Random Thoughts at the End of March

So much of what is being paraded around as news is just celebrity gossip. I find it somewhat alarming. Also annoying. I get the equivalent of People magazine by just logging into my Yahoo mail. I guess I should switch over to gmail.

I absolutely DO NOT endorse the new A-Team movie coming out. It looks stupid. Watch re-runs of the old show on Hulu; the original cast just can't be topped. {Even if some of the shows are wacked out. Which some are. It's a part of the charm, I guess. But even the worst t.v. episodes seem bound to be better than the movie. It's all in the cast. You can't top those guys.}

I am almost done with my taxes. Just one more thing to do and then off to the IRS! This is happy news because I get a refund this year.

Allergy season is coming on. Unlike taxes, this is not happy news.

It's harder to name a boy than a girl. I guess it's a good think I have more girls. But it's a boy's name we need now. I'm sure we'll get there.

And that's all for now.

You'll Never Know Dear, How Much I Love You

It's a birthday day at our house.

My baby boy is 4 today. Four years old! Wow.

Oliver's birth was memorable for many reasons; one has to to with a bath tub that started spewing dirt and twigs into my bathwater (so much for laboring along nicely ) and because this guy came into the world without the assistance of drugs and the like. It was an intense experience. (It may have been more intense for Ben, who had to stand at the bedside and watch. As crazy as childbirth is, I'd much rather be the participant than the observer. Don't tell Ben, I'm thinking of maybe going natural for this next baby boy as well...)

But this sweet boy is an unmistakable light in my life. He certainly has his moments when he's not so charming, but for the most part I just love him to pieces.

{Oliver with his little sis and sidekick, Camille. Big sis is in the background.}

He's clever and sweet and thoughtful. And the other night when he asked me to rock him in the rocking chair and sing him the "sunshine song" well, I melted into a puddle right there. And then reconstituted myself so that I could oblige his request.

Happy Birthday, sweetheart!

Something That Strikes Me As Important

There's a blogger I read and I like what she had to say today: click Here

It's Coming Around Again

That Carly Simon song was in my head this morning. Just the one line.

Because here we are for round I'm-not-sure-what since the year started: the family cold, passed from one person to another like some sort of sorry game that we just can't stop playing. It kept me from sleeping last night. So today is going to be a really really chill day.

Ahh-Choo!

Curse the PTA! {oh, I jest...}

This week at our school is literacy week. Literacy apparently means cookies, donuts, and some other snacks. Silly me. I thought it had to do with reading and the like.

Amid the treats, literacy also means wearing hats to school; something I can deal with. It means wearing green on Tuesday; something I can also deal with after searching through the laundry pile.

Literacy means dressing up like your favorite character in a book. Which we have already done once this school year. The last time didn't include Halloween, though it was around the same time. And right at this very moment my daughter is downstairs crying because she does not know who to dress up as, and it is very Very traumatic. It's something that annoys me to no end.

I applaud the idea of promoting reading. I am all for it. I just hate the dress-up part.

And don't even get me started on the part that says you must include sugar into every activity you do otherwise the world will fall apart. Our 'no sugar' month has made me realize just how much junk other people give my kids. I am not too happy about it.

So there you go. Signing off ~ Me, the Humbug of school activities! Ta ta!

(P.S. I imagine some may feel inclined to defend the PTA, or even suggest I join it. The PTA does a good job. I applaud those involved for being so. But if I joined the PTA my idea would be to suspend half of the activities because I find them superfluous. That's all.)

{You don't want to miss!} Mea Culpa & {Coming right up!} an Academy Awards Speech

{I didn't say which academy award...}

The crazy week/weekend is over.

My first feeling this morning was whew! What needed to go well this weekend went fabulously, and was beautiful and wonderful and maybe I'll blog about it later this week if I get to it (I make no promises, however).

Previous to the wonderful weekend was a week of home improvement. We had (hooray!) a full-functioning bathroom by the time guests arrived for the weekend, except for the mirror. But in all that had to get done, I figured the mirror was the least essential (you may disagree).

However. I feel I was a less than gracious hostess. My mother-in-law was in town and she did the dishes while I hustled here and bustled there. And truly, despite the necessary hustle and bustle, where I should have been gracious and welcoming, I was probably preoccupied, tired and a little snappy. (Maybe I should scratch that 'probably' word.)

I am the first to admit that having guests is not my strongest suit. I am not a natural hostess. Indeed, on some days I may be inclined to claim a strong genetic influence, not just from the Danes, but from some hermit somewhere back in the family line who was lucky to even have married, not being one to ever get out and see anyone else.

It's not that I am anti-social. It's not that I can't enjoy the moment. It's not that I never want to see people. I do. I want to see people. I'd like to see you.

It's just that if the definition of introvert were based completely on whether one is drained or rejuvenated by being in company I will tell you that I am an Introvert. Capital I. I can enjoy the ride. I just need a nap afterward.

That said, in the spirit of the Academy Awards (which I never watch, but who can completely escape their influence?) I'd like to thank the following:

My husband, for helping to rearrange schedules for my benefit and peace of mind, for picking out a stellar sink faucet, for loving me, and for giving me a shoulder to cry on at the end of a day (not often needed, but wonderfully nice when it is).

For my oldest daughter who is great.

For my three other kids who were pretty good through everything (despite some moments and even though you are all tired and grumpy now).

For my brother and sister-in-law who were a Great Help. (Thank you. I love you both).

For the rest of the family who was there in body and/or spirit. (Thank you. I love you all, too.)

For my mother-in-law who really did do a lot of dishes in her short visit and who braved playing the Wii (and all that entails) in order to spend time with her grand kids.

For my dad for making it home in time and for my mom for surviving (despite some crazy painting tendencies that I have inherited).

And last, but not least, my son. Who has decided that maybe potty training isn't so bad, after all.

Bless you, all!

Le Vent du Fou

I read the other day of a pregnant woman who cried over receiving a slurpee that she had so wanted.

I am utterly not like that. (Thank goodness for Danish genes, is what I say to myself.)

Still, the tiredness of pregnancy and the fluctuation of whatever hormone is doing it's thing at any given moment is real. I admit I have been a little bit surprised the last while to find that my emotional response to some things is swinging beyond what my normal reaction would be. As if I haven't been pregnant four times previous. Like this is news. I guess I just expect a calm ocean regardless of circumstance.

I will state here that I will not cry for joy if you bring me a slurpee, however. Nor will I cry if you don't. (Seriously. Danish genes.)

The past two weeks have been Crazy Busy. Busy with good things, like birthdays and parties and finishing up bathrooms, and painting, and school programs, and, and, and... (probably you shouldn't ask how many shades of blue I tried on my bathroom walls. Just pity the pregnant woman who raced through a few home improvement stores and ended up mixing her own paint color at home).

This weekend is the last big hurrah of the moment. It involves family and in-laws. It involves a last big push to finish our upstairs bathroom. It involves getting a haircut (I need it). It involves a kind of hustle and bustle that my Danish genes are sometimes inclined to step back from.

Most of this is good stuff. Some of it really good. (Like seeing Ben super excited about installing a good toilet. Really priceless.)

That said, I will not be sad when it is over. (It's those stoic Danish genes.)

No Sugar For You

Today is March. This is a lovely and refreshing thing, because March, although stormy and unpredictable, is much better than the blah and hum-drum of February.

This month is a no sugar month at our house. This sounds like something mildly insane to do. And it would be, were it still February. But March some how makes all things possible.

The truth is the month is more of a no treat month, but it's easier to corral the natives this way (does that even work? It's probably awfully politically incorrect. Sorry.) The "no sugar" rule will give me more power. Well, I think it will.

We have a few occasions singled out where the no sugar rule can be broken. We have two birthday celebrations and a baptism coming up. But otherwise, it will be a month of a lot of fresh fruit.* (I should note that these events mean not a day filled with sugar, but one treat per event.)

Wish us luck.

Hopefully having the Wii back in commission (we put it away during the Olympics) will make it easier. Although I have no intention of reminding the kids that they are allowed to play it now...

*(The pregnant lady in the house may be given a few more exceptions than the rest of the crew. You understand, right?)