my diet. Lay it on me again, will you?"

OK. One of these days, you'll shout, "Why don't you guys grow up and act your age!" And they will. Or, "You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do...and don't slam the door!" And they won't.

You'll straighten up the boys' bedroom neat and tidy: bumper stickers discarded, bedspread tucked and smooth, toys displayed on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals caged. And you'll say out loud, "Now I want it to stay this way." And it will.

You'll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing, and you'll say, "Now, there's a meal for company." And you'll eat it alone.

You'll say, "I want complete privacy on the phone. No dancing around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear?" And you'll have it.

No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti. No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from damp bottoms. No more gates to stumble over at the top of the basement steps. No more clothespins under the sofa. No more playpens to arrange a room around.

No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent. No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathroom. No more iron-on patches, rubberbands for ponytails, tight boots or wet knotted shoestrings.

Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it. No babysitter for New Year's Eve. Washing only once a week. Seeing a steak that isn't ground. Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.

No PTA meetings. No car pools. No blaring radios. No one washing her hair at 11 o'clock at night. Having your own roll of Scotch tape.

Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste. No more sloppy oatmeal kisses. No more tooth fairy. No giggles in the dark. No knees to heal, no responsibility.

Only a voice crying, "Why don't you grow up?" and the silence echoing, " I did."

smells like roses

"The eyes of Texas are upon you, all the live long day..."

The Rose Bowl festivities in the Young household were fairly tame last night, being that both Brandon and I are suffering from sickness. But that didn't keep us from jumping up and down while clinging to each other like lunatics when TEXAS WON!!! Lots of hugging, lots of kissing, and lots of hopping-on-the-couch-like-the-Cruisenator. Brandon ran out on the patio and screamed "Hook 'em, Horns!!!" at 11:30pm. (If you haven't figured it out by now, we're dorks.) We were wishing we could have been with other Nashville-area Texas Exes at a local BBQ joint where they watched the game; I'm sure they blew the roof off the place when Vince Young scored that final TD.

Whew. Lots of excitement for a stay-at-home momma. CONGRATS TO THE LONGHORNS!!!

yeehaw!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TEXAS WINS!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO 'HORNS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

here's to 2006

I have to admit, my accomplishments thus far this year have been impressive. I caught a substantial amount of my son's airborne snot in church Sunday morning. In my bare hand. I'm feeling rather proud if I do say so myself.