Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Trying not to become an addict (to Craigslist)

No one is ever going to read my posts -- they are so infrequent. We had a great post-school trip to Cannon Beach. The downside was that little 7 month baby got a bad cold (fever and all). Last night it got so bad I was waiting for the plague of the frogs (threw up on me, got to sleep, pooped, had to wake him to change him, start all over). I got in bed about 4 a.m.

OK, but the title of the post: Craigslist. I decided to post a few baby items for sale, just to see what would happen. In one day I made $100. I sold a breastpump (no, P, not the one you gave me as a gift -- still using that one). I also sold a baby gym. On the flip side, I bought a baby backpack (for the baby, not his stuff). So I'm net at $60.

So now I may be addicted. I keep looking around the house thinking "Hmmm. Is that worth selling on Craigslist." But there are some things that we need to keep (the couch, the kitchen table), other things that would be too unwieldy to sell (our toilets), and some things have too much sentimental value (my husband).

Nonetheless, if it is not sentimental and is of some value, but no use to me, it's going on line, baby.

See you the list.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

A blog is an open . . . er . . . book

I like having a blog for folks to read. After all, they don't have to visit it unless they want to do so. It's not like they are a captive audience, right?

But sometimes I forget about who that audience can be. I gave the blog address to a friend from high school (whom I haven't seen in 11 years). We almost share a birthday -- he was born the day after I was. And I usually send him a happy birthday e-mail (strange times we live in; Miss Manners would never approve). So he popped on over to the blog. And read all about my bikini wax. As will my very close friend and former high school teacher and her husband. Maybe this is too much information.

At the same time, while a blog can contain (perhaps) "too much information," it also is a bit untruthful. Most folks don't post the really nasty stuff in life: the fights with husbands, the annoying things our kids might do (I said might), the things we think about people in our neighborhood (they're great, of course). So it is a one-dimensional snap shot of our lives. Kind of like real snap shots -- most people are smiling in pictures, even if they are in really bad moods and just had a fight.

Those are my blog-osphy thoughts for the day. Which was a great day. Really. Say cheese.

Sunday, June 11, 2006

39 years, 1 week

OK, I know, the birthday post is so last week. But this picture cracks me up. First, I had told the boys they couldn't help me blow out the candles (prevents excess spit on the cake). Second, Isaiah is wearing a really ugly outfit, because I forgot to tell Tim that we needed to take more spare outfits to daycare, and this is all they could find to put him in. Third, I have no idea why Eli is bent over backwards. And finally, in the end they had to help blow out candles because Tim got the trick kind (he put them in a baggie to make them look like leftover candles; I remember thinking "hmmmm, I don't remember putting that many leftover candles in a baggie").

So now, something that is not about my birthday. Except that . . . I keep thinking about being 39. And how I don't want to be 15 pounds overweight when I'm 40. Or have rosacea, a double chin, hair in unwanted places, and a desk covered in too much paper. It makes me so depressed that I want to go eat a whole box of white cheddar Cheez-its (get your own box). I suppose I ought to take the biggest item first (the weight of course). Instead, I got a bikini wax yesterday, with a pedicure chaser. The pedicure helped sooth my spirit, which was somewhat ragged after the wax procedure. And can I just tell you that it really helped to have the woman doing the wax tell me how she didn't need to get bikini waxes -- just in case I didn't hate her already. She redeemed herself by pointing out that for just $5 extra the pedicure could include an exfoliating rub and a longer massage. Done. And worth every penny.

OK, so having just eaten a bowl of cold Thai noodles (does the peanut sauce count as a protein?), here's my mantra:


OK, ignore that ice cream part. Oh, and I'll do yoga at least once a week at work. There, now I feel better.

Friday, June 02, 2006

Happy Birthday to Me

I've realized recently -- having been to many a child's birthday party, but not as many as my husband has been to -- that everyone sings the birthday song like it is part of a funeral march. What happened to the finger-snapping happy birthday tempo? I was at a company off-site meeting the last two days. At dinner they surprised me with a birthday cake. As they gathered their breath to sing happy birthday, I yelled out "sing it fast, not like a funeral march." And they did well, but they must think I'm either crazy or demanding. Well, they know me pretty well, and most of them would probably say the latter. I hope.

So, about the birthday. First, a big thanks to my husband for holding down the fort, including the darling 6-month-old, while I was gone. This was my first night away from Isaiah. You'd think I would sleep like a baby, and I did: I woke up every 90 minutes. But, everyone survived.

Um, right, back to the birthday. Eli asked how old I will be and I said 39. He said "You used to be 29." I said: "Yes, 10 years ago." Silence. Processing, processing. "You used to be 28." "Yes, before I was 29." Silence. Processing, processing. Eli:"I mean 38." Me: "Yes. And now I'll be 39. And next year I'll be 40." Silence. Processing, processing. Eli: "This is your last 30 number." Bingo. Ouch! So true, so true.

Monday, May 29, 2006


**My friend Wendy is a great blogger. She updates her blog almost daily, finds relevant things to say, and at least twice a week makes me laugh out loud. Wendy is a writer by trade. Well, so am I, but I write e-mails to clients about whether they are complying with the law. Wendy writes about life (and people --- like me -- buy her book!). So go read her blog, not mine. Or, read mine, but be patient with my rare posts. I am trying not to feel stressed about this blog (it is not going to be another chore!).**

So, back to the title of this post. Joy. Or at least, a moment of happiness. We had a really great, relaxing three day weekend. Here are my moments of joy.

  • No matter that I haven't worked at a law firm for about three years now. It still astounds me when there's a three-day weekend and I get to take -- get this -- three days off.
  • Isaiah had a fever on Sunday evening. I thought we were "in for it." And we still may be. But all day on Monday his forehead felt nice and cool. Nothing is as pleasing as a not-burning-hot forehead.
  • The weekend was very rainy, but it cleared up the last half of today. And even though we had a real "Oregon" rain most of the weekend, ending it on a sunny note made the whole weekend seem sunny.
  • We tried a new fast food restaurant, called Taco del Mar. Without knowing, it turns out that on Sundays, the kids meals are 99 cents. The food was great.
  • We went to a new nursery about 15 miles away. It was beautiful -- it felt like we were walking in a park. Even the parking lots are nice, with little pergolas for the shopping cart returns.

My husband says that the "little foxes" build up and get you. But the "little graces" build up and get you, too. In a very, very good way.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

The "W" Word

New bad word to avoid -- the "W" word (according to Eli):

Eli: "You can't say the 'w' word."

Me: "What is the 'w' word?"

Eli: "You know -- 'what-the.'"

Me: "Ah, yes, that is a bad word."

"What-the" is probably worse that the "h" word ("hate") or the "s" word ("stupid"), and not as bad as the "f" word (I think you know the one I mean). We actually sat Joshua down and told him what the "f" word was, but somehow were able to escape a detailed definition. It was enough for him to know it. It came in handy the other day. He was holding up his middle finger to make some point, and Tim said to use a different finger. Now of course Joshua didn't mean anything, but he's getting to the age where his peers will make something of it. A few months ago some teenagers were "flipping off" the school bus and Joshua asked about it. We gave some vague explanation, enough so he'd know it wasn't good. This time, though, when I explained why it might be seen as a bad gesture, I was able to explain "It means the "f" word." He was very surprised. Apparently our prior explanation of the gesture had led him to believe that it meant you wanted someone to have bad luck.

As for Eli -- he also wants to know what the "f" word is. We've avoided answering his questions directly, and Joshua knows he isn't supposed to tell him. Luckily, Eli came to his own conclusion -- the "f" word stands for "fart." Works for me.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Mother's day photos

Here are three pictures from Sunday. I'm sorry that Joshua isn't in the outside picture, but he was off at a friend's house down the street, enjoying the unseasonably warm (wonderfully warm) day. See my longer post below.

Balance is as balance does

This is a long, long post after a week of silence. And may be a bit too philosophical (in a very amateur way).

I've been thinking a lot about "balance," that pie-in-the-sky goal we're supposed to achieve (at least women are, I think). Do I have balance? Well, I recently decided that I could save 10 minutes every other morning if I skip washing my hair. There's balance for you -- doing away with the extra, the part that adds nothing to our lives, to focus on what really matters (getting the green cover-up on under my regular make-up so my rosacia isn't so . . . rosy).

OK, so the not-washing-hair thing didn't work so well. I tried it today, and felt itchy all day. And it does look pretty greasy. So there goes my balance. It sure is precarious.

I may or may not have balance, be off balance, or have a balanced check-book. But what I do have are some amazingly beautiful kids. (See the newly posted pictures above.) Our minister (see sidebar link) writes of a friend whose 3 year old daughter died suddenly of a rare virus. Dr. Sewell's conclusion is we must repeat often that life is short and anything can happen -- that way we'll be prepared when it does. I call it prophylactic worry. I can't live my life that way (talk about lack of balance).

My 8 year old son's best friend died suddenly three years ago. I spent about a year looking for the boogie man, making deals with God, crying. I still associate lovely fall weekends with the sadness of that time. Isaiah, our engaging six month-old is, to some extent, a result of this event in our lives. Life is precious, it is a gift, and it cannot be taken for granted. That is what we should repeat. I am going to enjoy it, not worry about it quite so much. (Those of you who know me know that I worry enough as it is, without worrying prophylactically.) My dermatologist (actually, a nurse practitioner) gave me two great pieces of advice: (1) We usually worry about the wrong thing, and (2) Walk in a moment of gratitude each day. (She also prescribes great skin meds.)

So my moment of gratitude: I had a wonderful weekend. My children never stopped being delightful. My husband made a wonderful breakfast. I got to take a long nap on Saturday. We had a fun and engaging dinner at our friends' house on Saturday evening. I have a yummy latte on Sunday morning before church. We had take-out Chinese for Sunday dinner -- not my favorite, but it was my idea: no dishes, plus lunch on Monday.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.