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July 28 Get That Guy a Klondike Bar Watching a little "Finding Nemo" at the moment--and I thought to myself, "When life gets you down, you know whatcha gotta do? Just keep shopping, just keep shopping..."
Yeah, I've soooo been to the mall 3 times this week, under the guise of taking Mia to the posh indoor playground they have there--which she does play on happily for an hour or more at a time, but really, I've been going because I JUST CAN'T STAND STAYING HOME in this quiet house.
If you know me, you know I'm an extremely thrifty shopper and a total change hog. If I can't pay for it with the chunk of change I found in the ash tray of my car, I'm not buying it. But I usually make out pretty good--I can find deals you wouldn't believe. Caleb loves me for it. Cashiers hate me for it. Everytime I plunk down a ziplock bag full of quarters and dimes they look they're about to burst into tears. Hey, not my problem.
It's not like we can't afford the good stuff--it's not like we're so broke that I have to buy clothes with spare change. I just have a serious fascination with quarters...and clearances. Yesterday I bought my dream-shirt of the month--I had seen it back in April--navy blue with white polka-dots, short sleeves...so soft, so beautiful...originally priced at $22.00--unacceptable. I will pay no more than $6.99--in spare change, plus tax. I got it without a second thought. It is mine. I own the shirt now. It will never leave me, and I will love it forever, and I will love it even more that I paid so little for it. Dear shirt.
Slipping off the deep end there for a minute. Sorry.
My Cheyenne comes back TONIGHT. 6 days is entirely too long and I will never ever share my precious child again. I just won't. I can't wait to hear about her week. My ex took her to see my parents for one day--that went fantastic and Cheyenne didn't want to leave. But I thought it was nice of the guy to give up one of his days for them.
Tomorrow night I will be in the company of grown-ups, at a grown-up party drinking grown-up beverages and listening to grown-up music. OH WOW. I won't know how to act! We got a friend of mine, Cheyenne's best friend's mom, to come over and babysit the girls and the dogs--she's the only person up here with whom everyone in our house is familiar and comfortable with--the dogs love here, and Mia likes her, so she's our best bet, and she's really looking foward to it. When I called her to ask if she would do it, she said, "It's about time you let me watch that baby!" I feel soooo happy--it's tough to find someone you trust and your kids like to babysit...
I dyed my hair a few nights ago, a nice strawberry blondish-brownish color, and Caleb is less than pleased with it. He noticed, yes, but his first comment was, "Why did you do that? We're going to be seeing people this weekend!" Geez. What a sweetie--somebody get that guy a Klondike Bar.
He made up for that miserable remark last night with a nice massage. Serves him right.
Everyone have a great weekend! July 26 What NOT To Watch What's worse than an overly-imaginative stay-at-home-alone mommy watching "When A Stranger Calls" at midnight when her husband's out of town?
Nothing. Nothing is worse than that.
Ladies--I know I'm not the only one who delights in being scared silly, but at the moment, I am off-the-charts petrified after sitting through this PG-13 MOVIE FROM HELL. Oh, Dear God, why? Why did I do this?
I am obviously trying to distract my freaked-out self by, what else--writing, and listening to VH-1's 40 Most Awesomely Bad Dirrty Songs. This one's a riot--it's definitely taking my mind off things. I am agreeing with a lot of the choices, but Color Me Badd's "I Wanna Sex You Up"? Come on! That's a classic!
Hoo boy. As anyone who reads this may notice, I haven't been reading other people's spaces, at least not very many, in a while. I just...can't seem to make the kind of time it takes me lately to read and then process what I read, and then leave a comment. I feel really guilty, like I've forgotten to call my best friend for months. There's been a lot to do.
My sister is on my a$$ to address her wedding invitations ( I have a black-belt in calligraphy). She's sent them to my house--they're sitting neatly in my closet. I just have to get a few solid hours to myself to get them started. I honestly was going to do it tonight, but I felt like dying my hair and shaving my legs. Then I had to wash my face, drink a beer and have a banana-nut muffin. And then the movie fiasco. And now the internet and VH-1. Ah, Bel-Biv-Devoe's "Do Me". I was 10. And how 'bout that Ludicris and his "Fantasy"?
Okay. I'm off to bed--not to sleep, but to cower under the covers for an hour before I decide to go get Mia out of her crib to sleep beside me and "protect" me. Happy Wednesday guys! July 25 This One's For the Goths Attention all 9th-grade, hackey-sack, death-warmed-over, trenchcoat-mafia-wannabe punks:
Statistics show that you have come to my site searching for grotesque graphics featuring the grim-reaper holding murderous porcelain dolls. You want to read about screams in the night, you want to feel pain and suffering. You want to fight insanity.
If you are actually expecting to find those things here, I suspect you will be sourly disappointed, and for that, I apologize. You won't find a hint of death on my space. The only doll face you will see belongs to my precious 2-year-old. You won't read about screams in the night unless I find steaming piles of dog crap all over the floor on my way to the bathroom at 2:00 a.m. Pain and suffering abound, but not in the bloodbath-chainsaw form you so crave.
For the poor people who are lead to Fighting Insanity looking for a ray of light in their very real world of depression, I hope you found at least a laugh, maybe even just a quick chuckle, or a small smile. I know that I have it quite easy as far as the battle against losing my mind goes, and that there are others that do suffer far more than I ever will.
But for those of you whose mommies just picked you up in the family Lexus from your summer job of mowing lawns, you are looking for more goth than you will ever find on my space. Please don't go stomping broodily up to your room in your expensive new combat boots--please don't try and make a voo-doo doll of me. That will only take up more valuable internet time, and besides, you probably have to get ready to go to the mall. (Make sure you have carefully applied a fresh coat of white face paint.)
I am truly sorry you were mislead. And I mean that from the pits of my evil black soul. July 24 She's OKAY! My daughter, my angel, my firstborn princess left me yesterday. She left me for someone else. And I feel like a kindergartener who's lost their favorite teddy bear.
I've cried. I've bawled. I've moped. I've drank. I've slept. And I've cried some more. 32 hours and counting without Cheyenne...I wonder what the rest of the week will be like.
Her dad and his girlfriend arrived Saturday around 2:00 p.m. to pick Cheyenne up for an afternoon of fun at the mall. Afterwards, we all gathered together at Olive Garden (wow--I just realized--"Olive" Garden, "Olive" branch--coincidence? Yeah, probably.) for dinner. We actually had a fabulous time altogether. And I'm officially taking back all the rants and raves and complaints I had the other day about my ex. Yep, things went that smoothly. And I'm all but madly in love with the girlfriend myself. (They've been best friends for years, so it's not like they just met at a bar or something.)
Cheyenne will have a fine time. I have no doubt of that. I will busy myself with chores and other fun things, like...shopping.
Last night, an intoxicated Caleb and I bit into some fresh jalepeno peppers--biggest mistake of my life. My ears hurt. My eyes...burned. And I won't even get into how I'm feeling today--just from the pepper, not the beer mind you. Ouch. Scary.
So, a little less drinking and pepper-eating, and a little more bike-riding and house-cleaning. Cheyenne will be back in no time.
I got pictures of the awesome dresses my little sis picked out for her wedding, which will take place in Pensacola in October. I can't wait to go back home, but even more, I can't wait to get dressed up, get a tan, have my nails done, put my hair up and wear make-up--all with a very legitimate excuse.
Hope everyone had a bearable Monday. July 21 Homesick--or Am I? There's something about listening to an old-school hip-hop song that makes me want to roll down my car window, flop my arm out onto the side of the car, bob my head and cruise through town at about 10 miles an hour.
And there's something about me really doing all of those things down our Mayberry Main Street that makes Cheyenne want to hide her face in her hands and slide down in her seat about as far as she can without actually sitting on the floorboard.
Yeah, there's a word for people like me--actually, there are several words--and I welcome the descriptions. I know I'm a lame soccer-mommyish-white-girl-wannabe-cool person. I know it. And I'm okay with it.
I caught Will Smith's (A.K.A. The Fresh Prince) "Summertime" on the radio today as we were driving back from "the city" in 110 degree weather, and I have to say--as hot and miserable as I felt at that particular moment, when that song came on, I cooled off and sat back and remembered all those good times I used to have back in Philly, at the barbeques and the reunions, chillin in the car I spent all day waxin'...
Oh, wait. That never really happened to me. Nevertheless, the song gave me a renewed appreciation for the mellowness of this lovely season. Summer has been my favorite time of year for as long as I can remember. That could just be the Pensacolian in me talking, but looking back, I've always had good summers. No matter how bad the rest of the year had gone, those 3 hot months could be counted on to be phenomenally wonderful. Plus, I always got really good summer action.
My best summer memories definitely took place in back home in Florida. All I can think of right now is driving over the bridge to Pensacola Beach, looking out at the sunset and the shimmering ocean...the sugar sand...
"Relaxing" does not even begin to describe a day spent down on the end of the beach with Cheyenne and Caleb and that water--pure aquamarine from a distance, but clear right up close. I loved looking down and being able to see my feet under the waves.
The best feeling in the world...being in love and going on a date out on the beach. God, I miss being there with Caleb--night or day, if it was summertime, it was the place to be. It got crowded, and that could be fun, but if you could slip away to a quiet spot, it was 10 times better. I never really minded the sand in my clothes, or my hair. And I actually miss having sand in my car--after living in Oklahoma for the last year and a half, the sand is all gone. Even the sand that I thought would permanently be in my trunk--gone, vacuumed up.
We have a different kind of summer here. I used to worry that some of the "magic" would be lost--no ocean, no sunsets on the beach, no Bamboo Willie's High Octanes...or Flounder's Diesel Fuels...
No more freedom, no more starry nights in the sand. Kids and jobs rule our lives now--and sleep takes over where those two leave off.
But there's most definitely magic--a different kind, but it's still there. Maybe it's grown-up, maybe it's Oklahoma--when we're on our back porch at sundown, grilling, looking out at the hills and the fields, watching the dogs chase each other around the yard and listening to the kids shriek in the pool over the radio...Caleb will get this look in his eye and smile like he can't help it. And it's the same look and the same smile as it's always been.
We'll settle down after the kids are in bed, out back in these collapsible canvas chairs that I swear are about to fall apart, and the sky is so huge and sparkly that you can't help but look up, and just stay looking up. The sky is our beach now. The stars, and the moon--it lights everything up, just like during the day. Caleb and I will hold hands and talk for an hour or so and say to each other as we head inside for the night, "Wow. I've just never seen anything like this--you won't find it back home for sure. Can you believe all these stars? This sky? Aren't we lucky?"
I'm making a vow to start loving summer again despite the heat--maybe you guys can help me out with some of your favorite summer memories--write them down for me, and enjoy the weekend! ~Toni July 20 The Carpet Man Came Today Can't...write...hands...melting to the...keyboard...
It's so freakin' hot--I know that's been the topic of blogland these past few days it seems, but I can't help it. It's messin' up my world.
I've had to wait until 7:30 p.m. or later to ride my bike--and that, my friends, puts me in the terrible position of "to ride, or not to ride?". By the time that optimal riding hour rolls around, I feel more like snuggling up in the bed than hopping on my bike, seat digging uncomfortably into my crotch, sweat pouring nastily off the tip of my nose...I feel like taking long, cold, bubble bath just thinking about it.
Why am I complaining about my sweet pink bike? I can only blame it on the heat. I'm telling you, come October, I'm going to be on that puppy twice a day, everyday, for at least 40 minutes at a time. And that's the honest-to-God-truth.
I've managed to do a little blog-walking. Seems there's this BlogHer thing going around--I checked it out a little, and honestly, I just don't have the brain power to figure something like that out. I liked the cute little button that you can click on, but the rest of it seemed a little to complicated for someone who has trouble just getting on the computer these days. So everyone else, have fun with it, have DOUBLE THE FUN with it, for me.
We had our carpets cleaned today by a man named Randy. Randy was a funny-looking guy. And he made a funny-looking face when we told him we'd only lived here since September.
"So, is this the original carpet the builder put in?" Randy asks.
"Yes, it is."
(Face of Randy cringes, contorts).
"Hmmm...Good thing I mixed the extra strong soap." Randy says, and then gets to work.
I felt like a carpet criminal. Granted, we have a baby, and 3 big nasty indoor dogs that I hate to bathe, plus me and my clumsy, spastic self...stains and smells abound in our still-sort-of-new home. But that's us--that's our family, that's the way we operate. We didn't ask Mr. Randy to comment on the state of our carpet, we just wanted him to clean it. Just clean it and shut the hell up. Don't make us feel dirtier than we already do.
Turns out, the extra strong soap did a really superb job in lifing all the...God-knows-what we had deep down in our carpets. I forgot what a light color they originally were...why the hell did we pick that out?
After the carpet cleaning, I decided it was high time I washed our vacuum cleaner--after all, I didn't want a dirty vacuum on that nice, shiny clean carpet...so I busted out the screwdriver and took that bad boy apart, all by myself, with my bare hands. Don't ask me how I knew what I was doing--I'd seen people use a screwdriver many times on TV. The rest I just sort of made up as I went along, taking things off piece by piece and wiping, sometimes chiseling, off dirt and dog hair and...other gunk...After I was satisfied with my work (after about 3 minutes of that shit) I attempted to put the contraption back together...with much success--at least I think so, because I had no left over parts and the thing turned on and whirred just like normal...I have yet to test how much dog hair it will actually picks up, because, ha, well, Randy took care of that today.
I'm really quick going to touch on the topic of my dogs, since it's been a little while since they had their turn in the spotlight, and then I'm out.
Our doggies are all indoor doggies, for the most part. (Now do you understand why I'm in need of Lexapro?) We really do love them, and they are pretty calm...most of the time. For the times when they're not, we kick them outside to rough and tumble. We put in an electric fence not to long ago, and that has been a complete and utter Godsend--all we have to do is strap on their little electric collars and send them off to play...or pee...or hump things. July 18 What The Heck I've Been Doing Fast, fast, fast. I've got food to eat and a bike to ride. Oh, and kids to take care of.
This weekend has been no less than great. I'm trying right now to think of everything we've done, but my mind is sort of racing at the moment.
Caleb is trying to distract me by sending on a CD hunt,...
And he was successful.
Alright, he's gone. Geez.
Friday...we did not much. Cheyenne had a birthday party to go to that evening, which turned out to be freakin' hilarious. The party was held at a local beauty salon/funky diva store, and the girls walked out of that place looking like a million bucks.
And it is 4 days later and I'm finally finishing this up.
We went to a Softball World Cup game Saturday night in Oklahoma City--it was the neatest thing ever to be at--apparently they make a pretty big deal about it--I've caught it running on ESPN over the past few days--Mikey would be so proud of me. A real ballgame! We went with Cheyenne's softball team and got to watch the US bring dishonor to China, but we left before the Australia vs. Japan game. It was getting late, and Mia was getting tired. And mommy was bugging out from all the people and noise there--Good Gravy were there a lot of people there. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I practically threw Mia into her carseat and hyperventilated the entire ride home. I calmed down later on that night and Caleb and I watched reruns of Nip/Tuck until 2:00 a.m. Good times, good times.
Been riding the bike. Going to the girly doctor, who is soooo cutely pregnant. Catching up with old friends. Reading books, swimming in our 20 inch-deep pool. Getting a great tan. Life's been good. Really good. I'm going to go now and see if I can stand outside without getting scorched. Is it just Oklahoma, or is it insanely hot everywhere? July 13 Seething...*DISCLAIMER* THIS ENTRY IS NOT INTENDED TO SLAM OR OFFEND ANYONE. IT IS WRITTEN PURELY FOR THE PURPOSE OF VENTING AND LETTING MY OPINION BE KNOWN. PLEASE JUST TAKE THIS FOR WHAT IT IS: ME RANTING AND RAVING AND GETTING REALLY REALLY ANGRY. TOTALLY TONGUE IN CHEEK, PEOPLE, AS TOOTSBUSTEDMIKEY WOULD SAY.
I've spent the past hour trying to sleep to calm down; I spent the 45 minutes before that on a bike ride trying to de-stress. Writing about this is a last resort.
A recent conversation has got me all in a tizzy--a conversation with my ex-husband. I consider us to be friends, but it's no secret that I'm a hot momma-bear when it comes to protecting my children. Nothing was said during this conversation that would get any normal person worked up--I simply overthink things and tend to be easily aggitated, especially these days.
I just feel as though I'm light years ahead of my ex. In some ways, I view him as a child--a boy who just has no idea; who still doesn't get it. I feel like...like...how dare he even say some of the things that have come out of his mouth, however innocent, when it has been me and Cheyenne all these years, all this time? I know for a fact I had nothing to do with "how hard" it's been for him to see her, or call her, or write her--or simply act like a father that missed his little girl would act. I think he and certain members of his family would like to think that Caleb and I have convienently pushed him out of the picture, but that is very clearly not so. You can't push someone out of the picture when they took themselves out of it a long time ago...arrrrg.
And so, without further ado, here are some of the words that have been exchanged between us over the past several months and the actual meanings behind the words according to me, and only me:
HIM: "You know, now that I am stationed back in the states, I am really looking foward to seeing Cheyenne more and being a bigger part of her life."
ME: "That's wonderful--good for you!"
TRANSLATION: That would be wonderful if it were true, but I'm going to need proof. Walk the walk, bub.
HIM: "I can't wait to be involved in some of the decision making that goes on with her."
ME: "I'm glad to hear you say that."
TRANSLATION: What-ever.
HIM: "How come I don't see many pictures of myself or my family in her room? I've sent her plenty--with frames and everything. And you have my phone number; doesn't she know she can call me?"
ME: "Oh, I let her decorate her own room. And she knows she can call you, but I let her do things like that at her own pace."
TRANSLATION: I don't want to tell you that I've asked her numerous times if she'd like to call, and she always declines for one reason or another. As for the pictures--I do let her decorate her own room, and when I didn't see you or your parents put up, I asked her about it. She said she just didn't have the room for it. Now, did you really want to know that?
HIM: "I think Caleb has way overstepped his boundaries a bit. After all, I am her father, and I have every right to raise my child as I see fit, and I don't feel as if I have to approach both him and you with any problems that may arise."
ME: "We are, after all, a family, and we make decisions together. Plus, he's awful protective of Cheyenne. He loves her like his own daughter."
TRANSLATION: Shut the hell up. Caleb has been more of a father to my little girl than you have ever imagined being. What gives you the right to waltz into her life after a 6-year basic absence and take over?
HIM: "When Caleb told me I haven't earned the right to be so tightly involved in her life, I felt like hitting him. Even my own brother said that's what he would've done. But it wouldn't have done any good."
ME: "Well, you kind of haven't earned the right. And like I said, Caleb is extremely protective and was just thinking of Cheyenne's feelings."
TRANSLATION: Oh, your "father-of-the-year" brother? Now there's someone with good advice. You might've totally disagreed with Caleb's statement but it doesn't really matter, a) because it's true, and b) because not only have you not earned the right to be tightly involved, you also haven't earned the right to have your opinion count. But thanks for sharing. It was cute.
HIM: "I kind of felt like I had my back against the wall last visit and I'm really stressed about this upcoming visit."
ME: "I'm sorry you felt that way. I hope everyone can be comfortable this time around."
TRANSLATION: You're damn right you had your back against the wall. We tolerated you on all of your previous visits because it was only once a year and you never showed a real interest up until this point. So we let it be known that you had a lot of catching up to do with your child, and we let it be known where we--Caleb AND I--stood on things. As far as I'm concerned, that part's over. We can all relax now because the cards are on the table, and we all know the rules.
HIM: "Can you believe it? I'm actually in love--for the first time. Never thought it would happen to me."
ME: "WTF?--The first time? I'm kidding; I think that's great. Congratulations."
TRANSLATION: This ought to be interesting...
HIM: "I'm glad Cheyenne and I will have this time alone together, away from you all's household--that was awkward."
ME: "This will give the two of you some quality time. Plus it'll be easier on everybody."
TRANSLATION: If you want to take a kid you barely know 16 hours away, for an entire week, to stay with you and your girlfriend of 1 month in a tiny apartment, you go right ahead. You deal with the constipation, the mood swings, the attitudes, and then you come back and tell me about "awkward" again.
HIM: "I was worried that you wouldn't allow me to take her this far away for this long."
ME: "Well, there comes a time when you just have to let your kids go."
TRANSLATION: There also comes a time when you just have to sit back and watch somebody fail at what they thought they knew...I'm sorry, that one was just mean. There comes a time when you just have to let your kids go...even when you know the situation will be painfully uncomfortable for them.
I have got to stop before I really get out of line. This is just me and my obscured little point of view. It's not my ex that gets to me; it's the situation. I'm going to die 10 days from now when my Cheyenne goes on yet another week-long journey away from home--only this time, it's not girl scout camp and I'm not convinced she'll have the time of her life.
Don't get me wrong--I WANT her to go and have a fabulous time. I want her to know her father--to know who he is, where he comes from, where she comes from...the worst thing I can think of for her is to grow up feeling like she never really had the chance to do just that. I want them to have a good relationship. I want her to feel love from all sides--I get aggrivated, but it's not about me. She's getting old enough to make her own choices and form her own opinions.
It truly is hard to let your kids go--even when they're going with their own parents. But when you have yet to see that parenting style put to the test, it's a million times tougher. She'll be fine, I'm sure. But I wonder if I will be.
July 12 The Wonderful Life of a Toddler Mia is a freakin' riot. We are never at a loss for entertainment around my house.
Everyday she does at least one thing that literally amazes me. The most recent surprise came from watching her play with her plastic naked baby doll. She made it dance. She threw fake food at it and commanded it to eat. She tucked it into the big girl bed, read it a book (sort of) and threatened it with a spanking when it didn't go to sleep.
I've been looking foward to, and sort of dreading, this day. You learn so much about your parenting style and the way your children view you once they start playing "mom" with their babies or stuffed animals. Does she really see me that way? Am I that...tough? Wow.
Mia marches around the house like she owns the place. Her walk is confident and determined. Her demands are almost always met. I don't remember Cheyenne being this diva-ish.
I love kids this age. Their honesty, their spunk. The way they do exactly what they feel. I watched Mia the other day with Caleb's birthday cake. Once she plowed through her small piece, she reached straight over to the mothership and snagged some chocolate icing--"Yummmm!"--and offered some to Caleb and I. See? That's something I ALWAYS want to do with birthday cake. She sings when she feels like it, sleeps when she's sleepy, and gives a big, hearty laugh whenever something strikes her funny. When she doesn't like someone, she doesn't smile at them, or even try to make nice. When she wants something, no obstacle will keep her from it. 2-year-olds are real. Why can't we all be that way?
Repetition: I think it's just something you have to get used to with kids--the repeated reading of a book, the song you sing again and again, the same question asked a billion times. Mia is in a stage right now where it's the same thing...over and over and over.
Today it's been the "Moon Moon Moon" song from the "Laurie Berkner Band" DVD. Cheyenne and I are on the verge of tears. If we have to do the "moon" motions one more time...
We've read Olivia until we're blue in the face. Granted, it's a cute story about a cute pig, and the illustrations aren't obnoxious or anything...but geez.
She wants to wear her dingy, old sandals everyday even though I have bought her these awesome blue sparkly ones...You get the idea. The child does not like to change things up.
Her birthday is next month, and I'm wondering what to do for it. There's not really anyone that we would invite to a 2-year-old birthday party up here...Caleb's dad is going to fly in for a few days to help celebrate, so that will be nice. I just feel bad because Cheyenne's birthdays were always big family affairs--full-blown parties with swimming and cake and people and presents. Mia of course, seems content, with just the 4 of us...I'll figure out something fun.
Hope everyone is enjoying the week so far. July 11 Guess I'd better write something... It's been gorgeous outside. I've been busy. I've been sleepy. I've been riding my bike.
For whatever reason, I just haven't been blogging--which in itself is not really a big deal, but my family seems to think that writing has been somewhat of an outlet for me and the fact that I'm not doing it regularly has them a tiny bit concerned.
So I'm freakin' writing, if only to keep my mom updated. (Love you, Mom.)
As I mentioned before, I love my new bike, and I love it even more now that my husband has a sweet green one. Seriously, he's adorable on that thing. Bless his heart, he couldn't keep up with me and Cheyenne on our first ride yesterday--the hills about killed him and he came home and passed out on the couch. But it was a lot of fun and I'm hoping it's something we can all do more often.
Mia has grown to love the rides as much as I do--she hugs me around my waist, kisses me on my back, and sings songs to me the whole way--and I've realized how good she is at singing, how many songs she actually knows, how well she can carry a tune. Everytime we zoom down a hill she throws her arms up and shouts "WEEEEEEEEE!" all the way down. She thinks her little pink helmet is the coolest thing a kid could own, and whenever I strap it on, she struts around with her chin up and a huge grin on her face...
Cheyenne rides in front of me. She has the makings of a professional cyclist--her legs are getting stronger and stronger, she seems so lean and mean on that bike of hers--she rides with such confidence...on her bike, all her awkwardness melts away, her clumsiness, her noodle arms and legs...gone. I'm seeing muscles in her body that I never would've guessed she had. And I can tell she really loves to ride.
I ride because it makes me feel better. When I miss a day, my mood suffers--funny how that's working out. I guess it's good--what better motivation is there to exercise than the threat of an emotional breakdown? Yesterday I suffered a mini-episode in the privacy of my closet. For some reason I felt this overwhelming sense of anger and sadness both, and could do nothing for 30 minutes but cry and gag...it passed as quickly as it came on, and Mia and I had some chocolate cake out on the back porch and all was right with the world again.
Oh, and the cake came from
MY HUSBAND'S 29TH BIRTHDAY
which ever so awesomely took place yesterday, July 10th. We got him a grill cover and 3 manly movies (Zardoz not included), and I think he was happy. He's not one to get too terribly excited over birthdays, not the way I do anyway--and he had an awful lot of work to catch up on after his week of hurt-back.
My biggest birthday wish for him, since I'm not sure he knew to make one for himself, is that his 29th year is filled with happiness and success, that he be satisfied by who he is and where he is completely and utterly by the time he hits the big 3-0. You know, I think he's there already--he is a very contented person. I admire the way he takes each day and makes the best out of it, yet is not afraid to have the occasional dramatic freak-out over something big...but he deals with it with such strength and manliness. And he looks really, really good on a bicycle. July 05 Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood? The people in my neighborhood piss me off. Sometimes I wonder if we even fit in up here. We got a great deal on the house, and the schools were great, and the neighborhood is gated and seemingly safe, but I've been noticing a lot of things since I've been out riding my bike.
That's really the only stuff that's bothering me that I can think of right at this moment, but I'm sure I can come up with more after my evening bike ride--which reminds me, EVERYONE SHOULD GET A BIKE AND RIDE IT. It is just the most exhilarating thing--it's my new favorite form of exercise. I've been doing it twice a day, although I am going to have to cut back because my poor crotch is beyond bruised. So with your bike make sure to get a nice padded seat. July 03 THE ONE ABOUT THE GIRLS I've been so busy writing about the loss of my own sanity, building parent-tents, and birdies with death-wishes, that I've neglected to write about the really important stuff in my life: my kiddos.
Mia is a child that can't pronounce her "R's". She is a child that just recently dropped her nighttime bottle but won't give up that pacifier. Her little baby thighs are so muscular that Arnold's would look like chicken legs in comparison. Heights are not a problem for Mia; she has no fear.
Mia will read the books Jamberry and Olivia over and over again. She wants her toenails painted blue so that she can look just like "Aquamarine". She will skip the pool and head straight for the huge mud puddle on the side of the yard, and splash in it for hours in her beautiful new pink and purple bathing suit that she threw a fit at Target to have.
Mia is a child that at upon first meeting you, she will stare at you intensely before either waving shyly or screaming in terror. She is the kind of kid that people literally stop what they are doing just to look at her and exclaim, "Dear God! That little girl should be in modeling!"
Cheyenne is the young lady that will smile in adoration and pride for her little sister when people ignore her and fawn over Mia. Cheyenne is the girl that will read Jamberry and Olivia over and over again to her. She (semi)-willingly gives Mia any prized stuffed animal she has her eyes on.
Cheyenne is tall and skinny and tan and blonde. She is at an age where it's hard for her to control her ridiculously long arms and legs, and she still, thankfully, thinks boys are the dumbest things to ever walk the face of the Earth. She's made a lot of friends and is involved in a lot of activities, but has not let anything knock her off her straight-A streak.
Cheyenne is my bike-riding buddy. Cheyenne will build LEGO houses with me. And she loves a good peanut-butter and sprinkles sandwich.
That's a little bit about my girls and where they are right now at this particular point in time of their life. I need to completely update weekly because they grow and change so fast. I don't understand people who say they don't want kids. But then, I can't remember NOT having kids--I do know that the girls bring so much joy and love to my life, and I look foward to the day, whenever it may be, that the next part of our family can join in the fun. |
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