I don't know why I'm surprised.
I didn't REALLY expect that he would be eliminated last night.
But sometimes my Pollyanna optimism gets the better of me.
Clearly I was wrong to be so positive.
Cheers!
3.22.2007
3.21.2007
Random
There's a character in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Series named "Random". I always think of her when my mind is going a thousand miles an hour on nothing specific. Today is one of those days.
I am leaving in three days for a professional conference in Baltimore, Maryland. The prospect of getting away, sans children and hubby, for FIVE WHOLE DAYS is making me absolutely giddy. Of course, as soon as I start to feel giddy, I begin to feel guilty for leaving my poor boys and Princess Poopy Puppy alone to fend for themselves. You'd think I was leaving them all (big boy included) naked under a tree in the woods instead of leaving them in a comfortable home, refrigerator stocked, with one very competent Nana coming to take care of all of them.
Of course, the preparations for said trip may kill me.
Here is my to-do list of random things that I have to do before I leave the house at (gasp) 5:30 on Saturday morning:
1. Laundry, because clean clothes are a good thing.
2. Make the plans for a funeral happening at work while I'm gone (did I mention that I'm an event planner at a university?)
3. Grocery Shop so my boys don't starve while I'm gone.
4. Bathe Princess Poopy Puppy so Nana doesn't dry heave from eau de dog.
5. Program the electronic sign board at work so it doesn't read "Happy Valentine's Day" while I'm in Baltimore.
6. Buy tickets for Friday showing of "The Last Mimzy", which I'm taking Sweet Son #1 to see on Friday night before I leave. Sort of a "date night" with my 6 year old.
7. Help Husband put the family room back in order, as he's been painting all week. A 15' scaffolding has become a semi-permanent fixture.
8. Send catering invoices to internal clients so they know how much they're getting charged for their various sustenance needs.
9. Decide which outfits to bring to Baltimore in an effort not to overpack or underpack, which I tend to do.
10. Clean out my car so Nana doesn't dry heave from the stench of french fries and juice boxes that have burrowed and seemingly procreated under the seats (remember, I have two boys and small car).
11. Read the owner's manual for Sweet Baby Son's car seat (much like tackling War and Peace in 15 minutes) and figure out how to make the *&%$#+! straps longer so the child less resembles Flat Stanley, due to the pressure of too-tight straps.
12. Find Sweet Son #1's Flat Stanley and pack him for trip to Baltimore.
13. Relocate meeting that has been double booked, because a certain administrator decided to change a meeting time.
14. Make Chore Chart for Sweet Son #1. He's going to be getting an allowance now and needs a visual reminder.
15. Clean spare bedroom so Nana doesn't have to sleep on piles of clean clothes. I know there's a bed under there somewhere.
16. Pack for Baltimore. I dread this necessary evil more than you can possibly imagine.
17. Go to my doctor's appointment on Friday. This is that LOVELY annual appointment. How much more fun could a girl want?
18. Put away message on my email and voicemail.
Now, I realize that I could've probably accomplished a few of these in the time it took to write this post. Did I mention, though, that stress brings out the procrastinator in me? Ah well! I know it will all get done. Eventually. Before I leave. I hope...
Cheers!
I am leaving in three days for a professional conference in Baltimore, Maryland. The prospect of getting away, sans children and hubby, for FIVE WHOLE DAYS is making me absolutely giddy. Of course, as soon as I start to feel giddy, I begin to feel guilty for leaving my poor boys and Princess Poopy Puppy alone to fend for themselves. You'd think I was leaving them all (big boy included) naked under a tree in the woods instead of leaving them in a comfortable home, refrigerator stocked, with one very competent Nana coming to take care of all of them.
Of course, the preparations for said trip may kill me.
Here is my to-do list of random things that I have to do before I leave the house at (gasp) 5:30 on Saturday morning:
1. Laundry, because clean clothes are a good thing.
2. Make the plans for a funeral happening at work while I'm gone (did I mention that I'm an event planner at a university?)
3. Grocery Shop so my boys don't starve while I'm gone.
4. Bathe Princess Poopy Puppy so Nana doesn't dry heave from eau de dog.
5. Program the electronic sign board at work so it doesn't read "Happy Valentine's Day" while I'm in Baltimore.
6. Buy tickets for Friday showing of "The Last Mimzy", which I'm taking Sweet Son #1 to see on Friday night before I leave. Sort of a "date night" with my 6 year old.
7. Help Husband put the family room back in order, as he's been painting all week. A 15' scaffolding has become a semi-permanent fixture.
8. Send catering invoices to internal clients so they know how much they're getting charged for their various sustenance needs.
9. Decide which outfits to bring to Baltimore in an effort not to overpack or underpack, which I tend to do.
10. Clean out my car so Nana doesn't dry heave from the stench of french fries and juice boxes that have burrowed and seemingly procreated under the seats (remember, I have two boys and small car).
11. Read the owner's manual for Sweet Baby Son's car seat (much like tackling War and Peace in 15 minutes) and figure out how to make the *&%$#+! straps longer so the child less resembles Flat Stanley, due to the pressure of too-tight straps.
12. Find Sweet Son #1's Flat Stanley and pack him for trip to Baltimore.
13. Relocate meeting that has been double booked, because a certain administrator decided to change a meeting time.
14. Make Chore Chart for Sweet Son #1. He's going to be getting an allowance now and needs a visual reminder.
15. Clean spare bedroom so Nana doesn't have to sleep on piles of clean clothes. I know there's a bed under there somewhere.
16. Pack for Baltimore. I dread this necessary evil more than you can possibly imagine.
17. Go to my doctor's appointment on Friday. This is that LOVELY annual appointment. How much more fun could a girl want?
18. Put away message on my email and voicemail.
Now, I realize that I could've probably accomplished a few of these in the time it took to write this post. Did I mention, though, that stress brings out the procrastinator in me? Ah well! I know it will all get done. Eventually. Before I leave. I hope...
Cheers!
3.17.2007
In Mourning...
My beloved Miami Redskins (Redhawks, for those of you PC'ers) lost in the first round of the NCAA Tournament. It was a valiant effort, but they were overtaken by the roundballers of Oregon. Love and Honor to Miami!
Cheers!
Cheers!
3.16.2007
Gonna Take A Sentimental Journey
Maybe it's because I've been reading Rae's entries about Leaf Baby, Ya-Ya and Kid A. Maybe it's PMS. Maybe it's Chloe's--sorry--Cloggsy's introspective entries as of late. Who knows, but whatever the reason, I've been very sentimental regarding Sweet Son #1 lately.
My six year-old little man is getting so tall now, and it seems as though he's developed that hollow leg that is unique to the youth of the male human species. Meaning, he is NEVER full. The rate at which he consumes food would lead a casual observer to think that I was neglectful in that area. I assure you, I am not. He just eats a lot.
Usually.
Then there are the days where you'd think he'd decided to go on a hunger strike. The same child who can, in one meal, consume a container of yogurt, two whole grilled cheese sandwiches, a serving of green beans, a glass of milk, and still have room for two popsicles and a banana, will wake up the next morning with no appetite whatsoever. He will not be tempted by offers of waffles for breakfast, hot dogs at lunch, or pizza at dinner. He will have a bowl of cereal only to placate his concerned mother, and beyond that, will eat nothing.
Husband assures me this is normal for male children.
Then a few nights ago, I went to tuck him in bed (a ritual, which, thankfully, he still expects) and he was "jamming" to his little clock radio. Yes, my first-grader was "jamming", head bops and all. I nearly cried on the spot. I didn't though, just smiled and kissed his little bopping head good night.
Why must they grow up so quickly? My mother regularly reminds me that I'll turn around and he'll be off to college. I don't need those reminders. My little guy reminds me every time I see him.
Sniff, sniff.
Cheers!
My six year-old little man is getting so tall now, and it seems as though he's developed that hollow leg that is unique to the youth of the male human species. Meaning, he is NEVER full. The rate at which he consumes food would lead a casual observer to think that I was neglectful in that area. I assure you, I am not. He just eats a lot.
Usually.
Then there are the days where you'd think he'd decided to go on a hunger strike. The same child who can, in one meal, consume a container of yogurt, two whole grilled cheese sandwiches, a serving of green beans, a glass of milk, and still have room for two popsicles and a banana, will wake up the next morning with no appetite whatsoever. He will not be tempted by offers of waffles for breakfast, hot dogs at lunch, or pizza at dinner. He will have a bowl of cereal only to placate his concerned mother, and beyond that, will eat nothing.
Husband assures me this is normal for male children.
Then a few nights ago, I went to tuck him in bed (a ritual, which, thankfully, he still expects) and he was "jamming" to his little clock radio. Yes, my first-grader was "jamming", head bops and all. I nearly cried on the spot. I didn't though, just smiled and kissed his little bopping head good night.
Why must they grow up so quickly? My mother regularly reminds me that I'll turn around and he'll be off to college. I don't need those reminders. My little guy reminds me every time I see him.
Sniff, sniff.
Cheers!
3.01.2007
Separated at Birth?
Who knew that two creatures of different species would have so much in common?
She poops. He poops.
She cries when she wants something. He cries when he wants something.
She tries to eat his treats. He tries to eat her treats.
She has developed selective deafness. He has developed selective deafness.
She likes to crawl into confined spaces. He likes to crawl into confined spaces.
She makes a mad dash for the open gate. He makes a mad dash for the open gate.
She is teething. He is teething.
She nips his ears. He bites her butt.
Yes, my dear readers, you read that correctly. He bites her butt. The two of them will actually bite anything in the vicinity of their mouths. Now for those of you unfamiliar with my family, let me be clear about the players in this little dental drama. "She" is Princess, our 3 month-old Chow-Rottweiler puppy. "He" is Sweet Baby Son, a 13 month-old toddler.
I have discovered that a teething puppy will, if left to her own devices, chew (with intent to destroy or consume) ANYTHING. Recent victims of Her Royal Highness include: a plastic bowling pin, a leather Robeez shoe, a ballpoint pen, a plastic ball, several baby wipes, an inflatable beach ball and two small pieces of blue plastic of unrecognizable origin. The small plastic ball got her into trouble, digestively speaking, and I'm sure the miniscule pieces of plastic i discovered in her poop (which she kindly left in the dining room) were not exactly pleasant to pass. Unfortunately, it didn't dissuade her appetite, and we can have NOTHING within puppy range or it will suffer an untimely death. Fortunately, she really doesn't "bite" people, per se. She nips a LOT, but doesn't actually bite.
Sweet Baby Son, unfortunately does. Hard. I have the bruises to prove it. We usually manage to escape before he breaks the skin, but it is painful, nonetheless. He's a smart little guy, too. He doesn't bite his own fingers, but will carefully guide your hand to his mouth to gnaw on your finger. His favorite trick is to appear to be kissing you, classic baby style (mouth wide-open), but bite down on your cheek just as he makes contact. This leaves you with a questionable looking spot on your face, depending on whether or not you were able to slip your face away at just the right moment.
As I said, who knew that these two little pups would have so much in common?
Cheers!
She poops. He poops.
She cries when she wants something. He cries when he wants something.
She tries to eat his treats. He tries to eat her treats.
She has developed selective deafness. He has developed selective deafness.
She likes to crawl into confined spaces. He likes to crawl into confined spaces.
She makes a mad dash for the open gate. He makes a mad dash for the open gate.
She is teething. He is teething.
She nips his ears. He bites her butt.
Yes, my dear readers, you read that correctly. He bites her butt. The two of them will actually bite anything in the vicinity of their mouths. Now for those of you unfamiliar with my family, let me be clear about the players in this little dental drama. "She" is Princess, our 3 month-old Chow-Rottweiler puppy. "He" is Sweet Baby Son, a 13 month-old toddler.
I have discovered that a teething puppy will, if left to her own devices, chew (with intent to destroy or consume) ANYTHING. Recent victims of Her Royal Highness include: a plastic bowling pin, a leather Robeez shoe, a ballpoint pen, a plastic ball, several baby wipes, an inflatable beach ball and two small pieces of blue plastic of unrecognizable origin. The small plastic ball got her into trouble, digestively speaking, and I'm sure the miniscule pieces of plastic i discovered in her poop (which she kindly left in the dining room) were not exactly pleasant to pass. Unfortunately, it didn't dissuade her appetite, and we can have NOTHING within puppy range or it will suffer an untimely death. Fortunately, she really doesn't "bite" people, per se. She nips a LOT, but doesn't actually bite.
Sweet Baby Son, unfortunately does. Hard. I have the bruises to prove it. We usually manage to escape before he breaks the skin, but it is painful, nonetheless. He's a smart little guy, too. He doesn't bite his own fingers, but will carefully guide your hand to his mouth to gnaw on your finger. His favorite trick is to appear to be kissing you, classic baby style (mouth wide-open), but bite down on your cheek just as he makes contact. This leaves you with a questionable looking spot on your face, depending on whether or not you were able to slip your face away at just the right moment.
As I said, who knew that these two little pups would have so much in common?
Cheers!
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