Sunday, September 28, 2008

As I Eat a Slice of Apple Pie...

Ryan is in a small town far far away. I am here, me and the cubs. And I miss him terribly.

I miss him because he has kissed me awake every morning of every day since we have been married and has never missed a day ever except when he is out of town on business, like now.

I miss him because he laughs at the jokes I make even when I didn’t realize I had made a joke until I hear him laughing.

I miss him because as good as a mom as I am, I am not a very good dad and no one is as fun as the Papa Bear.

I miss him because he bakes me apple pies all by himself.

I miss him because he is so smart and he takes such good care of us.

And I hope he reads this as he is in a small town far far away and knows that I am his woman.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Four in the Bed

My days as of late have gone a little like the kid song “Roll Over.” Remember that song:

There were four in the bed and the little one said roll over, roll over. So they all rolled over and one fell out. He gave a little scream and he gave a little shout.

The “little one” represents the changes in my life since I moved from Grapevine. First change—the glorious hour of exercise a day. Then there is the social life, which has tripled with so many friends and family members so close (An enthusiastic loner by nature, I spend as much time overwhelmed by my social interactions as I do enjoying them. It is important to add, however, that these people are the reason Ryan and I move back here in the first place and are well worth it.). Last, the cubs. Their nap requirements are dwindling… as is my sanity.

So naturally, things are falling out of bed. First to hit the floor, obviously, is my writing. How I love words, manipulating them to do what I want, swinging them around to evoke emotions, pairing them in ways that make others laugh, agree, and sometimes blush. I miss writing so.

Also, it seems that I’ve lost any time for reading. Books, blogs, and yes my friends, even my scriptures have been neglected. I’ve haven’t even signed up for my new library card yet, whereas before I’d visit the library weekly, always leaving with five or more pounds of loot.

These are very important pieces of me that have been pushed to the side by other very important pieces of me.

Rather that pick and choose, I’ve decided to add an extra hour to the day. Being that the sun was not very keen on the idea of slowing her routine, however, I’ll just have to do it myself… gosh dang it. I’ll add another hour by waking up early every day, before the kids, before my hubby and before that cheeky sun.

Ryan laughed when I told him my plan because he has no recollection of me EVER getting out of bed before him. I am not what you’d call a “morning person.” I've never wanted to “get the worm.” But do I really need nine hours of sleep a day?

I can do it. Holy hummus, I can do it.

Monday, September 15, 2008

An Hour of Freedom

My body aches and I am loving it. I earned the pain. I paid good money to feel this miserable.

Gold's Gym and I have reunited once again and even though the three year membership cost Ryan and I a pretty penny, oooohhhhh it is worth it.

An hour a day of exercises. An hour a day of free babysitting. An hour a day in my comfy stretchy underpants (oh how I've missed you). An hour a day of sanity.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

The Person Who Invented Blue Ice Cream was a Genius

The Gamble

"You like THAT," Ryan asked, with his eyebrows raised and finger pointed at my recent purchase.

I nodded.

"Why?" he asked, trying his darndest to understand.

I did an expressive dance to illustrate why and just how much I loved the decorative pillow.

"If you like it THAT much... sigh... then there is no other way. Let's keep it."

I jumped and clapped. I may have sang a special happy song. I mean, I had bought the pillow on a gamble. I saw it and I loved it. It was all I could ever want in a decorative pillow and more.

But I also knew that Ryan and his mismatched chromosomes would never "get it." Maybe he'd even hate it. And perhaps he does hate it. But at least he's being a good sport about it--which is generous considering I put my foot down (with an accompanied vomit sound) on more than a few of his decorating ideas.

And so I give you a glimpse of what is to come of our front room--the decorative pillow being the inspiration:

Monday, September 8, 2008

Oscar the ....

Though I cannot see his face, I know what it looks like. Red. Wet. Liquid boogers are oozing down his lips and smearing across his door--his mouth squished dramatically against the wooden surface so he can be sure I hear his piercing screams.

And this is me. Typing. Ignoring. Not dealing. Clicking away the tense feeling that has been in my chest since I woke up this morning. The one that has no basis, cause or reason.

This feeling caused me to flat-iron my hair this morning, then put it in a ponytail, then take it out and flat-iron it again, then the ponytail, and so on.

This tense feeling distracted me from tipping my waitress when I went to lunch with some girlfriends at noon (don't worry all you former servers; I called Firehouse Pizza as soon as I realized my mistake and made arrangements for restitution).

This tense feeling caused me to watch a full hour of Gossip Girl, which, I realize, probably made matters worse.

All the while, this tense feeling has made me really short with my kids... all day.

Now I am ignoring my son, who is throwing a tantrum. And while I believe "ignoring" is the best tool for handling a toddler who is throwing a tantrum, that is not why I am doing it. It is because that slimy boogery door is the only thing separating me from giving my little cub the royal spanking of his life. And, aside from "running into the street without holding Mommy's hand" incidents, I don't subscribe to spankings.

So I am typing. And then I'll go to bed. And tomorrow I will not be grouchy anymore.

Friday, September 5, 2008

Back in Business

The moving boxes are unpacked. Our clothing, though somewhat wrinkly and smelling of cardboard shavings, now hang in the closet. The dishes are coordinated by color and size and stacked neatly in the cupboard. The Comcast Fairy even sprinkled our condo with cable, phone and Internet dust.

All this happened after great anticipation. I was itching for a vacation from my vacation. I needed order, routine and a space to call mine. I needed to do chores for Pete's sake.

Yet, as I sat down and clicked on the Internet explorer icon for the first time in several weeks, the hand of obligation took hold of my lower esophagus and started to squeeze. Now I have no excuse: no excuse for not writing a chapter of my book, no excuse for not meeting my social obligations, no excuse for missing my daily scripture study, no excuse for why my pants are slightly tighter around my waist then they were last month.

Real life begins once again. And while I feel the heavy burden of responsibility, I know that the only way to relieve my stress is to go and do.

And so a new beginning.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

If I Was a Wealthy Man (uh... Woman)

Do you think it is wrong to want nice things?

A few weeks ago my mom, Kristy and I went to to Denver Parade of Homes. I brought Ryan to see it later that day. I bought another $10 ticket two days later so I could take pictures.

Because I really want this house.

And I feel a little guilty for wanting it because it is really nice. Several million dollars nice. 8,000 square feet nice. Excess, wasteful, covetous, inefficient, showoffy, "We are the Jones's" nice.

And I want it.

Here's why:

Upon entering, this is what you see.

The beautiful front room.

The vaulted ceilings and beams.

The fireplace.

The ceiling in the dining room.

The turret.

The white kitchen.

The cutest breakfast nook I ever did see.

The family room.

White couches.

Note the ceiling in the kitchen.

Note the flooring everywhere else.

Is that ceiling tiles on the bathroom wall. Brilliant.

The built-in in the den.

The den.

The master bedroom.

The master bath. Oh the shower.

The counter space.

The baths I could take here.

The fireplaces facing the tub.

Oh look, the master suite has an upstairs.

So this is a little much, but there is a glass floor that overlooks the wine cellar. In our case that floor would be showcasing our food storage. Classy.

The three square windows was a theme throughout the house. I love it.

Another beautiful room.

Gorgeous counters.

To the basement.

The Kitchenette.

The "Man room."

The glorious back yard.

The steaks that could be grilled here...

The arbor!!!

The water feature.

The fireplace.

Another view.

This was in a different house, but I thought it was the cutest little girl's room in the world.

The bath.

The wonderland.