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I think when we begin a project we enter some sort of time warp. Did you ever notice how much you think you can get done is nowhere near how much you actually get done?
My husband always has the tools he needs to work on cars and random house projects; if he doesn’t he buys a new one. In fact, if he needs a tool, but can’t find it in his messy shop, he buys another one. He insists he needed to upgrade anyway; I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince, I’m not a hard sell.
I woke up this morning feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. I even tried to get an extra hour of z’s, but to no avail. I realize I really don’t have the weight of the world on my shoulders, just a small portion, and certainly no more than anyone else, and probably much less.
It’s Sunday morning, February 5, 2012. My husband and I turned on “The Road to the Super Bowl.” It got me thinking about my road to the Super Bowl.
At some point last year, I created a Facebook account and figured out how to link my website to it. It worked, but not the way I had expected it to work. The link just became lost at the bottom of the pile of other postings. How to use this social networking site has eluded me.
All this snow was so much fun until the power went out. Now it's cold and dark in the house. My oldest summed it up last night when she said, "Having the power out is depressing; it's cold, dark and cakeless."
Before we fall asleep at night my husband and I often have laugh sessions over things our daughters do or don’t do. The topic of conversation a few nights ago was over their bathroom trash.
I was looking forward to my kids going back to school so I could sit down and concentrate on some of my career goals. Contrary to popular belief, being a stay-at-home mom is not a career – it was a choice – but the hours are bad, the pay is low, and it has no career growth potential, so I really need a backup plan. It’s actually the kind of job you work yourself out of, although it never really ends.
I have decided my New Year’s resolution this year will be focused on my daughters. For their benefit I am resolving NOT to be the perfect wife and mother.
My teen daughters got cell phones for Christmas this year. I know that’s not a big deal to a lot of parents, but I’m not a big believer of cell phones for teens. My younger daughter got a cell phone last year because her school bus dropped her off in the middle of nowhere and I wanted her to be able to call someone if for some reason we weren’t there to pick her up. But it was Dad’s old, leftover cell phone.
‘Tis the time of the year to be inundated with holiday catalogs. We get so many of them with their shiny colors and magnetic quality I have to be careful where I stack them so no one is smothered by an avalanche of catalogs.
I never claimed to be a good housekeeper. There are just some things in life I really hate to do and housekeeping is one of them. So consequently, I put off many household chores until they are screaming for attention and I can’t ignore them any longer.
I was never around children much when I was a teenager. We lived out in the country, so I didn’t have the opportunity to babysit or observe people with lots of children. Consequently, I really didn’t comprehend what children were capable of at what age.
Last week, congressional legislators voted to block a proposal by the Department of Agriculture (USDA) to improve the nutritional quality of the nation’s school lunches, which the agency says contain too much junk food and not enough fresh produce.
I was taking my daughter and her friend to laser tag the other day and my daughter said to her friend that she has less of a life than most others. I asked her what she meant by that and she said because all she does is sit in her room, Skype with her friends and watch anime shows in her free time.
I made cake! I started making a wacky cake, which is a chocolate cake from scratch last weekend, an old favorite from my childhood. My oldest daughter came into the kitchen and asked me if I was making the coffee cake with the raisins, another old favorite called depression cake.
As I write this I am chaperoning my daughters and several of their friends at an anime convention in the Bellevue Hilton Hotel. Anime is Japanese cartoons, movies, and drawings, but also includes any “cult” favorite character(I saw Where’s Waldo, the miner in Toy Story 2, a cheerleader from Glee and the phone booth in Dr. Who). Part of the fun of attending such a convention is cos-play, which is dressing up as a favorite character; the costumes range from simple to elaborate.
Last Friday morning as my oldest daughter was leaving for school she told me she didn’t have any clean pants. She was wearing Capri pants and although I noticed, I didn’t think anything of it because of our recent balmy autumn days.
Have you heard the joke about the husband and wife who decide it’s time to go to bed? It goes something like this: A husband and wife are watching TV in the family room and the wife gets up and announces she is going to bed. On her way to bed she pauses to pick up a few items of clothing someone left on a chair. She picks up someone’s shoes in the middle of the floor.
Most week nights we eat together at the table. It’s a time to decompress and connect as a family. In the summer our eating schedule gets off, but because my husband still has a work schedule, I try to cook dinner and gather the kids for the meal.