Monday, September 27, 2010

Looking over today...

The art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook. ~ William James

Sunday, September 26, 2010


It's 10:01 and I want to go to bed. But Caleb is next to me. His onesie has a fish on it. He was in his crib making sad noises and so I went over to comfort him and then he started grinning at me like nothing else and then I brought him with me into bed and now he has the hiccups and is talking to me and not going to sleep. He is tired. And I am tired. But I haven't really started any kind of sleep training yet. I thought about it, but then I thought that maybe, because he has such a charming smile, that I would regret not getting him out of his crib and snuggling him for a moment. Sleep training can only truly happen when you are at the point that you can ignore the smile because you are so dang tired. I am just tired at the moment. Caleb is tired, though, maybe almost dang tired. He is crying his tired cry. And because he is lying in my lap while I type he is also trying to nurse on my elbow. It feels funny. So maybe he's hungry and tired. In which case, I should feed him and put him down to bed and go to bed myself.

Oh wait. He's talking to me again. Darn that charm. I may be up for a few more minutes yet.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Don't count your fish...

Several months ago Ben brought home four fish from a wedding reception. His cousin's, I believe. They wanted to give him three and he tried to get out of it by saying that his four kids would have a hard time dividing three fish.

Darn. They happily gave him another fish.

But the kids had a good time picking out a fish bowl, fish food and the requisite accouterments and they named our fish original names, like Goldie, Shiney, Shy and I can't remember the other one's name because it died first, and not long after we got the fish.

I say died first, because they are goldfish and it is inevitable that they shall die, sooner than later, right?

Although I have to say sooner has come and gone and it's getting later and later. As of a few days ago we had two fish, our second fish passing away after obviously feeling lethargic about life, or maybe he was sick.

Which brings us to Goldie. Goldie has always been the overachiever. He grew bigger than the rest, changed his fins from light gold to black and began attempting to jump up out of the water on occasion. Have you ever heard of a jumping goldfish? But Goldie was determined.

Who knows what caused him to follow this dream, this passion? Was it talent? a hidden dolphin gene? a desire to see beyond the glass bowl?

Sadly in the end, Goldie succeeded mightily. I found him dead on the counter not too far from his bowl. The poor fish didn't realize that there wasn't water, water everywhere. Not a drop to drink. Or swim in. Or breath in. It was too late when I found him.

What can one say? He died trying to accomplish a dream. In some books, that makes for a good story. For Goldie, it ended with him being thrown away in the garbage can.

I feel a little bad about the whole thing. But what can I do about it?

Cheers to Goldie. Shiney, you're all we have left.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Now I lay me down to sleep. Or at least the baby.

When we lived in New York we bought a small pack n' play for Oliver to sleep in. We didn't have a lot of room. And this was the eency teeny pack n' play. And it matched our duvet cover. He slept there for about 6 months before we moved him upstairs to the crib.

When we moved back to Utah, Camille was a wee six weeks old. Oliver just over a year. I was exhausted. There was No Way I was going to free my baby boy from the morning confines of the crib, and so Camille slept in the pack and play in our room until she was about 6 months old and then I went and bought another crib so both my small ones could be safely confined in rooms other than mine.

The portable has been great and handy. But it has been used. It no longer matches the duvet. (New duvet.) And Caleb, when he is not sleeping by me, is a mover and a shaker, and after all these years, the pack n' play was just too willing to move and shake with Caleb and kept waking him up, unnecessarily, in my opinion.

So. I hauled the crib into our room. (Both Oliver and Camille have long since abandoned their cozy bars for the freedom of twin beds.) It sits against the far wall across from the foot of our bed. It makes this room feel comfy and cosy with the addition of more furniture than I usually like in a bedroom. I have plans to update my bedroom. I've found the new furniture (yet to be purchased) and am looking for a headboard. But between the crib, my desk, a bookcase and a fabulous chair we have a satisfyingly balanced space that I am currently a little in love with. But I think it really has to do with the crib.

And mostly, who's in it.

Monday, September 20, 2010

about the day

I'm washing bedsheets today. They need it.

Ben's MacBook is hanging out in the kitchen today, with the plan to play movies constantly. Dora the Explorah has been seen. We're onto Finding Nemo. My daughter is potty training and as long as she is in underwear she is being placed strategically away from carpet for the time being. Her small potty is right next to her. There is a jar full of potty treats. Today we're just working on figuring things out.

People. I cannot tell you how much I hate potty training. I loathe it. But still. We're at the point that it must be done.

Back in the day I had a cleaning checklist. Each time we moved I would revamp the list and move forward with a basic idea of what I needed to do each day. Until this house. Maybe I was just too tired and overwhelmed. But I'm back. Well, not entirely, but back enough to think of getting a new cleaning list together. My family may not thank me that much. But I will thank me, and that's about all I need.

I like the soundtrack to Finding Nemo. Go Thomas Newman. I think he is the composer. I am telling you this without double checking on

I'd really like to take a nap right now, just like the baby is.

But I think that would be counter-productive.

My sis (one of many) just called me. She is going to visit me today! That is a happy thing.
And motivational. I think I will go and clean up the kitchen and vacuum the living room.

I could use a cleaning checklist.

And a magical potty training solution.

Fortunately my sheets are being cleaned with relatively little effort on my part.

Here we go.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

I guess it's unavoidable

Parenting is about feeling guilty for not buying the school fundraiser coupon book that contains nothing of value to you that you would feel guilty for purchasing.

The End.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

On the Docket

Docket. What a great word.

And this is what is on {it} for today:

Go to Instacare for removal of stitches (my son's, not mine).

Paint the living room, assuming said paint is the right color.

Go to the hardware store for painting supplies before that.

Shower before that. Or maybe take a long warm bubble bath.

Pay bills.

Research cell phone plans.

Shuttle kids to church activities, soccer games, ballet class.

Consider what to have for dinner.

Consider that the 9 o'clock snack I had last night would have made for a decent and quick meal for the fam.

Consider feeling bad about this and then forget it. Life is too short to feel bad about pasta.

Make that your motto.

"Life is too short to feel bad about pasta."

Think about how 'docket' is really a great word.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

A Poem For Today {A tricky one, at that.}

I have more gray hairs than I care to tell
I've been running all day doing this and that
I have some new paint, but I need a bath mat
The news today says your house won't sell
Today I've run more than I care to tell

My kids are downstairs watching t.v.
But soccer practice starts in about an hour
Is the cream still good or is it sour?
I need it for dinner and you will see
It's soccer time and yet, too much t.v.

I'd like a nap at this fine date
My baby is asleep and all will be well
If he wakes up now, then I can tell
That my bedtime tonight won't be too late
And that may suffice for this fine date.

The dinner plan may come to naught
A message on my phone said come at five
Instead of seven, man alive!
Because I have to go earlier than thought
Cereal for dinner is better than naught.

All this is true, don't ask me why
It's come in rhyme and come in verse
Maybe someday I'll drive a hearse
Yes, here's a poem; I thought I'd try
All this is true but don't ask me why.

Sincerely, Allysha

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Honestly, Are You A Paint Chauvinist?

Dear Mr. Paint Mixer Man,

I swear I am not an idiot.

I know what I am talking about.

I would like to think that you know what you are talking about.

But since you did not take the time to listen to how I got the paint color I am unhappy with in the first place, I now have the EXACT SAME PAINT COLOR THAT I AM UNHAPPY WITH. Thanks a whole bunch.

You seemed to feel, when I interrupted you to clarify a few things about my current match-the-paint-color-experience, that I was being rude and untrusting of your grand abilities to match paint. I assure you that I don't doubt your ability to do this. But I do doubt your ability to LISTEN to the customer who has some experience in seeing what is missing from the paint.

Initially we had too much red and a tad too much black, and then, on the second go round we needed just a smidgen more of yellow. But instead of listening to me you went ahead and analyzed the colors and sent me home, unsure of the new color, to paint my house. And now I have spent way more time driving to the paint store and painting my walls than I wanted to. And my room is not done, so the furniture is not put back together, and Sunday is upon us and well...

I may be inclined to chalk it up to an honest mistake, except that you seemed to feel that your expertise and manhood were threatened by my suggesting anything other than, sir, dear man, superior to my own color experience, please divine what has happened here with my paint and fix it. Well, your way didn't work.

My way may not have worked either, but at least it would have been my fault and I would have dealt with that. But this way, I am just frustrated and mad. While I'm am sure you are a nice person in real life (actually I am not sure about that, I'm just trying to give you the benefit of the doubt) you were a rotten customer service representative.


Someone who was looking forward to this Saturday.