116 posts from 2007

When did you really get to make a difference for someone else? 
Submitted by bodhibound.

I helped a friend who's had a bad year do something important to her. 

I sent cards and e-cards to cheer her up when she was feeling depressed.

I wrote her stories and made collages and wallpapers to send her as little pick-me-ups.

I said "I love and care about you" and "you matter to me" because they were true and not because I wanted to hear them said back to me. 

I never once for thanks because it's what friends do.

I heard this on the radio today and had to share it it, along with the story of why it touches my heart so.

We took Brenna and Mickey to get their pictures taken with Santa last week and finally got the pictures back. 

Brenna's an old pro, but this was Mickey first encounter with the Jolly Old Elf. 

He was not impressed, can you tell?

... at our house. 

That is to say, in the course of trying to avoid acknowledging that Steve is leaving tomorrow, we put up our Christmas lights and decorations this weekend. 

Mickey is walking now, and this is his first "real' Christmas (he was born on (Dec. 22 last year, but he doesn't remember that), so I got a few pictures of him trying to help. 

These are him helping get stuff out of the boxes and checking out the Christmas tree.  We only put up ornaments that wouldn't break if he pulled the tree down.  These included little apples, which he decided were good enough to eat.  (The last picture is a shot of one apple with teeth marks in it.)

Not to be outdone by the baby, our cat, Allie, had to get in on the act, and she hung out by the tree all the time we were decorating it.  She's almost 8 years old now and she has seen this same tree every year for all that time, but it never gets old for her. 

I found this on Yahoo's front page today and though it was pretty amazing.

http://cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/up/player/popup/index.php?cl=5310863

And people say that "internet friends" don't matter. 

For the sake of the people on my LJ f-list who know how terribly bad this time year hast he potential for being and just how much of a misnomer 'vacation' really, I'll forgo past experiences and just say that, yeah, this is no exception.  

And to it my growing nerves/animosity/dread of Steve's impending departure and a lack of a real, real outlet for that (because I can't just vent it out loud because of the kids) and a healthy dose of my mother's usual crap… and yeah.  Debbie is in a mood, to be sure.

To start off with, there's the usual crap -- Mom assuming I'm here this week to be her personal maid/slave and not, oh say, on a vacation at all.  

Then there's the fact that my mother refuses to let us put Mickey to bed (or down for naps) upstairs in a room away from the rest of the family.  Instead, his Pack 'n Play is in the living room.  His bedtime is 7:30- 8:00 and he normally goes to his room while the rest of us get to get showers, do our own bedtime routines and have some much needed down time.  But because he's being put down to bed in the living room, he does not want to go to bed because he sees everyone else up and doing stuff, and making noise.  Further, since yesterday my brother has been staying here nights and he is sleeping on the other couch in the living room.  He *HAS* to have the television on at night before he goes to bed, so that noise keeps Mickey up at night now, too.  

Last night, he was up until almost Midnight and he was sooooooo tired that he simply would not go to sleep at all.  He fussed and cried and only seemed happy if I rocked him, but as soon as I laid him down, he would wake up and fuss and cry and cry some more.  This will, I foresee, become a common themed nuisance this whole week because of Mom's refusal to simply let us take him upstairs and let him sleep in conditions similar to those he's used to at home.  

And yet, Steve, naturally, does not see the fact that keeping to a schedule is next to impossible and insists we just put him in the Pack 'n Play and let him cry it out.  (All the while ignoring the relatives/grandparents who think they know how the boy should be raised and are looking at *me* disapprovingly.  Gah!)

The result is… we've been here since Thanksgiving Day (4 am, only took us 8 hours.  Woo!) and I'm already stressed out, mostly due to lack of sleep and lack of an appropriate outlet for the stress.

And forget about the Internet.  My mom has a cow every time I so much as sit down, let alone turn on the lap top (I am sneaking time right now, but I have a feeling that this 'free time' is soon to come to an end).  

My NaNo novel?  HA!  I haven't touched it since last Wednesday, thanks to mom and her constant harping.  And I was only 10,000 words down, too.  Ah, well.  I suppose we all knew that was coming, huh?  I should just stop trying.  

Deer season doesn't start til Monday, but I'm ready to go home now.  I'm done with it.  I'm tired of this whole thing.  

All week long, I've been silently celebrating the fact that, after almost a year of post-baby weight fluctuations, I am finally able to wear two pairs of jeans I had to abandon once Mickey started to assert his dominance over my abdomen.  I've diligently been trying them on every couple of months and lo!  Finally they fit!

Enter last week, and we (Steve, the kids and I) had our pictures taken for the holidays.  We haven't had a family portrait done since Brenna was 3, so it was time.  

I sent previews to my parents in an email, this is where my poor happy-fitting-jeans bubble meets its demise.  

I am over weight, and yes, I know it.  My parents, who are also over weight, love to harp on the fact because while it's apparently to late for them, it would not be for me, because I'm still young.  And if I won't do it for me (because God knows how much I *LOVE* being over weight, right?) I should lose the weight for my kids.  

Mom calls me up this morning on her way to work.  No "hello, Debbie" or nothing just this little exchange:

"I love you, Debbie.  You're my baby, and I love you more than anything."

… "Okay" … "I love you, too."

"And you have such beautiful babies yourself.  How much do you love your babies, Debbie?"

… "A whole lot" … "Why?"

"How much is a whole lot?"

… "Mother?  What's going on?" …

"I saw your pictures today, and … " she launches into the usual 'you're too fat, you need to exercise, you have to do it for the babies' speech.  

*sigh*

I walk a mile every day., rain or shine.  

I don't buy junk food.

I do get "snacky" but I try to keep healthy snacks like fruit and veggies or yogurt on hand.  

I use low-carb wheat bread instead of white.  

I eat in moderate portions.

And while I'm not trying to starve myself on some crash diet or by counting endless calories, I am slowly losing weight.  It's not huge loads just falling off, but heck -- the jeans are fitting again, so that's something right?

But gah.  Just gah.  
I know I'm not as thin as I used to be.  I haven't been thin since I hit puberty.  But before you go launching into your speech, why don't you try oh, I dunno… asking me how my week has been?  I might have told all about the suddenly  fitting jeans and you'd understand that… gee… maybe your daughter is doing something  about it?

I haven't even posted my NaNo progress here on Vox yet.  Ooops!

Day 1  -- 2052 words
Day 2 -- 3823 words
Day 3 -- 4088 words
Day 4  --  
Day 5 --
Day 6 --
Day 7 --
Day 8 --
Day 9 -- 6511

Um… yeah, well, yeah… says a lot, doesn't it?  But I'm on a roll now. 

110807_1238.jpg

He fell asleep in the car on the way home from the mall today.  Isn't this the most precious thing you've ever seen?