Random Roundup

I know, posting around  here has become as rare as the last steak I tried to cook on our bbq.  Sorry.  Here’s what’s been floating around in my brain the last while…

Is it just me, or does everyone have houseflies that look like they’ve been on steroids?  Seriously, these suckers are huge.  And slow.  Which thankfully makes them easy to swat in mid-flight.

On a related note, the moths seem a bit, umm, messier? this year too.  Like last year, when I would go on my nightly Moth Slaying Rampage, they would leave a little dusting on the wall where they were hit, but this year they leave dust and slime.  Much grosser.  Like they needed to be grosser.

I’m totally looking forward to Fall – the cooler weather, less humidity, school, routine…everything.  I’ve already done most of Berry Boy’s school shopping and I was like the parent in the Staples commercial dancing up and down the store aisles singing “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year”.  Thankfully, Berry Boy is looking forward to it too, and his teacher this year is super awesome.

I’m (still) having serious motivation issues.  In everything.  Housework, cooking, reading, devotional time, gardening, running…I’m not sure what to do.  It’s like I’m maintaining the bare minimum in everything, but no more.  And it’s not because I’m just so busy, although we have been fairly busy, but not overwhelmingly so.  I kind of feel stuck.

I’ve been listening to the song “Lover Lover” by the Jerrod Niemann Band – it’s super catchy and has such a great blues-ey feel to it.  Berry Boy has apparently been listening too, and I overheard him singing it the other day, but he was (I thought) singing “Robber, robber robber, you don’t treat me good no more…”.  When I told him that the words weren’t actually “robber robber” he looked at me funny and said, “I was singing Robert Robert”.  I didn’t tell him what the actual words are.  “Robert Robert” is just way funnier.

Berry season has come and gone.  Definitely not our best year ever, in fact it was our worst.  Too much rain and humidity and we couldn’t spray enough to defeat the fungus and disease.  So we took in about a third of what we did last year.  Surprisingly, I had a ton of fun in the shop with the kids who work for us.  Some of those girls made me laugh so hard – I truly enjoyed getting to work with them this year, even if I disliked the actual work.  It was a pleasure to be in charge of the sorting this year with a group like that.

Our old, deaf Golden Retriever is no longer with us (don’t ask) and I think that our younger black mutt is missing her.  I’m contemplating taking her to run with me – we got her as a puppy and she was kind of obnoxious in the beginning, but now she’s about 2yrs old and she’s settled down quite nicely.  I kind of really like her, and I’m not the type to get attached to animals on this farm (they don’t always have a long life expectancy).  I need to get a leash (our old one is missing) and try her out.  I think she might do really well, and it might help get me out there.

Berry Baby has started to preface everything he says with “Should I…?” – as in “should I have a cookie?”  or “should I come sit on your lap?”  or “should I drink your coffee?”.  He just gets cuter and cuter, that kid.  They both do.  Except when they’re fighting with each other, which is all the time.  Definitely time for school to start.

Coffee Love

I love good coffee, and I love the way that Starbucks describes their roasts: Bright, clean, light-bodied; Balanced with a nutty finish; Flavors of cocoa and soft spice; Elegant, floral, satisfying cocoa finish.  I’d give anything to be described as bright, clean, and light bodied.  Especially the “light bodied”.

Here’s where they lose me though.  They give these fascinating pairing suggestions: pairs nicely with herb-crusted goat cheese and a focaccia dipped in basil oil; enjoy with an organic mango.  That’s not helpful to me at all.  Seriously, I’ve tried goat cheese, and it definitely does not make my skirt fly up.  At least not in a good way.  And I’m all over mangos, but with coffee?  Really?

It would be way more helpful to me if they would offer suggestions based in my real world.  For example – Pairs well with 6 Cadbury Caramilk Bunnies;  Excellent alongside an obnoxiously large cinnamon bun slathered in cream cheese icing;  Perfect with a handful of Mini Eggs, half a tub of Dibs, and Nacho Cheese Doritos. 

I’d like to know if the Komodo Dragon blend or the Ethiopia Sidamo would go better with the seven sugar cookies I plan to consume before 10am.

You know, stuff I can relate to.

*This is not a Starbucks ad, and I am not sponsored by Starbucks.  Although I should be.

Randomness

I experienced parenting Fail yesterday.  All day.  Except for the 4hours that I was at work.  Then I was an excellent parent.

It’s already mud-puddle season here, and Berry Boy’s rubber boots from last year are too small.  We have a random pair of purple rubber boots that would probably fit him, but I figure that life is tough enough without having to wear purple rubber boots to elementary school.  I will be going shopping shortly.

I ate way too many Rolo Dibs the other day.  Waaaaay too many.

Berry Guy is extremely gracious to me and gave me the evening off last night buy putting the boys to bed on his own.  I ran.  It was fabulous.

I finished my Bookclub book the other day - “Deafening”.  You can link to it on my sidebar.  It was fabulous.  Really fabulous.  I can’t believe the way the author painted all these images for me just with her words.  It was a rare find, that book, and it will go down as one of my all time favourites, along with “Crow Lake” and “The Guernesy Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society”.

Nothing, and I mean nothing beats getting off work, going to my in-laws to pick Berry Baby up and seeing him watching for me in the window with a huge smile and running to the door to meet me with a huge hug and an excited shout.  Almost makes up for my parenting Fail yesterday.

Confessions

I went to town this afternoon to pick up ground beef and chili beans for supper tonight.  I left the store with that, plus a Turtle Egg and a Rolo Egg and a container of Rolo Dibs.

In the five miles between the store and my house, I ate enough Rolo Dibs to make my tongue go numb.

I figured, buying the Dibs would be better than buying the actual Rolo Ice Cream.  At least I could count on the boys to help polish the Dibs off later…if I leave them any…

I make myself feel better by telling myself that I at least haven’t caved in and purchased what I *really* want.  Because then there would be no sharing at all.

Things that are going wrong

My name is Berry Girl, and it has been 18 days since my last run.

*sob*

I'm trying to keep a handle on things - I really am. Trying to keep perspective, and not get totally freaked out by the whole not-running-at-all-potentially-losing-my-mind thing.

I always knew that running was great for my mental well-being, but until now I wasn't aware just how good it was. I have been a *little* irritable and crabby, and I'm ashamed to say that my body image has totally crashed. Like my laptop, ironically.

My beloved, precious laptop totally crashed on us the other day. I took it to the city yesterday to get a techy-type guy to check it out, fully expecting him to say "oh, I can totally fix that", hit a few keys and voila - my partially blanked out screen would be put to rights and my computer would suddenly be able to start up again.

Instead, he opened the lid, hit the start button and said, "yeah, you need a new laptop".

Crap.

I *could* send it back to the manufacturer, but as it was no longer under warranty (of course), the problem was such that it would probably cost $700 to fix, and for THAT I might as well just buy new.

Double crap.

Also, last night was supposed to be Bookclub night, which I was totally looking forward to. And, I was hosting. We had just read "Emma" by Jane Austen, and our plan was to kick back and watch the movie. So I cleaned like a maniac, got the basement fireplace clean and ready for a cozy fire, and baked heart-shaped sugar cookies because it is, after all, Valentines month, and "Emma" is, after all, about love...and then about an hour and a half before everyone was supposed to arrive it was cancelled because everyone was sick or otherwise unable to attend. Of course.

So Berry Guy went to get a movie for us to watch together ("The Hurt Locker", which, while it is a good movie, is a far cry from "Emma") and then went downstairs to start a fire in the fireplace and ended up totally smoking the house out. The damper didn't open, or something, and we spent the next hour or so trying to get the horrible smoky smell out of the house. Of course.

Also, Berry Baby keeps crapping in his pants instead of the toilet, which we were sure we were past already. And I keep telling him to tell me that he has to go, to which he enthusiastically agrees, and then proceeds to poop in his pants again.

Also, it has taken one boy and one husband exactly one hour this morning to make the nice clean house look exactly like it does all the rest of the time. Messy.

Also, I'm not convinced that my hip is getting better even though I am being very good and not running and diligently doing my exercises and correcting my posture. Posture correction, incidentally, requires me to "let my hips spread apart" while "allowing my tummy to fall forward". Right. Because those are *totally* two things I want to do - emphasize my Mennonite rear end and my still-jiggly-post-childbirth belly.

To my Physiotherapist's credit however, this does not (I'm sure) look as bad as it sounds, and when I stand the way that she is telling me to stand, my hip hurts considerably less. Which is good.

But really, I miss running. A lot. I miss the sweat, and the good fatigue, and the rock solid sleep it gives me, and the improved mental outlook, and the stress reduction, and the endorphins, and the ability to eat without regard for calories...

I just really really miss it.

Sometimes It Helps to Laugh

I’ve been super anxious and neurotic about the whole H1N1 thing.  I am suddenly horrifyingly aware of the potential for germs EVERYWHERE.  It makes me want to stay in my home and never leave.

So I was relieved to get this little dose of perspective from one of my co-workers – a few statistics for you:

In 1997 – some death rates for Canada

1. Cancer was number 1: 58,703

2. Heart disease was number 2: 57,417

11. Suicide: 3,681

15. HIV: 626

And we're paranoid about the flu (115 deaths).

Also:

In 2006, it was estimated that 3,122 individuals were killed in motor vehicle crashes in Canada. MADD Canada estimates that at a minimum 1,278 of these fatalities involved impaired driving.  In 2006, it was estimated that about 368,396 individuals were injured in motor vehicle crashes. MADD Canada estimates that approximately 75,374 of these individuals were injured in impaired driving crashes (207 per day).

According to Wikipedia, there have been 115 confirmed deaths from swine flue in Canada and just over 12,300 confirmed cases (so 12,185 recovered).

So that was helpful.  But what really helped to settle my nerves was this Rick Mercer rant that someone posted on Facebook.  It made my day and lightened my anxiety, just by poking fun at the fear:

Love it.  I laughed my ass off.

As I did when I saw this:

I love this too.  Running really can be hilarious, like when you try the incline program on your treadmill for the first time *wink*, or when you are running your guts out and you get passed by a guy wearing a chicken costume.  Or when you go for a long run and hook your sleeve on your nose ring and hallucinate jelly fish in puddles.

Hope that lightens your day too!

There must be a drink for that…

Screaming Berry Baby who absolutely must sit on your lap while you try to eat supper?  Check

Wailing Berry Boy who “didn’t get to play long enough” at his friend’s house and subsequently had a meltdown and is therefore grounded from both going to friends and having friends over, which results in yet more meltdown?  Check

Irritated Berry Girl, who woke up crabby and was unsuccessful in being not snarky to her spouse this morning?  Check

10:00am appointment for Berry Girl that she was sure to be ready for until the clinic called her at 9:10am to find out where she was for her 9:00am appointment?  Oh yeah. Check

A filthy floor that just got vacumed and mopped and was immediately spilled on…twice…?  Check.

Gigantic bag of M&Ms?  Check.

Things to note

The “boneless chicken wings” at Wendy’s are really just glorified chicken nuggets with gobs of sauce, and they don’t taste nearly as good as they look in the pictures.

After a steady diet of Starbucks, a Tim Hortons Iced Capp doesn’t quite cut it and verges on disappointing.  Yes, I have ruined myself.

I got my hair cut and highlighted, and I can count on 4 fingers the number of people who have noticed.  This means that (a) it is a truly horrible haircut and no one wants to tell me; (b) the change is not obvious enough; or (most likely) (c) it’s really only important to me.

After months and months of not sleeping through the night, Berry Baby finally did sleep through the night, and then didn’t again.  Which only serves to (a) make me realize how wonderful a full night’s sleep is, and (b) make me miss it all the more.  However, it does indicate that we are on the right path, intervention-wise.

I am ever so thankful for my treadmill, without which I would not be able to train for the ever so hilly Elkridge 10k that’s coming up in 2 weeks, because where I live is decidedly un-hilly.  And, would you believe, I finally had a good run…on my treadmill.  Hill repeats have never felt so good – I was motivated, I ran hard, and I felt amazing after.

I think Fall is my favorite season ever.  I love the crispness in the air, and I love watching harvest happen.  All those swathers cutting down the crops, all the nice, symmetrical swaths laying in the fields, watching the combines come along and eat up the fluffy swaths of canola, the pattern that the harrows make after they’ve “combed” the cut fields…and I get to cut back all the perennials in my flower beds and make everything that is now overgrown look neat and tidy again.  It soothes my OCD sense of organization and order.

I read an article about weight and runners, and I apparently need to lose about 12lbs so that I am no longer classified as a “Clydesdale”.  Yes.  Apparently, I’m a horse.  A Clydesdale is defined as a *heavier* runner, and for women that apparently starts at 135lbs.  SERIOUSLY?  I dream of weighing 135lbs – it’s not happening, and I am apparently a *heavier* runner.  I’m appropriately disgusted.

Finally, to the Starbucks barista on 2nd who had the misfortune of serving me my drink no less than three times because he at first made a mocha instead of a macchiato, and then forgot the extra shot of espresso, and then finally got it all right (triple grande, half sweet, extra hot, low fat), I’m so, so sorry, I’m really not that high maintenance…oh wait.  Yes I am.  Never mind.

SERENITY NOW!

What I need to accomplish by Wednesday morning when we leave for a 4x4 adventure with our friends:

wash/fold/put away 50 bazillion loads of laundry

prepare spaghetti sauce and freeze it

grill chicken breasts and freeze them

chop sausage and freeze it

buy French bread, buns, lunch meat, more treats, water

Pack clothes, makeup, medicine, sunscreen, bug spray, hats, inhaler, various necessities for four people (well, not the makeup, that’s just for me…)

type minutes for the last Preschool Committee meeting (which was back in JUNE) and email them out to the committee members

take out all the garbages

iron any clothes that will be taken along that need ironing

print off posters for the Preschool registration night and get them to someone to put up around town

pack food

pack camping gear

work for 4 hours Tuesday morning

 

What I have accomplished:

eating ice cream.

 

Good night.

Points to Ponder

I keep thinking that I should be able to drop 5lbs no problemo.  Problem is, I do this thinking while eating a marshmallow cookie.  And/or a Crispy Crunch.  And/or drinking Pepsi.  I have no idea where the problem is.

It takes me approximately 5 minutes to boil water for my coffee press, and an additional 4 minutes to brew the coffee in said press.  I give the sorters 10 minutes for coffee break.  I’m going to have to start giving them longer breaks.

Berry Boy asked me why I was wearing my hat, and I told him it was because I had bad hair.  Later after supper, I took my hat off and he said “Hoch, you DO have bad hair…”  (thaaaanks)

Yesterday morning I was ignoring Berry Baby and continuing to snooze as he called yelled from his crib, when I was brought back to consciousness by Berry Boy yelling “I CAN’T SLEEP WITH BERRY BABY MAKING ALL THAT NOISE” over and over and over.

I am at the point (again, yes, I’m sure you’re all sick of hearing it) where I would give almost anything for a solid night’s sleep.  Almost. Anything.  Including, but not limited to, non-essential body parts.  I’m getting really tired.

On Sleeping and Coffee Brewing

I can admit it – I occasionally suffer from Superiority Complex.  There are times when I nod politely but sneer a little mentally.  I’m sorry, but it happens.  I’m not always a good person.

Take childrearing.  Before I had children, I was not one to voice my opinions on childrearing, since I had no experience to speak of.  And after we had Berry Boy, I felt that I had some experience, but not enough to qualify me as an *expert* (since I’d only had one) and so I often kept my mouth shut then too.  But in my head…oh ho, that was a different story.

Berry Boy was (in retrospect) a remarkable easy baby.  At 7 weeks, he began sleeping from 11pm to 5am, fed and went back to sleep until 8 or 8:30am.  He did that for a week, and then started skipping the 5am wakeup and snoozed right on through to 8ish.

He gave up the soother himself at one year, and the bottle followed shortly after.  He didn’t bat an eye for either.

So when I would hear mothers talking about how their 2yr old was still not sleeping through the night and was still taking a bottle at 2am and still addicted to the soother, I would smile sympathetically but mentally shake my head at them.  Obviously they were doing something wrong, the poor things.

If they would have just read “Secrets of the Baby Whisperer”, then they would know not to allow their child to sleep on them/sleep in their bed with them/feed them to sleep etc etc.  They would know that they had to teach their child to fall asleep in his or her own bed, independently, and not with a “prop” like a swing or soother.

*cough cough*

Yes, and then we had Berry Baby.

He wouldn’t sleep in his cradle or his crib for longer than 1 hour, so he slept on my chest/in his carseat/in his swing where he would sleep for about 2.5hrs.  I nursed him to sleep, rocked him to sleep, hooked him on his soother, and fed him if it was *time* or not, just to stop the crying.  I weaned the soother, and it was replace by the bottle.  I weaned the bottle, and it was replaced by the sippy cup.  I sleep trained, with limited success.

And here we are, 4 months away from his 2nd birthday, and he has yet to sleep through the night on any kind of consistent basis.  I almost can’t stand the irony of it.

How does that crow taste, you ask?  Bitter.  Very very bitter.  With a side of humble pie, and no ice cream.

So to all the moms that I unintentionally sneered at (in my head, quietly, to myself), I apologize.

With great sincerity.

You weren’t wrong, you were surviving. And/or desperate.  And/or sleep deprived.

All I have left to say is, I am daily thankful that God created a person who had the genius to discover the coffee bean, and that if said coffee bean is roasted to perfection, ground up and brewed with hot water, it will make a magical drink with the power to pull an exhausted mother out of her bed to tend to her overly energetic children.

Huh.

I was well over my 100th post before I knew that people did something to commemorate such an event.  So I thought to myself, I’ll make sure that I remember this for my 200th post.  And promptly forgot.

So Suzy has just reached her 200th post, which reminded me that I should maybe check out where I was, and here we are at post 197.  Yikes.

200 posts, and Berry Baby still doesn’t sleep through the night, Berry Boy still has a meltdown when he has to leave a friend’s house, Berry Guy still leaves the plastic milk-jug ring on the counter directly beside the garbage can, and my butt is still exactly the same size (it’s true, I measured).

*sigh*

For some reason, I thought I’d be skinnier.

Like when I go get a new haircut, or buy a new outfit.  I assume that it will correct all my defects.  Then it doesn’t, and I console myself with a grande full fat caramel frappuccino, lots of whip.  Or ice cream.

Where was I…

oh yes…200 posts.  So this brilliant offering is #197.  In 3 more posts, I may or may not come up with some sort of celebratory event.  Which may or may not include ice cream.  And/or coffee.  We’ll see.

Are you ever so excited yet?  Yeah, me neither too.  If only I could come up with all this witty banter every day…

The Camping Cooler

It’s like a contest.

Who will put away the camping cooler?

The one who used it on his Father/Son fishing trip over a week ago?  Or the one who generally has to pick up all the plastic milk jug rings and empty apple juice cartons and miscellaneous wrappers and empty cereal boxes and scrap pieces of paper with important things written on them that are left laying around?

It’s like a contest, but not.  Because really, only one of us actually sees it sitting there in the middle of her kitchen being constantly kicked aside or stepped over or stepped on.

*sigh*

When Will I Learn…

that taking the boys with me to the city for appointments that have nothing to do with them is a bad bad idea.

Here’s the thing.  When I’m at work, I take a certain pride in the fact that I rarely make the same mistake more than twice.  I will make many (different) mistakes, but I am sufficiently mortified when a file ends up back on my desk with a note saying “you missed this” or “you forgot to do such & such” that I rarely make the same exact mistake twice.  Barely ever three times.

So why can I not learn with this?

Today, I had a hair appointment to get a trim and an eyebrow wax.  The only time I could get in was 12:45, which is about the time that Berry Baby is usually napping, but I thought hey, he can make it.  I also thought that shopping for two hours before that would not be a problem.  It wasn’t.  The haircut was.

The first 5 minutes were totally fine as the boys dug through the toy box and discovered all the toys.  And it went straight downhill from there.  And by straight downhill, I mean plummeting.

Berry Baby was racing back and forth between me and the hair washing sink and the front desk.  Berry Boy thought that was funny and joined him.  Berry Boy got a stern reprimand and warning, but then sulked because Berry Baby was still running and he wasn’t allowed.

Neither boy wanted to play with the actual toys, and there were moments when one or both of them were sprawled on the floor in the main aisle, laughing hysterically.

Needless to say, I skipped the wax and went straight to the haircut, skipped the styling and got my hairdresser (who, fortunately, is also a friend) to simply blow-dry it.  Halfway through the cut, Berry Boy was sat firmly on a chair with a terse warning to stay on it as if his life depended on it, and Berry Baby was locked squirming on my lap.

Good times.

I escaped the city with my sanity in shreds, and when we got home I ended up hiding in the basement trying to see how many spoonfuls of Ben&Jerry’s I could shovel into my mouth before my absence was detected and the boys started hunting for me.

Apparently, five.

Regarding Sleep and Doritos

I have decided to put my Transition To A Morning Person on temporary hiatus.  Berry Baby has decided, after a nice run of sleeping (mostly) through the night, that he is now *done* with that.  I therefore cannot foresee myself waking at 6am to run when I’ve been up for an hour or so at 1am trying to remember that I love him.

If it happens that I am able some mornings to get up, so be it.

Due to Berry Baby’s middle-of-the-night antics last night, I ended up on the couch and he ended up in my bed with my husband.

Needless to say, I woke up crabby.  So I had a nap this afternoon with him, only I slept too long and was awakened by Berry Boy’s return from school and the immediate “can I eat everything in the house” questions.  And, I had been so tired that I had forgotten to eat lunch.

Neither thing served to make me less crabby.

Nor did the Zesty Cheese Doritos.

The milk chocolate chips are helping though.

So is the iced latte.

Maybe, by the time the day has cooled off a bit, I’ll be uncrabby enough to pull out a run.

Because it took me a few trips to the Doritos bag to realize that they weren’t helping.

Speaking of Berry Baby, he got his hair cut yesterday.  Not his first haircut by a long shot, but the first time I told her to take it as short as possible.

He went from this sweet little mop…

to this…

Now.  I am not by nature the most sentimental person.  And he was ridiculously sweet getting his hair cut.  But I find myself desperately wanting my little mophead back.

He just looks too big.

Like this guy…

Ramblings

Well, I’ve kind of killed this day in a haze of coffee and reading.  I have done absolutely nothing productive, unless you would include finishing a book more out of sheer determination than actual enjoyment.

Oh wait, I folded the laundry and did the ironing.

phew.

Here are my observations on the day:

Berry Baby has a lot of diarrhea.  and that’s all I will say about that, other than we will be seeing a doctor shortly (as in half an hour from now) to see if something is going on that can be killed with antibiotics.

Berry Baby is also killing me, yet again, with a significant lack of sleep.  This has become the story of my life (and, I suppose, his…) and results in me walking around in a complete haze and being able to fall asleep at a moments notice no matter how much French Roast coffee I consume.  It also chips away at my otherwise sunny and cheerful disposition.  ahem.  Due to the lack of sleep and a conversation I had at work, I have booked an appointment with our pediatrician to see if there’s something bigger at play here – do we need to increase his reflux meds, is the reflux a bigger problem than we had suspected, etc etc.

Berry Boy is reaching a new level of development.  I can see it in the way he is developing his sense of humor.  It is unfortunately a lot like his Dad’s – teasing and button pushing.  I’m in for a verrrrrry long lifetime.  I love it though when we look at the boys and they are suddenly different – like when Berry Boy *gets* something he didn’t before, or mimics me (teasingly) in a shockingly good way.

Berry Baby is a complete ham, more so if he notices that you are noticing.  He’s hilarious, and I encourage it.  Bad bad mom.

Running is harder to do when there is no imminent goal bearing down on me, thus proving once again that I am a complete slacker, and also proving what I have always said – that I *work better under pressure*.  Feel free to snicker to yourself.  That being said, I plan to run 6 miles tonight, although it will probably have to be on the treadmill due to the blessed rain.

I’m curious as to how hard exactly I will have to beat the dog before she stops digging in my flower beds and killing my plants.  Is there a specific formula?  And why, when we have literally ACRES of dirt around here, does she have to do her digging in my flower beds on top of my perennials.

On a related note, this will be the third, yes, third year that I will have tried to grow a Clematis, which is (apparently) one of the easiest and hardiest plants to grow.  I bought a nice, tall, healthy plant from the local greenhouse.  It had blooms all ready to go on it, and it was about 2 feet tall.  I planted it, along with its little trellis.  I left its little trellis with it until I could get a big trellis for the wall of the house.  The dog thought the little trellis looked good to chew on and pulled it out of the ground, along with the two feet of Clematis attached to it.  I now have a 1inch Clematis with two leaves.  I beat the dog with the little trellis until it broke, which was after about two hits.  And then I cried.

Incidentally, I cannot grow Hollyhocks either.  Most people can’t kill them, and I cannot get them to grow.

I managed to get out of my pjs by 1pm, and will now take off to the local medi clinic to find out that there is actually nothing wrong with Berry Baby, leaving me with the only other possible explanation: he is deliberately trying to drive me insane.

peace out.

Things that Men Should Not Say to Their Wives For Fear of Being Grossly Misinterpreted

#1. “Are you going to go for a run today?”

this means: “you really look fat like you need to go for a run today”

 

#2. “How far did you run?” followed by “That’s all?”

this means: you did not run far enough to run off the ice cream I saw you scarfing down earlier

 

#3.  “Have you showered yet” (when you have just stepped out of the shower and have blow-dried your hair nicely)

this means: I look as bad freshly cleaned as I do not freshly cleaned

 

#4.  “Are you wearing that to church?”

no mistake here – he just hates the outfit

 

#5.  “Is that all we’re having for supper”

this means: “you have grossly underplanned our meal” or “am I really going to have to eat that”

 

I will now excuse myself to eat chocolate smothered ice cream.

thank you.

Rambles

I am, apparently, the only person in this house capable of throwing things away, judging by the FOUR empty apple juice cartons littering my counters and the TWO empty cereal boxes that were nicely put away in the cupboard.

 

I managed to drive the car over a gigantic pile of dog poo in the garage, thus stinking up the entire garage and now I think I smell dog poo all over the house…and then I realized that I was actually smelling Berry Baby, who’s pants were drooping lower than normal and were wet from the bum to the knees.  Goooood parenting.

 

According to Berry Baby, “no” must mean “do it faster”.  And despite all of my efforts at teaching him a few signs, he still says “all done” by throwing all his uneaten food on the floor.

 

I’m pretty sure that my scale is broken.  I feel skinny, but according to my scale I have gained 3lbs.  So either I am delusional (entirely possible) or my scale is whacked.  I will ponder this over a cup of fresh coffee and a donut.

 

According to Berry Boy, “in a little bit” means “ask repeatedly every 5 seconds”.

 

I can still smell dog poo.

 

Despite my efforts at teaching Berry Boy to put away his clothes, I can still count 5 items of clothing that are in my living room.  All his.

I have folded and put away the mountain of laundry that was in my laundry room for the past week (or so) – just in time to start another 3 loads of laundry.  How is that possible?

 

I have not run since Sunday, because I’ve been desperately tired and fighting off the snot that Berry Baby has so nicely shared with me.  But now my legs are getting twitchy.

 

I made up a few excuses to get to the city today, but really I just wanted to go so that I could stock up on coffee, so I am now sipping some fresh Arabian Mocha Sanani in my Arabian Mocha Sanani coffee mug.  *special*.

Life as a Country Song…

I’ve been having a Rebecca Lynn Howard kind of week(s):

“I need a vacation from my life; Me and my husband, we need a wife; Somebody who’s sole ambition is laundry…”

I would take a picture of the overflowing pile of laundry in my laundry room waiting for me to fold it (yes, it’s clean, and yes, it’s mostly sitting on the floor), but it’s too depressing for me.  And embarrassing.  It’s been there for over a week, and I keep having to go rummage through it for (semi)matching socks and clean underwear.  How much do maids cost anyway?

I don’t think I’m overly busy (because I do my absolute best to NOT be overly busy – it stresses me out) – I just don’t seem to be getting anything done.

For example, I had to host Book Club last night, and I didn’t have time to actually “clean” the floor, so I spot cleaned all the really sticky obvious spots and prayed that the sunlight hitting the floor would be more forgiving by 8pm when the girls would show up.  I am such a domestic goddess.

And speaking of book club, I went all out and prepared lots of good coffee and espresso, because I know we’re all coffee lovers (for the most part), and even sacrificially ground the last of my Guatemalan coffee beans (gulp), and only two girls showed up (out of 7) and one drank tea and the other had a latte, so I totally WASTED that whole pot of coffee.  I could cry.  I will be sending Berry Guy on a coffee reconnaissance mission in the city after work today.

On top of it all…I am still not seeing a whole lot of GREEN outside, and heard a rumor today that more snow is expected tomorrow, so I think I may just stay in bed. Until next Spring. Or until the half marathon on the 24th. 

Which brings me to my next *topic* – ONLY 12 MORE DAYS UNTIL THE HALF MARATHON!!!!  I did my last long run on Sunday (Mother’s Day) and it went really well.  I plugged in my iPod and put on an audio book (“Into the Wild” by Jon Krakauer) and got completely lost in the story for 2 hours.  What a great way to pass a long run.  The miles literally ticked by and I was transported into the Alaskan wilderness and hitchhiked through through parts of the US as I followed Chris McCandless on his strange journey.  The entire time I was trying to assess his mental stability – I’m still not done – but at least I didn’t have to assess my own for running just under 13miles. 

Regardless, the long run bought me 2 hours of no whiny kids or messy house or unfolded laundry.  The great escape.  It was bliss.  And after that bliss and my cold water bath for my legs (gulp) I devoured not one but two helpings of sweet biscuit shortcake smothered in fresh, sugared strawberries and slathered with whipped cream.  I should correct that.  I devoured two large helpings of whipped cream (with some strawberries and shortcake).  Yumm.  Because, let’s be honest.  Sometimes, Mother’s day is only going to be what you are going to make of it.  Sometimes, you are not married to the guy who will plan you a breakfast in bed, or have bought flowers, or who will make arrangements so that you don’t have to cook.  And that’s ok, it really is.  Because he’s good at other things.  So sometimes you just have to make the day what it’s going to be, and not complain.  Which means that if you want strawberry shortcake, you will have to make it yourself.  And eat two helpings.

So, to conclude the randomness of this post, I will leave you with my new motto…

:End ramble

Going Green (and I don’t mean environmentally…or maybe I do…)

I know, it’s feast or famine here at Berry Bloggerific…I’m either posting nothing for weeks, or I’m making multiple posts in a day.

However, I made an important discovery whilst outside today...and I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up here, but…

CHECK IT OUT!!!

(and please excuse the fact that the background is in perfect focus while the actual thing that I was focusing on is blurry…I apparently have no idea how to take pictures)

I think it’s officially Spring.

Green makes my soul say “ahhhhh”.

Unfortunately, this…

…does not make my soul say “ahhhh”.  This makes my soul say “I’m gonna open up a can of whoopass beat that blasted dog…”

That tomato cage?  It houses a plant.  Or at least it used to.  My favorite rose bush suffered a similar fate – I didn’t take pictures of the carnage because it was too depressing.  I replanted the poor thing, but I’m not so sure it’s gonna make it…

I think I will blame this one…

Mind you, it could very well be this one…

but I’m pretty sure I got it right the first time.

Hey, it’s SPRING baby!  It’s officially the season of dirty feet and daily baths (for the kids, of course…obviously I bathe daily all the time…ahem)