Everytime I walk into the master bathroom my eyes skim the room for the enemy like a police officer entering an unknown situation. Gun drawn (well, a piece of tissue in my hand), my eyes dart quickly to the tub, window and ceiling. Every year starting right around the first of November, we get an infestation of ladybugs and the main area they swarm is the master bathroom. We have a skylight in there (so 80's) I suspect is the main entry point to our house. Over the years I have discovered the only surefire way to get rid of them is flushing them down the toilet. I have washed them down the sink drain only to have them climb back out minutes or hours later. I always keep a tissue handy to scoop them up and drop them into their watery grave. Did I mention the smell? They let off an odor too. Strange little things. We have been in our house over 7 years but I don't remember how long we have hosted our winter visitors. I did start keeping track a few years ago and I do know they come until March. I am guessing it will be the end of March as I am so sick of them and I doubt they will just disappear tomorrow. They are harmless but annoying. They have started visiting other parts of the house and I am ready for them to pack their little red and black bags and move out.
Unfortunately, this has tainted my view of of ladybugs in general. The nurse at Abby's pediatrician's office when she was a newborn called her "Ladybug." Her first birthday party theme was ladybugs. And Abby used to say, "bee-bug" for ladybugs. Now I see those cute little cartoon ladybugs and think of our already over stayed their welcome visitors.
So what do ladybugs have to do with laundry you ask? Tonight I told Brad all I do around here lately is fold laundry and battle ladybugs.
That's what I have been up to this warm winter. Happy Leap Day.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
I am so glad I started this blog to work on my writing.
I get ideas for posts from time to time. But then when it comes down to sitting at the computer to work on one, the ideas escape me or the motivation has completely vanished.
So I sit here tonight wrapped in a Snuggie (it was a gift, it's ugly but warm), Brad is out of town and the kids are sleeping and I am attempting the 5th post in 8 months.
So, here's the 2012 update:
Once again, indecision rears it's head as we can't decide where/what/when for our vacation this year. I am a Western girl. Love the West. I really want to go West and go to a National Park or two. I think Jackson, Wyoming is on the top of my list now. I think it would be so fun to stay in a cabin, ride horses and see some of the great outdoors. But then again, we just got the kids passports, should we head out to Costa Rica or Belize? What about Colorado? California? And then when should we go? Spring Break? Right after school gets out? July? Ugh...so many decisions.
Nate's birthday is in less than a month (6!). I can't decide what kind of party to have for him. He has asked for a party at Catch Air (after attending a party there), a movie party (after a movie party), even an Amazing Race party (poor boy has no idea that his mom is nowhere near creative enough to pull that off). Luckily, we are on Abby's off year for a party (every other year). She wants to get her ears pierced (again) and have a friend or two to dinner and to sleep over.
I am just so glad the title of my blog still fits my life.
I get ideas for posts from time to time. But then when it comes down to sitting at the computer to work on one, the ideas escape me or the motivation has completely vanished.
So I sit here tonight wrapped in a Snuggie (it was a gift, it's ugly but warm), Brad is out of town and the kids are sleeping and I am attempting the 5th post in 8 months.
So, here's the 2012 update:
Once again, indecision rears it's head as we can't decide where/what/when for our vacation this year. I am a Western girl. Love the West. I really want to go West and go to a National Park or two. I think Jackson, Wyoming is on the top of my list now. I think it would be so fun to stay in a cabin, ride horses and see some of the great outdoors. But then again, we just got the kids passports, should we head out to Costa Rica or Belize? What about Colorado? California? And then when should we go? Spring Break? Right after school gets out? July? Ugh...so many decisions.
Nate's birthday is in less than a month (6!). I can't decide what kind of party to have for him. He has asked for a party at Catch Air (after attending a party there), a movie party (after a movie party), even an Amazing Race party (poor boy has no idea that his mom is nowhere near creative enough to pull that off). Luckily, we are on Abby's off year for a party (every other year). She wants to get her ears pierced (again) and have a friend or two to dinner and to sleep over.
I am just so glad the title of my blog still fits my life.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
The Best Advice I Ever...Gave???
William Arthur Ward: "greatness is not found in possessions, power, position or prestige. It is discovered in goodness, humility, service, and character."
H. Jackson Brown, Jr.: "Good manners sometimes means simply putting up with other people's bad manners."
"How we live our days, of course, is how we live our lives." Annie Dillard
A couple of months ago I read Katie Couric's book The Best Advice I Ever Got. It's a book of essays by prominent people about advice they have received along the way. It got me thinking about what kind of advice I am giving my children. And thinking about what kind of advice I received as I was growing up. I guess I remember things my Grandma Nora told me most. She was a pistol. A smart woman who skipped a grade in school but never had the opportunity to go to college. Instead she headed West a young woman to become a "Harvey girl." She worked at Harvey House hotels and restaurants. She worked hard. The talk of the time was that Harvey girls were trying to land husbands. Grandma told me she was too tired at the end of the day ("my dogs were barking") to look for a husband. I wish she would have shared more about her life with us. Life was not easy for her. But she did her best. She worked for 30+ years at City Hall in Kansas City. She had great friends and family who loved her. I do remember little snippets of advice from Grandma Nora more than anyone.
"Brush your hair 100 strokes every night if you want to have pretty hair." (This is from the same woman who took me to a beauty school for a perm when I was in 2nd grade. I was 8 and looked like I was 48 with my short hair permed. Remember this was the 70's.)
Grandma didn't like it when we wore t-shirts with writing on it. "That's just free advertising for the company." I think of that whenever I see a Gap or Old Navy t-shirt.
The main thing I remember hearing from Grandma Nora was "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."
So the more I started thinking about my advice for my kids I kept coming back to that. I can't give advice about which stocks to buy or financing their futures. I doubt if they will listen to my advice when they are dating. Or what major to choose in college. But I can advise them to be nice. I keep coming back to a quote, "It's nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice." (John Cassis)
I want my children to be kind. Of course, I want them to be happy and healthy. But I also want them to treat others with dignity and respect.
I will close with this quote I found in the comments section of a New York Time article about What Kids Need the Most.
Seek your friends among the kindest, fairest people you know, but recognize that some people may be less than the kindest when you meet them because they grew up or are growing up with hurts. Your values, ideals, and open-mindedness will be worth more to you than all the costly status symbols you could buy.
H. Jackson Brown, Jr.: "Good manners sometimes means simply putting up with other people's bad manners."
"How we live our days, of course, is how we live our lives." Annie Dillard
A couple of months ago I read Katie Couric's book The Best Advice I Ever Got. It's a book of essays by prominent people about advice they have received along the way. It got me thinking about what kind of advice I am giving my children. And thinking about what kind of advice I received as I was growing up. I guess I remember things my Grandma Nora told me most. She was a pistol. A smart woman who skipped a grade in school but never had the opportunity to go to college. Instead she headed West a young woman to become a "Harvey girl." She worked at Harvey House hotels and restaurants. She worked hard. The talk of the time was that Harvey girls were trying to land husbands. Grandma told me she was too tired at the end of the day ("my dogs were barking") to look for a husband. I wish she would have shared more about her life with us. Life was not easy for her. But she did her best. She worked for 30+ years at City Hall in Kansas City. She had great friends and family who loved her. I do remember little snippets of advice from Grandma Nora more than anyone.
"Brush your hair 100 strokes every night if you want to have pretty hair." (This is from the same woman who took me to a beauty school for a perm when I was in 2nd grade. I was 8 and looked like I was 48 with my short hair permed. Remember this was the 70's.)
Grandma didn't like it when we wore t-shirts with writing on it. "That's just free advertising for the company." I think of that whenever I see a Gap or Old Navy t-shirt.
The main thing I remember hearing from Grandma Nora was "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."
So the more I started thinking about my advice for my kids I kept coming back to that. I can't give advice about which stocks to buy or financing their futures. I doubt if they will listen to my advice when they are dating. Or what major to choose in college. But I can advise them to be nice. I keep coming back to a quote, "It's nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice." (John Cassis)
I want my children to be kind. Of course, I want them to be happy and healthy. But I also want them to treat others with dignity and respect.
I will close with this quote I found in the comments section of a New York Time article about What Kids Need the Most.
Seek your friends among the kindest, fairest people you know, but recognize that some people may be less than the kindest when you meet them because they grew up or are growing up with hurts. Your values, ideals, and open-mindedness will be worth more to you than all the costly status symbols you could buy.
Monday, July 4, 2011
He's Growing Up...?
This morning I dropped Brad and the kids off at the airport for the first leg of their summer adventure. They will spend about 2 weeks in Kansas with my dad and stepmom, Pat. We like to call their trip "Camp Grandpa." Brad will be back in two days and I will go out in a week and a half to join them before we all fly to Arizona to see my mom. All together the kids will be gone for 3 weeks. As crazy as this summer has been, I choked up when I left them waving to me at the airport. All the bickering, back talking and boredom was forgotten.
I think what hit me the hardest was thinking about Nate growing up (a recurring theme?). Anyone who knows Nate for even a short time, will know how much he loves his stuffed otter, Fluffy. He's had Fluffy for about a year, a gift he received on a visit to the Georgia Aquarium. Fluffy has all but replaced his beloved Nanni (his baby blanket). He sleeps with Fluffy and holds Fluffy when he is watching TV or is sad, tired or bored. He brought Fluffy to swim team practice one day and had me hold Fluffy up to the fence and watch Nate swim. So imagine my dismay when he is getting out of the car at the airport this morning and says, "Did you put Fluffy in my backpack?" I said, "did you?" I expected tears, stomping feet and more expressions of anger and frustration. Instead he said, "that's ok." I think I was more upset about Fluffy being left behind than he was. That's when I started getting choked up. I told him I would bring it when I came out next week. Or I could mail it. He said, "yeah, mail it." Then Brad said, "insure it." I decided that mailing was unacceptable because insurance would not get Fluffy back if he was lost in the mail. So I got some great hugs and kisses and I got in the car. I called Pat and asked if she would bring a stuffed animal to the airport as a substitute until Fluffy makes it out there. That's when it struck me that maybe he was growing up. Could this little boy be less dependent on his lovey? Could he be outgrowing the need for a stuffed animal to comfort him? Could be... But the more likely explanation is that he was so excited to get on the plane and going on this trip, Fluffy was the least of his concerns. Maybe a combination of both.
Oh and Abby sat across the aisle from Brad and Nate on the plane. She's growing up a bit too. She didn't want to sit alone but I convinced her it might be a nice break from Nate.
I think what hit me the hardest was thinking about Nate growing up (a recurring theme?). Anyone who knows Nate for even a short time, will know how much he loves his stuffed otter, Fluffy. He's had Fluffy for about a year, a gift he received on a visit to the Georgia Aquarium. Fluffy has all but replaced his beloved Nanni (his baby blanket). He sleeps with Fluffy and holds Fluffy when he is watching TV or is sad, tired or bored. He brought Fluffy to swim team practice one day and had me hold Fluffy up to the fence and watch Nate swim. So imagine my dismay when he is getting out of the car at the airport this morning and says, "Did you put Fluffy in my backpack?" I said, "did you?" I expected tears, stomping feet and more expressions of anger and frustration. Instead he said, "that's ok." I think I was more upset about Fluffy being left behind than he was. That's when I started getting choked up. I told him I would bring it when I came out next week. Or I could mail it. He said, "yeah, mail it." Then Brad said, "insure it." I decided that mailing was unacceptable because insurance would not get Fluffy back if he was lost in the mail. So I got some great hugs and kisses and I got in the car. I called Pat and asked if she would bring a stuffed animal to the airport as a substitute until Fluffy makes it out there. That's when it struck me that maybe he was growing up. Could this little boy be less dependent on his lovey? Could he be outgrowing the need for a stuffed animal to comfort him? Could be... But the more likely explanation is that he was so excited to get on the plane and going on this trip, Fluffy was the least of his concerns. Maybe a combination of both.
Oh and Abby sat across the aisle from Brad and Nate on the plane. She's growing up a bit too. She didn't want to sit alone but I convinced her it might be a nice break from Nate.
Nate napping with Fluffy in May
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Hmmm? Where's that fire in the belly?
I have always enjoyed sports. I used to fall asleep listening to Kansas City Royals baseball games on a transistor radio as a child. I started playing sports as a girl. I played softball, basketball and tennis. Mind you, I never excelled at any sports, but I did love to play and have always tried hard (at least in my opinion). I never really considered if I was competitive or not. I know I am competitive when I play trivia (don't laugh), I have become a little more competitive at my recreational tennis matches too. I definitely don't always win, but I try hard.
Then my kids started playing sports. To be honest, I thought it was cute when they played soccer and didn't kick the ball at all. The whole season. I thought it was funny when Nate said, "Remember the time when I almost kicked the ball?" What's the big deal? He's 4. I certainly didn't play on a team at 4. Or 5. Or 6 even. More often I was surprised that other kids actually did know what to do.
Abby's first season in softball was easy. It was coach-pitch and if they couldn't hit the coaches pitches, they got to hit off a tee. She hit the ball well and once or twice even hit it when the coach pitched. Her next season, she moved out of 6U (for 6 years and under). The girls in 8U were definitely in a different league (no more tee, just 5 pitches from her coach). She held her own as there was one or two kids who were at a similar skill level to her. She did have trouble connecting with the ball. I decided I needed to help her. So I asked her if she wanted to practice at home. She wondered why she needed to practice at home too. I talked to her about getting better and winning. And that's when she threw my words back on me. "Mommy, you told me it doesn't matter if you win or lose. It's just for fun." So I agreed but added, "yes, but it's even more fun, when you do your best and sometimes even win." We practiced and she really enjoyed it when she made contact and got some hits. She started getting hits in her games and had fun. Once she hit the ball about 2 feet and managed to make it 3rd base on base running and an error (or two. To her that was the day she got a "triple." Her third season was a little tougher season, but Abby had fun. She loved the camaraderie in the dugout and the chants. She did pretty well with her fielding but still struggled with her batting. Her coaches loved her as she had a great attitude and did what was asked. But she didn't really want to practice anything beyond the team practices. And I was ok with that. Well, not really, but I tried.
So now it's swim season. And...Ok maybe I am competitive. But my kids aren't. And they are the ones on the swim team. When I asked Abby's swim instructor if maybe it was time for Abby to "pick up the pace?" She agreed with me but said, "Abby's a daydreamer." I keep telling myself "she's 8. She's not that athletic. She doesn't really have athletic parents..." So I am really trying to be ok with my 'daydreaming swimmer."
And then there's Nate... He's just 5 and also in his first season on swim team he's no mini Mark Spitz (extra points, if you get that reference). He can swim. A little. He can swim without touching the wall every 2nd stroke. He just doesn't want the swim team coaches to know, so he won't show them in practice. He was not in the first two meets. And then he asked to swim in the third meet. I was way more nervous than he was. At his age, he is allowed to touch the wall or the lane line, but it's not encouraged. I really didn't expect much out of his first event. Though I am quite sure it had nothing to do with competitiveness, he nailed it. Well, if by "nailed it", I mean he got 5th place (out of 5). But he did nail it in his own way. He swam the 25 free without touching the wall at all. It took a few minutes but it was a priceless moment. He was so proud of himself. And so was I.
My kids are who they are. I don't know if they will ever excel in sports. But I do know the experiences from being a member of a team and participating in sports will be invaluable. So I am sure I have quite a few years of stress ahead of me as I watch them athletics or music or any other activity. I just need to remember to enjoy them for who they are.
And, we better save for college, as I am pretty sure there are no athletic scholarships in our future.
Then my kids started playing sports. To be honest, I thought it was cute when they played soccer and didn't kick the ball at all. The whole season. I thought it was funny when Nate said, "Remember the time when I almost kicked the ball?" What's the big deal? He's 4. I certainly didn't play on a team at 4. Or 5. Or 6 even. More often I was surprised that other kids actually did know what to do.
Abby's first season in softball was easy. It was coach-pitch and if they couldn't hit the coaches pitches, they got to hit off a tee. She hit the ball well and once or twice even hit it when the coach pitched. Her next season, she moved out of 6U (for 6 years and under). The girls in 8U were definitely in a different league (no more tee, just 5 pitches from her coach). She held her own as there was one or two kids who were at a similar skill level to her. She did have trouble connecting with the ball. I decided I needed to help her. So I asked her if she wanted to practice at home. She wondered why she needed to practice at home too. I talked to her about getting better and winning. And that's when she threw my words back on me. "Mommy, you told me it doesn't matter if you win or lose. It's just for fun." So I agreed but added, "yes, but it's even more fun, when you do your best and sometimes even win." We practiced and she really enjoyed it when she made contact and got some hits. She started getting hits in her games and had fun. Once she hit the ball about 2 feet and managed to make it 3rd base on base running and an error (or two. To her that was the day she got a "triple." Her third season was a little tougher season, but Abby had fun. She loved the camaraderie in the dugout and the chants. She did pretty well with her fielding but still struggled with her batting. Her coaches loved her as she had a great attitude and did what was asked. But she didn't really want to practice anything beyond the team practices. And I was ok with that. Well, not really, but I tried.
So now it's swim season. And...Ok maybe I am competitive. But my kids aren't. And they are the ones on the swim team. When I asked Abby's swim instructor if maybe it was time for Abby to "pick up the pace?" She agreed with me but said, "Abby's a daydreamer." I keep telling myself "she's 8. She's not that athletic. She doesn't really have athletic parents..." So I am really trying to be ok with my 'daydreaming swimmer."
And then there's Nate... He's just 5 and also in his first season on swim team he's no mini Mark Spitz (extra points, if you get that reference). He can swim. A little. He can swim without touching the wall every 2nd stroke. He just doesn't want the swim team coaches to know, so he won't show them in practice. He was not in the first two meets. And then he asked to swim in the third meet. I was way more nervous than he was. At his age, he is allowed to touch the wall or the lane line, but it's not encouraged. I really didn't expect much out of his first event. Though I am quite sure it had nothing to do with competitiveness, he nailed it. Well, if by "nailed it", I mean he got 5th place (out of 5). But he did nail it in his own way. He swam the 25 free without touching the wall at all. It took a few minutes but it was a priceless moment. He was so proud of himself. And so was I.
My kids are who they are. I don't know if they will ever excel in sports. But I do know the experiences from being a member of a team and participating in sports will be invaluable. So I am sure I have quite a few years of stress ahead of me as I watch them athletics or music or any other activity. I just need to remember to enjoy them for who they are.
And, we better save for college, as I am pretty sure there are no athletic scholarships in our future.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Out of Nowhere
I am usually the one counting down the days till school starts. Especially with my son who will start Kindergarten in the Fall (August 15th or 90 days from today to be more precise). I am looking forward to putting a great big backpack on his little body and shuffling him off to full days out of the home. Don't get me wrong, I adore the boy (and his big sister). They have a way to make me smile like noone or nothing else can. They also have a way to make me want to pull my hair out and sit in a quiet room for hours.
So imagine my surprise when out of the blue (at Target), a feeling came over me that made me gasp. I see the moms with their sweet little toddlers and babies all around. Usually I feel a bit smug that I am not in that stage anymore (no more diapers, sippy cups and baby wipes). Or I feel a bit nostalgic for those days (no more days spent with nothing more pressing on the agenda than a leisurely trip to the grocery store or Target and afternoon naps). Long days spent alone with someone who cannot talk back and who lights up when you walk into a room. But really, for the most part, I am over that.
Until today...
The week my youngest will finish preschool. The week that begins his forward progression away from me. "He's just so little" I think. How can he do things like put on his own shoes, carry a tray in the cafeteria, or even swim on the swim team? I picked him up this morning and just squeezed him and told him how one day he will be bigger than me. He won't sit in his room and sing sweet songs that he makes up, he won't ask me to cuddle with him and watch Phineas & Ferb, let's face it, he won't always think I am the greatest thing since sliced bread. And sometimes? That just crushes me. I know my job is to care for and raise these little beings into responsible adults (with Brad, of course). And as scary as that is sometimes, we are up to the challenge (for the most part). But some days? I just want to take this little 5 year old and squish him down to about 18 months. Or even go back to the infancy of my firstborn.
So at Target, I was suddenly overcome with all these feelings about my youngest growing up and I wanted to sit down in the towel aisle and cry. I carried on and did my shopping but just can't shake this feeling. It must be the looming preschool graduation...or the 90 days till Kindergarten. I don't know, but a certain 5 year old boy is going to get some extra cuddles this afternoon.
Last night Brad said, "I just want to bottle up these moments" when Nate was singing in his room. Instead, I sent him up with the video camera.
I guess that will have to do.
So imagine my surprise when out of the blue (at Target), a feeling came over me that made me gasp. I see the moms with their sweet little toddlers and babies all around. Usually I feel a bit smug that I am not in that stage anymore (no more diapers, sippy cups and baby wipes). Or I feel a bit nostalgic for those days (no more days spent with nothing more pressing on the agenda than a leisurely trip to the grocery store or Target and afternoon naps). Long days spent alone with someone who cannot talk back and who lights up when you walk into a room. But really, for the most part, I am over that.
Until today...
The week my youngest will finish preschool. The week that begins his forward progression away from me. "He's just so little" I think. How can he do things like put on his own shoes, carry a tray in the cafeteria, or even swim on the swim team? I picked him up this morning and just squeezed him and told him how one day he will be bigger than me. He won't sit in his room and sing sweet songs that he makes up, he won't ask me to cuddle with him and watch Phineas & Ferb, let's face it, he won't always think I am the greatest thing since sliced bread. And sometimes? That just crushes me. I know my job is to care for and raise these little beings into responsible adults (with Brad, of course). And as scary as that is sometimes, we are up to the challenge (for the most part). But some days? I just want to take this little 5 year old and squish him down to about 18 months. Or even go back to the infancy of my firstborn.
So at Target, I was suddenly overcome with all these feelings about my youngest growing up and I wanted to sit down in the towel aisle and cry. I carried on and did my shopping but just can't shake this feeling. It must be the looming preschool graduation...or the 90 days till Kindergarten. I don't know, but a certain 5 year old boy is going to get some extra cuddles this afternoon.
Last night Brad said, "I just want to bottle up these moments" when Nate was singing in his room. Instead, I sent him up with the video camera.
I guess that will have to do.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)