We don’t have cable so I don’t see a lot of commercials but I do watch shows on Hulu. Which means I see the same couple of commercials over and over and over and over and over and over again. I have seen this commercial I think at least 10 times. When I first saw it I was like what in the world is this. It’s so random and so ridiculous I can’t help but laugh. I’m wondering how many times it will take for me to see it until I stop laughing.
Am I just a little crazy to think this is funny?
My husband thinks I’m crazy. Because as soon as I walk into our house, from being out and about, I head for the bedroom and take off my “street” pants and put on my pajama pants. Our house could be full of rabid raccoons raiding the fridge and I’m like 98% sure I would silently slip by into the bedroom to put my comfy pants on before dealing with the furry bandits.
To Husbands credit it does look awful suspect if he happens to come home in the middle of the day and I’m in my pajamas. It might look like I just rolled out of bed and have probably been eating bon bons on the couch while watching my shows. But I’m like 98% sure that has never happened before.
I can’t be the only one who does this. Right?
This morning I was on the phone with the doctor. I think my phone conversation was taking a lot longer than Linus, my son, cared for, because he walked right over to me in the kitchen, looked me in the eyes and hit the kitchen counter with an open hand. BANG, BANG, BANG! His gaze did not break as he then walked over to the kitchen table and hit it–BANG, BANG, BANG! Being in the middle of a conversation with a complete stranger, I said nothing to my 21 month old but just gave him a look: the Mom Stare.
Four hours later, when I was off of the phone, I asked him if he hit the tables because he wanted me to pay attention to him? He said, “Yes, pay attention.” And that was that.
Tonight my attention was on my computer. Talking to my computer, I asked why it was taking so long to update my iPhone, then yelling at my phone when I couldn’t remember my password or username. I was completely engaged with my computer when I should have been spending time with my boys. In the middle of my inanimate object yelling, Linus shoves a book in my face and says, “Mama, pay attention.” And so I did.
I was an only child. Which I guess today makes me an only adult? I was a shy kid on a kidless block and more than anything I longed for siblings. Every summer my family would take a two week vacation and we’d never go to Hawaii or Disneyland as I had begged. Instead we would hop in the car and go on a very long car trips to places like Idaho and Wyoming or Montana. I hated them. Because this meant I would be stuck in the car for hours on end with nobody to play with me or to even fight. I’d resort to bugging my parents and if they said I was annoying them I’d always respond with, “Well if you would have had other kids I’d be bugging them not you.”
When other kids had imaginary friends I had an imaginary siblings. Before I would go to sleep at night I would imagine what my siblings where like I always imagined myself with an older sister who would drive me to go get ice cream and show me how to put on make up. I went to camp one year and told a fellow camper that I had an older sister named Tiffany and I spent the whole week telling stories about my big sister to my camper friend. (Pathetic right?) I did confess in a letter months later of my horrid lie.
I had a good friend who was the second oldest out of four. I loved going over to her house and eating big meals and jumping on her trampoline and watching her fight with her brothers. There was always something going on someone doing something and it was always loud. And I liked that. My house was always calm and quiet.
When Adam and I were first married we’d talk about how many kids we wanted and although we never decided (and still haven’t) there was one thing I knew. NO ONLY CHILDREN.
Today I am blessed with two crazy boys. There are only few moments when the house is quiet. They fight, they scream at one another and take each others toys and often I tell them they are driving me crazy. (Something which I need to stop saying. The other day I said, “You are driving me…” and Ollie said, “Crazy!”)
Then there are moments just before they fall asleep in their room and I hear them giggling or in the car when I look in the rear view mirror and they are holding hands or when they are dancing together around the house or making funny faces at each other at the dinner table. During those moments I am both sad and happy. I mourn for what I longed for as a child… but only for a second… because then I am overwhelmed with joy for I’m sure if you could look into my heart you would see it smiling.
A lot (a lot = 2) of people have been asking me why I haven’t posted in over three months? The reason for my blogging hiatus is that I’m checking my motives. I think what happened was that waaaaaaay back in my head in that little corner behind the thoughts that I don’t think about so often and in between the thoughts that I’d never admit to I had tucked away this crazy thought, this idea, that I was going to become a famous blogger. That a book publisher was going to happen upon my little words here on this side of the interweb; and they were going to read my randomness and think I was brilliant; and right away beg me to sign a book deal. And then that book deal would turn into a movie script that Natalie Portman and Kierra Knightly would have a fist fight to see who would play me and then my book turned movie would win an oscar.
Well that hasn’t happened.
I think what did happen instead of becoming a famous blogger was that I was living for the comments. I was awaiting approval by whomever read my blog. And if you commented I would feel happy. And if you didn’t comment I would feel sad. And then wonder if I should ever write another word again.
And that’s a terrible way to live.
So I just stopped blogging. Because living your life waiting for other people to approve you, to like you, to validate you… well it’s really tiring and very unhealthy. And in these past few months I’ve checked myself into proverbial rehab. I’ve detoxed myself and checked my motives and I’m ready to start blogging again.
This time I’m writing because I want to. You can comment or not but I’m not going let it bother me. Because blogging helps me clear my head of thoughts that get jumbled around in my brain. It helps me sort things out and share things that make me laugh.
We bought our dog, Henry expensive, healthy dog food without grains made with buffalo meat. Henry was too skinny so we thought this might fatten him up. He’s a good weight now unfortunately the healthy dog food gives him constant gas.
Fortunately we now have a scape
goatdog to blame the human farts on.
Why is it that my kid can’t find anything he is looking for? Ollie will come in the room and say, “Mommy where’s my _______?” I will say, “Ollie it’s right there under the _________.” He will walk over to the _________. Look right at his _______. Then say, “Mommy I can’t find ________.” I’m serious when I say he looks right at ________. Like he is only inches away, looking in the direction of his lost possession but can’t see it. Which ineveitably means I have to get up and walk over to the object and point right at it. Ollie is almost always thankful when I’ve found his ________. But we all know that tomorrow he will not be able to find __________.
Moms does this ever happen to you?