I. Miss. Blogging.

There.  I said it.  I miss blogging.  It's true.  But no more promises.  No more goals.  No more writing checks my butt can't cash...(is that how that goes?)  Funnily enough (if $185 and eye popping unbelievablity can be funny) right after my last blog post about ... posting more frequently, my kids cracked my laptop screen.  My beautiful new laptop.  My beautiful new expensive laptop. A month later I got it back as good as new, but by then my resolve was cracked.  Yet, here I am, months later, inexorably drawn back to my (sad) (pathetic) (almost couldn't remember the password) (mostly pictures of 15 lbs and 1 Lincoln ago) blog.  I miss it.  Plain and simple.  It is the closest thing to thinking that I do anymore.  So I'm giving it another try.  I've heard it said that if you can acknowledge the things that keep you from your goal, you're that much closer to defeating them (I think it was in Season 3 of Gidget ... something about accidentally having two dates on the same night) So here is a rundown of a few things that have transpired in the interim since I used to blog more often:

* Lincoln.  I love him.  He's a blonde, curly headed, fun-loving bundle of insanity and irresistablity.  However, let's face it.  I'm no summer hen, or spring chicken for that matter.  I think I actually forgot the amount of time and energy that a 2-year old expects from a mother.  If you've forgotten, let me remind you: a lot.  Take all the time & energy you have.  Add a quijillion.  It's somewhere around there.

* Watch Me Drown. So, remember that time I lost my job at, the-company-who-cannot-be-named-cuz-they-read-my-blogposts-and-then-hold-corporate-management-meetings-to-see-if-I-violated-the-negativity-clause-in-my-termination-contract?  Well, back then I was a little daunted, but I also thought about all the wonderful opportunities that may await me.  Like being a business owner.  Then I actually bought a business.  Because I'm insane.  You know that phrase about biting off more than you can chew?  Try, shoving an entire watermelon in your mouth rind, seeds, and all.  And then putting a cupcake in there too, just because it looked good.  And then attempting to wash it down with a Big Gulp.  You get the picture.  That's not to say that I am not still faithfully chewing away...just that it can be a bit much at (almost all) times.

* Netflix. T.M.TV.  A million series I've never even heard of and can't live a moment longer without completing.  Add one bedroom TV, one Roku device, and multiply by insomnia and indefatigable desire for great TV drama. You get the picture.  And let me know if you need any recommendations for something to watch...

Well, actually, that probably about sums it up.  Just three little reasons really.  How could I let such minor things get in the way of my thinking time?  I don't know.  I just know that I need to blog.  It makes me feel connected in ways that nothing else can replace.  It makes me feel like a person.  Not just a wife, maid, mother, friend, boss, maid, cook, did I mention maid? But an actual real-live person.  I don't know if that makes sense.  I don't know if anyone still remembers a girl named Cyndie who used to blog, but I need it.  I'm giving it another try.

Wish me luck.

A Time to Blog

Fantasia had a school project to do tonight for her Foods II class which was making dinner for our family. Somehow this meant that, despite her need for my constant instruction and presence in the kitchen, not only did we have a delicious meal complete with appetizer & dessert (as specified by the assignment) but also we ate earlier than normal. "Normal" for us is usually late. Sometimes ridiculously so. Which meant that I, in turn, had time to catch up on some seriously belated blog-reading. Specifically, my kick-trash sister, Katie, and my dear friend/idol/inspiration/blog-maestro, Lara.

Reading through several fabulous blog entries has inspired me to set a few blog and non- blog related goals: I want to blog more. Take more pictures. Find more humor in things that drive me out of my mind. Read more. Enjoy my kids more. Buy more cereal. Be home more. Be thin. Be inspiring.

Okay, so not all of those goals are realistic. But surely I can attempt to find a few quiet moments a month to catch up and to blog about the things that make me happy. And sad. And grateful to be alive.

(Watch for ... Lincoln's entire first 20 months of life, just as soon as I ask Karyn for the pictures...)

People named Jody.

So, I went through the McDonalds drive-thru the other day (in hopes of getting a Yoda toy in my Happy Meal.) Normally, they are pretty quick, but when I got to the window to pick up my food (sadly, sans Yoda) they asked me to wait for a couple minutes. No biggie; I wasn't in a huge hurry. PLUS, it gave me time to read the various employee notices and, in particular, the sign posted on the side of the McCafe coffee-drink machine contraption thingie.

It went a little something like this:

ATTENTION EMPLOYEES!

We have received SEVERAL customer complaints about the quality of our McCafe Lattes.

PLEASE be sure to use the following measurements when making the lattes:

Medium Size

2 shots of caramel

1 whipped cream

Large Size

3 shots of caramel

2 whipped cream

By following these McDonalds recipes, we can ensure the satisfaction of our customers.

*Specifically a woman in a champagne colored Acura named Jody.

I have two questions to ask of all the Jodys out there. Just two.

Number One: Is it really not already sucky enough to be working at McDonalds without having to deal with managerial notes about latte recipes?

Number Two: Really?? You're going to complain about the quality of something you are ordering at McDonalds? You're a jerk. Go to Starbucks. They're used to people like you.

New Young Mom v. Old Mom

In Hollywood, everyone is having babies in their 30's and 40's. This is not usually the case in the rest of the world. It's ok. I accept and embrace my "Old Mom-dom." I have, however, noticed a few differences between myself and mothers who are younger and newer to momhood than me. Here are just a few:

New Mom: Purchases and totes with her everywhere a fashionable, new diaper bag with lots of pockets and a matching wipe case.
Old Mom: Shoves a diaper & wipes in her purse. Or, in a pinch, just sticks a diaper in her back pocket or hopes there is one in the car.

New Mom: Brings lots of snacks, fun toys & fancy-schmancy homemade quiet books with her to church or other outings.
Old Mom: "Ummmm. Here's a smashed Jr. Mint to eat and some some hand sanitizer to play with."

New Mom: Worries about every little thing her baby eats and is certain to only start foods when recommended by the pediatrician.
Old Mom: Starts her baby on milk around 11 months cuz it's close enough & formula is expensive. Feeds her baby whatever she can get her hands on when he's hungry. (see Jr. Mints above)

New Mom: Can't wait to go to every single school activity that her child is in. Muffins with Mom. Plays. Programs. Math Night.
Old Mom: Tries to bribe her daughters to please not make her go to Arts Night. Please.

New Mom: Makes sure to read with her children faithfully for 20 minutes every night after dutifully helping them with all of their homework.
Old Mom: Does reading the instructions off the box of a Mac & Cheese count? Here, quick read me the junk mail. It's time to go to bed. Crap! Homework. You can do it in the car on the way to school. Now hustle!!

New Mom: Finds time to blog about every cute little thing her child/children does/do. Including several pictures.
Old Mom: First blog in over a year. Do I really have to say it?

A Child's Perspective on Her Mother's Condition.

I won't bore you with details of how burdensome, exhausting, and unwieldy it is to be 10 days away from delivering a baby. I will, however, let you know what Audrina unwittingly acknowledged last night at bed time.

I had gotten all the kids in pajamas, said prayers (one together, and one for each of them so as to keep nightmares at bay and keep them in their own beds for the night), and tucked in each precious one. Plenty of effort in and of itself.

I went and got a drink of water, took my nightly Zantac, and went to the bathroom ... again. I was just climbing into bed not really thinking about the effort that it takes, hoisting myself up there, rearranging pillows, etc. when from across the hall comes a little voice,

"Mommy? Are you extercising?"

Enough said. Anytime now Lincoln. Any. Time.