There may be hope yet...

Where's your pink now leetle girl??

Acknowledgements

Happy
Thanksgiving!

Since I don't eat turkey and the food at my in-laws can be most generously described as bland, Thanksgiving has become less and less about gorging myself and more and more about truly thankful for all that I have.The older I get, the less I take for granted. Today I am thankful for:

-My family. That is, the one Brian and I made. I am thankful for our health, our opportunities, and our love.

-My family. That is, the one my mom and dad made. My brothers and sisters are just so very...how you say...awesome and without them, I'd be lost. And my mom is still my #1 person to call when I need to feel better, and in spite of her own nearly constant sorrow she always manages to help.

-My friends. Some keep me sane, some keep me laughing and most do both. I hope that I give to them as much as I get, which is lots.

-My health.

-Pizza.

-The milk of human kindness

-My love of animals-there's a reason that pet owners live longer. Unless that pet is Henry (see photo)

-Second chances

-Not having to fight in a war. I often have to remind myself that we are at war. It's not right that I am so untouched by it but there you have it. Yet there are people, wives, husbands, sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, fighting...in some god-awful country away from there families fighting and they are so brave to have volunteered for this unfathomable, stupid war.

-Summer

-Winter (how else would I know to be thankful for Summer??)

-Target. It's everywhere I want to be.

-Joy

Don't watch 30 Rock

Don't watch the TV show 30 Rock. Don't watch it because it is smart and funny and doesn't miss a beat and has a hint of heart and thus and therefore and henceforth will not last beyond this season. Or maybe next, if the stars are aligned.

Signed,

A fan of Arrested Development
and Freaks and Geeks

P.S. Rachel Dratch you got screwed. So sorry that I love the show anyway.

P.P.S. The character in the picture above slays me. He is so odd and perky I want to alternately trip him and then pick him up off of the floor and give him cocoa.

Jack Benny

Yesterday was my birthday. It was strange because even though I really don't mind getting older, I was depressed for much of the day. I kept waiting for something to happen, some sign that the day was different that every other day. I admit it, I was feeling sorry for myself. Homesick again and just a little blue. But things got better.

For starters, 2 of my awesome sisters sent Target gift cards. Now, even though I have a love affair with Target that is passionate and lasting, it wasn't so much the cash value and shopping potential as much as it was the thought. How needy am I? We normally don't do gifts among my siblings and it was an out of the blue surprise.

Later we took the girls to the playground and had a ball. Mary rode on the baby swing for the first time and lurved it. God, she and Annie are such the tale of two babies, Annie screamed on those swings until...well, it was only this summer that Annie would go on swings. But Mary laughed and laughed and I was laughing, too at the insane looking baby with the enourmous, pointy jacket hood and the crazy cackle.

After the playground we went to the liquor store and got my summer beer, Tequiza. Upon our arrival home, Brian's brother called and said yes, they would come over and play with Annie (Mary still can't keep her eyes open past 6) so we could go out for dinner. This was a great treat.

We have had a terrible time finding a sitter ever since G had the nerve to go to college. I thought I found one in Annie's afternoon "teacher" until I realized that she doesn't particularly like children. Some days when I pick Annie up she'll just balls-out say, "Thank GOD, another one is being picked up". Last week I saw her totally make a little girl cry unnecessarily, and then yell at the poor girl, "knock it off!". When Annie and I left the room I asked her if Miss Yellypants had ever screamed at her and Annie very matter-of-factly said, "I don't do anything bad" which is just so true and amusing that she is aware of this. And yes, I told the director that this broad is NOT good for the school knowing that for 8 bucks an hour (for aides) they aren't going to get the cream of the crop but still.

ANYway yes, we went out to my most favorite restaurant and the food was incredible and we realized that we could not even begin to recall the last time that just the two of us went out and vowed to start dating again in spite of our poverty. I think we have our old next door neighbor on the hook for sitting now. Awesome. She is a sweetie, just got her license and used to take care of Dallas for us. So.

I ended up having a really nice birthday, taking the circuitous route to gratitude and happiness that I tend to favor these days.

You oughta see my pictures & other musings

Cool!! Not sure if it's the new Beta Blogger or if it's because I am using laptop but I can now add photos where I couldn't before.

I have been travelling the web ring of Crazy Hip Moms (see my links) and am a little overwhelmed by the amount of blogs out there. So many are so good, but who has the time to read them all?? I will bookmark those that I really dig. What shocks me is that some blogs are part of like ten rings. Is it true? Is everyone blogging?

Today I am being a real bon bon SAHM. Mary is having a long nap. I knew she would because she cried from 6 a.m. until I went and got her in her crib at 7 and when she wakes up early, her morning nap always kicks ass. So I am online and watching Regis and Kelly. Decadent! I did my morning job search and I don't know if it's because it's the end of the year or what but the jobs are drying up before my eyes. I can't even find resume worthy jobs. It' s very discouraging. I have to make a certain amount of money because daycare costs are going to be so killer, plus I need benefits since Brian's job is so very starty-uppy. But I don't want the kind of high-stress job I had before because that's not where I'm at right now. I won't travel, won't commute far.

So for now I am neither here-nor-there. I can't fully enjoy this temporary SAHM position because I feel like a pretender; an imposter, and a poor one at that.

I am getting Christmas shopping done though. How sick is that? I am pretty much finished shopping for Annie and Mary. Ostensibly, I started to take advantage of a great deal that Amazon was offering. But then yesterday I was out running errands and I got Brian's Niece G her present at Target. And then I got this inkling of panic like Oh my gosh-I have so much shopping to do! Ridiculous, right? But this is how we are being trained-to start spending money and decorating as soon as the last Halloween pumpkin is smashed. The girls and I strolled over to Mrs. M's the other day-she was outside putting up her lights. Then she gave us a sneak preview of her Christmas village. Now, Mrs. M.'s Christmas village is not a few buildings on a coffee table. It takes up the whole front end of her family room and has a working train, skaters that skate, skiers caught mid-jump and on and on. I am not really the collect-y crafty type but this thing is really breathtaking. At least in December it is. In November, I could only enjoy it through Annie's wide-open eyes.

Sometimes I'll hear or see something and think, "Hot damn! The milk of human kindness knocks me on my ass". Or bottom, if you prefer. I was looking at Mrs. M's creche and she showed me this pretty pewter angel "flying" above it. As it turns out, our brand new neighbor had run into Mrs. M. on the anniversary of her adult daughter's death. After, she showed up at Mrs. M's with this angel, inscribed with some killer words about how if you hold something in your hands, you will hold it forever in your heart. And Mrs. M. is reading it aloud and I am trying. hard. not to cry because what new neighbor knew and what I know is that losing a child is a horror greater than what we can imagine, regardless of their age. And new neighbor was so moved by her sympathy to get this so-perfect angel.

The milk of human kindness is also why I'll continue to entertain playdates with the twins and their mom even though the twins are really hard. When I was on bedrest with Mary in my belly, the twins' mom, whom we only chatted with in passing at daycare, left a note in my mailbox with her phone number offering to do anything to help. I was feeling so lonely and homesick for my family at the time, and it was so full of milky kindness (oh, ew) to have someone make such a gesture of caring. So even though her kids are tough and she and I don't have much in common, I would always want to be friends with someone capable of such kindness. Plus, Henry bit boy twin's face the other night and she was WAY cool about it, and she's not even a dog person. But "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Henry?" is a post for another day.

How funny would it be to get like a hardcore glamour shot done of myself and include it with our Christmas card?? And then not include pictures of the kids? Hm. I'll have to think about this. Well, the kids' pictures would be on the card, as is our tradition. I think this'll be out 7th year of superimposing our faces where they don't belong-I'll attach one here, from the year that Annie was a wee bird. I am sure no one appreciates it as much as I do, but there's something to be said for entertaining one's self.

My sister reports that the Chicago Lite FM station has already switched to all Christmas all the time. Fa la la la la, la la la Blargh.

What Brady am I?

Well...this kind of hurts.

You Are Bobby Brainy

Ultra competitive, you will do almost anything to win. From pull ups to pool sharking, you're very talented.And while everyone is aware of your victories, they still (affectionately) consider you to be a little brat!

What Brady Are You?

Stinky pink

This afternoon, as I watched Annie perform her umpteenth interpretive dance with vocal accompaniment, it occurred to me that I might not want to bank on her getting a basketball scholarship. Something strange has happened to her recently. Annie has become a pink girl.

For approximately half of her life, Annie has specified what kind of clothes she wants to wear each morning and those clothes had (see the past tense? It's foreshadowing) to be "cool". Annie's idea of cool, and I honestly do NOT know where she got this, was t-shirts with writing on them, shorts, or sweat pants. And I was fine with this. I grew up a tomboy and could really get behind the idea of a mini-me. So we stocked up on t-shirts and sweats and called it a wardrobe.

Then about 2 months ago a switch happened. And it was a complete, sudden switch. Cool was out, pretty was in. The only bits that could be salvaged from her old wardrobe had to have something "pretty" somewhere (a heart, bow, or the color pink). Along with the switch came a lot of princess talk. Suddenly, Annie wants to be a princess. And her bootie shaking dance moves have been replaced by a 3-year old's perception of what a ballerina might dance like. Is this what daycare is doing to her??? She sure as heck isn't getting it from me.

Attending her Halloween parade shed some light on the problem. My little black cat was awash in a sea of princesses. I thought I was going to vomit taffeta.

But Annie is conciliatory-she knows not to discuss the whole princess thing too much in front of me as I have told her that I am not a fan of princesses. She'll even allow that when she grows up first she'll be a basketball player, later, a princess. But the career of a pro ball player is short. That leaves a lot of years to deal with my daughter, the princess.

When did little girl things become so PINK? The clothes, the toys. Pink, pink, pink as far as the eye can see. I really can't wonder why my little roughian has been sucked in.

Why are primary colors the domain of boys while little girls are left with the weaker pastels? What exactly is there to admire in being a princess...what qualities does, say, a Cinderella have that I might want my wee bird to emulate beyond being pretty and liking the hot guy? I am stymied.

I suppose this is my first test in accepting my kids for who they are. And I'm not exactly passing with flying colors.

Dear Mr. President,

Nonny nonny boo boo.

Sincerely,

Kangamag

The week that was

The best thing I heard this week was that for a period of time my friend's son's imaginary friend was William Howard Taft, our county's 27th president. That's awesome just on it's own but it does get better. Since Taft was our most corpulent prez, there was always a concern about making enough room for Taft, say at restaurants or in the car. How great is that?

I haven't been able to impress upon Annie the importance of Halloween with regards to free candy. This year she has again cut trick or treating way short. I think the parade and party at school wear her out. Next year I think we'll have a couple of dry runs to help her learn how to pace herself. The parade at school was bedlam, it exhausted me just watching it. When I picked Annie up that afternoon, Kayleigh, my little informant, let me know that Annie cried after the parade. I guess it was too much to see Daddy, Mary and me at the parade and then to have us gone, poor dear.

My favorite Halloween costumes are the superhero ones with the built-in muscles. I mean, YEAH! It's Halloween! Go on with your little buff selves.

Over the past year, Brian and I have watched exactly two movies. Both sucked and I am bitter. Capital S Sucked. Must Love Dogs. Chee criminy, how does that even get made?? John Cusack, you changed, man. But at least you haven't become a MONSTER like your sister Joan, featured in the other crapulent movie of my year; Friends with Money. Oh, calm down, I love Joan Cusack for all the right reasons but damn, girl looks like witchipoo! I hate movies where I can't find one character to cheer for, admire or at the very least relate to.

It occurs to me that I am reading 4 books right now. Okay, 3. I finished Shang-a-Lang this week. Shang-a-Lang is the autobiography of Les McKeown, the lead singer of The Bay City Rollers. I love dishy, trashy autobiographies. This one however, was just plain depressing. Would you believe that Les wasn't friends with any other Roller? Not even dear little Woody. The book was really Scottish too with it's woudnae and couldnaes. Apparently, I don't do well with the Scottish.

I have the latest John Irving in paperback in Mary's room to read while I nurse her before naps and bed. She has started grabbing at the pages now that she distracts more easily and today I realized I hadn't picked it up in over a week.

In my bathroom (oh shut UP, you read on the potty, too) I have Julie and Julia. This is the book about the woman who cooked all of The Art of French Cooking in her apartment. I gave it to my mom last Christmas and the last time she visited she lent it to me.

Next to my bed is the latest Janet Evanovich hardcover. I am having trouble with this one. Every summer, I buy the latest Stephanie Plum (the main character in the Evanovich book) paperback as soon as it comes out. Reading it is a part of my summer kickoff ritual. So, this summer I read Eleven on Top and had earmarked Twelve Sharp for next summer. Then Jules Berg sent me the Twelve Sharp in hardcover. Very thoughtful, she knows I read them and turned me on to them in the first place. But it's just all wrong. These are pretty fluffy books, the only mysteries I read, and they don't fit into my fall. So, I may have to squirrel this away until June.

I am off to watch Shopgirl on Tivo. Please Steve Martin, don't let me down.