Its like we went from feeling like Rocky at the top of the stairs to....to...Gollum without the ring. We were THIS close. Even closer than THIS close. We had it! We had it in the bag! I could almost see the cobblestone streets of Italy, almost smell the breeze over the riviera, almost taste all the wine and chocolate. I dont know what happened!
It was such a cliffhanger to begin with. All month, waiting on baited breath to see if we'd qualify for a vacation. After all, it is no small thing, and not easy to do. Its actually part of the compensation for Husband's job. (Turns out being a desk jockey as a financial advisor really does have its perks!) Every six months you have an opportunity to qualify for an all expense paid vacation. Its all rather complicated and boring, but it has to do with $ earned, and categories met. (You have to fill 4 out of 8 categories). If you qualify, you get to choose out of a booklet of about 20 or so trips. Amazing trips. All over the world! Ireland, Spain, Italy, Paris, Japan, Carribean, Egypt,Bora Bora, New Zealand, cruises, and then there are always a few random lame (by comparison anyways. No vacation is lame in my eyes) trips to like Tuscon, or Boston, or Napa Valley. I suppose some people really would choose that, but personally, I see no contest. We've earned one trip before (Riviera Maya), and it was glorious. (On hectic days, I still close my eyes and pretend to be back on the white bed on the beach. It almost works. Almost.)
Anyway, March was our last qualifying month for this section of trips, and the odds were stacked against us. We needed a big amount of $ earned in a short amount of time, as well as missing useful days in the office to travel for corporate stuff in Az. And yes, Im sticking with the phrase "corporate stuff". Trust me, its all really boring. I will risk sounding like an ignoramous to spare you the details. Your welcome. It was quite the cliffhanger all month, but he did it! Husband, in all his studliness and perserverance, pulled out all the stops, and met all the requirements to earn a trip. By the hair of his chinny chin chin, too. It was the last possible day of the last possible month that he qualified. Just had to make sure all the I's were dotted and the T's were crossed. Ah. There. Right there. So that's what it'll be then? A tiny, minor, hardly noticeable detail that would derail our chances? YES. Blurg does not even begin to put it into words. Double Blurg doesnt even cover it. As (bad) luck would have it, there was some small snaffoo, and a wrong box was checked, a small computer glitch happened, $ was accredited to the wrong category, some teeny tiny error that just HAPPENED, as those things do happen. So a category that we, in reality, exceeded by hundreds of dollars, appeared to fall short by 70 dollars. SEVENTY dollars. Out of thousands. I feel like Im in a "REALLY?!" by Seth and Amy sketch! (Meyers and Poehler. But I assume that's understood?) "REALLY?! Seventy dollars? Out of thousands? REALLY?!"
But, there is still a shred of hope. The selling month is over, but the ship has not yet left the docks. The mistake that was made was not quite Husband's, and not quite corporate's, but mostly just one of those things that slips through the cracks. These things are somewhat common as it turns out, and there is a board that reviews these exact kind of situations and can approve or deny vacations as they see fit. Only problem is that the board doesnt meet until a month from now, and the trips are all filled on a first-come/ first-serve basis. Those who qualify earliest, get to pick their trip first and so on down the line. The last group of qualifiers pick their trip in two weeks. So maybe we will still get a vacation. And MAYBE there will still be some cool destinations available. And MAYBE, we wont get stuck with Tuscon or Huntington Beach or worse, nothing at all.
Ah, it is what it is, yes? There are always more trips. I am still proud of all of Husbands valiant and impressive efforts. He killed it last month! Whatever will be, will be, as they say. Italy will always be there, right? To borrow a quote from an earlier post (Vay. Cay. Shun.), "Its good to have something to look forward to. But its also good, even when you dont, to realize your life is still blessed."
And my life is still good. Italy, or no.
Fingers crossed!
Monday, March 28, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
A Little Something I Like to Call "Terrific Lady Day"
Stop the presses. Husband has chosen (of his own free will) to forego playing basketball with the guys today and go shopping with me. Lets pause here for a minute and appreciate the gravity of that statement. This is no small sacrifice for him, as he was just saying to me last week how he was craving some basketball time with the boys. AND considering that its shopping he's agreed to. As in, walking around a mall, looking at clothes, trying things on- for like, HOURS. This has not happened since the early days. The dating and early-marriage days when he would happily oblige my desires to mosey around a mall or department store. Then it slowly changed from happily obliging me to humoring me every so often by tagging along. And then it ultimately graduated to "woman, have you lost your mind?". (He doesnt actually refer to me as "woman", but you get my drift).
And its okay, really. Its not his cup of tea. He'd rather be fishing or hunting or playing golf or doing something active out in nature. And we all know being active isnt exactly MY cup of tea. So for 8 years we've done what all married couples do, and balanced (or tried to balance) the usual give and take that's required in a marriage. Sometimes trading off doing the things we actually enjoy for doing the things every now and again that really, if we're honest, would make us prefer to stick dull toothpicks in our eyes, but we do them regardless because it makes the other person happy. Not that we dont enjoy some of the same things- we do, but we dont do everything together. I mean, lets all be real here. Ya gotta know when to cut and run. Which for me, is usually when he goes fishing. I tried it a few times. My dad had a boat growing up and that suited me fine. I could sit and enjoy th scenery, and they could fish. That I can enjoy. Its the standing-on-the-riverbank business I dont care for. I think the last time I tagged along was about 5 years ago when I was pregnant with our daughter. Husband took me to some rocky cliff over the river, perched me on about 1 square foot of rock space that he deemed "perfectly safe", where I teetered for the next hour in a chair that, lets all face it, was no match for my heaving pregnant self. It didnt collapse, but I doubt that flimsy little camping chair has ever worked so hard. And that's where I sat working up a sweat and slowly cooking like a dumpling in the sun for the next hour and a half. But it made him happy.
I dont know what made him decide to go with me today, but Im not going to ask any questions. Maybe all the stars and planets aligned, or maybe he's undergone some fundamental change and he actually likes shopping now...or maybe he's suffered some major blow to the head. All I know is that aside from annual holiday shopping, this only happens about once every couple of years and so I intend to enjoy it thoroughly. A whole day of leisurely shopping with Husband, maybe lunch, or break it up a little with a movie- After all, I AM human, I DO have a soul, and dont intend on torchuring him all the live long day. He's even promised not to drop the usual ten glum paces behind me (a strange phenomenon that happens upon walking into any store regardless of its nature) pouting the whole time! Its looking up ladies. Long live Terrific Lady Day!
And its okay, really. Its not his cup of tea. He'd rather be fishing or hunting or playing golf or doing something active out in nature. And we all know being active isnt exactly MY cup of tea. So for 8 years we've done what all married couples do, and balanced (or tried to balance) the usual give and take that's required in a marriage. Sometimes trading off doing the things we actually enjoy for doing the things every now and again that really, if we're honest, would make us prefer to stick dull toothpicks in our eyes, but we do them regardless because it makes the other person happy. Not that we dont enjoy some of the same things- we do, but we dont do everything together. I mean, lets all be real here. Ya gotta know when to cut and run. Which for me, is usually when he goes fishing. I tried it a few times. My dad had a boat growing up and that suited me fine. I could sit and enjoy th scenery, and they could fish. That I can enjoy. Its the standing-on-the-riverbank business I dont care for. I think the last time I tagged along was about 5 years ago when I was pregnant with our daughter. Husband took me to some rocky cliff over the river, perched me on about 1 square foot of rock space that he deemed "perfectly safe", where I teetered for the next hour in a chair that, lets all face it, was no match for my heaving pregnant self. It didnt collapse, but I doubt that flimsy little camping chair has ever worked so hard. And that's where I sat working up a sweat and slowly cooking like a dumpling in the sun for the next hour and a half. But it made him happy.
I dont know what made him decide to go with me today, but Im not going to ask any questions. Maybe all the stars and planets aligned, or maybe he's undergone some fundamental change and he actually likes shopping now...or maybe he's suffered some major blow to the head. All I know is that aside from annual holiday shopping, this only happens about once every couple of years and so I intend to enjoy it thoroughly. A whole day of leisurely shopping with Husband, maybe lunch, or break it up a little with a movie- After all, I AM human, I DO have a soul, and dont intend on torchuring him all the live long day. He's even promised not to drop the usual ten glum paces behind me (a strange phenomenon that happens upon walking into any store regardless of its nature) pouting the whole time! Its looking up ladies. Long live Terrific Lady Day!
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
"We've Got a Bleeder!"
Its my ears. Are they bleeding? Is there actual blood dripping out of them yet? The problem is that Husband has been gone for three days and so I've suffered the brunt of it alone. All alone. The mind-numbing barrage of words. The sheer relentlessnes of the rapid-fire questions, one after another after another with hardly a pause for breath, seering into my brain like intruding bullets.
The car is the hardest. Its like you're trapped. Yesterday I was in the car with the kids for about 2 hours altogether. 7 minutes of that time was quiet. I am not exaggerating. I've tried turning on music but that doesnt work. My ipod is no match for her. She just talks over it.
"Do I have to take a nap when I get home?" "If I do have to take a nap, can I watch a half of a cartoon first?" "Can you put Jaxon asleep before me?" "Why do I have to take a nap?" "Can I sleep on my princess couch instead of my bed?" "Why not?" "Im hungry, I think I need a snack first" "Can I have a chococlate granola bar?" "Why not?!" "Is it healthy?" "If I dont have a granola bar, what can I have?" "Can I have gum?" "Are coyotes mean?" "Do they bite?" "I think bears and coyotes and lions and sharks and turkeys are all mean and they bite but dogs and cats are nice." (2 seconds to catch breath) "Actually some dogs and cats are not nice?" "We always be careful about dogs and cats that we dont know because they might be mean." "How do you know if they're mean?" "Remember Grannie Annie's cat?" "What was his name?" "I fed him a treat and he was nice." "But Aunt Cyndee's cat was not nice. Rango. No, wait, Ringo."(Incidentally Aunt Cyndee does not have a cat named Ringo or Rango. Im sure someone we know does. Aunt Cyndee has a dog. Named Blue. But that's all besides the point- much like her whole train of thought) "So mommy, how is your day?" "Where are we going?" "I dont think you're going the right way." "Do we need gas?" "Can a car pop if you put too much gas in it?" "What if the guy just kept putting more and more and more gas in and the whole car literry (literally) just popped?" "Has that ever happened to you when you were little mom?" "Was I in your tummy when I was 2?" "Remember when I was a baby and I used to eat baby food?" "Remember that?" (half a second to catch breath) "Do pandas live in China or Africa?" "Do the kids in Africa not even have new toys mommy?" "When you were little did you go to the North Pole?" "Do ocutopus' sting?"
All of that literally takes only about 75 seconds for her to say. I can hardly keep up. While she is just finding her rythm, Im starting to go crosseyed! I have learned to pick and choose my answers carefully because often one simple answer leads into 79 more questions, about half of which I will have a good answer for.
*Pause*
...I get it....I am not the first person to ever have a child that talks them into a tailspin. Am I complaining? No, not really. I can appreciate it for what it is and see the cuteness factor in it. I suppose I find it to be equal parts endearing and exasperating. And Im glad I have a daughter with an ever-inquisitive, precocious mind. Really. But SOME DAYS, the dull ache behind my eyes starts even before I've brushed my teeth in the morning. Do I wish she was anything other than who she is? No, of course not. Do I wish I had more patience? More resiliance? More answers? YES! It makes me chuckle, because she's always been this way. She was talking well before she was 1, and talking WELL by the time she was 2. In fact, even in the delivery room and during our whole stay in the hospital there was no peace, no quiet. Spitfire from birth. Ah, I suppose its only fitting. In this very blog (Dont Fight The Funk post) I have said that I, myself, often worry that I've said too much. That Im a blurter.That I will never be one of those peripheral people who quietly take it all in and never let it out. I did say all that, didnt I. Oh dear.
So it's a fine line I walk every day (and sometimes zigzag back and forth across)- trying to cultivate her little mind, and engage her in coversation, trying to make her feel heard and not disregarded. All the while trying to reign it in and guide it, otherwise, whatever the conversation, she's going to take that bull by the horns and steer it in whatever direction she fancies! Knowing when to really listen and when to shoosh (because lets all be real here, shooshing is fully necessary sometimes) Its like she's a derailed caboose and we have to keep circling back around and re-attaching her to the train of thought. (pun intended) (And by the way, when is pun ever NOT intended? Whenever people say "no pun intended" there most definitely IS almost always "pun intended")
We're trying to teach her not to interrupt, or to talk over people. Thats a big one we're working on at the moment. She's figured out that if she just talks louder that she can still get it all out regardless of whomever else might be attempting to get a word in edgewise. Moment of Honesty?: I keep catching myself getting in these climactic conversations with her where she is talking louder, then Im talking louder trying to be heard, then she's a notch higher trying to be heard, and then next thing I know Im practically shrieking "PLEASE TALK QUIETER OR YOU'RE GOING TO WAKE UP THE BABY!"...Right. Oops. I forgot to mention aside from the amount of talking, she has one volume. And its loud.
Then I have one of those smacking-your-palm-to-your-forehead moments, and remember that I am the boss. This small little person is 4 and I am 29. And granted, she may be a force to be reckoned with, but I do not need to get sucked into a 20 minute volley of words that leaves me in frenzied state! She's good at it too, because its not usually direct defiance, or even ornoriness in general, but more like a subtle sidestepping of the point (my point). She is quite old enough to grasp the concept of being quiet when need be. Of listening to me when I am talking. Of simply doing what I ask of her without voicing and re-voicing multiple opinions about it. Ah, getting tricky now, isnt it? Balancing the requirement of obedience and respect (WITH a good attitude! minor yet huge clause), while nurturing and guiding, AND teaching? What is the best way to let them be who they are and yet mold them into what they should be?- (civilized and polite human beings) Because really, isnt that basically our whole job as parents? I do think a kid is allowed to be a kid- and sometimes that means they are loud, and sometimes they cause a ruckus, and sometimes they have lots of questions. And that's okay!
But My Lanta! What's a lady gotta do to get some peace and quiet?
The car is the hardest. Its like you're trapped. Yesterday I was in the car with the kids for about 2 hours altogether. 7 minutes of that time was quiet. I am not exaggerating. I've tried turning on music but that doesnt work. My ipod is no match for her. She just talks over it.
"Do I have to take a nap when I get home?" "If I do have to take a nap, can I watch a half of a cartoon first?" "Can you put Jaxon asleep before me?" "Why do I have to take a nap?" "Can I sleep on my princess couch instead of my bed?" "Why not?" "Im hungry, I think I need a snack first" "Can I have a chococlate granola bar?" "Why not?!" "Is it healthy?" "If I dont have a granola bar, what can I have?" "Can I have gum?" "Are coyotes mean?" "Do they bite?" "I think bears and coyotes and lions and sharks and turkeys are all mean and they bite but dogs and cats are nice." (2 seconds to catch breath) "Actually some dogs and cats are not nice?" "We always be careful about dogs and cats that we dont know because they might be mean." "How do you know if they're mean?" "Remember Grannie Annie's cat?" "What was his name?" "I fed him a treat and he was nice." "But Aunt Cyndee's cat was not nice. Rango. No, wait, Ringo."(Incidentally Aunt Cyndee does not have a cat named Ringo or Rango. Im sure someone we know does. Aunt Cyndee has a dog. Named Blue. But that's all besides the point- much like her whole train of thought) "So mommy, how is your day?" "Where are we going?" "I dont think you're going the right way." "Do we need gas?" "Can a car pop if you put too much gas in it?" "What if the guy just kept putting more and more and more gas in and the whole car literry (literally) just popped?" "Has that ever happened to you when you were little mom?" "Was I in your tummy when I was 2?" "Remember when I was a baby and I used to eat baby food?" "Remember that?" (half a second to catch breath) "Do pandas live in China or Africa?" "Do the kids in Africa not even have new toys mommy?" "When you were little did you go to the North Pole?" "Do ocutopus' sting?"
All of that literally takes only about 75 seconds for her to say. I can hardly keep up. While she is just finding her rythm, Im starting to go crosseyed! I have learned to pick and choose my answers carefully because often one simple answer leads into 79 more questions, about half of which I will have a good answer for.
*Pause*
...I get it....I am not the first person to ever have a child that talks them into a tailspin. Am I complaining? No, not really. I can appreciate it for what it is and see the cuteness factor in it. I suppose I find it to be equal parts endearing and exasperating. And Im glad I have a daughter with an ever-inquisitive, precocious mind. Really. But SOME DAYS, the dull ache behind my eyes starts even before I've brushed my teeth in the morning. Do I wish she was anything other than who she is? No, of course not. Do I wish I had more patience? More resiliance? More answers? YES! It makes me chuckle, because she's always been this way. She was talking well before she was 1, and talking WELL by the time she was 2. In fact, even in the delivery room and during our whole stay in the hospital there was no peace, no quiet. Spitfire from birth. Ah, I suppose its only fitting. In this very blog (Dont Fight The Funk post) I have said that I, myself, often worry that I've said too much. That Im a blurter.That I will never be one of those peripheral people who quietly take it all in and never let it out. I did say all that, didnt I. Oh dear.
So it's a fine line I walk every day (and sometimes zigzag back and forth across)- trying to cultivate her little mind, and engage her in coversation, trying to make her feel heard and not disregarded. All the while trying to reign it in and guide it, otherwise, whatever the conversation, she's going to take that bull by the horns and steer it in whatever direction she fancies! Knowing when to really listen and when to shoosh (because lets all be real here, shooshing is fully necessary sometimes) Its like she's a derailed caboose and we have to keep circling back around and re-attaching her to the train of thought. (pun intended) (And by the way, when is pun ever NOT intended? Whenever people say "no pun intended" there most definitely IS almost always "pun intended")
We're trying to teach her not to interrupt, or to talk over people. Thats a big one we're working on at the moment. She's figured out that if she just talks louder that she can still get it all out regardless of whomever else might be attempting to get a word in edgewise. Moment of Honesty?: I keep catching myself getting in these climactic conversations with her where she is talking louder, then Im talking louder trying to be heard, then she's a notch higher trying to be heard, and then next thing I know Im practically shrieking "PLEASE TALK QUIETER OR YOU'RE GOING TO WAKE UP THE BABY!"...Right. Oops. I forgot to mention aside from the amount of talking, she has one volume. And its loud.
Then I have one of those smacking-your-palm-to-your-forehead moments, and remember that I am the boss. This small little person is 4 and I am 29. And granted, she may be a force to be reckoned with, but I do not need to get sucked into a 20 minute volley of words that leaves me in frenzied state! She's good at it too, because its not usually direct defiance, or even ornoriness in general, but more like a subtle sidestepping of the point (my point). She is quite old enough to grasp the concept of being quiet when need be. Of listening to me when I am talking. Of simply doing what I ask of her without voicing and re-voicing multiple opinions about it. Ah, getting tricky now, isnt it? Balancing the requirement of obedience and respect (WITH a good attitude! minor yet huge clause), while nurturing and guiding, AND teaching? What is the best way to let them be who they are and yet mold them into what they should be?- (civilized and polite human beings) Because really, isnt that basically our whole job as parents? I do think a kid is allowed to be a kid- and sometimes that means they are loud, and sometimes they cause a ruckus, and sometimes they have lots of questions. And that's okay!
But My Lanta! What's a lady gotta do to get some peace and quiet?
Thursday, March 10, 2011
I Think Ace Ventura Put it Best When He Said "Find a Happy Place!"
Its all fun and games until one of them starts flinging poo. Oh yes. Welcome to my day. Come join me. Bask with me in the mayhem. "Give in to the power of the tea" if you will. (bonus points for readers who can name that movie). (Actually, double bonus points. Because Name That Movie is my favorite game ever. Second only to "Remember When...")
I think I felt it coming before I even opened my eyes this morning. Trouble. As if the only word I could clearly see forming on the foggy horizon of my brain was already going to be "BLURG". Do you ever wake up so early that you feel nauseous? Like your body is so tired its literally rejecting wakefulness? Happens to me all the time. I think this might be part of why I hate breakfast so much. Its the only time of day you will catch me wishing for sleep over food.
I think I had a bad dream too. I've been reading a lot lately and both the books Im reading melded into one bizarre dream involving a heap of dead wolves with yellow eyes, (shudder), a rugged Scotsman (yes please), and a troubling impression that I was grinding my teeth into gravel inside my own head (I actually do grind my teeth so this wasnt too far off). Suffice it to say, that I had a furrow in my brow before I even made it off of my pillow this morning. Both of my little darlings seemed to wake up on the wrong side of the bed as well, because before breakfast was over, there were two altercations between siblings, one spill, followed by tears, followed by whining, followed by me snapping at my daughter over her highly dramatic display. Dangit. Not even 8:00 yet and I've already lost my cool. Deep breath. Apologize for being snappy, while trying to simultaneously squeeze in a lesson about attitudes of the heart. Only semi succesful in getting point across. She was pretty busy with her Cinnamon Toast Crunch and he just grins blankly at me every time I talk anyways, regardless of what Im saying. (which I secretly love).
And so it went for the next few hours. Rushing to get us all showered, dressed, fed, teeth brushed, hair combed, and out the door.(With no lack of battles over each one of those things) Drop off at school, run errands, pick up from school, try to keep 1 year old happy and quiet as I try to be productive... Fail. Decide its a good idea to bundle up and head outside in the backyard for some good old fashioned fun. Enjoy approximately 4.5 minutes of delight, playing with my children, blowing and popping bubbles until Littler One spills Bigger One's bubbles. While I console Bigger One over the loss of her new bubbles and remind her to be gracious and forgiving with Littler One, and grab a towel to start mopping up the sticky mess, I turn around just in time to see it. Littler One. Holding a poop. My dog's poop. Oh dear God.
After I shrieked, scolded Buster the dog (not that it was his fault. Hey, everybody poops), disinfected, scoured, and scrubbed up my son, called it quits with the bubbles, tried to make dinner amid seventeen interruptions regarding snacks, barbie shoes, a half eaten chapstick, and a completely emptied trash can on my kitchen floor, - after that I decided to give it up. It was one of those days where everything was harder than I thought it should have been. You know those days you have, as a parent, where you honestly get tired of hearing your own voice? I decided to abandon my efforts (however valiant they may be!) to force my day into something it wasnt going to be. So I opened a diet Dr. Pepper, allowed myself one hearty eye-roll before I shooshed the "What the what?!" train of thought I felt forming in the back of my head, had a good chuckle, and acquiesced to the funk. Sometimes ya gotta just let it be. So I took my remaining shreds of peace of mind and my diet Dr. Pepper into my daughters playhouse and let her pretend to be my mommy while Jaxon banged toy pots over my head for 20 minutes. And I daresay that 20 minutes was the highlight of the day for all three of us.
I think I felt it coming before I even opened my eyes this morning. Trouble. As if the only word I could clearly see forming on the foggy horizon of my brain was already going to be "BLURG". Do you ever wake up so early that you feel nauseous? Like your body is so tired its literally rejecting wakefulness? Happens to me all the time. I think this might be part of why I hate breakfast so much. Its the only time of day you will catch me wishing for sleep over food.
I think I had a bad dream too. I've been reading a lot lately and both the books Im reading melded into one bizarre dream involving a heap of dead wolves with yellow eyes, (shudder), a rugged Scotsman (yes please), and a troubling impression that I was grinding my teeth into gravel inside my own head (I actually do grind my teeth so this wasnt too far off). Suffice it to say, that I had a furrow in my brow before I even made it off of my pillow this morning. Both of my little darlings seemed to wake up on the wrong side of the bed as well, because before breakfast was over, there were two altercations between siblings, one spill, followed by tears, followed by whining, followed by me snapping at my daughter over her highly dramatic display. Dangit. Not even 8:00 yet and I've already lost my cool. Deep breath. Apologize for being snappy, while trying to simultaneously squeeze in a lesson about attitudes of the heart. Only semi succesful in getting point across. She was pretty busy with her Cinnamon Toast Crunch and he just grins blankly at me every time I talk anyways, regardless of what Im saying. (which I secretly love).
And so it went for the next few hours. Rushing to get us all showered, dressed, fed, teeth brushed, hair combed, and out the door.(With no lack of battles over each one of those things) Drop off at school, run errands, pick up from school, try to keep 1 year old happy and quiet as I try to be productive... Fail. Decide its a good idea to bundle up and head outside in the backyard for some good old fashioned fun. Enjoy approximately 4.5 minutes of delight, playing with my children, blowing and popping bubbles until Littler One spills Bigger One's bubbles. While I console Bigger One over the loss of her new bubbles and remind her to be gracious and forgiving with Littler One, and grab a towel to start mopping up the sticky mess, I turn around just in time to see it. Littler One. Holding a poop. My dog's poop. Oh dear God.
After I shrieked, scolded Buster the dog (not that it was his fault. Hey, everybody poops), disinfected, scoured, and scrubbed up my son, called it quits with the bubbles, tried to make dinner amid seventeen interruptions regarding snacks, barbie shoes, a half eaten chapstick, and a completely emptied trash can on my kitchen floor, - after that I decided to give it up. It was one of those days where everything was harder than I thought it should have been. You know those days you have, as a parent, where you honestly get tired of hearing your own voice? I decided to abandon my efforts (however valiant they may be!) to force my day into something it wasnt going to be. So I opened a diet Dr. Pepper, allowed myself one hearty eye-roll before I shooshed the "What the what?!" train of thought I felt forming in the back of my head, had a good chuckle, and acquiesced to the funk. Sometimes ya gotta just let it be. So I took my remaining shreds of peace of mind and my diet Dr. Pepper into my daughters playhouse and let her pretend to be my mommy while Jaxon banged toy pots over my head for 20 minutes. And I daresay that 20 minutes was the highlight of the day for all three of us.
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