Monthly Archives: October 2009

If a picture is worth a thousand words…

Then you’re going to have to be content with a thousand words.

‘Cause I got no pictures.

What a week.

I blame the baby. She started off the week sick and decided to cry off and on during the night a few times, sleep in our bed a few times, kick people in the face a few times (okay, just Mr. French).

1. All the crown molding is up and we love it! It’s makes such a big difference. But here’s my thought. The Amish would never put crown molding up in their houses, would they? Wouldn’t it be too decorative? And yet, they still do such a beautiful job with ours. How is that?

2. The beginning of the week was overcast and dark so I didn’t take any house pictures. And then Wednesday was a beautiful bright day. And I totally forgot. Then Thursday was rainy and a little overcast but I decided to try to take pictures anyway. I was even going to take pictures with clutter! and dust! so you don’t think I’m perfect, but alas, the batteries were dead. And so, mysteriously, were the other set of rechargeables. So I recharged them and they held a charge for around 2 seconds.

3. I think we need new rechargeable batteries.

4. I was saying goodnight to the boys the other night and I was laying on J’s bed, feeling cold, so I suggested maybe I should sleep in his bed tonight. His eyes got bright and he said, “Yeah.” And I said, “Except Daddy would probably get mad.” And he smiled and with a little twinkle in his eye said, “But maybe you could sneak.”

5. My boys roll their eyes when I tell them their beds are all messed up. How can you possibly sleep with the covers messed up? I say. And then they roll their eyes and look conspiratorially at their father. Is sleeping with messed up covers genetic? I certainly can’t do it.

6. This is our third fall. I know this because this is the third time I’ve done all the fall leaf clean up. I know this because I remember these sorts of things.

7. I read this book. It was a good read. He’s funny and a good writer. It’s short and easy to read. But I didn’t identify with him at all. And I don’t think it was because he’s a father and I’m not. I think it was because his experience of parenting was so different than mine. He suggested that everyone is lying about how really truly absurdly difficult it is to bring home a baby and that wasn’t my experience at all. I believe him and know people who also struggled. I think it’s because I’ve always been extremely comfortable with babies and I can get by on less sleep than most. If I felt as tired after the baby was born as I do when I’m pregnant than I would probably struggle too.

8. The book also talked about bonding with babies and it reminded me of when S was born. I had been worried about having a second baby. I just couldn’t imagine loving another baby as much as I loved C, and immediately after his very fast birth I was worried because I didn’t feel the same sort of feelings that I’d remembered (fifteen months prior) feeling with C. I was worried all the way up until the next morning when I awoke suddenly and realized I didn’t know when I’d last fed him. I instantly thought he must have died and just when I was about to panic, I realized he was lying right next to me, sleeping peacefully. And then I sighed with relief, both because he wasn’t dead and because right then and there, I knew that I must love him or I wouldn’t have been so panicked.

9. Speaking of panicked and minds jumping to conclusions, whenever and I do mean whenever, any of my children sleep in or I can’t find them when and where I expect to, I immediately think they’re dead. My mind goes there instantly. That’s normal right? I even think that way if Mr. French is a little later than usual. The moment before I realize he’s late, I’m fine. But the second I realize he’s late, I start worrying.

10. And you thought I was so laid back.

11. I love how Felicity is both fiercely independent and such a copycat. She has to do everything we do, but she has to do it herself.

12. She takes a walk with her father every evening. She waits at the top of the stairs for him to finish work. As soon as she sees him coming, she runs, yelling, to the hall closet where her backpack is sitting.

She has him wrapped around her little finger.

And there’s not much room there because there are three other boys hanging on too.

13. I’ve always thought of my Dad as adventurous. I always said that if we’d been alive during the pioneering days my Dad would have been on the wagon train. Westward Ho! But I think I would have been too. Sometimes I think if I could just travel, I could get it out of my system. I have a strong desire to see the west.

14. But I also just like to stay home.

Alright, I think 891 words are enough. 893. (Wait, does that count as word?)

899 But who’s counting?

902 Apparently this blog is and they’re doing an excellent job, I might add.

915 just sayin’

15. Okay one more random thought. One of the Amish men that was here working asked about our kids. I told them their ages. He said he had three boys and a girl. I asked about their ages. He said, “4, 3, 2 and 4 months.”

Whoa. No words.

961

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Filed under Aren't my kids funny?, Boys will be boys, Everyone's an interior designer, Forgive me for being sentimental, French toast, Girls are not boys, I confess, Moving is my hobby, Mr. French, Oversharing, Why does no one get my jokes?

You know that saying, “People who live in glass houses, shouldn’t throw stones”?

I take it literally.

What in the world is she doing out there?

Very literally.

I guess that's the price you pay for living in a glass house.

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Curse you all-glass, totally see-through front doors!

We were sitting down to breakfast the Saturday before last.

Sitting down to breakfast

The dog started barking.

Mr. French went to the door.

They appeared to be either sales people or Jehovah’s Witnesses.

I was wearing this.

Yes, these are my pajamas.

I really wanted to take a shower.

Now there's a true dilemma.

My bedroom is on the other side of the all-glass, totally see-through front doors.

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Newsflash: Evidence found to suggest author and daughter might be related.

Have you ever had one of those moments when everything becomes slow motion as you try to grasp the air, trying to stop what you know is inevitable?

Whoa. Sugar overload.Yeah. Me, too.

And it was kind of a lot of sugar to lose too.

I was going to title this: “Grasping at Straws” and then I thought, it’s more like grasping at sugar.

And then I thought, why wouldn’t it be “Grasping at Sugar”? I mean, sugar is harder to grasp than straws. Straws almost seem graspable compared to sugar.

And then I thought, dude, way to over think a metaphor.

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Our maple tree is aflame but my living room is not.

It's on fire!

Don’t you love fall?

You were all (all four of you, thanks for playing) good guesses. I didn’t really give you much to work with.

Since I’ve been thinking about it for well over a year, I’ve considered a whole range of colors for the living room and front hall. It’s a very open floor plan (you can see straight through the back window standing on the front stoop) and I think that makes it harder.

But Esther got it right.

Yeah, it's yellow.

The color is called “saffron”. (Sorry for the flash. It’s been overcast a lot lately. Once the crown molding is up I’ll take better pictures.)

But she was at an advantage since she’s actually been to this house.

And once more, with feeling.

My sister came in second since brown was what we painted our first house and we thought about it for this one.

If you had asked me what color I wanted my living room to be 10-12 years back, I would’ve definitely gone with red. But I’ve kind of gotten away from that lately.

The half wall you see used to be glass blocks. (Yes, the kind that are in basement windows and showers.)

But we changed that last year.

Don't fall!

No, seriously, don't fall in.

That's weird...

We think it’s an improvement.

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Filed under Everyone's an interior designer, Moving is my hobby, Mr. French, That was fun

What you can’t see won’t hurt you.

Mr. French went out to the car last week and made a little discovery.

He had his suspicions.

Just to make sure it wasn’t the boys, he brought them out for a consultation.

He asked them if they had or knew who had torn this tissue into little itsy bitsy pieces.

Seriously? In the car?!

C looked at it thoughtfully and said, “No, but it looks like a mouse did.”

Really? You had to make a mess?

Mmm-hm. Good call.

Oh, I see. And then you moved the little pieces. Why, exactly?

Three days, two traps, two tissues with little tiny holes in them, and a bunch of peanut butter later, we caught one mouse.

And if you dare suggest that there are more than one, I’ll… I’ll….

I’ll stick my fingers in my ears and start humming!

Really loudly.

Lalala..Laalala…..I can’t hear you…..Lalalala..la..Laaaaaa!

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Yesterday

Yesterday was the conclusion of Operation: Paint the House.

And by “House”, I mean the entryway, hallways, living room, and around the window in the dining room. (Oh! and the laundry room door. Don’t forget that.)

Everyday, during naptime, late at night, early in the morning, just painting. Or getting ready to paint. Which, frankly, takes as long as painting does.

We’re getting crown molding put up and when I realized that if I could paint everything in a week, I wouldn’t have to tape at the top. So, I planned the operation. And I thought, it’ll be tough, but it’s totally doable.

Until I started. And then I thought, this is crazy.

It’s like having a baby. Before you get pregnant, you think it’ll be hard but survivable. In the middle, you’re pretty sure you’re going to die. Then you’re holding that sweet bundle of gurgling baby fat* and you’re pretty sure you’d do it again in an instant (or a year or two). By the time the kid’s walking, you’re convinced you made the whole nauseous thing up.

And no, this is not some back-handed baby announcement, although you know I’m not above that kind of thing. It’s just that I seem to compare everything to childbirth.

I thought you said it wasn't white?

So here’s your assignment:

If you could paint your living room any color (husband, toddlers, and rental notwithstanding), any color at all, what color would you paint it?

Now, who else would show you the ugly primed walls?

And, more importantly, what do you think we just painted our living room? (that’s the hallway, by the way.)

I’ll give you a hint: It’s not beige or white. Or black. (I’m so helpful!)

*You’re welcome!

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