It's 11:20 p.m. on New Year's Eve.
The only reason I'm awake is because the kids are determined to see 2013 through. They are both experiencing the crash part of a sugar high though, and Big Kid has been ranting non-stop about the word "selfie" being added to the dictionary. He is pissed. I don't disagree with him, I just don't have the same passion about it, I guess.
He's also pretty cranky about the musicians being featured on the NYE cable programming.
little kid is rambling semi-coherently about Minecraft and just declared that Panic in the Disco "sucks."
I don't know that I can do it for 40 more minutes. The ranting, the music, the year, or the Minecraft.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Christmas Magic
This has been the craziest holiday season ever. It's Christmas Eve, and I still don't even own wrapping paper. I'm hosting this year too...hope people are ready to sit on laundry and eat cookie dough straight from the tube because that's about what I can offer at this point.
(Just kidding, in a desperate and heroic act, I took all of the laundry to the laundromat to catch up. While there I was invited to have a Corona, to go out salsa dancing, and proposed to so that was exciting despite having to turn all of those kind offers down, since I had the kids with me. My guests will sit on clean laundry, though, at least.)
Friday was a completely exhausting day, I had little kid's Christmas musical (so sweet. I ugly cried as is tradition), I had to assist a yoga class (I did okay but felt like a creepy weirdo because getting all up on sweaty strangers will do that to you), and ended up with three amazing job opportunities--all unrelated to one another and completely out of left field too. I feel grateful but also a little bit like, "Whoa there, universe! Slow down!" I still haven't figured out what to do about these job offers, but it's a nice position to be in.
Then once I finally reunited with my couch, Mr. Ashley walked in. He was carrying a plastic bin. Inside of the bin was my Christmas gift:
To say she was a surprise would be a ginormous understatement. She was such a surprise that it took a few minutes to get myself together enough to express joy because my tired brain was too confused to make the right faces.
I named her Lola Artemis. She's only 6 weeks old, and she is teensy and sweet. No one but me likes the middle name Artemis, and I like that, because it proves she is MINE. I love her! So do the cats.
I know a lot of you have been wondering about our elf, Harold Hubert Piggybottom. To be honest, in my heart of hearts, I was kind of hoping he would die in a tragic reindeer-related accident this year. I asked the kids what they thought about Harold this year--would he come or was it time to let him move on to another family? Big Kid agreed it was time to let him move on. little kid got upset and swore it wouldn't be Christmas without him.
Sigh.
And little kid got his Christmas wish, late because Harold works in the mail room and those elves don't get as much time off, but Harold did come...in like a wrecking ball:
He carried a note:
little kid loved that. I don't like toilet humor, so I didn't like it.
The next night he was good, just hanging out with Lola. But maybe I forgot to take a picture. I might have been super tired that night.
But then he saran wrapped the toilet, which could have been a disaster had little kid had one of his sleep walking episodes.
The night after that, he used my cell phone to take a sELFie. Weirdo.
And then he insulted Big Kid by replacing him in the family Christmas card:
The night before Christmas Eve, Big Kid mentioned that they hadn't gotten the videos about whether they were on the naughty or nice list. He seemed genuinely concerned. I was surprised. I looked at him searchingly and said, "Surely, you know? That you're on the nice list, I mean." Seriously?
He had been pretty non-committal about Santa and Harold this year, avoiding much talk of either at all. I thought that was pretty typical at this wise old age of 10. I'm coaching that team of kids at Big Kid's school and one of them mentioned that he didn't believe in Santa and another quickly agreed. I immediately interrupted and said we weren't discussing people's beliefs right now. Another boy piped up that it couldn't hurt to believe and several kids agreed. My own children remained quiet on the subject.
Between assisting another class, a meeting, and a work shift, I was at the yoga studio from 10 to 5:30pm on Monday and had friends over for dinner from 6 to 9ish. I was so beyond tired that night. I wanted my bed desperately.
It was also Harold's last night. Big Kid still didn't know if he was on the naughty or nice list.
(Just kidding, in a desperate and heroic act, I took all of the laundry to the laundromat to catch up. While there I was invited to have a Corona, to go out salsa dancing, and proposed to so that was exciting despite having to turn all of those kind offers down, since I had the kids with me. My guests will sit on clean laundry, though, at least.)
Friday was a completely exhausting day, I had little kid's Christmas musical (so sweet. I ugly cried as is tradition), I had to assist a yoga class (I did okay but felt like a creepy weirdo because getting all up on sweaty strangers will do that to you), and ended up with three amazing job opportunities--all unrelated to one another and completely out of left field too. I feel grateful but also a little bit like, "Whoa there, universe! Slow down!" I still haven't figured out what to do about these job offers, but it's a nice position to be in.
Then once I finally reunited with my couch, Mr. Ashley walked in. He was carrying a plastic bin. Inside of the bin was my Christmas gift:
I named her Lola Artemis. She's only 6 weeks old, and she is teensy and sweet. No one but me likes the middle name Artemis, and I like that, because it proves she is MINE. I love her! So do the cats.
I know a lot of you have been wondering about our elf, Harold Hubert Piggybottom. To be honest, in my heart of hearts, I was kind of hoping he would die in a tragic reindeer-related accident this year. I asked the kids what they thought about Harold this year--would he come or was it time to let him move on to another family? Big Kid agreed it was time to let him move on. little kid got upset and swore it wouldn't be Christmas without him.
Sigh.
And little kid got his Christmas wish, late because Harold works in the mail room and those elves don't get as much time off, but Harold did come...in like a wrecking ball:
The next night he was good, just hanging out with Lola. But maybe I forgot to take a picture. I might have been super tired that night.
But then he saran wrapped the toilet, which could have been a disaster had little kid had one of his sleep walking episodes.
The night after that, he used my cell phone to take a sELFie. Weirdo.
And then he insulted Big Kid by replacing him in the family Christmas card:
The night before Christmas Eve, Big Kid mentioned that they hadn't gotten the videos about whether they were on the naughty or nice list. He seemed genuinely concerned. I was surprised. I looked at him searchingly and said, "Surely, you know? That you're on the nice list, I mean." Seriously?
He had been pretty non-committal about Santa and Harold this year, avoiding much talk of either at all. I thought that was pretty typical at this wise old age of 10. I'm coaching that team of kids at Big Kid's school and one of them mentioned that he didn't believe in Santa and another quickly agreed. I immediately interrupted and said we weren't discussing people's beliefs right now. Another boy piped up that it couldn't hurt to believe and several kids agreed. My own children remained quiet on the subject.
Between assisting another class, a meeting, and a work shift, I was at the yoga studio from 10 to 5:30pm on Monday and had friends over for dinner from 6 to 9ish. I was so beyond tired that night. I wanted my bed desperately.
It was also Harold's last night. Big Kid still didn't know if he was on the naughty or nice list.
But, alas, the next morning, Harold had grown a creepy mustache and set up shop near my computer. He even had his Christmas sweater on, a Christmas Eve tradition that he probably almost forgot about until the middle of the night. And oh my goodness, he had a Facebook page! And on that Facebook page, were the kids' videos from Santa.
They gathered around me on the couch, early in the morning, and watched with great anticipation and palpable relief when it was revealed that all was well, and they were on the nice list.
In this exhausting, rushed, overwhelmed, always behind holiday season, it ended up being a precious Christmas moment for me, that I will probably cherish always. Maybe one of my last like this, with this little bit of magic, as they grow.
So I'm glad Harold Hubert Piggybottom didn't die in a fire, after all.
But there have been rumors that he may retire next year.
I hope you all have a Merry Christmas, and even more important, a relaxing one.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
A for effort
"Do I look nice?" I asked the boys before I left the house for dinner with a friend tonight.
"Yes!" little kid said, with certainty.
"You look lovely." Big Kid said with a smile.
My heart melted a little. My sweet boys.
"I can tell you put A LOT of effort in. Like, A LOT," Big Kid added.
"Okay, that's enough." I said.
"Yes!" little kid said, with certainty.
"You look lovely." Big Kid said with a smile.
My heart melted a little. My sweet boys.
"I can tell you put A LOT of effort in. Like, A LOT," Big Kid added.
"Okay, that's enough." I said.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
UPSucks
Did you know that sometimes UPS drops stuff off at USPS and if USPS is busy or just not that into it that day, they will pretend your address doesn't exist and return to sender? Even if both UPS and USPS have been to your house every Monday through Saturday for the entire month of December?
Because that's what happened to all of Mr. Ashley's Christmas gifts this year. They are somewhere between here and wherever Backcountry.com. Also, if this happens to you, it's no one's fault--not the sender, not UPS, and not USPS and no one cares if you're disappointed because it's not their problem. You're just kind of treated like a moron for believing the company you paid to deliver your items in a timely matter would do so. Also, none of the three can call the phone number you provided to give you a head's up that they've decided your home no longer exists.
My love affair with UPS is over. I will order from Massey's Outfitters next time. My mailman gets no Christmas tip, but he wasn't going to anyway because he's a lazy jerk all year.
And my husband has no Christmas gifts.
Wait until you see what my sweet husband got me. He definitely does not deserve whatever pathetic junk I scrape up on Christmas Eve, the only day I have available for shopping.
Because that's what happened to all of Mr. Ashley's Christmas gifts this year. They are somewhere between here and wherever Backcountry.com. Also, if this happens to you, it's no one's fault--not the sender, not UPS, and not USPS and no one cares if you're disappointed because it's not their problem. You're just kind of treated like a moron for believing the company you paid to deliver your items in a timely matter would do so. Also, none of the three can call the phone number you provided to give you a head's up that they've decided your home no longer exists.
My love affair with UPS is over. I will order from Massey's Outfitters next time. My mailman gets no Christmas tip, but he wasn't going to anyway because he's a lazy jerk all year.
And my husband has no Christmas gifts.
Wait until you see what my sweet husband got me. He definitely does not deserve whatever pathetic junk I scrape up on Christmas Eve, the only day I have available for shopping.
Friday, December 20, 2013
Geeks and Nerds
"Did you know today is winter solstice? The sun will set at 5:38 and it will be the shortest day of the year," I informed the kids this afternoon.
"You're such a geek, mom," Big Kid said, "That's not a bad thing, it just means that you've got brains and a personality."
"SHE'S A NERD!" little kid shouted.
"She is not a nerd! Nerds are smart but social outcasts. Our mom is not a social outcast," he insisted,"She has a ton of friends on the internet."
Sigh.
"You're such a geek, mom," Big Kid said, "That's not a bad thing, it just means that you've got brains and a personality."
"SHE'S A NERD!" little kid shouted.
"She is not a nerd! Nerds are smart but social outcasts. Our mom is not a social outcast," he insisted,"She has a ton of friends on the internet."
Sigh.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Karma Chameleon
I know, I know, I'm way behind on updating everyone but I didn't have any words ready.
There was nothing too weird in the curriculum this time, or maybe laying on each other like a tic-tac-toe board or being forced to drop it, drop it, drop it low to "Bringing Sexy Back" in the middle of a circle of your new yoga friends isn't weird anymore.
I guess it's pretty weird, now that I think about it.
It felt okay, though.
We got to watch a movie Saturday night, called The Shift. With Dr. Something Dyer (a real self-help guy or something, playing himself) and Portia DiRossi and a lot of bad acting but a good message. The floor was hard and I was exhausted after hours and hours of yoga (and dancing) but it was better than regular circle time where people cry. Also, we were allowed to lay down. That's good stuff, when you can feel intense gratitude for being able to lay your sore body upon a cold, hard floor for two hours. I'm not being a smart ass there, it felt absurdly nice.
Everyone feels really nervous before each session, mostly because of the chaotic group practice teaches. It is so loud, and they call time and you give one word feedback, and the next person rushes up to take over where the last left off. It's so confusing and loud and distracting. I did surprisingly well at it, though, and it was almost fun. Instead of thinking, "I freaking hate this kind of craziness," like usual, I thought, "If I can do it under these insane conditions, I can do it."
I think I might really want to be a yoga teacher! Which is a big relief because this is too much effort and transformation for simple self-help.
I only have two teacher training weekends left and a scary amount of homework. I have to write three 3 page essays, practice teach including meditation (ugh) 3 different times with friends, assist two regular classes (that means touching sweaty strangers), take and give feedback for 3 different styles of classes (that means critiquing my friends who work at the studio to their boss), and read a bunch of stuff by January 12th. I also work there 2-3 days per week. And then also, life.
And I guess it's Christmas or something?
I don't know.
Do you all remember my experience with the yoga goblin?
She was doing what I will be doing tomorrow night--assisting a class as a teacher trainee.
Oh, how the universe brings it all back to us!
But I won't be anywhere near that weird.
There was nothing too weird in the curriculum this time, or maybe laying on each other like a tic-tac-toe board or being forced to drop it, drop it, drop it low to "Bringing Sexy Back" in the middle of a circle of your new yoga friends isn't weird anymore.
I guess it's pretty weird, now that I think about it.
It felt okay, though.
We got to watch a movie Saturday night, called The Shift. With Dr. Something Dyer (a real self-help guy or something, playing himself) and Portia DiRossi and a lot of bad acting but a good message. The floor was hard and I was exhausted after hours and hours of yoga (and dancing) but it was better than regular circle time where people cry. Also, we were allowed to lay down. That's good stuff, when you can feel intense gratitude for being able to lay your sore body upon a cold, hard floor for two hours. I'm not being a smart ass there, it felt absurdly nice.
Everyone feels really nervous before each session, mostly because of the chaotic group practice teaches. It is so loud, and they call time and you give one word feedback, and the next person rushes up to take over where the last left off. It's so confusing and loud and distracting. I did surprisingly well at it, though, and it was almost fun. Instead of thinking, "I freaking hate this kind of craziness," like usual, I thought, "If I can do it under these insane conditions, I can do it."
I think I might really want to be a yoga teacher! Which is a big relief because this is too much effort and transformation for simple self-help.
I only have two teacher training weekends left and a scary amount of homework. I have to write three 3 page essays, practice teach including meditation (ugh) 3 different times with friends, assist two regular classes (that means touching sweaty strangers), take and give feedback for 3 different styles of classes (that means critiquing my friends who work at the studio to their boss), and read a bunch of stuff by January 12th. I also work there 2-3 days per week. And then also, life.
And I guess it's Christmas or something?
I don't know.
Do you all remember my experience with the yoga goblin?
She was doing what I will be doing tomorrow night--assisting a class as a teacher trainee.
Oh, how the universe brings it all back to us!
But I won't be anywhere near that weird.
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