What Else Not to Name Baby

The list is growing...

I know Martha was disappointed when she found out that her name is floating around out there as a What Not to Name Your Baby, but I have a growing list of names that I can add to the list:

1. First Down, with a nickname of George
2. Juan Ton
3. Darth 3PO
4. Tommy (because it rhymes with Salami)
5. Matthew (there are three in my daughter's class)
6. E.T. (sorry Martha)
7. Emerson (because the 5yr old objects to the name of the transcendentalist philosopher)
8. Dweezel (check with Catherine's friend for the exact spelling)

So, the name game continues. I did do some shopping though. Want to see?

Super Saturday

Today, I was feeling brave, so I took my little munchkin to the zoo while her dear old daddy was working. We had a blast--hot dogs and fries for lunch, ice-cream for dessert, hours outside in the gorgeous weather that we're having...it was just what I needed after the past week at work. Given the fact that she's going to be two in just a few weeks, I really debated about whether to bring the stroller. Thankfully, I did, and she was happy to just sit back and relax. We strolled around the zoo, and she got really excited when we came to the giraffes. There was a special area cordoned off because there was a baby giraffe with her mama. The munchkin was in her stroller and I got down next to her to get a picture. Right as I took the picture, she moved forward so that her profile is in the picture. It looks like she's rubbing noses with a mini-giraffe!

Running on Empty

Ah, sisters. It’s Friday. I don’t remember the last time I was so happy to have the weekend upon me. I’m completely exhausted. I don’t know who came up with this whole "work" thing—especially when there’s a family that needs to be taken care of, a house that needs to be cleaned, a yard that needs to be tended to, and laundry piled up from the past week.

I’m having one of those moments where if I could just sit down and cry for a little while, I’d probably feel much better. But I don’t have time for a good cry. That just makes me want to cry more. I don’t even really have time to be writing this…but I am, in between bites of my lunch. It’s 3:44pm right now and I’m eating lunch. Dinner is in an hour and a half and I’M JUST EATING LUNCH NOW. Sad. So sad.

I just want to go away for a while. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just away from my job, away from housework. I want to spend time with my family and do fun stuff—like blow bubbles and watch my daughter chase them, sleep late (or at least as late as the munchkin will let me), pretend that I’m a painter and paint a nighttime cloudscape (thank you sister #1 for that inspiration), enjoy a lazy afternoon without worrying about the fifty things that need to get done.

Ugh.

Life is too short for this, right? So, in an effort to remind myself that my time on this earth is finite, I’ve decided to take the plunge and finally do something that I’ve wanted to do for a while…

The Banco Popular Chicago Half Marathon is Sunday, September 9, 2007 at the Museum of Science and Industry. You don’t have to be waiting for me at the finish line, but you darn well better be thinking good thoughts about me while I’m sweating my behind off running up and down the lakefront!

I have twenty weeks to prepare for this. Pray for me, my fellow Crazy Sisters. Please. I need all the help I can get.

Baby Munchies

Okay, my daughter isn't really a baby anymore, but she's MY baby. Anyway, I thought I would share this with you just to make you smile.

We got home a little later than usual last night and I had to go to the bathroom. Had. To. Go.

I'm pretty sure if I had waited even three more seconds, my bladder would have erupted and messed up my clean kitchen floor. Thankfully, I made it in time (is that how my daughter feels now that we're potty training?) and as I was finishing, I heard her little feet pattering across the kitchen floor. She tapped on the door and said, "Mommy, I get snack?" I told her to hang on, I'd get her a snack as soon as I washed my hands.

"No mommy. I do it."

While I was washing my hands, I could hear her rummaging in the pantry...

...where her charming daddy had left an open bag of Farmland Cheddar Whole Grain Chips on the bottom shelf.

By the time I dried my hands, she had dragged the bag into the living room on her blanket and had her face inside of it. I stood there looking at her and she pulled her face out of the bag, wide-eyed and smiling and said with a mouth full of chips, "Good. Good." Of course, she had chip crumbs in her hair and stuck to her eyebrows and eyelashes. And it was absolutely the cutest thing ever!

Think about it...

"...the towns and rivers, battlefields and forests, holy mountains and deep seas where gods, saints, villains and ordinary people rub shoulders, and, in doing so, define who and why we are."


It may surprise and unsettle us, but we all have something in common with our most spiteful villain.
...And chances are, our villain doesn't even have any supernatural powers.

Beware: Craziness is Genetic

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall...who is the Craziest Sister of all?"

Check out this picture and you will see that yes, Sister #2 is the craziest of all.

Yes. That is a cake. And yes, I made that cake. After my munchkin went to bed. And all those pretty colors? Yeah, those are Skittles. Individually placed by me. And the insanity doesn't end there.

I had to add a pretty design on the side, too.

Yes, I am crazy. But in a good way, right?

Lies My Parents Told Me

Parents are liars. I am a parent. Therefore I am a liar. I'm not big on lies, which is evidenced by one of my past posts from January 2006, where I grappled with the issue of "When is a Lie Not Really a Lie?"

I told my daughter a lie.

She was being stubborn at dinner time, so I told her that the little turkey rolls I made were hot dogs. Now keep in mind, she's only had (I think) three hotdogs in her life so far, which is probably why she ate the turkey rolls. They did sort of look like hot dogs. So, I'm a liar.

The good news is that I'm not a chronic liar. And fortunately, I'm smart enough not to use any of my parents' lies.

One big lie was when they told me, "As long as you studied and you give it your best shot, it doesn't matter what grade you get."

Big. Fat. Lie.

When I brought home a C on my third-grade social studies test, dad just kind of stood there, pawing at the ground, snuffling as plumes of smoke exited his nostrils. And mom? I just had to wait patiently while she tore my textbook to shreds and then proceeded to jam the shreds through my eyeballs into my brain, just so she would know that I was being forced to retain of the information. (Just kidding. She didn't jam the shreds into my eyeballs. She made me eat them. Hee-hee!)

I can confidently say that the stupid C didn't matter, because unless I'm going to try out for that show Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader?, I will never need to know how many ears of corn were consumed at the First Thanksgiving with the pilgrims and Indians.

The other big lie my parents told me is this: "If you put your mind to it, you and do and be whatever you want."

Bigger. Fatter. Lie.

I've put my mind to a lot of things, and plenty of them have fallen through. Things like:

1. I want to be 5'7", have slender hips, 36D breasts and be a size 6. I put my mind to that ideal every single day for a long time. The reality is that unless I cut off part of my scalp or my feet, I'm going to stay 5'9". I haven't been a size 6 since high school. I wear a size 10 to accomodate my beautiful, child-bearing hips. Now, I did manage to achieve the 36D breasts, but that came with my daughter and now they won't go away. Big boobs are WAY overrated. Do you have any idea how painful it is to jump around without a sports bra?

2. I put my mind to learning how to swim better so that I could finally leap off the diving board without being scared. I've made up my mind to do this every year for the past six years. However, my mind can only be pushed so far, and my irrational fear of deep, open water has not gone away. No diving yet.

3. I really wanted to be a dancer when I was growing up. Mom told me I was too tall to be a dancer, so she never signed me up for any dance classes. I put my mind to becoming a great dancer--and I was, for a while. Then I met my now-husband. He hates dancing. I put my mind to getting him to be a better dancer, but that didn't work, either. His dancing bears a strange resemblance to a Gremlin being pureed in a blender. (Just kidding, honey! It's not that bad!)

4. I put my mind to being a professional writer. I have 57 pages left to finish before I can work on selling my novel. I've had 57 pages left since December.

So, I look this over and I'm thinking, My parents told me that I could DO anything and BE anything if I just put my mind to it. What the hell is wrong with me?

And that's my issue. Just because people put their minds to something doesn't automatically mean they can do it. But I keep hearing my parents' words, and I start to feel really inadequate. Like I'm not competent or I'm not trying hard enough. But that's not true! I'm very adequate and very competent! I'm starting a doctorate program in four weeks! Obviously there's something here in my brain--and not just shredded pieces of a third-grade social studies textbook.

So, I'll quit whining. I can embrace the fact that I tricked my daughter into eating turkey. And I can embrace the fact that the diving board is going to have wait another year. Or five. Or fifteen. I'll get there eventually.

My next task for today? Put my mind to working out. So, you know, I can eat something and put my mind to convincing myself that ice-cream is good for me...

Out of Nowhere

Astro Alert:

"It is crucial that you take notice of the next big astrological event: From April 5 to August 6, Jupiter is going retrograde into Sagittarius, the sign of the Archer."

I have never received an Astro Alert before. I am going to assume this is important, so take note, darlings.