Why Do You Blog?

When someone asks you how you use your computer, how do you answer? I excitedly answer, "I blog!"
To set the record straight I only spend about 20 minutes every night or every other night typing out a few thoughts. But still, why? At the end of the day it could be argued that a blog is a signal of a bloated sense of self.
Here is what I've decided is my reason.
Blogging is really just a diary in which everyone you know has the key. And while that audience isn't large and isn't captive... There is an audience and a little bit of pressure to report on relevant, meaningful events, experiences, and perspectives.
The pressure has forced me to be present in my own life. Either I'm motivated to get out and explore the world around me, or I'm motivated to notice the details of my own.
In searching for a daily lead I've found the activities and interest that my children genuinely enjoy and I've kept a consistent recored of it. And as I approach the 1 year anniversary of kicking off this blog I'm down right amazed that I've stuck with something this long. (I'm not very good at sticking with things.)
Years ago I considered myself a journalist and worked in television news. I thought I had a story to tell, and to a degree I did. But the stories belonged and happened to others. Never to me.
Now, I have a story to tell and it is mine. It may not be interesting, Earth-shattering, or relevant to anyone else... But itis mine. Thanks for reading. Thanks for leaving comments. Thanks for sharing your stories with me.

Gentle Reminders

This evening Steve dared go off into the dark, dark night and leave me all alone with two little boys while he plays poker. And on his way out the door he said something or other about the new computer being ready for me.

Oh sweet husband/system administrator (please note seemingly angry lady is actually happy lady that is well enough to have her husband run off into the dark, dark night)! This is his gentle reminder that I am woefully behind on the blog and I "needs to git wit it" to please the parents, in-laws, and friends who are going crazy mad for updates on my health. [Please note my Mittbonics.]

So after much fun playing with new computer -- come on, I didn't even want to quit to write a post -- I'm here to report that all is well. I'm still a little winded, hoarse, and slightly itchy. But it appears that I am holding up and am not allergic to yet another family of antibiotics. Phew! I was feeling like a big red target and fine print reading, "Vulnerable to Anthrax" was taped to my chest.

I bet you all think I just moped in bed all day for the past week. I'll Thank You Very Much that is actually, exactly what I did. But while there, because I just can't sit still to save my life, I did some stuff:

a) Watched WAY too much Jon Stewart Show
b) Embroidered all 12 months of the flower-of-the-month embroidery patterns. Actually I finished 13 because I did NOT know Asters were NOT yellow. Excuuuuse me! Had to look those up on the Internet and unpick my work and re-embroider September.
c) Made a quilty, button-down scarfy thing
d) decided that I need a spa day

And there you have it, pneumonia did NOT kill me (so stop your wishing).

Games Boys Play, II

This morning at breakfast Mason reminded me that like his brother he has his own little games. I handed him a piece of banana bread and he quickly tore it into pieces (think deacons preparing sacrament, angrily) then used the pieces to play cars racing.


After a few laps (mind you he makes the little zooming noise) he would shove the car/piece of bread into his mouth. Then pick up another piece and start zooming that around the kitchen counter speedway. It is no wonder I have to sweep so many times a day.

Games Boys Play

If you’ve ever played games with Cooper (or Mason) you know it goes something like this:

Cooper: (low guttural voice) Come on Joe! Let’s build this tower for Frank. He needs our help.
Cooper: (another slightly different but also guttural voice) Good idea Jack. Let me get my tools.

Anyway, this guy talk thing can go on for hours. One day while Cooper was acting out a typical day at the construction site he came running to me with his guys. He asked if I would put them in the truck.

I carefully bended them up and slipped them into the front seat of the truck. Thinking, of course, that he wanted them to drive the truck. No! Think again. He – with a great deal of frustration – instructed me to have the guys “flying off the back.”


He was pleased with the end result, even if it required a great deal of coaching, and continued play acting out a typical day of runaway truck.

Manipulate

It’s bedtime; naturally my children are manipulating me so as to stay up just a little bit longer. Tonight I’ve threatened to put Coop in timeout (in every imaginably horrible spot in the house) if he gets out of bed. And yet, he’s been scooting around trying to pull one over on me. Like I can’t hear the little mouse sneaking around.

Just minutes ago I scared him right out of his pajamas, so it’s all worth it. While he was supposedly down for the night I slipped into Mason’s room to see why Mason was still crying. (As soon as I appeared to rub his back he stopped crying.) Rubbing Mason’s back through the crib slats I look through the cracked door to notice Cooper sneaking past and trying to spy into Mason’s room. I say in a low but stern whisper, “Get back in bed Cooper!” He stopped dead in his tracks and looked around bewildered. He could not see me and could not figure out a) how I could see him, b) where I was.

Immediately I had recollections of listening to Bill Cosby’s Noah and Ark skit. (This was one of my dad’s favorites, and thus one of mine.) So, I continue to ham it up. “Cooper, this is Mommy, I can see you. Go back to bed.” At this point he’s really freaked out and looking all around. Also giddily whispering, “Where are you?!?!?” His truly baffled look is cracking me up and I literally can’t control my laughing.

Through hysterical laughter I say, again, “Go back to bed.” The nervous energy takes over Cooper and he begins rapidly shuffling his feet, covers his little grin with his excited fingers and squeals, “Where are you?” I take a half step forward – out of the darkness – and press my face up against the crack in the door and bellow, “Get back in bed.”

The poor kid nearly fainted. He was so freaking scared. And that, my friends, is what parents live for. All fun aside, I still made him go to timeout for another 3 minutes. Which reminds me, I haven’t heard either of them stir for about… oh I’d say 26 lines of copy… so I better go see if their bedrooms are either a) up in flames, b) smeared in diaper ointment. You just never know.

Christmas Comes Just ... a Few Times a Year: A Photo Essay

Lest you think our poor family celebrates Christmas just once a year... wanted to document just one of the times we got our deck the halls on.
Mason pictured at party. Gazing wildly at other children on a mega sugar high. Also, a bit of static in his hair. Just a bit.

Cooper spotted the candy dish filled with chocolate teddy grahams in .2 seconds. Proceeded to stand guard and snarf ALL of them. I took a picture rather than the other good mother move -- take the cookies away.

Only thing more exciting than Santa? When the magician pulled a chicken out of her shirt.

Look right into my eyes and tell me, Did you or did you not eat all the teddy grahams in the empty bowl on the table behind you?
Santa, you have very bad breath. Also, you are very big.
I've been good.
Favorite picture as it aptly illustrates my children's obsession with ornaments. Look at Mason. He is literally thinking, I can get to that by tomorrow morning.

Chez Cooper

Introducing Executive Chef Cooper F. He is so excited for his 3rd birthday -- the theme is the Lotsa Pasta Party. He'll be wearing his full chef uniform (finished it just today). We also told him today that 2 of his grandmas and 1 of his grandpas will be coming to his party. He can't wait and hasn't talked of anything else all day. Oh wait, except for that big 'ol news that dad got home from China today!!!
ps -- more photos of the uniform at my handmade by hooli site.