Good day fine followers and readers! I've popped in to toss out a quick post. A bone of sorts. With no commitments, other than to say, I am currently thinking in 'blog' mode again.
Let's see what comes of it, shall we?!
Now, to what I actually have to talk about.
Breakfast. More precisely; toast. Sounds simple, right? About the most basic of options, along with cereal I'd say. Well, don't assume anything. (We all know what that does, right? Makes an ASS out of U and ME. Haha.)
Sorry....sidetracked. As I was saying. Toast. For breakfast. Should be, and likely is for most, an easy breakfast option. I wish. Let me break down 'toast' as breakfast for the 3 smalls around here.
Take a deep breath...cause it's most immpresive said in one giant run on sentence....
3 pieces, 1 toasted, 2 not, 2 without crusts, 3 with peanut butter, 1 with banana, 1 with jam, 1 left whole, 1 cut in 4 squares, 1 cut in 2 triangles.
Whew! And no, I'm not even kidding in the slightest.
The real thrill of it all?! That on each and every morning, when 'toast' is the breakfast of choice, all 3 kids recite their preferences again for me. Raising their voices over each other and repeating themselves if they think I wasn't listening to any one in particular.
You should see what happens to poor Brad when he happens to be home and makes the silly mistake of offering breakfast. Cause he doesn't know ANYTHING! It's something like throwing a steak bone to a pack of rabid dogs.
Toast. An easy breakfast. Ha!
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Mama. Do I have any other name?!
I have something to confess.
It's ridiculous, and took me a few days to figure out. (thank goodness I did, cause I thought I may be crazy for awhile!). I have back to school jitters. No, not about ME going to school. (Although, that will be a whole other rollcoaster I'm sure.). It's the kids going to school. Or, more specifically, LANE going to school.
My baby. My last. The last one to whom which I'm their whole world.
And I'm devastated.
I cry at Pampers commercials. At 'A baby story'. (Which I haven't watched since being pregnant with Madison, just thought I'd up the anti I guess). While I hold his hand and kiss his face while he sleeps. I'm generally a teary mess.
I KNOW he will love school. That it's good for him. That I survived the other two making the same first steps. That he will still need and want me in so many ways. That I will, in fact, and after adjustment, enjoy the short time of reprieve. Even that I NEED it. Yes, I know all this. But it still hurts.
I've even been yearning for another baby. Yup, THAT's how down I am. In 'have another' stage to fill the void. Yikes.
I suppose part of it being so much harder this time around, other than my baby growing up and stretching his wings, is what the hell am I other than a Mom?! For 10+ years now I've only thought, done, functioned for these 3 kids. What will I do? Where will I go? I don't even know where to begin. I feel lost. Scared. Over whelmed. I just have no idea where it leaves me.
Here I am presented with a big, HUGE playing field. Of what/who I am to become. For the first time in a LONG time I'm faced with wondering what I want. What I want to do. What I want to be. What I am, after, and as well as Mom.
Those are big questions. Ones I'm not accustomed to. Time to do some thinking and planning and dreaming.
Once I'm done crying.
Smiles, Be well,
Crystal
It's ridiculous, and took me a few days to figure out. (thank goodness I did, cause I thought I may be crazy for awhile!). I have back to school jitters. No, not about ME going to school. (Although, that will be a whole other rollcoaster I'm sure.). It's the kids going to school. Or, more specifically, LANE going to school.
My baby. My last. The last one to whom which I'm their whole world.
And I'm devastated.
I cry at Pampers commercials. At 'A baby story'. (Which I haven't watched since being pregnant with Madison, just thought I'd up the anti I guess). While I hold his hand and kiss his face while he sleeps. I'm generally a teary mess.
I KNOW he will love school. That it's good for him. That I survived the other two making the same first steps. That he will still need and want me in so many ways. That I will, in fact, and after adjustment, enjoy the short time of reprieve. Even that I NEED it. Yes, I know all this. But it still hurts.
I've even been yearning for another baby. Yup, THAT's how down I am. In 'have another' stage to fill the void. Yikes.
I suppose part of it being so much harder this time around, other than my baby growing up and stretching his wings, is what the hell am I other than a Mom?! For 10+ years now I've only thought, done, functioned for these 3 kids. What will I do? Where will I go? I don't even know where to begin. I feel lost. Scared. Over whelmed. I just have no idea where it leaves me.
Here I am presented with a big, HUGE playing field. Of what/who I am to become. For the first time in a LONG time I'm faced with wondering what I want. What I want to do. What I want to be. What I am, after, and as well as Mom.
Those are big questions. Ones I'm not accustomed to. Time to do some thinking and planning and dreaming.
Once I'm done crying.
Smiles, Be well,
Crystal
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Easing out of summer...
Wow. August 31th. Already. Sigh. Another summer passing.
The chill in the evening air is definite. Windows are being closed. Jammies are being used. Extra blankets are unfolding out of cupboards. It's distinct and welcome. How I love to sleep in cooler air. No more hair stuck to a sweaty neck or puffy, blurry eyes in the morning. Yes, I do like these first hints that summer is coming to a close.
School is only 6 short days away. Grades 2 and 5 for the girls. Preschool for Lane. Back to regular bedtimes, alarm clocks, homework, scheduled activities and ROUTINE. I like routine. By this time of year I'm craving it. Yearning for it. It makes me feel comforted and safe.
I'm also planning soups, homemade breads and baked treats in my head. Dusting off the slow cooker and buying stew meat for the freezer. Wondering if everyone has slippers that still fit. Putting another blanket in the dogs crate. Hunkering down rituals I guess. Perhaps I would thrive in an actual cold climate?!
But I'm not quite ready to let summer go. Oh no. Not just yet. We took in a 'Movie Under the Stars' last night, are eating watermelon for breakfast and are heading to the beach this afternoon. While I welcome fall, I'm still squeezing every last drop out of summer. Soon enough I'll vacuum the sand out of the van, stow away the cooler and beach toys and no longer smell the heady scent of sunscreen and tanning oil. Not a minute too soon though. We will revel in these last few days of unscheduled, lazy, sun filled, sandy days of summer.
The last of the days before my 3 sweet little ones are grown up a whole year by a new grade status. Sob. That's a whole other post....
Smiles, Be Well,
Crystal
The chill in the evening air is definite. Windows are being closed. Jammies are being used. Extra blankets are unfolding out of cupboards. It's distinct and welcome. How I love to sleep in cooler air. No more hair stuck to a sweaty neck or puffy, blurry eyes in the morning. Yes, I do like these first hints that summer is coming to a close.
School is only 6 short days away. Grades 2 and 5 for the girls. Preschool for Lane. Back to regular bedtimes, alarm clocks, homework, scheduled activities and ROUTINE. I like routine. By this time of year I'm craving it. Yearning for it. It makes me feel comforted and safe.
I'm also planning soups, homemade breads and baked treats in my head. Dusting off the slow cooker and buying stew meat for the freezer. Wondering if everyone has slippers that still fit. Putting another blanket in the dogs crate. Hunkering down rituals I guess. Perhaps I would thrive in an actual cold climate?!
But I'm not quite ready to let summer go. Oh no. Not just yet. We took in a 'Movie Under the Stars' last night, are eating watermelon for breakfast and are heading to the beach this afternoon. While I welcome fall, I'm still squeezing every last drop out of summer. Soon enough I'll vacuum the sand out of the van, stow away the cooler and beach toys and no longer smell the heady scent of sunscreen and tanning oil. Not a minute too soon though. We will revel in these last few days of unscheduled, lazy, sun filled, sandy days of summer.
The last of the days before my 3 sweet little ones are grown up a whole year by a new grade status. Sob. That's a whole other post....
Smiles, Be Well,
Crystal
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
The beginning of cracks.....
It started yesterday. Day 10. I lost my mojo.
We had been coasting quite nicely, and the previous 9 days had honestly flown by without a hitch. Sure, I had been going to bed ridiculously early. I hadn't been able to keep up on everything around the house. But, basically, things were good. Most importantly, the kids had been happy. We had been busy, having fun, and Brad's absence had only been a minor ripple on our already constantly rippling pond.
Then came day 10. I was tired. I was cranky. The kids were also feeling a little over run. (Remember I mentioned the busy fun we'd been having? That means later bed times!) I lost my stride.
My patience was short. I was giving in purely 'cause it was easier. Another juice box? Sure. Just one more show before bed? Whatever. Ice cream and chips at the grocery store? As long as you're quiet.
I needed an escape. Since it wasn't possible to actually leave, I was into whatever it took to be able to lay on my bed and withdraw for awhile. A check-out, if you will. Undisturbed. Eat what you want. Drink whatever you wish. Watch that which suits your fancy on TV. Just do it without me, and quietly.
Wrong? Perhaps. Life altering? I doubt it. Badly needed to keep on with the next 10 days? Absolutely.
We survived. Day 10 is behind us. Day 11 has been WAY better. I've taken the reins again and said no to too much sugar, tv, boundary pushing. They weren't ruined in an evening of slacking off, and have fell back in line accordingly. Well done, children. I still haven't ruined you.
The cracks have been patched, for now. I'm sure they'll resurface eventually. That's only normal though, right? I'd feel way too robotic if there weren't struggles now and again. It's nicer to feel, cope and move on than to varnish a glossy veneer and fester inside.
Bring on the next 8! I'm ready.
Smiles, Be Well,
Crystal
We had been coasting quite nicely, and the previous 9 days had honestly flown by without a hitch. Sure, I had been going to bed ridiculously early. I hadn't been able to keep up on everything around the house. But, basically, things were good. Most importantly, the kids had been happy. We had been busy, having fun, and Brad's absence had only been a minor ripple on our already constantly rippling pond.
Then came day 10. I was tired. I was cranky. The kids were also feeling a little over run. (Remember I mentioned the busy fun we'd been having? That means later bed times!) I lost my stride.
My patience was short. I was giving in purely 'cause it was easier. Another juice box? Sure. Just one more show before bed? Whatever. Ice cream and chips at the grocery store? As long as you're quiet.
I needed an escape. Since it wasn't possible to actually leave, I was into whatever it took to be able to lay on my bed and withdraw for awhile. A check-out, if you will. Undisturbed. Eat what you want. Drink whatever you wish. Watch that which suits your fancy on TV. Just do it without me, and quietly.
Wrong? Perhaps. Life altering? I doubt it. Badly needed to keep on with the next 10 days? Absolutely.
We survived. Day 10 is behind us. Day 11 has been WAY better. I've taken the reins again and said no to too much sugar, tv, boundary pushing. They weren't ruined in an evening of slacking off, and have fell back in line accordingly. Well done, children. I still haven't ruined you.
The cracks have been patched, for now. I'm sure they'll resurface eventually. That's only normal though, right? I'd feel way too robotic if there weren't struggles now and again. It's nicer to feel, cope and move on than to varnish a glossy veneer and fester inside.
Bring on the next 8! I'm ready.
Smiles, Be Well,
Crystal
Monday, May 30, 2011
You know you're getting older when.....
I had a bit of an 'Aha!' moment last night.
Men in Black was on tv. My girls were watching together, and when Lauren inquired who was 'in' it, Madison replied 'Will Smith'. After being met with a blank stare she explained further; 'You know, Willow's Dad.'. Which immediately clarified for Lauren.
Sure makes you feel old when your kids are referencing movie stars of MY day by their up and coming children.
Ouch.
Smiles, Be well,
Crystal
Men in Black was on tv. My girls were watching together, and when Lauren inquired who was 'in' it, Madison replied 'Will Smith'. After being met with a blank stare she explained further; 'You know, Willow's Dad.'. Which immediately clarified for Lauren.
Sure makes you feel old when your kids are referencing movie stars of MY day by their up and coming children.
Ouch.
Smiles, Be well,
Crystal
Sunday, May 29, 2011
The Things We Carry.
Sorry for the gap in posts. I was unable to sign into my account for some reason. The 'glitch' seems to be fixed now. Hurray!
I attended a workshop on writing for Island Parent Magazine recently. It was fun and informative, motivating me to get on writing and submitting potential articles to them. I'll let you know if any get published!
They had a 10 minute 'prompt' style challenge. Where we each wrote about whatever came to mind, with the option to share or just listen afterwards.
The prompt was 'The Things We Carry'.
Here is what came to me:
The Things We Carry...
How often did we cringe, as young, carefree children when our elders used a word, a phrase, a point 100 times too many?
Your Mom using your middle name on which was surely the fifth time calling you in for dinner.
Your babysitter preaching that 'It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye'.
Your Nana starting a story with 'I'm sure I've told you this - but...' and indeed embarking on a story you remember better than her by now.
I remember the exasperation, the eye rolling, the tuning out of said anecdotes and words.
Then, unbeknownst to me, I grew up. I've had children of my own. I've caught myself in the same snarls of life, using those once scoffed at expressions.
Now though, even as I catch myself and see the inevitable eye roll from my own smalls, I feel love in these sayings.
I feel closer to my Mom. My Nana. Other, now considered wise, adults who have shaped my life. I pause and ponder, 'What else was that she said?'
I use these small tools and bits of knowledge when sharing and bestowing wisdom to friends and family.
They have become some of the most cherished things I carry.
Smiles, Be Well,
Crystal
I attended a workshop on writing for Island Parent Magazine recently. It was fun and informative, motivating me to get on writing and submitting potential articles to them. I'll let you know if any get published!
They had a 10 minute 'prompt' style challenge. Where we each wrote about whatever came to mind, with the option to share or just listen afterwards.
The prompt was 'The Things We Carry'.
Here is what came to me:
The Things We Carry...
How often did we cringe, as young, carefree children when our elders used a word, a phrase, a point 100 times too many?
Your Mom using your middle name on which was surely the fifth time calling you in for dinner.
Your babysitter preaching that 'It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye'.
Your Nana starting a story with 'I'm sure I've told you this - but...' and indeed embarking on a story you remember better than her by now.
I remember the exasperation, the eye rolling, the tuning out of said anecdotes and words.
Then, unbeknownst to me, I grew up. I've had children of my own. I've caught myself in the same snarls of life, using those once scoffed at expressions.
Now though, even as I catch myself and see the inevitable eye roll from my own smalls, I feel love in these sayings.
I feel closer to my Mom. My Nana. Other, now considered wise, adults who have shaped my life. I pause and ponder, 'What else was that she said?'
I use these small tools and bits of knowledge when sharing and bestowing wisdom to friends and family.
They have become some of the most cherished things I carry.
Smiles, Be Well,
Crystal
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Horton hears a......Lane?!
My world was shook up yesterday.
My two year old may have a life long fear of elevators.
It was definitely a 'gold star' moment for Mommy of the Year awards.
We were at my Mom's condo, riding the elevator up. Myself and the 3 kiddies, as we do all the time. Upon arrival at her floor we all (or so I thought) burst out and headed for her door. I was already gracing the premises and chatting at my sister inside when I heard my girls' panicked shouts.
'Lane's inside still! The door SHUT!'
OMG....what?! I spun around and took in the scene. My girls staring open mouthed at the indeed, closed door. One frantically pushing the call button. Both looking shell shocked. Irrationally I, too, started slapping at the call buttons. Up, down, WHATEVER! Just open the god damn door! To make matters worse, there are TWO side by side elevators, and of course the other one kept opening for us. My sister joined us in the hall, just in time for us all to hear Lane's cries drifting up or down the shaft and leaking through the doors. The saddest sound ever.
After shouting 'stay here!' I hit the stairwell and bounded down, two, three stairs at a time. All I was sure of is I didn't want him coming out street level, alone, or, horror of horrors, to the open arms of strangers. I again frantically hit the buttons and called his name. A heart wrenching plea made it's way to me...'Me here! Me here! It's Lane!' Oh. Sob. I could actually hear him passing by the still closed doors, and his voice fading as he went up and down.
Then. Silence. My heart stopped. What happened?! Finally! The door opened! A sickening drop of my stomach. He wasn't in there! Oh. My. God. What floor is he on? It's not mine, so please let it be where I left my sister. Otherwise there are 14 other floors and 3 below ground levels of parking. And so many possible dangers.
During this eternity (maybe 3 minutes?!) a young couple had come in from the street. They stood back, probably thinking I was insane, as I talked through the doors, trying desperately to console the sobbing voice they most certainly heard. As the silence fell, and doors slid open to nothing I'm sure I looked stricken. I stumbled over my words, explaining the situation and asking them to let me into the stairwell. (Worst timing ever to need a PHOB to get anywhere in a secure building)
Again, I dashed through the stairwell, hoping against hope he'd be with my sister and girls. Bursting through the doors, my eyes feasted on the sight of him. He turned upon hearing me and stumbled across the threshold on shaky legs, sobbing and falling into my open arms.
Between hugs, kisses and 'I'm so, SO sorrys' he too, clung to me, crying his hardest and exclaiming 'Don't EVER do that to me AGAIN.'
You know what?! I won't. I can guarantee I will never step out of an elevator again without all my smalls accounted for.
That is, if I ever get him to set foot in one again.
Smiles, Be well,
Crystal
My two year old may have a life long fear of elevators.
It was definitely a 'gold star' moment for Mommy of the Year awards.
We were at my Mom's condo, riding the elevator up. Myself and the 3 kiddies, as we do all the time. Upon arrival at her floor we all (or so I thought) burst out and headed for her door. I was already gracing the premises and chatting at my sister inside when I heard my girls' panicked shouts.
'Lane's inside still! The door SHUT!'
OMG....what?! I spun around and took in the scene. My girls staring open mouthed at the indeed, closed door. One frantically pushing the call button. Both looking shell shocked. Irrationally I, too, started slapping at the call buttons. Up, down, WHATEVER! Just open the god damn door! To make matters worse, there are TWO side by side elevators, and of course the other one kept opening for us. My sister joined us in the hall, just in time for us all to hear Lane's cries drifting up or down the shaft and leaking through the doors. The saddest sound ever.
After shouting 'stay here!' I hit the stairwell and bounded down, two, three stairs at a time. All I was sure of is I didn't want him coming out street level, alone, or, horror of horrors, to the open arms of strangers. I again frantically hit the buttons and called his name. A heart wrenching plea made it's way to me...'Me here! Me here! It's Lane!' Oh. Sob. I could actually hear him passing by the still closed doors, and his voice fading as he went up and down.
Then. Silence. My heart stopped. What happened?! Finally! The door opened! A sickening drop of my stomach. He wasn't in there! Oh. My. God. What floor is he on? It's not mine, so please let it be where I left my sister. Otherwise there are 14 other floors and 3 below ground levels of parking. And so many possible dangers.
During this eternity (maybe 3 minutes?!) a young couple had come in from the street. They stood back, probably thinking I was insane, as I talked through the doors, trying desperately to console the sobbing voice they most certainly heard. As the silence fell, and doors slid open to nothing I'm sure I looked stricken. I stumbled over my words, explaining the situation and asking them to let me into the stairwell. (Worst timing ever to need a PHOB to get anywhere in a secure building)
Again, I dashed through the stairwell, hoping against hope he'd be with my sister and girls. Bursting through the doors, my eyes feasted on the sight of him. He turned upon hearing me and stumbled across the threshold on shaky legs, sobbing and falling into my open arms.
Between hugs, kisses and 'I'm so, SO sorrys' he too, clung to me, crying his hardest and exclaiming 'Don't EVER do that to me AGAIN.'
You know what?! I won't. I can guarantee I will never step out of an elevator again without all my smalls accounted for.
That is, if I ever get him to set foot in one again.
Smiles, Be well,
Crystal
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