I had intended to take photos every single day of the year. And picke a daily favorite. I wasn’t planning on posting them everyday, but thought that I would make a photo book at the end of the year. 365 Photos.
I took thousands of photos this year. But failed at this one project. 2009 is a new year.
Here is my year in review, in photos and posts. (more…)
Yesterday was my mother in law’s 84th birthday.
When you are 84 there aren’t too many of them left are there? Or maybe that is just me being morbid, I’m not sure. Maybe it is just me thinking about my own mortality and all the things that I still want to do in my life. Things I put off. Things I think that I will do in ten years or twenty years or when the kids are grown or when a whole host of other, ever shifting, variables have been met.
And while I know that there are no guarantees in life, that I could just drop dead tomorrow, it seems that if I reach 84 the odds of me dropping dead the next day go up dramatically. And when I am there will I look back and be happy or will I look back and see a life riddled with things I never got around to doing. Will I even care?
My father in law has mellowed considerably over the past twenty years. He finds joy in the grandkids now in a way that he never did with his own children, or even the older grandchildren. The youngest grandchildren and the great grandchildren will remember him as a laughing, kind hearted grandfather who always had an empty pill container filled with quarters for them. A grandfather who was half deaf and mixed up all of their names. The rest of us can still recall the crotchety man who wouldn’t let oldest grandchildren IN THE HOUSE when they were small. I know you think I am exaggerating for comedic effect, but I assure you, I am not.
He now finds exchanges like this one hilarious. He thinks that the little grandchildren are the smartest of all the smart children that have ever existed. We don’t have the heart to tell him otherwise, that four year old children really are supposed to be talking in complete sentences.
“Miles, stop eating the cake with your finger!”
“I’m not eating it. I am TASTING it!”
My in laws house is like a time warp from 1964. Everything in the house is from 1964 when the house was built, even the furniture. It is so outdated that it is back in style.
My daughter in her retro inspired dress matched the decor perfectly in the house.
Perfect for sitting on the white fur covered couch.
Until a few years ago this couch was covered with plastic. Rob was never even allowed in the room, let alone near the couch. He can not remember a time in his childhood that he was ever permitted to sit on it. No one sat on the WHITE COUCH ever.
Now? The grandkids run all over it. They EAT in the room. They stand on it and look out the windows.
Why exactly my father in law has binoculars next to his front picture window is beyond me. Sometimes it is better to have a don’t ask, don’t tell policy.
I asked my mother in law about this change of heart. Why are the grandkids allowed to do all of these things that her kids were not allowed to do. She shrugged. “What, do we want everything to last forever?”
I laughed. “Well, I’d say that this white furniture has lasted as close to forever as furniture does.”
The kids were bouncing all over the furniture. Not being bad, just bouncing the way that kids do. I started to reprimand them.
“No, let them. They are only little once. If I had it to do over again I wouldn’t care so much about the furniture getting ruined, or the carpet getting stained.”
“Really?” I asked.
“I’ll tell you what, if I knew I would still have this same darn furniture 45 years later I would have tried to wear it out!” she laughs.
I know exactly what she means. They are people born of the Depression. They can not throw away anything that is still useful. The idea of buying new furniture when you already have furniture is preposterous. Heck, they find the idea of throwing away used tin foil preposterous. They store that inside their non-working dishwasher. They don’t replace the dishwasher because :1) they have a sink and hands, and 2) where would they store their used tinfoil while it dries.
Today I was cleaning up my family room and getting really annoyed at the condition of our couch. One of the kids put a huge tear in the leather. I was ranting and raving inside my head about how I never get to have anything nice. How all my things get ruined. How nobody else in the family ever does anything except me. You know that conversation? I am sure I don’t have to spell out the inner dialogue, you have had the same conversation with yourself.
Before I could unleash it all on my poor unsuspecting family I thought of my mother in law and her white albatross. And decided that I don’t want to wait 45 more years to enjoy things. Will this matter to me when I am 84, has become my new mantra.
(Though truth be told I am NOT a product of the Depression and will happily take a knife to my couch and slice it into teeny tiny bits rather than still have it, and hate it, in 45 years.)
The cupcake maker was tops on my daughter’s Christmas list this year. Well, along with Glitter Lava. It seemed like such a ridiculous thing. For months she kept talking about it. Going on and on about how much she wanted it.
I remember when I was her age, and for a few years afterward, I wanted the Sunshine Family. A family of dolls that had a Mon, Dad, Brother and Sister. I am not sure why exactly I was so hung up on this particular doll family, but I was. I asked for them for every single holiday. And I never got them. Not that I am still bitter and harboring a grudge or anything…
What exactly is a cupcake maker, you might ask?
It is a device that allows you to make ONE cupcake at a time. And then individually decorate it. It is like the complete opposite of my life in bulk.
Basically, it turns a simple 10 second job into an elaborate, gadget filled project that makes a mess as far as the eye can see.
But it made my daughter oh-so-very-happy to spend hours (LITERALLY) individually making cupcakes for her brothers. Saving the grande finale, a sprinkle covered one for herself.
Hoping all of your wishes came true this holiday too. And if they didn’t, maybe you should get yourself a Cupcake Maker. Everything is better with frosting.
“Miles, you need to wash your hands before you help make the cookies.”
“Miles? Did you wash your hands?”
“I not need to wash my hands. I licked them all clean!”
Veil and wedding dress optional.
Though, really, why the hell not. When else are you going to wear your wedding dress again?
Personally, I think baking in one of those tacky bridesmaid dresses you were forced to wear would be perfect. Not that the bridesmaid dresses you picked out and had your bridesmaids wear were tacky… Ahem.
Yesterday I began AND FINISHED my Christmas shopping. There is something very freeing in waiting until the last minute. You know it has to be done. No running back to buy just one more thing. No second guessing. No trying to even out the piles.
We had one thing to buy today for one kid. Rob ran into the sporting goods store to buy it while I ran into a different store to buy something for Rob’s mother. I’ll admit that I felt a little bad buying her a present on 75% off clearance.
As we walked through the store really quickly, me dragging Miles who was jogging along side me. “Why are we walking so FAST, mommy?” Miles asked.
“Oh honey,” I answered, “This is called power shopping.”
We also did power baking. You can read about that over at Work It, Mom! later on today. now.
Bah Humbug.
Today we are trapped in the house in ANOTHER snow storm. We will be baking Christmas cookies all day long. Rob went to the grocery store last night and bought bags of sugar and enough butter to clog the arteries of a small country. We may just roll sticks of butter in sugar and call it a day.
Then we are going to decorate our Christmas tree. Well, after we put it up. Then tomorrow I am meeting my best friend for some power Christmas shopping, because as of right now I have two presents bought, both for the same child. I am not sure I could convince all my children that an Easy Bake Oven and cupcake maker were for all of them to share.
Then I will try to find my Christmas spirit. I think it is hiding in the shoe department at Macy’s.
I will have the Christmas spirit by Christmas, or die trying.
My son had his CT scan this afternoon and the good news for all of us is that he has no brain bleeds or anything else scarier than a concussion.
The specialist told us that he is not to “use his brain” for at least 2-4 weeks or until his headaches completely subside. Since he is a teenage boy that shouldn’t be too difficult.
I kid, mostly. He is not supposed to read, do any schoolwork, play any sort of video games, or exert himself in any manner. There goes his help shoveling in the big storm that is supposed to come our way later this week. He should lay around and sleep as much as possible. If he is doing something and feels a headache coming on he should immediately stop and go lay down lie down rest. My son was somewhat jazzed by this advice.
In fact, I am wondering how I can get myself a concussion.
He has a follow-up visit to the sports medicine doctor who specializes in concussions on December 30th where his progress will be evaluated.
Son: Mom, it is so weird. I can’t really remember anything from that week in Florida. It is all jumbled up like it happened to someone else.
Me: Do you remember the first night there?
Son: I’m not sure…
Me: When you called me crying like a baby because you missed me so much?
Son: What?
Me: Yes, and I had to go to your condo and pick you up and bring you back to the house we had rented. Don’t you remember that?
Son: No. And I don’t think that happened.
Me: …
Son: Did it?
*****
He has an appointment tomorrow afternoon for a CT scan and then later in the week an appointment with a sports medicine doctor who specializes in concussions. My son seems much better today, more “with it” or as he says, “less retarded.” The specialist will do some sort of assessments and let us know how long it will be before he is considered good as new.
And I suppose give me an estimate for when I will be able to safely remove the bubble wrap and styrofoam I have packed him in. I am thinking 22 seems like a good age for that.
