It's been a good 8 years or so, Blogspot. I've enjoyed my time with you and thank you for trying, but you just aren't cutting it anymore. You won't let people comment. You look pretty basic. And, you won't let me buy my own cool domain name.
I would say 'it's not you, it's me', Blogger, but really that's not true. You were not giving me what I need and you do not make me happy. So, I am leaving you for another. I am sorry to be so harsh, but the facts are the facts. I have found a new site that makes me happier than you.
I wish you luck, Blogger, really I do. And I truly hope you find a new blog to replace me. You deserve someone nice who can appreciate you for what you are.
Sincerely,
amysayler@blogspot.com
COME CHECK ME OUT AT MY NEW BLOG Y'ALL:
http://countingflowersonthewall.com/
Monday, November 4, 2013
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Yo soy sensitivo
I'm not sure what happened to me that I have become 1) a big sap and 2) incapable of dealing with badness/sadness in media (and life). I can't watch shows like Law&Order anymore because they are just too gruesome and sad. I don't like scary movies. War movies- forget about it. News articles upset me like no other. I don't read sad books anymore. (Oh, Jodie Picoult, you piss me off so much, and 'Oprah's Book Club' books are pretty much all off my list.) Really, I am looking for happily ever after. I want all my endings tied up with a pretty little bow. Lord Voldermort is pretty much the extent of the evil I can handle...
Maybe it's having kids. Maybe it's growing older. Or maybe it's just that life itself can be rough enough that I don't need to see or read about sad/scary/gruesome/warring or ugly things.
As a result, I'm a dork. I watch the Biggest Loser (and cry), Project Runway (and harshly judge their fashion tastes while sitting in sweat pants) and House Hunters International (and dream of exotic destinations). I was oddly fixated by Ink Masters (a tattooing competition), which as a non-tatted chick is probably pretty bizarre. I gave Grey's Anatomy the ax as a result of all the damn catastrophes, sad stories, and doctors dying. Downton Abbey, which I love, is also on strike 2. (If one more person dies, I'm out.) My newest find, 'Lark Rise to Candleford' (on Netflix) is essentially the British 'Little House on the Prairie' and I am loving every quaint little minute.
So, I ignore the news as best I can. I wrap myself in blankets and read sweet books and watch happy old TV sitcoms (Family Ties, Facts of Life), and I strive to be a happy, good person. In the end, it's really all I can do.
Am I becoming a Duggar?
Maybe it's having kids. Maybe it's growing older. Or maybe it's just that life itself can be rough enough that I don't need to see or read about sad/scary/gruesome/warring or ugly things.
As a result, I'm a dork. I watch the Biggest Loser (and cry), Project Runway (and harshly judge their fashion tastes while sitting in sweat pants) and House Hunters International (and dream of exotic destinations). I was oddly fixated by Ink Masters (a tattooing competition), which as a non-tatted chick is probably pretty bizarre. I gave Grey's Anatomy the ax as a result of all the damn catastrophes, sad stories, and doctors dying. Downton Abbey, which I love, is also on strike 2. (If one more person dies, I'm out.) My newest find, 'Lark Rise to Candleford' (on Netflix) is essentially the British 'Little House on the Prairie' and I am loving every quaint little minute.
So, I ignore the news as best I can. I wrap myself in blankets and read sweet books and watch happy old TV sitcoms (Family Ties, Facts of Life), and I strive to be a happy, good person. In the end, it's really all I can do.
Am I becoming a Duggar?
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Monday, October 14, 2013
It's fun to pretend I live in CT!
We are renting a house in New Milford for the week of Thanksgiving. And, since I love to host things (and since Brad is a good sport), and since I love to pretend that I live in CT close to all my friends and fam, I thought it would be fab to throw a party at 'our place'. Little Miss Violet is turning 1 on the Saturday after Thanksgiving (11/30), so what better reason to celebrate?!? 1 year old cake smashing required, beer pong/flip cup optional...
Save the date! Details to follow.
Save the date! Details to follow.
Anxious much?
The ladies and I are flying (without Brad!) to Chicago tomorrow. GULP! I seriously have palpitations just thinking about it, but I'm pretty sure we/I can do it. It's a direct flight and we are only in the air for 2 hours. I can do this, right? I think I can. I think I can...
I am prepared. I have lists on top of lists and, assuming I pack everything in said lists, will be totally good to go. But kids are unpredictable (or 'unreasonable' as the wise Billy Mac 2.0 prophesied), and you really never know what is going to happen. Annie has her own seat and Violet will be on my lap. I will no doubt need some assistance and I am hoping the flight attendants and/or my fellow plane goers will be kind. FAA Gods, please put us next to a lovely Grandmotherly type who would like nothing more than to play with and coo at 2 cute little girls for the duration of our flight!
In an attempt to win the favor of our potentially-disgruntled-by-us plane mates, I've attached the note below to littles bag of candy. C'mon, if you got this note, you'd be nice, wouldn't you?
I am prepared. I have lists on top of lists and, assuming I pack everything in said lists, will be totally good to go. But kids are unpredictable (or 'unreasonable' as the wise Billy Mac 2.0 prophesied), and you really never know what is going to happen. Annie has her own seat and Violet will be on my lap. I will no doubt need some assistance and I am hoping the flight attendants and/or my fellow plane goers will be kind. FAA Gods, please put us next to a lovely Grandmotherly type who would like nothing more than to play with and coo at 2 cute little girls for the duration of our flight!
In an attempt to win the favor of our potentially-disgruntled-by-us plane mates, I've attached the note below to littles bag of candy. C'mon, if you got this note, you'd be nice, wouldn't you?
The good part about all of this is the reason for traveling. 1) I get to see the lovely Sharaya get married this coming weekend and 2) I get to spend 4 whole days with one of my very best friends in the entire world. I haven't seen Jill since I was pregnant with Annie, so we definitely have some catching up to do. Watch out woman, here we ALL come!
Brad is flying in on Friday so at least I'll have help on the way home.
Think of me tomorrow at 12:40pm as I'm lugging a carry-on, a stroller, and 2 babies through the narrow aisles of a 747, and feel glad that you are NOT me at that moment!
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Rain boots make any day better
A la Ramona (the Pest) and her rain boots, Annie thinks these are pretty fab. Jumping in puddles is pretty fab too
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Today's Favorite things (cont.)
Got a lot of favs these days!
2. Antique find! Old-school wooden box that we are using as a toybox. I think it is so sweet, and the price could not have been beat. (see what I did there). I've wanted something non-kid-esque to hold the toys in the sunroom for a while and was so excited to find this little number!
It's the little things that make a house a home, and I'm feeling all cozy and homey round here these days! Yay for my newest favorite things!
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Today's Favorite thing
I don't wear much jewelry. Most days it's my wedding rings and that's it.
However, I saw this necklace on a friend's Pinterest page and became obsessed. After much hemming and hawing (because I have to overthink everything), I ordered it, and I couldn't be happier! It's hard to tell from the pic, but each circle is stamped with the girls' first initial. I love my sweet and simple "a" and "v" necklace.
If anyone is interested, I ordered it here:
http://www.gosiameyerjewelry.com/product-category/necklaces/
Update
My post about fashion (or my current lack there of) was too pathetic even for me. I realized wishing for yesterday can make today not so great. So, I am happy to report that I went shopping. Frump be gone!
Carpe diem!
Perhaps living in the now (and feeling good about it) is as important as working for a better (fitter) tomorrow!?
Carpe diem!
Monday, October 7, 2013
'Fitting in' with fashion
It struck me, mid 'I have nothing to wear' meltdown this weekend, that lately I aspire to be much more fashionable than I ever manage to pull off. I know what is 'in', and I know what I would like to wear. And I really do love fashion. But I have an image in my head of how I would like to look in my clothes and (literally) fitting into that image is not always possible.
As I see it, there are several major roadblocks to me being the fabulous fashionista I aspire to be:
1. Obviously, I am not the size I would like to be. I love the size 2 fashions, but they don't so much work on this post-baby body.
2. I, like so many other women, live in the world of 'I'll buy it when I lose the weight'. And, as a result, I don't buy it. My closet is looking pretty damn pitiful these days, but who wants to spend the money when, god willing, you will not be this size all that much longer? I like nice things, and have in the past (and would like to again) buy nice things; but I will not buy a $200+ pair of jeans just to see them not fit in a matter of months.
3. I wear what fits my body, and that doesn't always come in the most stylish of items. Sadly, fit often has to come before fashion. For example, I wore a shirt this past weekend that was cut the right way and flattered my body the right way (I even got a couple 'you look like you've lost weight' compliments) but seriously, there wasn't a fashion forward thing about the shirt. It was boring and Mom-ish and made me feel frumptastic. I AM cooler than that! But what do you do? In a choice between wearing something flattering or wearing something fashionable, I feel like you gotta go with flattering. Boring, basic, sad, but flattering.
Obviously full-figured-fashions (god I hate that term) can be flattering and do not have to be boring or frumpy. But I would have to spend money and invest in the body I have now, which is something I am not willing to do. So, until I manage to find Amy of Yesteryear, the frump fest may well continue. Don't judge. Just know that I know.
As I see it, there are several major roadblocks to me being the fabulous fashionista I aspire to be:
1. Obviously, I am not the size I would like to be. I love the size 2 fashions, but they don't so much work on this post-baby body.
2. I, like so many other women, live in the world of 'I'll buy it when I lose the weight'. And, as a result, I don't buy it. My closet is looking pretty damn pitiful these days, but who wants to spend the money when, god willing, you will not be this size all that much longer? I like nice things, and have in the past (and would like to again) buy nice things; but I will not buy a $200+ pair of jeans just to see them not fit in a matter of months.
3. I wear what fits my body, and that doesn't always come in the most stylish of items. Sadly, fit often has to come before fashion. For example, I wore a shirt this past weekend that was cut the right way and flattered my body the right way (I even got a couple 'you look like you've lost weight' compliments) but seriously, there wasn't a fashion forward thing about the shirt. It was boring and Mom-ish and made me feel frumptastic. I AM cooler than that! But what do you do? In a choice between wearing something flattering or wearing something fashionable, I feel like you gotta go with flattering. Boring, basic, sad, but flattering.
Obviously full-figured-fashions (god I hate that term) can be flattering and do not have to be boring or frumpy. But I would have to spend money and invest in the body I have now, which is something I am not willing to do. So, until I manage to find Amy of Yesteryear, the frump fest may well continue. Don't judge. Just know that I know.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Hangovers and Homesickness
It's a cruel twist of fate that I end up MORE homesick directly following visits from my family. I guess it's really just an issue of realizing (or re-remembering) what it is I'm missing out on. I have a pretty fabulous family and would so love to be able to see them all more often!
Cousins' Weekend was last weekend and we had a blast. A couple key personnel were notably missing from the weekend festivities (eh um, Erin and Josh, and of course Nick away at school), but it really was wonderful. With that said, I learned a couple valuable lessons throughout the weekend:
please?
Cousins' Weekend was last weekend and we had a blast. A couple key personnel were notably missing from the weekend festivities (eh um, Erin and Josh, and of course Nick away at school), but it really was wonderful. With that said, I learned a couple valuable lessons throughout the weekend:
- I am not 23 anymore. (As much as I like to convince myself otherwise.)
- Hangovers as a parent suck REALLY BAD!
- Dieting (aka. salad) before a big night of drinking is NEVER a good plan. And did I have a RedBull? Ugh, never a good idea.
- Dry heaving in your backyard (because all bathrooms are full) is actually not glamorous.
- Early 20's is REALLY YOUNG (yet adorable, innocent, fabulous and completely enviable).
- 9 adults, 2 kids, and 1 dog in this small house might just be pushing it. (Beach vacay next year?)
- The best cure for a terrible hangover is definitely sweat pants, mindless TV, and lounging with your equally-lazy loved ones!
please?
Monday, September 23, 2013
Knob job
It took a good bit cursing under my breath, a very sore forearm, and an
instance of locking Annie, Violet and I in a bedroom (to which I had to
crawl out the window to rescue us); but 12 gorgeous new black doorknobs
have successfully been installed, by yours truly, throughout our entire house.
Big difference or 6 hours not so well spent?
Big difference or 6 hours not so well spent?
BEFORE:
AFTER:
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
wallowing wednesday.
I was the lucky one who never really had those girly time of the month problems. PMS was something people joked about, but not anything I ever understood.
And then I had kids.
I don't know if it's the changes in hormones, new meds I'm on, a change in birth control, or what, BUT holy hell I am a mess!
I'm sitting here feeling weepy, defeated, fat, tired, grumpy, and guilty (for all the things I want to do but haven't gotten around to, and all the things I should do but probably won't ever do). And then it occurred to me, the last time I felt this way was exactly one month ago. God, this shit is no joke!
These are the days when co-workers would be helpful. I need someone to pull me out of my misery and put a halt to my wallowing. (Of course, it may well be a good thing that there is no one that has to deal with me today.) These are the days when getting out of the house would be lovely. I need a distraction. And, frankly, these are the days when I probably should have just stayed in bed. (If only...)
And then I had kids.
I don't know if it's the changes in hormones, new meds I'm on, a change in birth control, or what, BUT holy hell I am a mess!
I'm sitting here feeling weepy, defeated, fat, tired, grumpy, and guilty (for all the things I want to do but haven't gotten around to, and all the things I should do but probably won't ever do). And then it occurred to me, the last time I felt this way was exactly one month ago. God, this shit is no joke!
These are the days when co-workers would be helpful. I need someone to pull me out of my misery and put a halt to my wallowing. (Of course, it may well be a good thing that there is no one that has to deal with me today.) These are the days when getting out of the house would be lovely. I need a distraction. And, frankly, these are the days when I probably should have just stayed in bed. (If only...)
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Monday, September 16, 2013
Why ya gotta be a bitch?
Be nice, people. It really goes a long way.
We had folks over to the house recently and some of the conversations I had with one lady in particular has been making me crazy. Seriously, some people...
As background, I am doing a 'Biggest Loser' competition with Brad's brother's girlfriend, Brittany. And, although I have a long way to go still, I am working really hard and have managed to lose 10 lbs in the last month. My body so doesn't cooperate the way it used to and I am totally like the cartoon commercial chick who eats nothing for weeks on end and loses 1 lb, but I am really really trying. You would think people would be supportive. Insert "Sally".
"Sally" is a middle aged family friend. She is thin and always has been. Wonderful for her. And maybe she really just doesn't think, but these were a couple conversations we had. Note that she knows fully well that:
1) Brittany and I have been doing this competition for a month
2) I am trying hard to lose weight
3) I have PCOS and it makes this process hard (no pity requested, just sayin)
4) I have already lost 10 lbs.
Anyway, this was my day:
Conversation 1:
Sally: Your friend Bramble looks really great. Has she lost weight?
Me: Yes, she has. She does look awesome.
Sally: Oh to be young. Losing weight is always so easy when you are young.
Bramble is my age. No mention of me or anything having to do with the weight I lost. Between the lines of this conversation is 'you do not look great', 'you do not look like you have lost weight' and 'losing weight at your age should be easy'. I swear to God, it was either completely intentional or she is just crazy clueless.
Conversation 2:
Me: (being nice) I really like those pants (I didn't, I was just being nice.)
Sally: Oh, thanks. I got them at the Gap. They are a size 8. I normally wear a size 6, but with the fit of these I thought 8 was probably better. They are definitely too big though.
OK, great.
A) I didn't ask.
B) I don't begrudge anyone their size. But c'mon!
Frankly, it's not like I'm a gazillion miles away from those sizes, but bringing up her obviously smaller-than-me size just seemed so intentional and pointed. It was almost like a 'nanny nanny poo poo, I'm a size 6 and you are not'. I mean seriously. It's like 6th grade mean girl shit.
Conversation 3:
Sally: I saw Brittany last weekend and she looks really good. I could definitely tell she has lost weight.
The end. That was it. Nothing further. Not even a thought to add me to that statement... Isn't it just chick code to compliment someone if you have heard they lost weight? Even if someone doesn't look insanely different, if you know they lost 10 lbs, don't you say something!? Well, I do. And that's how I was brought up. Of course, I am nice. "Sally" on the other hand...
At the end of the day, I feel good, so fuck it. I have lost weight. I will continue to lose weight and frankly I don't need compliments to keep me going. With that said, a kind word really does go a long way.
Be kind whenever possible.
It is always possible.
~Tenzin Gyatso, 14th Dalai Lama
Bite me, "Sally".
We had folks over to the house recently and some of the conversations I had with one lady in particular has been making me crazy. Seriously, some people...
As background, I am doing a 'Biggest Loser' competition with Brad's brother's girlfriend, Brittany. And, although I have a long way to go still, I am working really hard and have managed to lose 10 lbs in the last month. My body so doesn't cooperate the way it used to and I am totally like the cartoon commercial chick who eats nothing for weeks on end and loses 1 lb, but I am really really trying. You would think people would be supportive. Insert "Sally".
"Sally" is a middle aged family friend. She is thin and always has been. Wonderful for her. And maybe she really just doesn't think, but these were a couple conversations we had. Note that she knows fully well that:
1) Brittany and I have been doing this competition for a month
2) I am trying hard to lose weight
3) I have PCOS and it makes this process hard (no pity requested, just sayin)
4) I have already lost 10 lbs.
Anyway, this was my day:
Conversation 1:
Sally: Your friend Bramble looks really great. Has she lost weight?
Me: Yes, she has. She does look awesome.
Sally: Oh to be young. Losing weight is always so easy when you are young.
Bramble is my age. No mention of me or anything having to do with the weight I lost. Between the lines of this conversation is 'you do not look great', 'you do not look like you have lost weight' and 'losing weight at your age should be easy'. I swear to God, it was either completely intentional or she is just crazy clueless.
Conversation 2:
Me: (being nice) I really like those pants (I didn't, I was just being nice.)
Sally: Oh, thanks. I got them at the Gap. They are a size 8. I normally wear a size 6, but with the fit of these I thought 8 was probably better. They are definitely too big though.
OK, great.
A) I didn't ask.
B) I don't begrudge anyone their size. But c'mon!
Frankly, it's not like I'm a gazillion miles away from those sizes, but bringing up her obviously smaller-than-me size just seemed so intentional and pointed. It was almost like a 'nanny nanny poo poo, I'm a size 6 and you are not'. I mean seriously. It's like 6th grade mean girl shit.
Conversation 3:
Sally: I saw Brittany last weekend and she looks really good. I could definitely tell she has lost weight.
The end. That was it. Nothing further. Not even a thought to add me to that statement... Isn't it just chick code to compliment someone if you have heard they lost weight? Even if someone doesn't look insanely different, if you know they lost 10 lbs, don't you say something!? Well, I do. And that's how I was brought up. Of course, I am nice. "Sally" on the other hand...
At the end of the day, I feel good, so fuck it. I have lost weight. I will continue to lose weight and frankly I don't need compliments to keep me going. With that said, a kind word really does go a long way.
Be kind whenever possible.
It is always possible.
~Tenzin Gyatso, 14th Dalai Lama
Bite me, "Sally".
Dreary Monday morning
It's kinda one of those days. It's rainy and gray. The insane news of shootings at the Navy Yard in DC have me reeling (God, I freaking hate guns so much), and I'm wishing I didn't have to work and I could just go pick the girls up from daycare and cuddle all day. ...One of those days!
Monday, September 9, 2013
More time, less time...
Day care is working out great. The girls like it. I like it. And I all of a sudden have time on my hands! Of course, the more time you have, the more you try to do, so in the end, I'm as frazzled as always. But, at least it's good frazzled and I'm getting things accomplished!
On top of my list since we moved is has been our entry way. It's small, and since we have no mudroom or entry closet, it needs to do double duty and hold our shoes, jackets and walk-in-the-house-castoffs. We had tons of hooks and baskets, but no matter what we did, it looked crappy and crowded. I knew we needed an 'entryway system', but they are pricey (and I am cheap). The 1st pic below is the Pottery Barn set that I wanted, but, even on sale, it's $600 (plus shipping). So I set out to do it cheaper. AND I DID!
I found the cubby shelf and bench on Amazon. It's MDF (a.k.a. not real wood), but it looks good and definitely does the trick! Both pieces, including shipping, were $200.
Then, I bought foam and burlap to make the bench cushion. ($5 for burlap, $9 for foam, and it couldn't have been easier. I am not much of a sewer so I did the quick/easy staple method and it worked out great. Took about half an hour.) I got the baskets 50% off at JoAnn's Fabrics and I found the throw pillow on clearance at Target. All said and done, I spent $45 on accessories, making the total cost of my awesome and functional new entryway system a meager $245! Not too shabby, especially considering the $600 pieces at Pottery Barn didn't include baskets, pillows, or a bench cushion!
And voilà ... Finished product. I LOVE IT!
Next Project: DOOR KNOBS! This entire house has ugly shiny gold lever door handles and I hate them. Time to make the switch...
On top of my list since we moved is has been our entry way. It's small, and since we have no mudroom or entry closet, it needs to do double duty and hold our shoes, jackets and walk-in-the-house-castoffs. We had tons of hooks and baskets, but no matter what we did, it looked crappy and crowded. I knew we needed an 'entryway system', but they are pricey (and I am cheap). The 1st pic below is the Pottery Barn set that I wanted, but, even on sale, it's $600 (plus shipping). So I set out to do it cheaper. AND I DID!
I found the cubby shelf and bench on Amazon. It's MDF (a.k.a. not real wood), but it looks good and definitely does the trick! Both pieces, including shipping, were $200.
Then, I bought foam and burlap to make the bench cushion. ($5 for burlap, $9 for foam, and it couldn't have been easier. I am not much of a sewer so I did the quick/easy staple method and it worked out great. Took about half an hour.) I got the baskets 50% off at JoAnn's Fabrics and I found the throw pillow on clearance at Target. All said and done, I spent $45 on accessories, making the total cost of my awesome and functional new entryway system a meager $245! Not too shabby, especially considering the $600 pieces at Pottery Barn didn't include baskets, pillows, or a bench cushion!
And voilà ... Finished product. I LOVE IT!
Next Project: DOOR KNOBS! This entire house has ugly shiny gold lever door handles and I hate them. Time to make the switch...
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Where'd we get these big babies from?
Violet had her 9 month doctor's appointment today. Aside from getting a perfectly clean bill of health, it was once again reiterated that she is tre tall lady. 95% for height (70% for weight, and 50% for noggin). Annie's still right around 95% for height too.
I am 5'3 and was always the shortest girl in class.
hmmm. Perhaps they are the mail-lady's babies?
I am 5'3 and was always the shortest girl in class.
hmmm. Perhaps they are the mail-lady's babies?
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Anatomically correct alphabet
Annie sang her alphabet for me last night. She's getting pretty good these days. However, we've hit a bit of snag. This was Annie's rendition:
"...Q R S, T Boobie, W X, Y and Z".
So close.
"...Q R S, T Boobie, W X, Y and Z".
So close.
The sound of silence
The girls are at day care today (they officially start next week, but this is part of the 'ease-in period') and I returned from dropping them off to one of the most blissful sounds I've heard in a long time...
SILENCE!
I'd forgotten how much I love silence and alone time. Pre-babies, I spent a lot of time alone. I've worked from home pretty much since about 2006. And, although I consider myself a social person and the silence was deafening at first, I got used to it, and even learned to love it. When we lived in DC, Annie went to Miss Kim's 3 afternoons a week, so I had periods of silence then; but ever since we moved, we've had a nanny and I've worked in a house filled with kids! For the last year and 3 months, there has been no such thing as silence in my life.
So, today I am relishing the silence. I feel peaceful and serene. I have the whole house to myself and can do what I want to do, when and where I want to do it! I plan to go all domestic diva up in here and put a roast in the crock pot, do some laundry and organize a closet, mainly because I can. I'm sitting at the kitchen table typing this instead of tucked away in the office, because... I can.
Don't get me wrong, I miss my girls. And, there is no better sound in the world then babbling babies or laughing ladies; but sometimes we all need a break, and today I am savoring the sound of silence!
SILENCE!
I'd forgotten how much I love silence and alone time. Pre-babies, I spent a lot of time alone. I've worked from home pretty much since about 2006. And, although I consider myself a social person and the silence was deafening at first, I got used to it, and even learned to love it. When we lived in DC, Annie went to Miss Kim's 3 afternoons a week, so I had periods of silence then; but ever since we moved, we've had a nanny and I've worked in a house filled with kids! For the last year and 3 months, there has been no such thing as silence in my life.
So, today I am relishing the silence. I feel peaceful and serene. I have the whole house to myself and can do what I want to do, when and where I want to do it! I plan to go all domestic diva up in here and put a roast in the crock pot, do some laundry and organize a closet, mainly because I can. I'm sitting at the kitchen table typing this instead of tucked away in the office, because... I can.
Don't get me wrong, I miss my girls. And, there is no better sound in the world then babbling babies or laughing ladies; but sometimes we all need a break, and today I am savoring the sound of silence!
Monday, August 26, 2013
Posh in polka-dots
Do bug bites make you want to tear every inch of your skin off, or is it just me? It must be just me because, per my unofficial poll, I am the only grown adult I know walking around with kid at camp scabby legs as a result of itching so much. Maybe it just itches me more on me? Maybe you all have more will power? Or, perhaps, as a result of being the whitest white girl around, I actually just have less layers of translucent skin to scratch off? All I know is I had to put coverup on my legs for this weekend's affair. Coverup! On my legs! Jeeesh.
What a whirlwind of a last couple of months!
Since July, we did our trip to CT, a trip to the lake, a visit from my Mom, a lovely just-us anniversary beach weekend away, a friend weekend (segregated into a boys' party and a girls' party-- boys with lots of farts, girls complete with pillow fights, obvs), a new daycare, a Hunger-Games competition, a visit from the fun and fabulous Aunt Pam & Matt, and a swank wedding at the Hay Adams- which included copious amounts of alcohol (that may or may not have hindered my ability to remember large chunks of said elegant evening. I blame the champagne.) I'm kinda looking forward to September so I can take a breath!
Out of everything, the biggest news (at least for me) is the new daycare! I gave Erin, our nanny, notice just about a month ago that we decided to go with a daycare instead of having in-home care for the kiddies. This was a really tough decision for me, and I have to admit that I'm still a bit anxious about it. BUT, for my own sanity, (among many other reasons), it seemed like the right thing to do. Any of you who have ever been here know that we have a very small house. And, attempting to work (or get any semblance of a break from babies) in this small house with my two kids, the nanny, and her daughter has been getting more and more difficult. I just kinda got to a breaking point. I needed to be able to have a conference call without fear of a baby crying in the background. I needed to be able to come downstairs to grab lunch without fear of two babies seeing their Mommy and crying because they didn't understand why I wouldn't pick them up or play with them, and I needed my house back. Really, while the kids are here with the nanny, I feel like stay-at-home Mom without the benefit of spending the time with my kids, and a remote employee without the benefit of time at home to do housework, laundry, etc. I had effectively become a prisoner to my tiny office, and it sucked!
So, we found a fabulous place right around the corner and have done a couple 'trial days'. So far, so good! Annie LOVES it and Violet, well- she's getting used to it. It's a lot for her and sooo stimulating in comparison to this boring house, but I think she'll do well. Starting next week I have 3 glorious (albeit work filled) days a week ALL TO MYSELF. I'll still have the girls with me on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but Annie is going to do 2 year old pre-school on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, so me and my little Violet will get some much needed one on one time too. Lots of changes, but hopefully all for the better!
More time to myself, my time for the gym, more time for organization and, truly, more quality time with the girls because I'll have more me time to get stuff done around here when they are not home.
And the Year of Amy truly starts... NOW! (Better late than never.)
Details surrounding the other cray events mentioned in paragraph #1 to follow shortly, but this lady must get some work done! Monday. blaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Since July, we did our trip to CT, a trip to the lake, a visit from my Mom, a lovely just-us anniversary beach weekend away, a friend weekend (segregated into a boys' party and a girls' party-- boys with lots of farts, girls complete with pillow fights, obvs), a new daycare, a Hunger-Games competition, a visit from the fun and fabulous Aunt Pam & Matt, and a swank wedding at the Hay Adams- which included copious amounts of alcohol (that may or may not have hindered my ability to remember large chunks of said elegant evening. I blame the champagne.) I'm kinda looking forward to September so I can take a breath!
Out of everything, the biggest news (at least for me) is the new daycare! I gave Erin, our nanny, notice just about a month ago that we decided to go with a daycare instead of having in-home care for the kiddies. This was a really tough decision for me, and I have to admit that I'm still a bit anxious about it. BUT, for my own sanity, (among many other reasons), it seemed like the right thing to do. Any of you who have ever been here know that we have a very small house. And, attempting to work (or get any semblance of a break from babies) in this small house with my two kids, the nanny, and her daughter has been getting more and more difficult. I just kinda got to a breaking point. I needed to be able to have a conference call without fear of a baby crying in the background. I needed to be able to come downstairs to grab lunch without fear of two babies seeing their Mommy and crying because they didn't understand why I wouldn't pick them up or play with them, and I needed my house back. Really, while the kids are here with the nanny, I feel like stay-at-home Mom without the benefit of spending the time with my kids, and a remote employee without the benefit of time at home to do housework, laundry, etc. I had effectively become a prisoner to my tiny office, and it sucked!
So, we found a fabulous place right around the corner and have done a couple 'trial days'. So far, so good! Annie LOVES it and Violet, well- she's getting used to it. It's a lot for her and sooo stimulating in comparison to this boring house, but I think she'll do well. Starting next week I have 3 glorious (albeit work filled) days a week ALL TO MYSELF. I'll still have the girls with me on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but Annie is going to do 2 year old pre-school on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, so me and my little Violet will get some much needed one on one time too. Lots of changes, but hopefully all for the better!
More time to myself, my time for the gym, more time for organization and, truly, more quality time with the girls because I'll have more me time to get stuff done around here when they are not home.
And the Year of Amy truly starts... NOW! (Better late than never.)
Details surrounding the other cray events mentioned in paragraph #1 to follow shortly, but this lady must get some work done! Monday. blaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Busy busy
Lots of thoughts running around in the ol duder's head*, but no time to write...
Update(s) coming soon, I promise.
*for the clueless, that's a Big Lebowski reference. (Lots of ins, lots of outs, lots of what-have-yous...)
Update(s) coming soon, I promise.
*for the clueless, that's a Big Lebowski reference. (Lots of ins, lots of outs, lots of what-have-yous...)
Monday, August 5, 2013
To my friends with daughters/nieces/little girls who look up to them
I saw this on Facebook this morning and it really got to me! It is our
responsibility to make sure our girls see themselves as the amazingly
perfect beings they are, and that starts with us appreciating ourselves
for who we are. Most of us manage to see our faults more than our own
beauty, but our baby girls don't see us that way. We are beauty to
them--- warts and all! And, how we view ourselves will shape how
our daughters view themselves. ...So take a good look at yourself and
see yourself as the beautiful/intelligent/strong woman that your
daughters sees and make a commitment to them to love yourself (as you
are), so they can do the same!
When Your Mother Says She's Fat
Dear Mom,
I was 7 when I discovered that you were fat, ugly, and horrible. Up until that point I had believed that you were beautiful—in every sense of the word. I remember flicking through old photo albums and staring at pictures of you standing on the deck of a boat. Your white strapless bathing suit looked so glamorous, just like a movie star. Whenever I had the chance I’d pull out that wondrous white bathing suit hidden in your bottom drawer and imagine a time when I’d be big enough to wear it; when I’d be like you.
But all of that changed when, one night, we were dressed up for a party and you said to me, ‘‘Look at you, so thin, beautiful, and lovely. And look at me, fat, ugly, and horrible.’’
At first I didn’t understand what you meant.
‘‘You’re not fat,’’ I said earnestly and innocently, and you replied, ‘‘Yes I am, darling. I’ve always been fat; even as a child.’’
In the days that followed I had some painful revelations that have shaped my whole life. I learned that:
1. You must be fat because mothers don’t lie.
2. Fat is ugly and horrible.
3. When I grow up I’ll look like you and therefore I will be fat, ugly, and horrible too.
Years later, I looked back on this conversation and the hundreds that followed and cursed you for feeling so unattractive, insecure, and unworthy. Because, as my first and most influential role model, you taught me to believe the same thing about myself.
With every grimace at your reflection in the mirror, every new wonder diet that was going to change your life, and every guilty spoon of ‘‘Oh-I-really-shouldn’t,’’ I learned that women must be thin to be valid and worthy. Girls must go without because their greatest contribution to the world is their physical beauty.
Just like you, I have spent my whole life feeling fat. When did fat become a feeling anyway? And because I believed I was fat, I knew I was no good.
But now that I am older, and a mother myself, I know that blaming you for my body hatred is unhelpful and unfair. I now understand that you too are a product of a long and rich lineage of women who were taught to loathe themselves.
Look at the example Nanna set for you. Despite being what could only be described as famine-victim chic, she dieted every day of her life until the day she died at 79 years of age. She used to put on makeup to walk to the mailbox for fear that somebody might see her unpainted face.
I remember her ‘‘compassionate’’ response when you announced that Dad had left you for another woman. Her first comment was, ‘‘I don’t understand why he’d leave you. You look after yourself, you wear lipstick. You’re overweight, but not that much.’’
Before Dad left, he provided no balm for your body-image torment either.
‘‘Jesus, Jan,’’ I overheard him say to you. ‘‘It’s not that hard. Energy in versus energy out. If you want to lose weight you just have to eat less.’’
That night at dinner I watched you implement Dad’s ‘‘Energy In, Energy Out: Jesus, Jan, Just Eat Less’’ weight-loss cure. You served up chow mein for dinner. Everyone else’s food was on a dinner plate except yours. You served your chow mein on a tiny bread-and-butter plate.
As you sat in front of that pathetic scoop of mince, silent tears streamed down your face. I said nothing. Not even when your shoulders started heaving from your distress. We all ate our dinner in silence. Nobody comforted you. Nobody told you to stop being ridiculous and get a proper plate. Nobody told you that you were already loved and already good enough. Your achievements and your worth—as a teacher of children with special needs and a devoted mother of three of your own—paled into insignificance when compared with the centimeters you couldn’t lose from your waist.
It broke my heart to witness your despair and I’m sorry that I didn’t rush to your defense. I’d already learned that it was your fault that you were fat. I’d even heard Dad describe losing weight as a ‘‘simple’’ process—yet one that you still couldn’t come to grips with. The lesson: You didn’t deserve any food and you certainly didn’t deserve any sympathy.
But I was wrong, Mom. Now I understand what it’s like to grow up in a society that tells women that their beauty matters most, and at the same time defines a standard of beauty that is perpetually out of our reach. I also know the pain of internalizing these messages. We have become our own jailors and we inflict our own punishments for failing to measure up. No one is more cruel to us than we are to ourselves.
But this madness has to stop, Mom. It stops with you, it stops with me, and it stops now. We deserve better—better than to have our days brought to ruin by bad body thoughts, wishing we were otherwise.
And it’s not just about you and me anymore. It’s also about Violet. Your granddaughter is only 3 and I do not want body hatred to take root inside her and strangle her happiness, her confidence, and her potential. I don’t want Violet to believe that her beauty is her most important asset; that it will define her worth in the world. When Violet looks to us to learn how to be a woman, we need to be the best role models we can be. We need to show her with our words and our actions that women are good enough just the way they are. And for her to believe us, we need to believe it ourselves.
The older we get, the more loved ones we lose to accidents and illness. Their passing is always tragic and far too soon. I sometimes think about what these friends—and the people who love them—wouldn’t give for more time in a body that was healthy. A body that would allow them to live just a little longer. The size of that body’s thighs or the lines on its face wouldn’t matter. It would be alive and therefore it would be perfect.
Your body is perfect too. It allows you to disarm a room with your smile and infect everyone with your laugh. It gives you arms to wrap around Violet and squeeze her until she giggles. Every moment we spend worrying about our physical ‘‘flaws’’ is a moment wasted, a precious slice of life that we will never get back.
Let us honor and respect our bodies for what they do instead of despising them for how they appear. Focus on living healthy and active lives, let our weight fall where it may, and consign our body hatred in the past where it belongs. When I looked at that photo of you in the white bathing suit all those years ago, my innocent young eyes saw the truth. I saw unconditional love, beauty, and wisdom. I saw my Mom.
Love, Kasey xx
Kasey Edwards is a writer based in Australia and author of 30-Something And Over It. You can follow her on Twitter here.
http://www.rolereboot.org
When Your Mother Says She's Fat
Dear Mom,
I was 7 when I discovered that you were fat, ugly, and horrible. Up until that point I had believed that you were beautiful—in every sense of the word. I remember flicking through old photo albums and staring at pictures of you standing on the deck of a boat. Your white strapless bathing suit looked so glamorous, just like a movie star. Whenever I had the chance I’d pull out that wondrous white bathing suit hidden in your bottom drawer and imagine a time when I’d be big enough to wear it; when I’d be like you.
But all of that changed when, one night, we were dressed up for a party and you said to me, ‘‘Look at you, so thin, beautiful, and lovely. And look at me, fat, ugly, and horrible.’’
At first I didn’t understand what you meant.
‘‘You’re not fat,’’ I said earnestly and innocently, and you replied, ‘‘Yes I am, darling. I’ve always been fat; even as a child.’’
In the days that followed I had some painful revelations that have shaped my whole life. I learned that:
1. You must be fat because mothers don’t lie.
2. Fat is ugly and horrible.
3. When I grow up I’ll look like you and therefore I will be fat, ugly, and horrible too.
Years later, I looked back on this conversation and the hundreds that followed and cursed you for feeling so unattractive, insecure, and unworthy. Because, as my first and most influential role model, you taught me to believe the same thing about myself.
With every grimace at your reflection in the mirror, every new wonder diet that was going to change your life, and every guilty spoon of ‘‘Oh-I-really-shouldn’t,’’ I learned that women must be thin to be valid and worthy. Girls must go without because their greatest contribution to the world is their physical beauty.
Just like you, I have spent my whole life feeling fat. When did fat become a feeling anyway? And because I believed I was fat, I knew I was no good.
But now that I am older, and a mother myself, I know that blaming you for my body hatred is unhelpful and unfair. I now understand that you too are a product of a long and rich lineage of women who were taught to loathe themselves.
Look at the example Nanna set for you. Despite being what could only be described as famine-victim chic, she dieted every day of her life until the day she died at 79 years of age. She used to put on makeup to walk to the mailbox for fear that somebody might see her unpainted face.
I remember her ‘‘compassionate’’ response when you announced that Dad had left you for another woman. Her first comment was, ‘‘I don’t understand why he’d leave you. You look after yourself, you wear lipstick. You’re overweight, but not that much.’’
Before Dad left, he provided no balm for your body-image torment either.
‘‘Jesus, Jan,’’ I overheard him say to you. ‘‘It’s not that hard. Energy in versus energy out. If you want to lose weight you just have to eat less.’’
That night at dinner I watched you implement Dad’s ‘‘Energy In, Energy Out: Jesus, Jan, Just Eat Less’’ weight-loss cure. You served up chow mein for dinner. Everyone else’s food was on a dinner plate except yours. You served your chow mein on a tiny bread-and-butter plate.
As you sat in front of that pathetic scoop of mince, silent tears streamed down your face. I said nothing. Not even when your shoulders started heaving from your distress. We all ate our dinner in silence. Nobody comforted you. Nobody told you to stop being ridiculous and get a proper plate. Nobody told you that you were already loved and already good enough. Your achievements and your worth—as a teacher of children with special needs and a devoted mother of three of your own—paled into insignificance when compared with the centimeters you couldn’t lose from your waist.
It broke my heart to witness your despair and I’m sorry that I didn’t rush to your defense. I’d already learned that it was your fault that you were fat. I’d even heard Dad describe losing weight as a ‘‘simple’’ process—yet one that you still couldn’t come to grips with. The lesson: You didn’t deserve any food and you certainly didn’t deserve any sympathy.
But I was wrong, Mom. Now I understand what it’s like to grow up in a society that tells women that their beauty matters most, and at the same time defines a standard of beauty that is perpetually out of our reach. I also know the pain of internalizing these messages. We have become our own jailors and we inflict our own punishments for failing to measure up. No one is more cruel to us than we are to ourselves.
But this madness has to stop, Mom. It stops with you, it stops with me, and it stops now. We deserve better—better than to have our days brought to ruin by bad body thoughts, wishing we were otherwise.
And it’s not just about you and me anymore. It’s also about Violet. Your granddaughter is only 3 and I do not want body hatred to take root inside her and strangle her happiness, her confidence, and her potential. I don’t want Violet to believe that her beauty is her most important asset; that it will define her worth in the world. When Violet looks to us to learn how to be a woman, we need to be the best role models we can be. We need to show her with our words and our actions that women are good enough just the way they are. And for her to believe us, we need to believe it ourselves.
The older we get, the more loved ones we lose to accidents and illness. Their passing is always tragic and far too soon. I sometimes think about what these friends—and the people who love them—wouldn’t give for more time in a body that was healthy. A body that would allow them to live just a little longer. The size of that body’s thighs or the lines on its face wouldn’t matter. It would be alive and therefore it would be perfect.
Your body is perfect too. It allows you to disarm a room with your smile and infect everyone with your laugh. It gives you arms to wrap around Violet and squeeze her until she giggles. Every moment we spend worrying about our physical ‘‘flaws’’ is a moment wasted, a precious slice of life that we will never get back.
Let us honor and respect our bodies for what they do instead of despising them for how they appear. Focus on living healthy and active lives, let our weight fall where it may, and consign our body hatred in the past where it belongs. When I looked at that photo of you in the white bathing suit all those years ago, my innocent young eyes saw the truth. I saw unconditional love, beauty, and wisdom. I saw my Mom.
Love, Kasey xx
Kasey Edwards is a writer based in Australia and author of 30-Something And Over It. You can follow her on Twitter here.
http://www.rolereboot.org
Friday, August 2, 2013
Today's favorite thing
In addition to the numerous other things I fixate on (I am dying my all too blonde eyebrows as we speak... eyebrow fixation), I am always obsessing over the sheets on the bed. We have a glorious foam mattress pad, but it makes the mattress so thick that sheets staying down and taut around the corners are nearly impossible. Enter these marvelous little guys- Sleepsnug Sheet Grippers. They really work. I haven't had to re-tuck the sheet over the corner all week long. Sheet obsession in check!
It's the little things!
It's the little things!
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
And this.
Posted today on a Facebook Mom's group. Perspective continued.
update: The outpouring of stuff for this lady has been insane. In the last 2 hours, there's been almost a full house full of furniture offered, for free. See, PEOPLE ARE GOOD!
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
note: Although writing the post below did put a smile on my face and make me feel much less grumpy, it did not in any way help this large pile of work on my desk go away. Perhaps my next post should be something about 'setting priorities', cuz God knows I have some issues getting what I need done when I need to do it.
work schmurk. blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
work schmurk. blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Perspective
I was having a grumpy day. I have tons of work to do and very much don't want to do it. It is tedious and boring and makes me want to pull my eyelashes out of my head one by one. Poor poor me.
So, in the vain of procrastination, I went onto Facebook. Here I am, scrolling through my News Feed, and I get to this post made by a woman who is in a Mom's Group that I sometimes attend (OK, twice... I'm not much of a joiner). She writes:
So, in the vain of procrastination, I went onto Facebook. Here I am, scrolling through my News Feed, and I get to this post made by a woman who is in a Mom's Group that I sometimes attend (OK, twice... I'm not much of a joiner). She writes:
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Playing catch-up
after two fab back-to-back vacays, so no time to post, but here are a couple pics for your viewing pleasure:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)