Monthly Archives: August 2013

I read the news today, oh boy…

(That’s right… I will rock out with the classics as well!)

To answer the question, “What do you do all day?” I decided to put together one of those Day in the Life photo blogs. I’ll be the first to admit, I’m pretty boring. But it’s the truth. And the truth is worth broadcasting, in my opinion. So here goes…


Already? I was just in the middle of a dream… well, no I wasn’t, but I couldn’t pass up a reference to another 80s song! But seriously, this is kinda early for me. Why am I up at this hour?


Oh yeah… nature’s cutest alarm clock.


I’ve been kind of lazy about taking my basal temp in the morning (I’m a big proponent of understanding my body instead of manipulating it chemically. That’s why we practice NFP. I’ll just leave it at that.) So I took my temp while the baby was nursing. Then we all promptly went back to sleep.


Ah, that’s more like it. The Hubs took care of the boys, and they were just hanging out when Buttercup and I finally emerged.


The first of many. And boy, did she need it! Whew!


I just read an article about how wasteful, inefficient,  and generally crappy the Keurig is, but I don’t freaking care. I think the coffee tastes great, and since I’m the only one who drinks coffee in my house, I feel this is the best way to get my daily cup. And I do drink only one cup a day. That’s my absolute favorite mug there. I slammed it into the faucet a week or so ago and it’s got a crack in the rim… not terribly damaged,  but I was sad. At least I can still use it.


Buttercup’s breakfast. She’s a hungry girl. I also add in her vitamins in the bowl.


Well…that was fast.


Yes, I eat, too. But it’s really important that I take my vitamins, as well as fish oil and flaxseed oil. Gotta be healthy, be a good example.


Ugh… I’m outing myself with one of my worst habits. What’s sad is that my sink is so small that it’s not really a lot of dishes causing this mess! Here, I’ll show you…


Literally 10 minutes later. Maybe admitting this will help me break the bad habit….maybe.


Buttercup is a bit of a peanut. A little too much so. So she needs to eat…a lot. So we supplement with formula. She’s nearly a year old, anyway. Besides,  it helps her get ready for a nap.
Also, the Hubs has this day off, so he and the boys went to the free summer movies. What an amazingly wonderful idea! I don’t take the kids to the movies very often. So now they get the movie theater experience at a much better price.


I declared a rare “Crock Pot Thursday” and made…. barbecue… something. Probably pork. Did I mention I did this a couple weeks ago? This picture also highlights the wear and tear my slow cooker is enduring. I’ve used this appliance more in the past ten weeks than I have in the past ten years. How long do those things last, anyway?


A quick lunch:macaroni, green beans, and chicken from #CPT.


(If you read the novel “1984,” you’ll understand this better…) Ungood: having to do laundry. Plus ungood: having to leave your home to do laundry in a laundry room or laundromat. Double plus ungood: having to leave your home to do laundry when it’s raining. At least it was only one load.


A good way to pass the time. I recommend this book… a fictional rendering of Fitzgerald’s life and “the one who got away.”


Oh good… all done. That’s two loads, actually. I must have been holding the bag of baby clothes when I took the picture. (That would be the pile of pink stuff in back.)

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Packing the diaper bag. I am forever forgetting to replenish the supply of diapers, so I’m probably checking, because Buttercup and I are heading to music rehearsal.


If you can make out the titles and lyrics, you’ll soon realize this is for a Renaissance faire. I had no idea how geeky it was when I started going to them in high school. But apparently they’re quite the punchline. Oh well, I’ve embraced it. That, and my kids will look awesome in garb… geek-ifying the next generation.


A little post-singing snack. The cup and bag are empty because I had my snack in the car on the way home and wasn’t about to take the picture while driving. I take driving safety very seriously.


Back at home, time for bed. Although truth be told, Buttercup had something else in mind. I tried to put her in bed since she was asleep here, but that woke her up. So we were up until midnight calming her down and getting her back to sleep. Woot.

This is one of my more eventful days. But every day has something worth sharing. That’s what this blog is all about, right? Here’s to happy incidents and eventful days.


I guess this means I’m a soccer mom…

I’m sitting in a folding chair swatting gnats off my tablet while The Regulator participates in soccer practice.  Today I’m comfortable, it being about 78 degrees. A couple weeks ago it was terribly hot, and in a couple weeks it’ll be terribly cold. But we’ll be here. 
The Regulator is on the team, but barely. He’ll get playing time, and he’s practicing hard. But he’s two years behind his teammates.  I think he enjoys it enough to step up and do well.
I never had that problem. There was always a space for me on the roster, since a girl’s team was a little hard to come by (I played before Mia Hamm made it look awesome). But I’ll be the first to tell anyone that I didn’t really have any love for the game. My parents were trying to keep me active, which I appreciate today. And I wasn’t half bad… I wasn’t half good either. I was able to nail a throw-in with above average accuracy. Running all over the field, however… I did NOT love that at all. I think in 6 years I made one goal, and that was pretty much a fluke.
At least my soccer experience means I know my stuff when the boys play (did I mention all the boys are playing this year? The other two just haven’t been assigned to their teams yet). Not that it’s very hard to know your stuff in soccer. Get the ball into the net without using your hands. But at least it’s something I can have in common with my boys– the hubs isn’t exactly the athletic type.
I think I’m much more suited as a soccer mom than a soccer player. I can transport, provide snacks, and proudly post pictures with the best of ’em. And I have found enjoyment in running… except on a track (maybe I missed my calling… oh, well. )



I was all over my own commitment to a daily blog, and trust me there is no shortage of news to discuss. But I just… haven’t. 

I flaked.

My bad.

So. I’ll come back hitting hard with a random thought that came into my head and I cannot shake.

I’ve never been catcalled. At least, no so’s I’ve heard. I can’t say that this tidbit makes me sad, since I have seen people who have been hurt by such nastiness. I should count myself lucky. And I am quite confident in my appearance that I can say it is not due to a lack of attractiveness. But I actually find it a little strange. So many women I know have had to put up with it, and yet I’ve never heard such a thing directed at me.

(Well…. there was this one time. I was in college, and I was walking across campus to sing at Mass. I was modestly dressed, of course: long tunic top, black skirt to the knees, stockings and heels. I walked past a dorm where two guys were talking; as I passed, one said to the other, “Now that’s a woman, boy.” Being the only woman there, I figured he was talking about me… unless he was continuing his conversation and ignoring me completely. I guess I really wanted it to be about me, since I remember it all these years later. But that is really the most respectful “catcall” a girl could get…)

But it begs a grand question: why must a “rape culture” persist? Obviously men have been raised to, if not keep sexual comments to themselves, to at least not scream them from street corners and car windows. Why has that not pervaded? Why must women, regardless of age, race, and overall appearance, be objectified by strangers?

Pay attention to those around you. If you know better, show others how “better” looks and sounds.


(A college-age me… y’all can imagine I still look like that, even after 4 kids and 3 layoffs…)

A side “note,” if you will

In case you haven’t noticed, I do tend to quote pop songs, mostly from the ’80s.

I’m almost too young for most folk to believe this, but I was “there” when MTV started. My dad, who moved to the US in the ’70s, was a big fan of popular American radio. That coupled with the advent of cable TV meant that when that magical combination of music and television arrived, my family was all over it.

My sister (who is 8 1/2 years older than I) was definitely the fangirl of the ’80s music. She’s the one who had the Journey, Styx, and Duran Duran posters all over our room. The one who got to go to the Rush concert at Madison Square Garden. The one who wore the fingerless lace gloves and jelly bangles. The one who will probably be embarrassed if she finds out that I’ve written that last part down.

Saturdays at my house, especially in the summer, meant sitting at the dining room table with my summer library choices and MTV playing in the background. I adored watching the videos… “She Blinded Me With Science,” “Rio,” and “Dancing in the Dark.” Most of them were pretty cheesy, even then. The clothes and the hair… Dee Snider and David Lee Roth made me laugh.

Girls just wanted to have fun, and I would dance if I wanted to, leaving my friends behind. My house was in the middle of my street, and I knew that the owner of a lonely heart was better than the owner of a broken heart. Martha Quinn and Mark Goodman introduced me and the rest of America to Madonna, Prince, and Devo.

Even today, when I’m listening to my satellite radio and a song from the ’80s comes on, I’m taken back to my childhood. I recall the words that were buried in the recesses of my brain faster than even I can believe it.

Too rah, too rah tah loo rah.
He bop, she bop, a we bop.
Too shy-shy, hush-hush, eye-to-eye.

“Springsteen, Madonna, way before Nirvana
There was U2, and Blondie, and music still on MTV.”

You get what I’m saying.

Our Mum, she’s so House-proud…

… except, I’m not. Yeah– I’m back to thinking about cleaning. I know I’ve talked about it before, but this stuff keeps coming around.

I don’t know if I ever really learned to keep house. Maybe my mother never taught me; maybe I just wasn’t paying attention when she was. Either way, I know how to clean my house, but all too often, I just let everything go. I’d rather read, play with my kids, hang on Facebook, watch TV…. anything other than cleaning.

I know that it can get better. I just have to pick my battles… it’s just that I pick the easy ones all the time. Anyone can defeat laundry or the dishes– you have to eat, and you have to be dressed in public. I even annihilate the desk junk-monster on a regular basis. It’s the bigger stuff that I prefer to ignore: the pile of clothes that don’t fit anyone now but will fit someone soon; the random things that gather on the bookshelf; the kids’ art pile.

The fact that the Hubs forgets stuff on his way out the door has convinced me that something needs to change. He needs s p a c e . . .

We all need space.

And we’ll get there. Just not today. Today, I’ll clear off the dining room table. And maybe the bookshelves.

Here’s to learning to keep house consistently.